“You’ll be the one marrying him by season’s end, mark my words.”
“What?” Catherine exclaims.
“We are going to make that woman pay,” Mother says, turning with a glint in her eye that’s cold and frenzied in a way Catherine has never seen her mother look before.
“...By stealing her daughter’s suitor?”
“He hasn’t offered a ring yet. You’re every bit as lovely asher precious Lady Rosalie, and we’re going to make you a viscountess.”
Catherine just stares at her mother. “You want me to become a viscountess”—an absurd notion in its own right—“to get back at Lady Tisend?”
She must hear how ridiculous this sounds.
“Not entirely, but it will be an enormous bonus,” Mother says, grinning at Catherine.
“I don’t think that’s a—”
But Mother takes her hand, squeezing too tightly. She’s trembling a little. “You’re going to have everything you could ever want, and be the envy of the ton,” Mother says softly. “Wouldn’t that be grand?”
Catherine meets her eyes. She looks so animated. Ever since they arrived in Bath she’s seemed... anxious, strange. Now Catherine supposes she knows why. But is this really the only way to help her gather her confidence?
And could she really do it, steal Lady Rosalie’s suitor? Find it in herself to play the marriage mart the way her mother wants her to?
Mother loops her arm through Catherine’s, starting to rattle off a list of outings and activities they’ll have to arrange. It seems an answer isn’t necessary; the decision’s been made.
Catherine stares out at the dancers, her stomach clenching with unease. Mr.Dean seems like a man of few words and meaningful looks. She could grow to be interested in that, couldn’t she?
Cousin Louis steps up on Mother’s other side, looking as pleased as Mother. It’s loud, and far too warm, and Catherine is suddenly rather exhausted. She decides she can let Motherand Cousin Louis guide her around the room for the rest of the evening and make decisions later. She can pretend at ease and comfort. Perhaps a few balls from now she’ll truly feel it.
But after an hour of harried scheming that seems to require none of her actual involvement, Catherine needs to escape. She leaves Mother and Cousin Louis in the tearoom at a table with some of Cousin Louis’ acquaintances and heads to the cloakroom with promises to hurry back.
Stepping inside is an immediate relief. The dark, green-velvet-lined room is quiet and empty. Catherine stands at the threshold, looking around at the light green settees and the large vanity mirrors over the counter along the wall that abuts the water closets. Candlelight flickers, casting everything in a warm glow. It makes her want to linger.
When she’s done with her business, she goes to return to the peaceful anteroom, planning to sit for a few minutes and gather herself. But the water closet door won’t budge.
Catherine jiggles the handle, pushing on the heavy wooden door, painted green like the cloakroom. It doesn’t move. She puts her shoulder into it, tries to shift the door side to side, up and down, to get it to unstick. Nothing works.
She leans against the door, blowing out a slow breath. Everything’s fine. This is not a dire portent of things to come. Another woman will need the lavatory before the end of the night, and she’ll be rescued. The water closet isn’t that small. She’s fine.
She presses her ear to the door, hearing nothing on the other side. Slumping, she rests there against the door, trying to convince herself that this respite in the pungent water closet is just as good as sitting on one of the overstuffed settees out in the cloakroom.
Thankfully, just as her sanguine attitude begins to crack, she hears the cloakroom door open. Moments later, someone tugs on the door from the other side.
“Oh goodness,” she hears through the door.
“If you pull, and I push, we can get it open,” Catherine calls hopefully.
There’s a short pause. “Are you stuck in there?”
“Terribly!”
“All right, three, two, one...”
Catherine pushes with all her might, and slowly, the door groans open, until it swings back into the cloakroom, and Catherine goes tumbling into her rescuer.
It’s Lady Rosalie’s friend dressed in yellow. Her big blue eyes are wide with surprise as she helps Catherine stand back up. There’s an uncomfortable moment, before the lady in yellow starts giggling. Catherine follows suit, and they stand in front of the open door to the water closet laughing together, bright-cheeked.
“Thank you,” Catherine manages after a moment.
