“I’ll say I want to return to the country and wait for Papa to return.”
“Tries bien.” Mademoiselle stood. “Come to the theatre tomorrow morning at nine of the clock. Send a message if you cannot.”
Henrietta jumped up. “Wait, mademoiselle. Will I need traveling documents?”
“Yes.” She patted her reticule. “You can obtain them at Le Havre.”
Henrietta held out her hand. “I’ll hold on to yours until we meet.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You want me to give you my papers?”
“They are safe with me. How else can I be sure you’ll wait for me?”
“Because I said I would.” Mademoiselle stared at her. “And if you don’t come?”
“I’ll send them to you. I have no intention of delaying you.”
Mademoiselle heaved a sigh. Removing a folded document from her reticule she handed it to Henrietta. “Why should you trust my word?”
“Because I have no choice. Tomorrow then, mademoiselle,” Henrietta said.
As soon as the door closed behind Mademoiselle Garnier, Henrietta hurried upstairs. Aunt Gabrielle had just woken from her nap. “I’ve decided what must be done, Henrietta,” she said.
Henrietta sat beside the bed. “Yes, Aunt?”
“You will be disappointed, but with your father away and me less than my best, I must refuse all invitations.”
“I thought I’d go back to the country. There is much I can do while Papa is away. Would you mind, Aunt?” Guilt flooded over her. How easily the lie had slipped from her lips.
Aunt Gabrielle smiled and patted her hand. “Poor child. That is sensible. It provides us with a perfect excuse. I shall put it about that you and your father were called home.” She sighed. “I shall miss you. But it is better than sitting here with nothing to do but worry.”
“I’ll leave tomorrow.” Henrietta left the room assuring herself that once she came home with Papa and Phillippe, all would be forgiven.
The next morning, Henrietta was driven to the theatre in the family carriage. She ordered the coachman to return to collect her in an hour. As he’d been instructed to take her to the country, it was necessary to include him and the groom in this escapade.
Mademoiselle waited for her in the foyer. She held out her hand. “My papers?”
Henrietta shook her head. “On our way in the carriage.”
Mademoiselle’s brows knitted. “I had hoped you’d see the sense of leaving this dangerous expedition to me.”
Henrietta pursed her lips. “Then you were wrong.”
The actress sighed. She led Henrietta into the wardrobe mistress’ room. “Wait for me here.”
While Mademoiselle talked to the stage manager, Henrietta peeked behind the curtain at the props, backdrops and necessary paraphernalia required to create an illusion for the audience. She trailed after the French actress to the wardrobe mistress’ room, which reeked of candle wax, and other exotic smells. An Aladdin’s cave with colorful costumes knee-deep on shelves around the walls. Large wicker baskets overflowed onto the floor. An inner room of bare boards featured a wide table with a row of mirrors propped in its center. Its surface was covered in pots of creams and potions. The air heavy with the smell of greasepaint. Boxes bulged with paste jewelry and gewgaws. To Henrietta, the air seemed to crackle with excitement.
Mademoiselle tossed her a role of bandage.
“Bind your breasts,” she said before whisking around, pulling out clothes and holding them up to Henrietta and herself.
Behind a painted screen, Henrietta stripped off her gown, corset, and shift. She bound her breasts in the bandages as tightly as she could bear. As she sat to remove her stockings, Mademoiselle handed her a set of clothes to try on. Most were too big, but finally, Henrietta stood before the mirror in buff breeches and white stockings, white shirt, and an olive-green coat, a muslin cravat tied neatly at her throat.
“Try on these shoes.” Mademoiselle handed her a pair of black buckled shoes. They were a perfect fit.
“Let me look at you.” Mademoiselle turned her.
“I should cut my hair.” Henrietta studied herself in the mirror, holding her hair up.
