‘Who is out there?’ a sharp voice calls across the yard.
Odette leaps away, scrabbles for her nightdress.
A light swings in the dark, and Claudine comes into view, striding towards them. They are far enough across the cobbles that the gaslight from the windows does not reach them, and this had given Odette a sense of secrecy – but now she realises how exposed they are, hidden only by the night and their own brazenness.
‘Girls? What on earth are you doing?’ She stares in incomprehension and dawning disgust.
Odette yanks on the gown, but it is too late: Claudine has seen her nakedness. For a moment, Odette is struck dumb by the terror that Claudine has seen them together, seen who they are to each other – but then Claudine’s attention goes to Diana.
‘Why have you taken a horse from the stable at this time of night? What is this?’
‘A game,’ stammers Cecilia. ‘We wanted to do Lady Godiva.’
Claudine stares at her. ‘Do you mock me?’
‘No. I swear it,’ says Odette.
‘A game.’ Claudine looks at the two of them in incredulity. ‘A game to strip naked and cavort in the dark? Is this how my sisterraised you? I cannot believe you would think this is anything other than wickedness. Inside, at once. There are guests in this house, and you choose to do something so utterly inexcusable. You will answer to your father.’
Cowed, they follow Claudine to George’s study, where she leaves them to wait.
Odette’s heart races. She does not get in trouble. That is not the kind of daughter she is. Will her father be angry? Will he shout at her? He has never done that before. She has seen him shout, yes, at leaking pen nibs and spilt coffee, his fury vented at the inanimate world – but at her? At her mother? Never. It would be far too much like honesty.
‘I’m sorry,’ Cecilia whispers, but Odette shakes her head. She wants to say they have nothing to be sorry for, but the shame has set in already.
She is stupid. Of course they shouldn’t have taken such a risk. She has judged it all wrong, and she is ashamed of her foolishness. Claudine returns with her father sooner than she would have liked, a blare of chatter following them from the smoking room down the hall as the study door opens and closes.
‘Girls. Claudine has told me everything.’ George adopts a serious expression that ill fits his face, like an actor practising for an unwanted part. Odette wonders if he has read something in his journals of psychology about the best way to deal with conflict, with troublesome daughters.
‘Don’t be angry,’ says Odette quickly. ‘It was a silly game. Honestly. We got carried away and didn’t think about it.’
She can solve this for him, at least. Give him a route out and through. She can still be useful to him.
‘That’s certainly true. Poor Diana doesn’t need to be roped into whatever silly idea you had.’
‘You’re right. We should have left Diana alone.’
‘I’m glad you agree. Well then. To bed, both of you.’
Odette is flushed with relief. There. Smoothed over. Is that not better? They both know that this should never have happened, and far better to avoid any unpleasantness when it is unnecessary.
Claudine looks at George incredulously. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
George is distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Misunderstandings happen. No harm done.’
It seems as though Claudine is going to speak again, but instead, she snaps her jaw shut tight, turns on her heel and stalks from the study.
With that, George slopes back to the smoking room, and Odette and Cecilia are left to return to their separate rooms.
At the top of the stairs, Cecilia brushes her fingers against Odette’s in a silent question – do they risk staying together tonight? Odette shakes her head and withdraws. She has extricated them for now, but things are not as they once were. Claudine’s arrival has changed the rules, and Odette does not yet know how to navigate them.
She is frightened. She wants to flee.
God, let her mother be true to her word. Let Lydia set her free.
11
Odette
