“Just a coffee,” she said to the waitress. She closed her menu.
Grace ordered enough food for both of them. When it came, she artfully passed some of the plates over to Frannie’s side of the table.
Frannie hesitated.
Other than the necklace Frannie was getting back, and the other jewelry she already had in her possession, Grace didn’t think there was much for her to live on.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” Grace said.
“Why are you doing this?” Frannie asked, frowning. She still looked displeased to be seen with someone like Grace. Grace tried not to bristle.
“I could ask you the same question,” Grace said. “I know what you did that night. I thought Lillie was the one who sent the police up to the balcony to save us. But it wasn’t her. It was you.”
Frannie stared stonily at her coffee cup, stirring it.
“Why did you do it?” Grace asked her. “You knew what it would mean for you, for your brother. You could have turned on us. And then I would not even be here.”
Frannie shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve never understood. I tried to tell you before. You don’t follow the rules. You don’t see how necessary they are. But rules are what keep society functioning. No one gets to bend them just for their own sake. That’s what your mother was always trying to do. And that’s what Earnest so foolishly did…” Frannie looked off in the distance, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “Thinking the rules somehow didn’t apply to him.”
“But you follow them,” Grace finished softly. “No matter what they cost.”
“Yes. For me or anyone else. I don’t know any other way to live with myself.”
Grace paid the bill and requested bags for the leftover food. Frannie finished her coffee and stood.
“Thank you,” she said, as though it pained her.
“I’ll be seeing you, Frannie,” Grace said. She pushed the bags of food in Frannie’s direction.
Frannie shook her head with a wry smile on her face. “I very much doubt that.”
Grace watched as Frannie straightened her shoulders and walked into the oncoming crowd. Alone, resolute, and with her head held high. She raised her parasol and disappeared into the wave of humanity, letting it swallow her.
She’d left the bags under the table.
EPILOGUE
DECEMBER 1, 1904
Seven Months Later
THE WISTERIA WASdraped just the way Grace had instructed. Purple, and wisping, and light as lace, even though it was frigid outside.
She stood in front of the gilded mirror. It was wintertime, she was going to a floral ball, and she was dressed in many layers of luxurious clothing—but this time, every layer belonged to her.
She examined the rich silk gown that trailed in heavy pleats at her hips, and the embroidery that knit along the train.
It was astonishing what a difference a year could make.
“My darling,” a man said from behind her.
He was sharply handsome. He still limped from the scars on his leg, the occasional pain in his side.
“I never knew how much you truly loved me,” she said to him. “Until you voluntarily agreed to host this party.”
“I’d almost rather be stabbed again,” he said.
He kissed the skin on the back of her neck, and she smiled. She turned around and straightened his tie.
