“I might not have been finished yet but even I know young ladies are considered far too delicate to do anything as exciting as fetching our own drinks,” she replied with faux indignation. Gretchen leaned against the garden wall with a sigh, arms folding themselves defensively as she considered the bleak seasons ahead of her.

“Do you like it? Going to all the parties, I mean.”

Gretchen couldn’t imagine how anyone could. She didn’t mind the company, or even the dressing up – and she had certainly enjoyed herself at Christmas – but the thought of being assessed like cattle was awful. Much worse was the fear that she would be found wanting.

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Bee is tremendous, isn't she?