Page 15 of Henrietta

Lady Allerton hushed them.

‘It isn’t marvellous,’ Timothy contradicted in a lower voice. ‘It’s a – it’s a bad thing, Trix.’

Hetty looked from Arthur to Timothy enquiringly. ‘Do you mean he is a libertine?’

Arthur let out a choke of laughter, while Lady Allerton turned shocked eyes to Hetty. ‘Hetty!’

Hetty was at once conscience-stricken. ‘Forgive me.’

It had been a while since she had made such an error. Having been raised almost exclusively in the company of men Hetty had had to learn the rules of what was considered ladylike to know or not know. Her father, and the scholarly gentlemen who constituted his social circle, used to discuss such things in a very matter-of-fact manner.

‘Is it very vulgar?’ she asked Timothy in undertone.

‘Very,’ Timothy told her darkly.

‘At least she explains things,’ Trixie defended Hetty. Then after a pause, added: ‘What exactly is a libertine?’

Lady Allerton groaned.

‘He does not have a good reputation,’ Arthur interpolated, smile still catching the corners of his mouth. ‘Let us leave it at that.’

Lady Allerton shushed them, more insistently this time, and Hetty and Arthur obediently swung their gazes back forward – only to be distracted, this time, by Timothy, who had also begun peering over into the boxes opposite.

‘The devil has copied my trousers,’ he murmured.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Corky!’ Timothy hissed. ‘Look at his pantaloons – they’re distinctly the same shade of biscuit.’

‘Will you please hush!’ Lady Allerton hissed. Timothy subsided back into his seat with a scowl.

At the interval, Lady Allerton chivvied Trixie to standing, expressing her intention to pay Lady Rosely and her daughters a visit, adding kindly to Hetty: ‘You can stay here if you like, my dear.’

Hetty accepted this offer gratefully – and was still more pleased by Arthur’s promise to keep her company.

‘I shall fetch refreshment for us,’ Timothy offered gallantly. Then, with brows darkening, he added ominously: ‘I should like to speak with Corky, too.’

Arthur frowned at Timothy’s departing back. ‘Is Corky not a friend of Timothy’s?’

‘They are mortal enemies now,’ Hetty explained. ‘Ever since Corky told Timothy that his neckcloths are wildly unoriginal.’

Arthur let out a mock-gasp.

‘I know,’ Hetty agreed. ‘It was all I could do to stop Timothy calling him out over the matter.’

Arthur’s laugh turned into a sigh. When last he had been in the country, Timothy had still been at Oxford, and all he could talk about was cricket and prize fights, while Trixie had been sporting plaits and reserving her mischief for schoolyard pranks. He had been kept well apprised of all the family’s comings and goings, but Hetty’s letters had not quite captured how much his brother and sister had grown up. They had not captured many things, plainly – and it was this thought that had Arthur, though he had not planned to do so, turning to Hetty and asking quite directly: ‘Why did you not tell me about the diamonds, Hetty?’

Hetty looked at him in some surprise. ‘Is that what has been preoccupying you? I beg you will not think of it a moment more. It does not signify in the least.’

‘It does to me,’ Arthur disagreed quietly. ‘You have been dreadfully imposed upon.’

Hetty, who had a lively fear of overstepping where the Allertons were concerned, blanched. ‘Lady Allerton was in such high fidgets,’ she defended herself. ‘I gather there was some debt she could not rightly burden the estate with – and it was so easy, truly. I had it sorted all in a trice, and with the copies no one suspected a thing.’

Arthur cast her a sidelong glance. ‘Yes, the copies are admirable. Where did you have it done?’

Hetty stilled. ‘Oh – some establishment in Cheapside. There is a, ah, fellow there who is – is a dab hand at such things.’

‘Perhaps you might give me his direction. A useful person to know, certainly.’