It was called The Grand Palace on the Thames. She liked the aspirational name of the place. When she’d peered closely at the sign outside, she could see the word “rogues” very faintly visible on the sign, and she rather liked that, too: The building wanted to be something other than what it once was. So did she.
A maid with wide blue eyes and an air of general mystification had asked her to wait, and everything in this pretty little reception room seemed gently blurred around the edges from wear, like a watercolor painting or a rose just past peak bloom.
She whirled and her heart gave a lurch when she heard the sound of slippers clicking on marble. She’d been told a certain Mrs. Hardy and a Mrs. Durand were to be consulted before she could be given a room.
The two smiling, elegant ladies brought into the room with them such a palpable sense of peace and unflappable competence that the invisible belt that had been pulled taut beneath her ribs for days now loosened just a notch.
“How do you do. I am Mrs. Hardy,” the dark-haired lady said at once.
Aurelie never used to search faces for kindness; it had been assumed. A layer of precaution now lay between her and every interaction, and this was new, too.
She thought she found genuine kindness in Mrs. Hardy’s soft, dark eyes.
“And I am Mrs. Durand.”
The golden-haired lady seemed kind, too. Her dress was a clever shade of green with a hint of a bronze sheen and it made her hazel eyes glow. They were a harmonious pair, Mrs. Durand and Mrs. Hardy.
They all exchanged graceful curtsies.
“How do you do? I am Mrs. Mary Gallagher,” she told them with what she thought was warm conviction. She had been telling lies for days—to people at inns, to people on the passage over. It was getting alarmingly easier.
“I hope I am not interrupting your day. Your maid, she is... a bit astonished, I think, to see me?” She flared her fingers before her eyes to illustrate Dot’s expression.
The two ladies smiled at her. “Oh, don’t mind Dot,” Mrs. Hardy said. “That’s her usual expression. The world in general amazes her. I suspect she was merely pleased to discover a potential charming new guest.”
Aurelie’s cheeks went warm with pleasure. She did, however, take note of the word “potential.”
By God, she would win them over. She wanted to stay here.
Mainly, she just wanted to be alone in a room as soon as possible.
“Would you like to sit down, Mrs. Gallagher?”
“Oh! Yes, thank you.”
She lowered herself to the edge of the pink settee, folded her hands tightly in her lap, aligned her feet, pressed her knees together, compacting herself as tightly as the springs in the pleasantly bouncy cushion. She could not seem to commit to leaning her back against it yet. She wondered if the rest of her life she would be braced to bolt. She could feel her heart kicking away behind her bodice, like a trapped hare.
All three ladies studied each other for a moment, each wearing a mildly pleased, expectant expression.
“This is a very pretty room.” It was only good sense to begin with a compliment.
“We’re so happy to hear you like it. The king once sat where you’re sitting,” Mrs. Durand said pleasantly.
“Oh, my,” she said, politely. Wondering if this could possibly be true. She was absurdly tempted to peer beneath her bottom.
And it felt a bit like a riposte. A hint that she was going to have to bring all of her best charm and flattery to bear to deserve to stay where the king of England had once chosen to perch.
“Dot informed me that your establishment is exclusive, which is lovely to hear. One feels so much more at home in an exclusive establishment, don’t you think? But Dot said you would like to interview me. If you ask me any questions about Latin verbs, I fear I will disgrace myself and you will cast me out. I hope there is archery instead. I once won a little trophy.”
Mrs. Durand and Mrs. Hardy laughed delightedly, and with some surprise.
And suddenly the air was aswarm with sparkly assumptions: they now knew they were all “ladies.” Which meant they’d all experienced—or been subjected to—the same education and amusements and possessed similar senses of humor about them. Latin and archery and embroidery and watercolors and so forth.
At once they knew they shared a common language. At once they were more inclined to trust each other.
Aurelie was just a little cynical about this now.
Aurelie wondered what would happen if she asked if Mrs. Hardy or Mrs. Durand knew how to shoot agun. She entertained a wild impulse to ask them: Do either of you know how dangerous the world, in fact, is? How unexpected and capricious? She earnestly wanted to know.
