It was infuriating to have to go in through the garden door, climb up to my window, change, climb down again and return to the front. But I didn’t want to give my aunt a coronary by appearing on her doorstep in a pair of striped trousers. When I finally arrived in front, the carriage was still waiting there, and so was my aunt, anxiously looking out into the street.

‘Lillian!’ She rushed out of the door as I approached, her hollow cheeks flushed, a determined smile on her face. Oh no. Anything that made my aunt this happy wouldn’t be good. ‘Finally, there you are! Where were you? Oh, don't bother, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you’re here. Come, come quickly you have to hurry! The ball starts in an hour!’

‘Ball?’ I asked, dread welling up inside me. ‘What ball?’

‘If you, silly girl, had just stayed at home like a proper young lady, you would know all about it. Your sisters, Anne and Maria, and I have been talking about nothing else for weeks.’

That would explain why I didn’t remember. My ears were good at protecting themselves against unnecessary torture.

‘Now come in and hurry, for God’s sake!’

She rushed inside, skirts flying around her bony figure, and I followed with trepidation. ‘Why a ball?’ I wanted to know. ‘What has a ball got to do to me? Anne and Maria get invited to balls, not me. I don't go to balls, never ever.’

‘You will today,’ my aunt trilled and made a pirouette in the middle of the room that was worthy of a prima ballerina. I could see it in her eyes: the golden glint that meant she was dreaming of finally being rid of us, and at a profit, too.

The trepidation in my chest was quickly evolving into panic. Me, at a ball? I hated balls! Balls meant society, society meant people, and people meant either women or men, or worse, both! I disliked men in general because they oppressed women, and I disliked women in general because most didn’t at all seem to mind being oppressed. And now I would have to face both, mixed together?

Even worse - I had heard that at balls, people had to dance.

With one another. Both sexes!

‘But surely,’ I tried to reassure myself aloud, ‘only Anne and Maria are going? I mean… they are the ones that everybody admires and wants to dance with.’

My aunt nodded, the happy glow of gold coins still gleaming in her eyes. ‘I agree, no man in his right mind would want to invite you.’

‘Oh… err… thanks.’

‘Considering how uncouth and tanned and misbehaved you are.’

‘How nice of you to be so explicit.’

‘But,’ she continued, turning her glittering eyes on me, ‘Sir Phillip was so impressed by Maria and Anne’s charms at the ball the other night that, now he is giving his own ball, he has issued an invitation for the entire family.’

Oh dear God! How could I escape this deadly trap?

‘Sir Philip? Philip who?’ I tried to stall her, my thoughts racing.

‘Sir Philip Wilkins. Surely you must remember. I told you of his dancing with your sisters at Mr Marlow’s Ball only two days ago.’

Actually I didn’t remember. But I thought it best not to mention that to my dear aunt.

Concentrate, I yelled at myself. Think of some excuse! You are not going to this infernal ball. Don’t you remember what Patsy told you about what balls are like? Hours of aimless chatter, and your feet hurt from dancing for days afterwards? No, no, no!

But my aunt seemed to read my thoughts as if they were broadcast on my face. ‘Don’t you dare think of not coming,’ she hissed and wagged a bony finger at me. ‘This might very well be our only chance at getting you introduced into society. We all have to go. Even Mr Brank is coming.’

This was such an unexpected piece of information that it shook the foundation of the world as I knew it.

‘Uncle Bufford? Going out into society?’ I eyed my aunt suspiciously. ‘How did you manage that miracle?’

She smiled back at me in a way I think the harpies of Greek legend - you know, those monsters with women’s heads and the bodies of birds of prey - would have smiled. ‘I pointed out to him that it would not be a wise course to offend a nobleman of such importance as Sir Philip by refusing his invitation. I also pointed out that if Maria and Anne were to be married, he would have two less mouths to feed.’

In spite of my annoyance, I had to admire her. My aunt was not a very intellectual person - but when she wanted something she knew how to get it

‘Enough of this talk!’ She clapped her hands and grabbed hold of my shoulder, steering me upstairs. I tried to ram my heels into the ground, but she possessed super-auntly strength, originating from the force of her determination. ‘You will get dressed now, and I do not want to hear another word of protest! You are nineteen, almost an old maid now, and it is high time you were introduced into society and found a man!’

Upstairs, she deposited me in my room and entrusted me to the capable hands of Gertrude. Not having much chance to find a husband at her age, and not at all displeased about the fact, Gertrude was more than happy to attend the ball in simple attire and instead concentrated the full force of her primping skills on yours truly.

Within 20 minutes, my hair - which had been flattened into a strange shape by a box that had fallen on my head during the battle of the files - was transformed into an elaborate updo. Then I was forcibly stripped and stuffed into my other dress. With horror I discovered that my aunt had somehow found the money and time to alter it: my favourite dress was now a ball gown, with frilly lace at the sleeves and neckline, and, believe it or not, it was off the shoulders! My horror was complete when my aunt rushed in and pressed a fan into my hand.

‘It’s the perfect way to attract a man’s attentions,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘And very easy. You see, if you wave the fan like this, it means…’

‘Why do I have to wave this stupid thing around to attract somebody’s attention?’ I demanded, panicked. ‘Why can’t I just walk up to him and say “Hey, I like you”, or “Piss off, dick!”?’

‘Lillian Linton! Mind your language. And the reason for the secret language of the fan is that it is far more discrete than actual talk.’

‘I am not discreet!’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘I am fully aware of that, Lillian. You had better change that quickly or else you will never find a man to take care of you.’

She rushed out of the room and I scowled at her retreating back. How I would have liked to shout after her that I didn’t need a man to look after me, that I had my own job now and would soon be bringing home my own money. But I didn’t dare. I knew that if I even breathed a word of it, I would be locked in my room faster than I could say ‘unfair’.

So I frantically tried to memorize what waving an open fan signified, besides the fact that it was too hot and you wanted to get some air. While I waved at myself with the fan in front of the mirror and attempted to ignore the fact that for the first time in my life I was wearing an uncomfortably revealing off-the-shoulders gown, Ella entered behind me.

‘Oh Lilly!’ She came rushing up to me and hugged me, careful not to ruffle my hair. ‘We’re going to a ball! Isn’t it exciting?’

‘Yes, very exciting,’ I mumbled. I was still busy looking at the fan in the mirror. I noticed it was quite sharp at the end when not open. Idly I wondered what the message to a gentleman would be if he got a poke in the eye with it. I didn’t think one needed extensive knowledge of the secret fan language to understand that. Maybe the fan would have its uses after all. I tucked it away in my dress and turned to Ella, who was gushing excitedly.

‘…can you imagine how grand the ballroom will be? And the music, Lilly? I’ve never heard a quadrille before, let alone danced it! I would so love to dance. If only-’

She broke off abruptly.

‘Yes?’ I asked distractedly, still trying to figure out the best way of using a fan as a defensive weapon. ‘If only what?’

‘Oh… err… nothing.’

What was this? Ella, being secretive? I would probably have paid more attention to this gross deviation from her usual character had not at that very moment my aunt stormed into the room and clapped her hands.

‘Girls, girls! Why are you dawdling? Come on downstairs, the coach is waiting!’

We followed her down the stairs and joined the other four waiting in the hall: Gertrude calm and composed as ever, Lisbeth even more excited than Ella, and Anne as well as Maria with the same self-satisfied smiles on their identical breathtaking faces, in the full knowledge that the rest of us owed the invitation to the ball to their charms. They probably expected us to thank them on bended knee when it was over.

Well, I had something very different in mind for my dear sisters.

‘Shall we go?’ Lisbeth asked eagerly, hardly able to stand still with excitement, and eying the door longingly.

‘Soon,’ my aunt snapped. ‘And don't fidget, Lisbeth. It does not become a true lady.’

‘Yes, Aunt.’

‘And straighten your ball gown.’

‘Yes, Aunt.’

I held my hand in front of my face to conceal my grin. Ball gown? Lisbeth’s dress was just one of her normal dresses, altered like mine. Our aunt must have worked overtime to prepare these for the ball - but it was still obvious they were not the best of ball gowns. My aunt’s pride and imagination had to do what her stinginess didn’t allow: change linen into muslin and glass into diamonds.

‘I,’ she said triumphantly and turned to the second staircase which was almost never used, ‘shall fetch your uncle now, girls. Wait here.’

We waited while she ascended the steps. We waited while she entered and we heard voices. The voices got a bit louder. And a bit louder still, especially hers. Then she came out of the room again, slamming the door behind her.

‘Apparently, girls,’ she said, rushing past us to the door, ‘your uncle feels that since we all are going, there is no need for him to leave the house and pay his respects to Sir Philip. He feels he would just be in the way.’ She huffed. ‘Very well then. Come!’ And like a general directing his troops, she directed us down the street towards where the coach was waiting - in my case, I felt like I had been pressed into service.

‘Can you imagine?’ Maria said to Lisbeth in a very audible whisper. ‘This is one of Sir Philip’s own carriages. He sent it along to convey us to the ball. What an honour for us to be favoured in such a manner.’

And Lisbeth, as the dutiful and thankful sister she was, gave the appropriate answer: ‘It is all thanks to you, sister, and to Anne. You must have made quite an impression on his Lordship.’

‘Oh?’ Maria giggled, and Anne joined in. ‘Do you think so? Well, I must admit he seemed quite taken with me.’

That stopped Anne’s giggling abruptly. ‘But not quite as much as with me,’ she added, throwing her twin a death-glare.

I was tempted to point out that he probably hadn’t been able to tell them apart, when their conversation and our advance towards the coach was interrupted. A young man came down the street and, seeing us, stopped and bowed. I recognized him: It was Edmund Conway, our neighbour’s eldest son. He was a good-looking, polite young man, but unfortunately for him, he was also neither rich nor noble. So my aunt rushed past him without even stopping to acknowledge his bow. Knowing that my aunt couldn’t see, I returned his salutation. Why not, after all? He was nice enough. But in spite of my politeness, he gave me an intensive and frankly disturbing stare - then turned and walked away towards his parents’ house.

‘What was that that about?’ I asked, turning to Ella who was standing right behind me. ‘Why do you think he was staring at me like that?’

Ella blushed. ‘Err… I have no idea. Let’s go, shall we? The carriage and Aunt Brank are waiting.’ She hurried off and I frowned after her. What was the matter with her? Must be the excitement of her first ball.

The carriage that waited for us in front of the house was indeed an impressive sight: large, bright red and with golden ornaments everywhere. Two servants in livery were sitting on the box, one of whom had jumped down to help the ladies into the coach. When he attempted to offer me his chauvinist arm, as if I couldn’t even get into a coach by myself, I gave him such a deadly stare that he quickly backed away and bowed. Good for him.

I pulled myself up into the coach. Maria and Anne were of course already sitting there, and had taken the best places beside my aunt, facing into driving direction. Ella, Lisbeth, Gertrude and I had to squeeze ourselves onto the other bench. Ah well, at least I wouldn’t see my doom approach.

‘Gee up!’ The coachman shouted. His whip cracked, and we were off. I was off to my first ball.

‘Now listen carefully, girls,’ my aunt said sternly, looking at all of us in turn. ‘Anne and Maria have already been to balls many times, and Gertrude a few times as well, but for the rest of you, today is your coming out. This first appearance in society is crucial. Therefore it is imperative that all of you, even those of you who normally exhibit strange and unladylike behaviour,’ and she fixed her gaze on me, ‘behave excellently tonight and show the gentlemen only their best side, understood?’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ we all chorused, except Anne and Maria who just kept smiling serenely.

‘I’m serious,’ she said, again for some reason fixing her eyes on me alone. ‘This might be your best or even only chance to find a husband.’

I scowled. I knew it! I knew that was what my aunt planned. A shiver went through me at the thought of being sold off to some stranger. That was no life for me.

‘Don’t squander it,’ my aunt continued. ‘Do your best. Give a good impression, or you might never get another invitation like this again.’

I perked up. Really? So… I would just have to mess up so badly that she never ever would take me to a ball again. So badly that all the gentlemen would take me for the worst monster in town.

A small smile spread on my face and I gripped my fan inside the folds of my dress. That shouldn’t present any problem, now, should it?

*~*~**~*~*

The carriage pulled up in front of an impressive façade. It was impressive simply because it was large. Very large. You couldn’t really see anything else of it yet because of the thick pea soup that was drifting in from the River Thames. The house was nothing but a massive, vaguely rectangular shadow in the mist. The greenish glow of gas street lights was shining through the fog, and laughter drifted over to us. Apparently, the guests at the ball were enjoying themselves.

I shook my head. Some people had really strange tastes.

‘Look! Look!’ Excited, Lisbeth pointed out of the window. Before us, gates and a low stone wall had appeared out of the mist. The gates stood wide open, with servants forming an impressive welcoming committee on either side. Hm. This Wilkins fellow had to be seriously rich. No wonder my aunt had been so desperate to get us all here.

The servants stood to attention as the carriage passed. It took us down a short gravel path to the entrance of the house, flanked by two intricately wrought iron lanterns. More servants awaited us there. Good God, how many servants did this Wilkins have? And what did he use them all for? Surely one would be enough to say hello and welcome.

Gravel crunching under its wheels, the carriage stopped in front of the large front door. It stood wide open, just as the gates, and had a red carpet, an actual red carpet in front of it. Three servants jumped forward to open the door, which impressed me very much - after all, it was only one door, with one handle.

My aunt was the first to rise and descended from the carriage as if she were the Queen of England herself. All three of the servants bowed to her, and a smile appeared on her face like that of a vulture who had just found the cadaver of a fat cow. This had to be heaven for her. She hadn’t had anyone bow to her in a very long time other than old Leadfield, and he didn’t do it very often because of his bad back.

‘Madam?’ servant one asked. He held out his hand. Graciously, my aunt took out our invitation and handed it to him.

Servant one examined it carefully, then handed it to servant two, who looked at it and nodded graciously, and then handed it to servant three, who also looked at it, and nodded even more graciously. Good gracious! I was drowning in graciousness here.

‘Very good, Madam,’ servant number one said, bowing so deeply this time his nose almost touched the ground. ‘Welcome to Lenberry Hall, home of Sir Philip Wilkins. If you and your lovely nieces would be so good as to follow me, it shall be my pleasure to conduct you into the interior of my master’s abode.’

Ella leaned over and whispered to me: ‘What did he just say?’

I grinned. ‘I think it’s his way of saying “Come on in”.’

And we both burst out in a fit of giggles. Our aunt threw us a look that could have melted lead and then said to servant number one:

‘Very well, my good man. Lead on.’

With a very flourishy flourish, servant one indicated to servants two and three to join again the other servants congregated around the open front door while he entered the house at a measured, dignified pace. We followed, not quite so dignified - at least not me - entering a large hallway, and I had to vigorously employ my jaw muscles to prevent my mouth from falling open at the sight of the opulent splendour awaiting us:

The walls were a pale beige colour, softly illuminated by large, glittering chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Around the bottom, the walls were panelled in costly, dark woods that gave off a warm glow all of their own. Paintings of stately men hung on the walls, each in a frame that looked to be pure gold. What the floor was made out of I couldn’t really see, for it was covered with large and fancy oriental carpets - but it was sure to be something darn expensive.

‘Your coat, Miss?’ I turned my head to look at servant… three? Or was it four? Who had popped out of nowhere and was holding out his arms.

‘What about my coat?’ I asked.

‘May I take your coat, Miss?’

‘No, of course not. It’s mine.’

‘He means to keep it for you while we are here,’ my aunt hissed at me. ‘You’ll get it back later! Didn’t you pay attention to any of my lessons in etiquette?’

Preferring not to give the rather self-evident answer to that question, I divested myself of my coat and thrust it at servant three.

‘Here. Make sure nobody nicks it; it’s my only one.’

My aunt closed her eyes as if in pain. Or as if counting to ten to prevent an explosion. I wasn’t quite sure which.

Servant of unidentified number cleared his throat. ‘Err… most assuredly, Miss.’

He hurried into a small side-room in which a multitude of hats, coats and scarves was already stored. Servants number four, five and six, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere, began to help my sisters and aunt out of their outer garments, which apparently everybody thought they were either unable or unwilling to do themselves. Chauvinism. Pure chauvinism.

Then, servant number one bowed once more and gestured down the hall.

‘This way, please, Madam. Sir Phillip is awaiting you.’

Anne and Maria exchanged significant looks, which said as clear as day I’m sure he is. But which one, damn you? They, along with my aunt, were the first to follow servant one down the hall. After them came Lisbeth, nearly bursting with excitement, Gertrude, quiet and demure, Ella, pale, anxious and shy, and finally me, trying my best to remain invisible to any mate-seeking men in the vicinity.

At the end of the hall waited another open door. From inside the large room beyond, I could hear laughter and chatter. Servant number one placed himself beside the door and, as we entered, called:

‘Mrs Brank and nieces.’

Not far from the door stood a tall, fair-haired young man. His hair was just about everything about him that could be called fair. His lips were too thin and his ears would have fit well on an elephant’s head. The nose, however, any elephant would have rejected, pointing out that his conk was already large enough and he didn’t need a monster like that messing up his or her perfection of elephantine beauty. An uncertain smile that quivered as if subjected to a continuous facial earthquake didn’t do anything to improve the picture.

His clothes, admittedly, were posh enough: he was impeccably dressed in a black tail coat, black trousers, white shirt and, best of all, a brilliantly colourful waistcoat showing off an elaborate pattern of red and green brocade with golden embroidery. But… you know that saying, the one about the clothes making the man? Whoever came up with that saying hadn’t seen this man, or his ears or nose.

Still, in his fine clothes he looked much richer than Mr Rikkard Ambrose with his simple black attire.

And why the blazes was I suddenly thinking of him?

I shook my head, trying to shake off the unwanted image of a familiar cold face in my mind, as the young man came towards us and bowed.

‘Mrs Brank? I am Sir Philip Wilkins. Please allow me to welcome you and your lovely nieces to my humble home.’

‘You are so kind, Sir Philip,’ simpered my aunt. I wouldn’t have thought she had that much honey in her pantry, let alone on her tongue. ‘I must say you have a truly charming house, and such attentive staff.’

‘I only have the best of everything,’ he replied, his gaze wandering dreamily over Anne and Maria. I had a sudden desire to find a bucket to be sick in.

‘That I can believe,’ my aunt told him, her normally steely voice still coated in sugar.

‘But… I do not see Mr Brank here, Madam. Is something the matter?’

Over the aunt’s face passed a cloud of sadness that was so convincing it almost fooled even me. ‘Ah, yes. Mr Brank regrets so very much that he could not attend, but he has been taken by a sudden illness and his doctor said he was not well enough to leave the house. I am to convey his sincerest apologies to you, Sir Philip.’

Sir Philip’s ears drooped. ‘Oh, I am grieved to hear about his condition. Please convey my wishes for his immediate recovery.’

Dear me. If they weren’t finished soon I’d be smothered by an excess of good manners.

Well, time to start ignoring them and survey the battlefield for the evening…

The large ballroom was even more extravagantly decorated than the waistcoat of its owner. The floor was polished dark wood, the walls a maze of gilded floral patterns. Large windows reflected the light of the enormous sparkly chandeliers, which hung from a ceiling painted with chubby little naked boys with wings on. I supposed they were cherubs - the boys, not the chandeliers.

And the people. Oh the people. They were everywhere. At least a three hundred of them filled the vast room, conversing, bowing and curtsying to one another. And at least a hundred and fifty of them were men. One, sweet, single little me against one hundred and fifty! Now were those supposed to be fair odds?

Suspiciously I eyed the masculine beasts and wondered which of those my aunt would try to marry me off to. None of them looked particularly nice. Especially compared to somebody very nice-looking I had met recently and was determined not to think of again tonight.

Darn! I had done it again! But how was I supposed to think about not thinking about him without thinking about him?

‘…and this lovely lady?’ The voice directly in front of me pulled me from my thoughts. Sir Philip was standing before me, smiling his uncertain smile.

I opened my mouth to speak. ‘I am-’

‘That is my niece Lillian, Sir Philip,’ my aunt interrupted me hastily and gave me her best don’t-you-say-another-word-if-you-want-to-live-stare. Bugger! I had forgotten again. Introduction. You couldn’t just speak to someone you didn’t know, you had to be introduced first.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Linton.’ Sir Philip bowed, took my fingers and before I could do anything to prevent it, planted a soft, moist kiss on the back of my hand.

Eww!

I tried to wipe my hand unobtrusively on my dress while Sir Philip went on to Ella.

‘And who is this lovely lady?’ he asked. It seemed to be his standard sentence when seeing any previously unknown female. But then, as he took in Ella’s delicate face, demure smile and fair skin, his behaviour abruptly deviated from the norm and his face was suffused by a deep blush.

‘My niece Ella, Sir Phillip,’ said my aunt, while Anne and Maria were competing in an ocular archery match, shooting venomous glances at Ella.

He took her hand, too, and placed a kiss on in. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’ he said, and it sounded like this time he really meant it. His eyes, as he looked at Ella, appeared slightly misty as if someone had hit him on the head with a wooden club. Why was he staring at her like that?

Oh no… not that. Not he of all people…

Ella, much too intimidated by the fact that she was being spoken to by a member of the male population to actually say anything in reply, just curtsied in silence, looking up at the knight as if he were a lion that might eat her any minute. She didn’t notice his dreamy gaze. But I had. Oh yes, I had.

Sir Philip bowed to and greeted the rest of us. As soon as he was finished with Gertrude, though, he returned to stand beside my aunt, which coincidentally was also next to where Ella was standing. Anne and Maria, who, for two pretty young ladies, remarkably resembled gorgons at that moment, moved closer.

‘It will still be some time till the dancing begins,’ said Sir Philip, speaking to my aunt, though he was looking at Ella out of the corner of his eye. ‘Would you like me to introduce you to a few people?’

He could not have pleased my aunt more if he had asked whether he should gift her with the largest diamond in his jewel collection. To be introduced into the highest of London’s high society, and by a member of the nobility no less, and with all her six expensive, unwanted and unmarried nieces in tow to show off to the rich bachelors of the metropole - it was every one of her dreams come true at once.

She concealed her rapture well, however, and simply curtsied, saying: ‘It would be my pleasure, Sir Philip.’

‘Excellent! Then follow me, please.’

Accompanied by a swarm of servants, which I soon gave up trying to number, we were led across the ballroom to a large group of people talking and laughing in quiet tones. They were rich, stinking rich, every single one of them. I immediately disliked them. They apparently, on beholding the makeshift ball gowns of my sisters and me, shared that feeling. Wilkins didn’t seem to notice how they looked at us with their aristocratic nostrils instead of their eyes. He rushed forward and launched into a veritable storm of introductions. It wasn’t long till I had forgotten half the names he had mentioned. There were some dukes and duchesses, various lords, and finally an untold number of misters and madams. None of them particularly aroused my interest, except for an older woman whom Wilkins introduced as Lady Metcalf. I tried to remember where I had heard the name before - then I had it!

‘We have a mutual acquaintance, your Ladyship,’ I said, curtsying.

‘Do we really?’ She stared at me with her nostrils like all the other ones - only in her case the nostrils were particularly impressive: large, weathered and with little hairs sticking out at the bottom that vibrated whenever she sniffed in disdain. As she did now.

‘Yes, we do,’ I replied, plastering a huge smile on my face. ‘Miss Patsy Cusack. She told me about your very encouraging reaction to her organization of the women’s rights movement. Have you received Patsy’s answer yet?’

Lady Metcalf turned puce - whether from embarrassment, or anger, or simply because she liked to do that now and again, I didn’t know. I was putting my money on the second option, though. Before she could say anything, Sir Philip had whisked us off to meet the next Mr Somethingorother.

I was beginning to dread that he planned to introduce us to every last person in the ballroom, just to have the opportunity to be by Ella’s side for another minute or two. The way he looked at her left no doubt as to how he was feeling. As to her feelings, I wasn’t quite so sure. She said little and blushed a lot - but then, she always did that. It was impossible to determine what she thought of him and his elephant ears.

Anne and Maria’s feelings, on the other hand, were quite easily discernible. They had arrived here fully expecting to bask in Sir Philip’s admiration for the entire evening, only to be upstaged by their little sister. They looked ready to devour Ella alive. And she, sweet thing that she was, didn’t even notice.

‘… and this is Colonel Remington. Colonel Remington, may I introduce-’

Just as the Colonel bowed stiffly, his waxed upturned moustache making him look like he was trying to impale something on a fork, a gong sounded from the other side of the room and Sir Philip clapped his hands.

‘Ah! The musicians have arrived. That was the signal from my master of ceremonies. The first dance will begin soon.’

Oops! Quickly I retreated a few steps, to the very back on the group. Luckily, my aunt didn’t notice. I had to suppress the urge to turn and run. Dancing was most definitely not my forte. Not that the idea of rhythmically moving to music was so uncongenial to me, no, that wasn’t it. It was this business about having to dance in pairs - with a man, whom you were supposed to follow! That was not how I envisioned spending my evenings, thank you very much.

Now if one could discuss the way to move during a dance beforehand, on an equal footing with your partner, then democratically decide on a certain pattern, and then execute it, that would be a different matter entirely. But apparently nobody had ever thought of creating a dance like that.

I positioned myself out of sight, behind the bulk of a conveniently fat duchess. From my vantage point I could just see Wilkins bowing to Ella.

‘Miss Ella,’ he said, his lips pulling into what he probably thought was an enchanting smile. ‘Will you do me the honour of granting me your hand for the first dance?’

This was simply too much for Maria to bear.

‘I am not sure whether that would be congenial to my dear sister,’ she said, sourly. ‘This is her first night out, you see, Sir Philip, and she might not be prepared to take such a big step as opening the ball.’

‘Her first night out?’ Sir Philip brightened. ‘All the more reason to make it a special night for her! If you have no objections, Miss Ella?’

Ella, who would not in her wildest dreams have dared to object to anything proposed by a knight of the British Empire, gave a shaky little nod and placed her hand in Sir Philip's. They went off, leaving a fuming pair of twins behind them.

I grinned and quickly ducked down behind the fat duchess when my aunt turned her head in my direction, her eyes searching.

‘Lillian? Lillian, where are you?’

Thinking it unwise to respond to her question, I made my way instead to the side of the room where, behind a few extravagant tropical plants in pots, refreshment tables had been set up and chairs placed. Flopping down on one, I sighed and congratulated myself on my lucky escape. The music for the first dance had already begun to play. For now, I was saved from the mating rituals of high society.

My eyes floated to the refreshment table next to me and saw there something very agreeable - a plate of, if I was not mistaken, the same curious solid chocolate substance that Eve had brought along with her the other day in the park. What had she called it again? Ah yes, a chocolate bar. I took one and bit off a piece.

Aaaaah. This stuff was bliss. It seemed to fill me with peace and shoo all my worries away for a little while. The fellow who invented this should really be included in the next year’s honours list. It showed that men were good for something after all.

Chewing my chocolate bar, I watched the dances from the shadow of the potted plants. Ella seemed to be doing well, if only because, unlike me, she had no problems being steered around by a man. Anne and Maria were dancing considerably less elegantly, watching their little sister with envy instead of their own feet with care. My aunt was happy in the arms of a portly admiral. Even when the first dance ended, she didn’t come to look for me, preferring rather to watch Ella and Sir Philip. It looked like for the moment I was safe. Maybe I wouldn’t need to stab anyone with a fan after all.

I smiled to myself. What was I really worrying about? Even if my aunt wished me to dance, first a man would have to ask me. By all accounts, that was extremely unlikely. Both she and my beloved twin sisters, kind and caring family that they were, had assured me on numerous occasions how thoroughly unattractive I was to men, with my tanned skin, wild hair and wilder manners. Apparently, according to the fashion of the day I was more likely to be taken for a fishmonger’s daughter or maybe a female gorilla in a dress, than a lady men would actually be interested in, which suited me perfectly. Closing my eyes, I leaned back and popped another piece of chocolate in my mouth.

Hmm…

Just leaning back and thinking of nothing… It was so relaxing. Maybe I could sit out the entire ball like this. I mean, why would anybody come here, into this secluded corner behind the potted plants? I could just sit and wait until we went home, eating chocolate. That wouldn’t be so bad. And then the awful evening would be over, and then…

Then it would be morning again.

A familiar face appeared in front of my mind’s eye. It would be morning, and I would have to go to work.

Blast! Why did I have to think about him now, when I had just achieved a measure of peace and managed to forget all about the existence of the overbearing, annoying and infuriating species known as ‘men’ for a couple of minutes?

But the more I tried to force his image from my mind, the clearer it appeared: his stark, angular features, his typical look of cool disinterest and, most of all, those dark, sea-coloured eyes that seemed like pearls from a bottomless ocean. Seeing all the opulent splendour surrounding Sir Philip Wilkins, I could not help but wonder why Mr Ambrose, who was supposedly one of the richest men in London, spent his days in an office with bare stone walls. I also couldn’t help wonder where he had gotten his money from, if indeed he was as rich as Maria had claimed. He didn’t seem to me like a wealthy landowner, not at all the sort of man to fit into London’s high society.

For a moment, I amused myself with the thought of how he would act if he were here. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d stick out like a shark in a flock of peacocks.

Then, suddenly, I was jerked out of my thoughts by the most unlikely thing imaginable. A voice beside me. A man’s voice. A man’s voice asking, in a calm, polite tone: ‘Miss Linton? Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’