He laughed. “The hansom turns beautifully, too. It’s a pleasure to drive them, but they don’t hire them out for guests.”
“Shame.”
A man dressed in green-and-gray livery—undoubtedly the uniform of the Cape Dove Manor—bowed and carried her bags inside. Toni saw no option but to follow. She paused to take in the marble floor, the gilt ornamentation that accented the molding around the ceiling, and the immense crystal-and-bronze chandelier that glistened as if it were polished just that morning.
“Miss Darbyshire!” A fit woman wearing a sharp day dress approached as Toni stepped inside. The woman paused awkwardly at the sight of Toni’s modern dress, but then quickly smiled and said, “Welcome to Cape Dove Manor. I’m Lady Dove.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” Toni bowed her head, not overly deep, but enough to show respect to the feigned aristocracy. Strictly speaking, she didn’t need to bow, but it appeared that the proprietress of the manor was in character already.
“Will you be needing a lady’s maid for your dress?”
Toni heard the question under the question:Will you be wearing a dress? You appeared to have just bowed as a man would.
“I’ll be wearing a suit, Lady Dove. Period appropriate, of course.” Toni smiled and hoped that the answer was acceptable, all while silently cursing her publicist for not clarifying that detail in advance. “I’m ill-suited for corsets and gowns. You, however, look absolutely lovely.”
Lady Dove paused. “And will you be addressed as Lady Darbyshire or Lord?”
Toni relaxed at the question, which was as close to a Victorianversion of asking her pronouns as possible. “Darbyshire is fine. No need to muddle the guests.”
“Will you take whisky with the gentlemen after dinner?” Lady Dove pressed, but it felt more like she was trying to avoid missteps than making a point.
“At least one night, but I prefer the company of the ladies… after dinner on the other.” Toni let the pause between words linger to make things as clear as she could without being vulgar.
Lady Dove laughed cheerily, and her Victorian persona slipped a little as she said, “Well, Darbyshire, if it’s thecompanyof ladies you prefer, I suspect drinks with the men both nights would be the more appropriate choice, now, wouldn’t it? We don’t want any impropriety.”
Relieved by Lady Dove’s good spirit over Toni’s revelation, Toni grinned as if chastised. “Indeed, Lady Dove.”
“I’ll have Tomas take you to your room, then. He’ll be your valet. This is the 1800s, after all, and it wouldn’t do to have one of the lady’s maids put in a compromising position.”
At her word, a man, no older than twenty, appeared from another room up and said, “If you’ll follow me…”
“Darbyshire.” Lady Dove curtsied again and swept away, still smiling.
As Toni followed Tomas up the well-polished back stairs, slightly wider than servant’s stairs would be, Toni figured that this had worked out as well as it could, given the circumstances. Her pronouns were she/her, but since she wasn’t going to bow to gender constraints by dressing in corsets and curls, she’d been socially sorted with the men for the weekend.
So be it.
At least it would be a statement to anyone wondering whether or not she was available to or interested in male attention. The idea that this wasn’t addressed in advance was a bit awkward. Her character was a woman who was solely interested in women, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch to think that Toni was “writing what she knew” on that front.
Obviously not every aspect of a novel was a case of “write what you know.” She was also writing about murder in the books, and she had no experience with that. Her books were, in fact, fiction, but she wrote stories about a character she could relate to—a lesbian who sometimes felt ostracized by a society that wasn’t always sure what to do with her.
Stories, plural. I’m really writing another book,she thought. The second wasn’t yet finished, but it was getting closer.Who would’ve imagined that I’d pull off writing a second one, too?
Toni allowed herself a small smile of victory. Maybe the weekend could be a bit of holiday, a reward for working too many hours the last month or so. A bit of whisky and billiards sounded like a fine reprieve after dinner, and it paved the way for dancing with women at the Saturday evening ball.
Dancing with Addie,Toni’s libido filled in.
“Your room.” Tomas opened the door, bowed, and waited for her to enter.
While she took in the lavish room, Tomas hung her suit coats and trousers in the enormous mahogany wardrobe with a full mirror in the center of the three pieces. The bed, an equally heavy wooden antique, was an intricately carved French rococo piece with an embroidered footboard.
An ornate painted trifold divider hid a corner of the room. The design was decidedly Victorian; extremely crowded images of feathers and swirls that were vaguely fleurs-de-lis covered the material so thoroughly as to be clashing with themselves.
Tomas caught her gaze. “A dressing area for if a guest has a spouse who wishes privacy.”
He walked to the side of it and grasped the glass doorknob. “And your necessity room.” He paused awkwardly. “The house has modern plumbing, so the water no longer needs to be heated and brought up. And the”—he gestured at the toilet—“also is modern.”
“Marvelous.”
