Page 39 of Henrietta

Hetty, however, was to surprise them – and herself. For no sooner had she seated herself, primly, on one of the benches that lined the walls, ready to watch Arthur and Lady Allerton dance, than she, too, was approached without introduction.

‘You do not waltz?’

It had taken Hetty a little while to realise she was being addressed. The gentleman had to repeat the question before she turned her head up to regard him.

‘Oh – no,’ she said. ‘Well, yes, I do in general – but, not – not directly in this instance—’

Hetty cut herself off. She supposed, in some senses, jabbering on in such a way was an improvement upon stupefied silence – but only marginally.

‘Well, I cannot allow that,’ the gentleman said. ‘Would you permit me the honour?’

He extended a palm, and bizarrely – though she knew she ought not, though this had specifically been one of Lady Allerton’s rules on setting out – Hetty found herself accepting.

It took only a few steps for her common sense to return, but by that point they were already upon the dance floor and the stranger’s arm was going about her and Hetty could only hope that Lady Allerton did not spot her for what would she think …

The music began. Hetty concentrated on her steps, staring so fixedly at the ground that the gentleman began to wonder if there was something amiss with his shoes.

‘I did wonder if they are a bit too dashing,’ he worried. ‘The buckles, you know.’

There was enough of Timothy in his voice to break Hetty out of her paroxysms of mortification.

‘They are very fine,’ Hetty assured the stranger. ‘In fact …’

But she faltered. Having looked up into the gentleman’s eyes, she recalled he was not Timothy – but, fortunately, the movement of the dance prevented her pause from seeming unusual.

‘In fact?’ the stranger prompted her, when next they returned to one another

‘In fact, I was … admiring their shininess. They are almost a mirror.’

‘I see!’ he said. ‘I thought you afflicted by shyness but now I see it is an excess of vanity: you were admiring your own reflection!’

Hetty laughed. Across the room, Arthur turned his head at the sound. He ought not to have heard it – not over the riot of noise all about him – but somehow he had.

‘Arthur!’ Lady Allerton said sharply, following his gaze. ‘Hetty is dancing with a stranger.’

‘I see her,’ Arthur said.

‘Does he look as if he is bothering her?’

‘No, no,’ Arthur said. ‘They are – laughing.’

‘Well, we must stop it at once!’ Lady Allerton said. The faintest trace of her French accent revealed itself, as it only did in moments of true agitation. ‘It is not at all proper.’

‘What do you suggest I do?’ he said. ‘I can hardly drag her from the dance floor.’

Arthur became suddenly aware that he was not leading the dance any more. Though their hold had not changed, he had the feeling of being held in an iron clasp, as Lady Allerton inexorably spun them towards Hetty.

‘How are you doing that?’ he wondered, distracted.

Lady Allerton’s fluttering limbs had iron at their centre, it seemed, and her eyes had suddenly become very fixed. Plainly, she was a fiercer chaperone than Arthur had ever suspected, and he began to wonder what, exactly, would happen when they reached Hetty. Would Lady Allerton plant the fellow a facer?

The music stopped before Lady Allerton could seize the encroaching stranger by the scruff of the neck and cast him bodily away from her ward, and they reached the pair just as the man was making a very commendable bow. ‘May I escort you back to the rest of your party?’

‘No need!’ Lady Allerton sang out. ‘We are here – how do you do? Yes, well, in fact it is time we were off, lovely to make your acquaintance, do enjoy the rest of your evening!’

In a trice, she was bearing Hetty off in the direction of the doors.

‘Time for us to go now! Where are Trixie and Timothy?’