Page 88 of Henrietta

The specificity amused Arthur and mollified his nerves somewhat. Perhaps this wasn’t too good to be true – perhaps some things were just good, he reminded himself.

Several hours later, the Allertons were readying themselves in the drawing room, poised to meet their first guests. Police officers and link-boys were manning the road, Pandean pipes would play during the supper, an excellent band had been engaged for the dancing, extra ice ordered for the champagne, and while the townhouse was certainly without a theme, it had – Lady Allerton thought – never looked more elegant.

The same, she thought, could rather be said for her family. Trixie was loveliness itself in white satin and silver-net drapery; Timothy, naturally, was rather beautiful to behold: not a thread out of place upon his person; and though Arthur had no pretensions to dandyism, he looked very well indeed – Timothy deigned even to compliment him on the arrangement of his cravat. Lady Allerton herself was wearing a robe of sapphire satin lavishly trimmed with broad lace, and was in quite her best looks.

When Hetty joined them, Lady Allerton’s joy was complete. Timothy had not erred, so many weeks earlier, when he had identified the round robe of pale-blue satin as absolutely the thing for her. The box had arrived from Madame Picard just this morning. It was a confection of sky blue and, as she descended the stairs, Lady Allerton clapped her hands, and declared she looked quite beautiful. ‘Doesn’t she, Arthur?’

Finding that he could not look Hetty in the eye, Arthur fixed his gaze upon her eyebrows. ‘Certainly.’

By the hour of ten o’clock, it was plain the ball was to be a great success. For not only was the flower of the ton in attendance, but also lending lustre to the evening were two of the Royal Dukes, two European Princes (Prince Wilhelm, in whose arms Trixie had attempted to faint, and Prince Hardenberg) and – the feather in Lady Allerton’s cap – the Grandduchess herself, who even seemed to be enjoying herself.

The only flaw in the evening was the warmth. Although the long windows stood open, scarcely a breath of wind stirred the curtains which masked them, and the heat from the hundreds of wax candles burning in the wall-sconces and in the huge crystal chandelier which hung from the ceiling was causing a fair few of the gentleman’s starched shirt-points to wilt. When next Arthur spotted Hetty, she was looking rather flushed, fanning herself vigorously and wishing it would not be thought terribly vulgar to remove one’s gloves.

Arthur hesitated. He had intended to continue keeping his distance but, in that moment, he could not resist making his way to her side.

‘Warm?’ he asked her.

‘Very.’

‘Shall we slip out into the air for a moment? No one will notice.’

The ballroom did not enjoy a terrace but each of the twelve long windows was built with a short ledge fenced in with low iron railings, and it was to one of these that Arthur led Hetty, picking up two glasses of champagne upon the way. Slipping behind the curtains, they stepped into the shallow embrasure without anyone noticing them. There was no breeze, but the fresh air was certainly a relief after the closeness of the ballroom, and Hetty, closing her eyes, raised her head up to enjoy the coolness upon her heated cheeks.

Arthur shifted rather uneasily. The curtains were thick enough to block a great deal of the noise from inside the ballroom, and in the quiet, it was easy to imagine they were entirely alone.

‘The last time I attended a ball here,’ he began, ‘it was the night before I left – do you remember?’

Hetty opened her eyes and turned towards him, smiling. ‘Certainly I do. We were all absolutely miserable.’

‘Were we?’ Arthur said. ‘I remember that Papa became very merry, and Trixie kept trying to sneak downstairs, and Mama must have danced with half of the gentleman here, but beyond that …’

‘We danced, you and I,’ Hetty confided. ‘I had to try very hard not to step upon your toes, but I think I managed it.’

‘You have my thanks,’ he said gravely. ‘What did we talk about? I can hardly recall.’

Hetty smiled rather wryly. She had no such difficulty recollecting every word that had been spoken in that conversation, as well as every word that had not.

‘It was a beautiful night then, too,’ was what she said instead. ‘Your mama still likes to boast that three proposals occurred that evening – I wonder how many we shall have tonight.’

‘Is that your wish?’ The words slipped out before Arthur could prevent them.

Hetty laughed. ‘No. Besides anything, I should have to request you release me first.’

Arthur frowned. ‘What do you mean? As you have reminded me several times recently, you are not my ward any longer.’

‘I have never been your ward,’ she reminded him. ‘Besides, I did not mean that – do you not remember?’

There was only confusion upon his face.

‘You asked me to marry you, when we were children,’ she explained.

A vague memory resurfaced in Arthur’s mind. ‘In the treehouse?’

‘The very same.’

‘How did I put it? Was it a romantic proposal?’

‘I think you said: “I’d as soon marry you as anyone else,”’ Hetty recalled.