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     luxe, bejeweled lemmings, and so there was nothing for it but to take a deep breath
     and let herself be swept along by the crowd. Across the grand entrance hall, up the
     cold, wide marble staircase, and into the echoing acreage of the blue drawing room.
    At first she stood with Lilly and Robbie, but then Lilly went to say hello to a childhood
     friend, and Robbie went in search of a cup of tea for him and Charlotte both. So she
     stood her ground, feeling increasingly out of place, and prayed that her discomfiture
     did not show on her face.
    She had made up her mind to approach Lilly, who certainly wouldn’t have minded, when
     a tap, tap, tap of heels alerted her that someone was approaching. Charlotte turned her head and
     realized, to her horror, that it was Lady Cumberland and Lilly’s two sisters. It was
     almost comical, the way they walked sopreeningly, so evidently aware of people’s admiration and envy. They were wearing
     beautiful gowns, dead black of course, as high mourning had to be, but so gorgeously
     fashioned and trimmed that one didn’t even notice the color, or lack of it, after
     a moment.
    Lilly’s sisters had grown plump, though they kept themselves well corseted, while
     Lady Cumberland didn’t appear to have aged at all. She had to be in her fifties at
     least, but looked scarcely older than her daughters, and her beauty had not diminished
     one whit in the eight years since Charlotte had seen her last.
    It was then that she made a critical error: she looked Lady Cumberland in the eye.
     Without saying a word, without even glancing at her daughters, the countess wheeled
     about and the three of them, arranged in perfect formation, positioned themselves
     before Charlotte.
    Once she had been expected to curtsy whenever she encountered the countess. She would
     not do so now. She stood even taller, lifted her chin a fraction higher, and gritted
     her teeth against the sudden, paralyzing fury that surged through her veins. Once
     she had vowed she would never expose herself to their disdain again, and to do so,
     now, went against her every instinct.
    Lady Mary, the middle of the Cumberland sisters, fixed her with a predatory stare.
     The three of them, Charlotte decided, resembled nothing so much as grimly assessing
     ravens, glittering in their black plumage, their eyes chill and calculating.
    “Have we met?” she asked, each word a precise, cutting blow.
    Before Charlotte could speak, Lilly’s other sister, Lady Alice, provided the answer.
     “Don’t you remember? She was Lilly’s governess—oh, it was ages ago, wasn’t it? Certainly
     long before the war.”
    “She was? What on earth is she doing here ?”
    “Lady Elizabeth invited me.” That was all the explanation she would give. Not one
     word more.
    They said nothing else, which was a relief, though Lady Cumberland continued to unnerve
     her by looking through Charlotte as if she weren’t even there. She then turned her
     back and walked away, back in the direction she had come, leaving her silly, spineless
     daughters to trail after her, whispering and giggling into their gloved hands.
    It wasn’t quite the cut direct of a hundred years before, for that was reserved for
     social equals; rather, it was an acknowledgment of Charlotte’s innate invisibility
     and, ultimately, her complete unimportance.
    It shouldn’t have hurt her—she had vowed she would never let them hurt her again—but
     it did. Oh, God, how it did.
    R OBBIE, PREDICTABLY , WAS horrified when he returned with their tea. “I ought to have known something like
     that would happen.”
    “I’ll survive. It wasn’t that bad, to be honest.” Her hands were trembling, her mouth
     was as dry as dust, but she hadn’t faltered. She had stood her ground. “How do you
     stand it? Stand them ?”
    “We hardly ever see them, to be honest. They’ve never quite forgiven Lilly for leaving
     home and joining the WAAC. Certainly they’ll never