Harriet was seated beside a woman close to her own age who whispered a joke about the limp and yellowing pineapple that was the table centrepiece, and she found herself relaxing, and thought she might enjoy the evening after all. It was certainly gratifying having her food served to her, instead of making and serving it for others, and exhilarating being in the company of adults. The soup and the main course of roasted pheasant, glazed carrots and peas, were delicious. She declined a second glass of wine when the cheese and croutons were served, although Mr Boothby pressed her to take one; the first had flushed her skin and she knew a second would make her drunk.

After supper, the guests retired to the parlour to admire the new grand piano Albert had bought, an early wedding gift for Harriet. One of the ladies agreed to play and Albert sank into a settee and indicated Harriet should sit by his side by patting the cushion. He talked over her head to the gentleman seated on her other side, remarking that the guest list for the annual Cutler’s Feast did not feature any of the directors of the Sheffield Waterworks Company.

‘I think you could say the knives are out.’ This remark from retired town alderman Mr Gatesby-Taylor generated snorts of laughter from the men and titters from the ladies.

Harriet spoke quietly. ‘It is a shame to make jest when so many lost their lives.’ Heat rose into her cheeks, but it soon became apparent her remark was being ignored, if it had been listened to in the first place.

‘Cutler’s Hall is to be expanded, I hear,’ Albert said.

One of the men pointed at him. ‘A fine project for Boothby, Simpson and Sons?’

‘I wouldn’t presume. We’re up to the job, that’s for certain.’ Albert drained his glass. ‘I’ll tell the Master Cutler as much.’

Harriet said, ‘Cutler’s Hall seems like a grand enough edifice. What more could be added to it? There is much greater need in the town.’

‘Such as?’ asked the man on her other side.

Harriet said, ‘We should build housing for the poor. They suffered more from the flood because they have no reserves to draw on. Oh!’

Albert had nipped her, twisting the soft flesh of her underarm between his fingers. He spoke under his breath, without looking at her. ‘Harriet, my dear, you are stepping outside your sphere.’ He released her and continued, more loudly. Harriet resisted the urge to rub her arm. ‘The Company of Cutlers owns one of the finest Georgian buildings in the town, but their banqueting hall cannot accommodate more than two hundred men. Now,’ he gestured to a man standing nearby, ‘since four years past, steelmakers are included in this august body. Sheffield steel deserves premises that reflect its standing around the world!’

‘Cheers to that!’

Albert held up his glass and a servant came forward to replenish it. ‘Now, Harriet.’ He offered her his hand and when they were both standing, squeezed her fingers and said, ‘I shall leave you to enjoy the company of the ladies.’