And, in fact, that very night Julia bribed her maid into airing out the dominoes and by the time she returned them a week later, pressed and sweet-smelling, the excursion had come to seem inevitable. Giggling wildly, Julia powdered Charlotte’s hair with face powder so that it looked vaguely like the old-fashioned hairstyles of twenty years ago.

Julia was delighted. “Look at me! I look just like that portrait of my mother upstairs on the landing! And no one would recognize you, Charlotte,” she said encouragingly. “With your mask on, all I can see is powdered hair and a little bit of your face. Do you think we used too much powder?”

Charlotte looked at herself. Julia had certainly been liberal with the powder.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about being asked to dance,” Julia said, giggling. “A gentleman would probably start sneezing if he got too close!”

It should do, Charlotte thought dubiously. They could go see how the other half of the world danced, and then come home. Escaping the house was no problem. The east wing, where Julia’s bedroom was, had stairs in the back for servants, but the servants were in bed in the west wing when the girls stole out at nine o’clock at night.

The curate was waiting around the curve of the drive as Charlotte and Julia rounded the bend. Seeing a dark figure leaning against the carriage door, Charlotte’s footsteps faltered. She felt a wave of passionate conviction that this masquerade was a mistake. But Julia danced forward irresistibly, shouting “Christopher” and generally acting as if surreptitious meetings on dark roads were nothing new to her. Charlotte followed slowly, feeling that she really ought to tell the curate that they had made a mistake and drag Julia home.

Yet to Charlotte’s relief, Mr. Colby was respectful when the two girls reached the carriage. He bowed solemnly when Julia introduced him to Charlotte, and mentioned that he had visited the chapel at Calverstill while at Oxford. Somehow that comment managed to give the whole excursion the air of a school outing. Charlotte felt immeasurably relieved, and at any rate Julia bounded into the carriage before Charlotte had a chance to say anything about returning home. She found herself seated on the dusty seats of a hired hack, sitting forward gingerly so as not to crush the folds of her domino.

Then Mr. Colby pulled a bottle of champagne from a basket with such a flourish that it seemed they must join him. Did people really drink on the way to balls? Charlotte sipped at her wine uncertainly as the carriage gathered speed, lurching along the main road. Julia babbled of dances and balls and servants.