Page 23 of Henrietta

‘Of Papa?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Of Thimbleby!’

Arthur could not help but laugh. ‘Mama, how can you say such horrors to me!’

‘I don’t wish to pinch at you,’ she assured him, ‘but truly I feel it is my duty to ensure you do not become all dreary and dull.’

Arthur thanked her for her assistance in this matter. ‘Nonetheless, Mama, I must insist that we practise the very strictest economy while I find a way out of our predicament.’

‘Economy?’ Lady Allerton put a hand up to her throat. ‘Darling, no! If Hetty does not suit, I will certainly be able to put you in the way of some very eligible young ladies, for I do not think you will struggle.’

Her gaze dwelled appreciatively upon his lordship’s new coat of olive-green, which became him so nicely, and she heaved a satisfied sigh, thinking how impossible it was for anyone to find three more handsome children than her own. ‘I should not wonder if even the Grandduchess herself were to take a shine to you – though goodness knows I should not like to lose you to Russia! Though,’ she continued on fairly, ‘Her Grace doubtless summers elsewhere, and it would be a very interesting life, would it not?’

Arthur agreed that it would. ‘However—’

‘An errant notion, no more!’ she forestalled him with a pat on the arm. ‘You mustn’t listen to the runnings-on of your silly mama!’

However financially illiterate Lady Allerton might be, when it came to social machinations he considered her ‘runnings-on’ about as silly as the despatches from the Duke of Wellington – as he told her. The comment so pleased Lady Allerton that it only took a little prompting to have her promising to supply the remainder of her bills and to make a concerted effort to reduce the household expenditure.

‘Though I shall warn you, Arthur,’ she said, pulling her sable muff more closely about herself, and sinking back into cushions newly reupholstered with the feathers of a bird who could, no doubt, trace its ancestry back to William the Conqueror’s prize goose, ‘I am not sure what economy there is left.’

He was saved the necessity of replying to this by the arrival of Mrs Torrington, who drew up in her barouche alongside them. Arthur excused himself as soon as he might politely do so, and went off to join Hetty and Trixie.

Trixie, he saw, had located Miss Corcott, and the pair were busy asking questions of the gentleman guarding the enclosure – a curiosity that Arthur, now that he could see the machinery up close, entirely understood.

‘Have you seen one of these things before?’ he asked Hetty, reaching her side. ‘I must say, it does seem remarkable that that bag of fabric will be able to just …’ He wafted his hand towards the sky. ‘It’s a miracle.’

‘It’s hydrogen,’ Hetty corrected absent-mindedly. She had attended a lecture upon the subject in Goettingen.

‘The things they’ll see,’ Arthur marvelled.

‘If they live,’ Hetty said, eyes sharp upon Trixie’s back. ‘The likelihood of fire is very high, hydrogen being so highly flammable.’ Arthur snorted. Hetty turned enquiring eyes upon him. ‘Did I say something silly?’

‘Certainly not silly,’ he assured her. ‘Shall we take a turn about the lake? Trixie seems perfectly well occupied, and I think we might be here a while.’

Hetty cast one last searching glance towards Trixie – who was now saying something to one of the young fellows to make him blush – before agreeing, she and Arthur turning their backs upon the enclosure and heading towards the Serpentine. The view was gratifyingly English to Arthur’s eye: the ducks snoozing along the shore of the lake, surrounded by greenery made lush from ample sun and rain alike, a gentle wind fretting the treetops. Even the few scudding clouds overhead had a sort of pleasing quality to them, he felt – though he did not know if this boded well or ill for the balloon.

‘I hope it does not take too long,’ Hetty said. ‘I should have liked to have begun tackling your father’s desk today. Perhaps your mama will let me cry off from morning visits.’

Arthur shook his head. ‘We cannot have that – I will not have your aid come at the expense of your gentlemen callers.’

‘I should not mind that.’

This chore was far from her favourite part of the day.

Arthur grinned. ‘Are there any gentlemen whose visits you do welcome?’

Hetty considered the matter. ‘Mr Hargan is not so bad.’

Arthur regarded her with some incredulity. ‘Timothy’s schoolfriend?’

‘They’re not at school any longer!’ Hetty said defensively. ‘He does not ask me to dance, for he is afraid of stepping upon my toes, or pay me awful compliments, or ever cause me the least embarrassment.’

‘He can hardly finish a sentence!’

‘I am hardly in a position to complain about that,’ she reminded him.

Arthur shook his head. ‘You have things to say.’ He recollected the wooden expression that had come over Hetty’s face the night before. ‘You just withdraw entirely. Why is that?’