Something warm inside me blossomed at the idea. He and I against the world. What a blissful thought.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Performer
The scent of moth repellent burned the inside of my nose. My fingers flipped indecisively between catalog paper, the edges slightly warped from how many fingers had handled the pages. Even with less modern wares, my seamstress was the best. The shop was a nondescript hole on Fifth, but no better work came from elsewhere. I first came here to fit my ballet costumes; later, I came for everything else.
I couldn’t decide between different sets of combinations. New colors were in fashion, yet I wasn’t sure how it mattered, since nobody but your maids and husbands would see.
The thought made me pause, some new clarity dawning on me.
Did Arkady have preferences? Not that he really spoke of them. I suppose it was a good sign that he hadn’t voiced anything that would make me think I had to change. Did he like one color more than the other? Did certain fabrics irritate him to the touch? Were there details he didn’t care for? Or perhaps it was all the same to him, and I was thinking myself into a paralyzing hole.
The shop door slapping its bell made me startle, my heart leaping out and yanking me from the back of my mind.
“Petronille?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Helen.” I nodded politely.
“You know, you’ve always been so pretty.” A sly smirk across the haughty features. “It must be nice to have attention even when not in the spotlight.” She turned to one of her flock. “Don’t you agree? Isn’t she darling?”
“I’m not sure I’d like to know where the sudden compliments are coming from.” I kept my expression steady, careful of any and all reactions. Everyone knew that jealous compliments were bad fortune, even worse for those who reacted incorrectly.
“Nowhere in particular.” She giggled, turning to the other girls. “Should have known we would find you here.”
Their fleeting gazes flicked to and from us as they shielded their laughter with gloves or fans.
At the beginning of the season, this may have bothered me some. But now, I felt that not only could I not understand the catty jokes, I didn’t care to either.
“Have you spoken with Lorelei lately?”
I looked at her again; this time, she seemed less of an antagonist. “No.”
“I doubt that. I’m sure you finally succeeded at talking her out of the ballet.”
“I’m not her mother, her actions and whereabouts are her own and none of my business.”
“Could have fooled us.” She smirked, a couple of flighty laughs from either side of her. “I should be thanking you if you did, as her understudy. William was furious when she didn’t show for her debut.”
“You are awfully optimistic.” I clenched my jaw, now feeling the soreness tense in my neck and head.
“I can’t help but shine at a bright future.” She pointed her chin in the air, a smirk of victory. “Well, as the old passes, so come the new. I sincerely hope you are enjoying your retirement.”
I stopped looking at her, keeping both hands on the catalog to prevent them from seeking out the supple flesh of her face. Another hard chime of the door slapping the bell to mark the other customer’s departure, the high-pitched irritants muffling with distance.
I slowly let out a long sigh, like holding it would keep unsavory words from forming after the interaction. The small optimist in my head told me to ignore it and continue on with my day, but the overwhelming pessimist that was cemented in my personality told me to go home and hit something in private.
As I was in no mood to take any functional highway, I did as my lower sensibilities craved. There was no need to be outside today anyway.
The arrival back home was as regular and ordinary as the walk there. I walked up each of the seven steps to my townhome, was at eye level with the window flower boxes, and to the left corner of the door was the daily paper.
I knelt down to grab it, the curled wad of paper dry, as a familiar face jumped at me.
I flipped the paper tube over to move up the headline.
What is this?
I scrambled to open the paper, unfolding and nearly tearing it with the force I pried at it.
