Mrs. Hill entered the room as I finished. She was wearing a shimmering gold and black gown with a large bustle and a sweeping train. She was going out for the evening to a card party hosted by one of her friends.
“You look exhausted, Miss O’Day,” she said as she stood behind a sofa across from me.
I rose, still unused to her presence.
“I have decided to call you by your first name,” she said as she pulled a long glove onto her hand. “If we’re to convince the world we’ve known each other for years, we’ll need to start acting the part.” She settled the fingers of the glove into place. “However—I’m afraid Keira won’t do. We’ll need to Americanize you as much as possible and given the disdain between the English and the Irish, we’ll need to distance you from that heritage.”
I lowered my gaze, feeling shame for something I knew nothing about, nor could I control.
“When I adopt you,” she continued, “we’ll make the name change legal. Of course, you’ll want it to be something similar to Keira—but with a little softness. What do you think about Clara?”
“Clara?” I repeated, trying to wrap my mind around this change.
“Clara Day Hill,” she said with an indulgent smile. “So you can keep a bit of yourself in the process.”
Keep a bit of myself? Did I want any of my former self to remain? I had always suspected that God made a mistake when I was born. I hadn’t been wanted by anyone, so perhaps I hadn’t been wanted by Him, either.
Mrs. Hill was the first person who had ever chosen me—and the truth of it sank down deep into my heart. What was in a name, anyway? If this would hinder Mrs. Hill from adopting me, then I would not make a fuss.
“Clara Day Hill sounds grand,” I assured her.
“Good.” She lowered her chin. “And, Clara, you’ll need to speak up. You’re so soft-spoken. That will never do. The English aristocracy loves American women because they are confident, bold, and intelligent. That is your first order of business. When you’re addressing people, you must tell them who you are and what you want with your words and behavior. Be in command of every situation—do you understand?”
I looked down at my hands, my cheeks growing warm at her admonition, and nodded. “Aye.”
“Clara?”
I forced myself to look up at her.
“Let’s try again. This time, look at me and speak clearly and directly—and sayyes, instead ofaye.”
It went against everything I’d ever been taught or experienced. I had never been in command a day in my life. But I would try, for Mrs. Hill.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled—and her smile warmed me from head to toe. I had pleased her.
“Very good. Now, I’m off. I’ll see you in the morning. Get some sleep. We will be busy tomorrow with the dressmaker.”
With a swish of her skirt, she turned and left the room.
I sat for a moment, Louis XIV’s intimidating bed beckoning me, but I didn’t think I could sleep, because I had realized something important earlier that day.
I didn’t have my mother’s locket.
It was the only thing I could call my own. The only thing that connected me to her and to my past. And I wanted it. Besides that, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla would wonder where I had gone. I owed them some kind of explanation.
But how would I leave Mrs. Hill’s house, travel to Five Points, and get back inside without someone telling her?
It was still light out, but the longer I waited, the more dangerous it would become. It was one thing to go into Five Points dressed in my old clothing—another to go dressed in the gown Mrs. Hill had loaned me. I would attract a lot of unwanted attention. But I didn’t know where my old gown had gone.
I could send a note to my family, asking them to bring my locket to me, but they would never do it. And I didn’t want them to get ahold of my nine dollars and fifty cents. If things didn’t work out with Mrs. Hill, I would need every penny I could get.
That left one option. I would have to go on my own and hope I could get out of Mrs. Hill’s house—and back in—without being noticed.
But what if Mrs. Hill came home before I returned? Would she think I had changed my mind? Or, worse, that I had stolen the dress from her?
It was a risk I would need to take. I couldn’t have Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla wondering about me—and I couldn’t leave the locket behind.
