And then they had been turned into weapons against her.
“Have you had a long journey, Mrs. Gallagher?” Mrs. Durand asked gently.
Hell’s teeth. Aurelie had not quite thought this part of her story through.
“Perhaps not so long,” she said carefully, “but I think all of my bones and teeth were loosened by the carriage ride across London.”
They clucked sympathetically. “Perhaps a tiny shot of brandy will set you right.”
Aurelie was quiet. Now she was a little concerned.She wanted very much to be liked. Was this a test of her willingness to commit debauchery?
“I have tasted champagne but once, and I liked it,” she said carefully, “but I have not tasted it again. I enjoy ratafia. I have tasted sherry. But I have not tasted brandy. Back in Ireland, my husband, Thomas, used to say that only men ought to drink it, as it would put hair on my chest.”
Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand laughed again.
Her brother Edouard was the one who had, in fact, said this. She knew it must simply be an expression, but she hadn’t thought to dispute it. Men seemed constitutionally able to drink and eat things that didn’t seem meant for eating or drinking.
“Brandy is a very pretty color,” she enthused, “much like the color of your dress, Mrs. Hardy. If you would like to give me a brandy, I shall try it,” she added bravely.
They simply smiled very kindly at her. “We do not require your martyrdom, Mrs. Gallagher,” Mrs. Hardy said firmly. “We do not intend to lead you down the path of iniquity. Tea first, I should think, and perhaps a wee bit of sherry later. We can work you up to brandy one evening. That was a jest! We spend our evenings playing spillikins and reading aloud from horrid novels and playing pianoforte. Do you play?”
“Oh yes, of course,” she assured them, for what lady did not play pianoforte?
“May we ask how you came to find us?” Mrs. Durand asked. “We are not precisely on the beaten path.”
“Oh, I asked my hack driver to take me to a very quiet and very beautiful and genteel place to stay and I must say that his judgment appears to have been flawless,” she flattered shamelessly. “I’ve some business to see to in London, and I shall need a respectable placeto stay until I secure passage to Boston. I am lately a widow and I now feel the need to be with family, and my brother is there. He is . . . he is all I really have left.”
She hadn’t quite put it that way before, and as the stark truth of this suddenly settled in, her voice trailed.
Her heart lurched as if it had foundered on rocks.
Shewasalone apart from someone she hadn’t seen in six years. But then, she had mostly been alone.
She did not suppose she had ever counted her guardian, Uncle Jacques, as hers, orofher. He’d been shelter, like a roof, and not much warmer or loving than that. She did not think he would truly miss her should she disappear, though he might feel a bit of guilt. She did have other distant relatives, who didn’t know her at all.
“We are so sorry for the loss of your husband,” Mrs. Hardy said gently.
They were both watching her with such sympathetic eyes that tears nearly started up in hers.
“We both know what it is like to lose someone and to feel utterly alone suddenly. How frightening and strange it is. The world looks very different, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Durand said.
“Yes.” She almost whispered it. She seized upon those words. “It is a little frightening. And strange. Thank you for understanding.”
Her throat was thick.
These wordsweretrue. She was frightened. And it was strange. And the world did indeed look entirely different now than it had a month ago.
There was much relief in admitting this aloud, even though it was not for the reasons they assumed. Losses of loved ones to war and illness were the sort of shared experiences that bound humans together.There was a sort of nobility to these kinds of sacrifices and griefs; everyone understood them. But she could not imagine saying aloud the sordid and singular reason she was here. Especially not in a soft, gentle pink room like this one.
“Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand... may I ask a question? And I hope it is not a presumption. Please do not hesitate to tell me if it is. I do not wish to seem as if I am testing you, as well.”
The proprietresses laughed. Somewhat cautiously, she perceived.
“Of course,” Mrs. Durand said.
“How did two ladies such as yourselves come to be running a fine boardinghouse such as this?”
She’d surprised them. Mrs. Durand and Mrs. Hardy exchanged a glance. Some sort of silent discussion seemed to take place.
