I looked across their faces: Henry confused, Everina crying, Eliza already pulling her gloves off by each finger, Lucy bouncing Charles on her hip.

“Go for us,” said Everina. “Remember every detail, so you can tell us later.”

Henry turned to press his face against the window, excited by the sound of horses’ hooves. “There’s a carriage. Stopping in front of our house!”

Eliza put my cape around my shoulders, and fastened it at my neck. “Make some excuse for me. You know the rules. Your minuet is strong. It was always you who should go.” She kissed my cheek. “You’re the brave one, Mary.”

I remember every detail, little bird, as if living it again. Sitting in the carriage, fighting my own well of tears and pretending to smile, my mother’s words ringing in my ears: If they found out who you are … But as our carriage proceeds, even I begin to believe. John Arden attributes my uncharacteristic silence to butterflies, “the most natural thing in the world.”

“Never mind butterflies,” said Jane. “Prepare to be dazzled!”

Dazzled I was, as Norwood came into view, elegant like nothing I’d ever seen: a fine country house, scaled to fit the town in front, but with a parkland at its rear. Its neat red brick, stone pediment and plinths, and torchlight welcomed the throng of people stepping from coaches, landaus, and chaises, including me, in my silk gown and white kid gloves, relieved to leave the truth of my own life behind.

The ballroom itself, with its powder-blue walls, pristine floor, marble mantel, boasted three chandeliers, each with a hundred candles blazing above us like galaxies unto themselves. And how glad I was to find Marmaduke Hewitt the master of ceremonies, with his cheerful red cheeks. He remembered my name—“How could one forget a Wollstonecraft?”—and declared that he would make it his mission to introduce me to suitable partners, though he apologized that “We’ve a surplus of ladies this evening, and a rare lack of men.” Something about a light influenza among the ranks.

Wanting to get my bearings, I stepped to a wall where I watched a sea of pale pink and off-white silks twirl amidst the scarlet wool of the East Riding coats. I recognized a few of the girls from school, poised at the front of the crowd, waiting, nearly desperate, to be chosen by a man—as they were, one by one. I was surprised how much it rankled me. I thought of our headmistress telling us all how we ought to walk, sit, speak, be, if we intended to attract husbands. The rules, all the rules, and Everina repeating them to me late at night, so I didn’t forget. After all the anticipation, I now felt the spectacle and falseness of it.