Chapter Four

M arie glanced at the familiar hand on her arm. "Uncle. I…"

His grip was hard. "I repeat, what do you think you are doing? Come away from here, Marie. Now."

"But, you don't understand—" she started.

"No. It is you who does not comprehend. Come. Or I will tell Mrs. Dove-Lyon we are leaving and we will be out on the street by morning. Is that what you want?"

She shook her head and allowed her uncle to lead her away and off the main floor. She felt the watchful eyes of the card dealers and footmen and felt a warm heat to her cheeks in embarrassment. Here she was dressed like a fine lady, and her uncle, in his servant's uniform, was treating her like a naughty child. She didn't deserve such treatment, especially when she was only doing Mrs. Dove-Lyon a favor.

She pulled her arm from his grasp when they were stopped by a familiar sight. It was the soldier who'd danced with her before.

He looked down at her uncle, eyeing the man's stern expression, and asked, "Miss Cadough, is everything all right?"

"That is no business of yours," Uncle Baptiste said.

"I was not addressing you, but the lady. Miss Cadough?"

Marie ducked her head in a nod. "Yes, everything is fine. I'm very well, thank you. My uncle was just escorting me home, for I have a headache."

The lieutenant's eyebrows rose. "Your uncle?" His good eye darted quickly to the man, taking in his servant's uniform and his chin, stiff with disapproval. He nodded politely. "Sir. I would be happy to escort your niece," he began, when her uncle said, "I will do it. Good night." He whisked Marie past the soldier when the man touched her arm.

Marie looked back at him.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you? If something were amiss? I know we have only been introduced, but I—"

"You are right. You do not know each other," her uncle replied in a chilly, accented English. "You are strangers. Now if you will allow it, sir, I will escort my niece home."

The soldier's face turned to stone and he removed his hand. He bowed and wished them goodnight.

Marie looked back as Uncle Baptiste hustled her away from the main floor and into the corridor. Once away from prying eyes, he turned on her. "What were you doing in there, and dressed like that? What are you playing at?"

Marie swallowed. "Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked me for a favor."

"What? What kind of favor?" he demanded.

Marie pondered this. Had Mrs. Dove-Lyon not yet had a chance to speak with her uncle? Her mistress would, she was sure of it. "There is a Frenchwoman here tonight. She is alone and has no friends. The mistress feared she was lonely, and so she asked me to dress up and talk to her."

"Why you?" He tugged at his high collar, a sure sign of his unease.

"We both speak French." She paused and looked down at the silk folds of her dress. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't think—"

He cursed. "That's right, you didn't. Have you no sense? What has gotten into you, Marie? It is not safe to be French right now. We were lucky the Campbells tolerated us for so long, but now, you take a risk with our new employer. All it takes is one mistake, one wrong turn, and we could be out on the street. I am careful—now you must be too. Do you understand?"

She bowed her head. "Yes, Uncle. I'm sorry."

He patted her hand. "Go change out of that dress. I don't want to see you in it again."

"But, Uncle, the mistress—"

"I will speak with her. Go." He stood by, waiting.

She left. But she did not follow her uncle's orders to change and go directly to her room. Instead, she suspected she knew where he was going and followed him.

That was one thing about her uncle: when he was mad, he lost sight of much else around him, remaining fixed on the task ahead.

She kept a safe distance behind him, and when he knocked and entered Mrs. Dove-Lyon's private parlor at the mistress's summons, she hastened to listen at the door. As the wooden door was ajar, she could hear clearly enough.

"Mr. Allard," Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. "You are up late. Is something the matter?"

"You could say that. Why on Earth is my niece on the floor of your gambling den, dressed up like a silly French lady?"

Mrs. Dove-Lyon laughed. "I hardly think it is all bad as that, Mr. Allard. I meant to speak with you earlier, but time got away from me. She is simply doing me a favor. Any fault of this is mine. I asked her to do it."

"Why? What could she possibly do for you?"

"Please, Mr. Allard, do not be angry. She was very hesitant to agree at all. The fact of the matter is that a general and his new bride are among my guests tonight, and his lady wife is French. She speaks little English and looked so alone. I did not want her to find my little institution unwelcoming. Is that so wrong? "

"You should have asked my permission before allowing Marie to dress up like a lady."

"Perhaps. But she is not a child. She is a young woman, and she should be allowed to make up her own mind."

"She is innocent in the ways of the world. She does not know the trouble it could cause."

"And what harm could a dress do?" she asked.

"Her dress is not my concern. But it is now too, for it is not hers. She will return it to you immediately."

She paused. "Mr. Allard, I do not care about a dress. What is your quarrel with me?"

"I have no quarrel, madam. I only wish you would have consulted me first before involving my niece in one of your schemes."

The mistress's voice grew cold. "My ‘schemes'? Do you understand what it is we do here, Mr. Allard? Without these schemes , as you call them, there would be no roof over your head. The eligible men and women who attend my little parties come intending to meet their matches. Is that so wrong, to add your niece to their number, even just for one night? There is a very distinguished soldier who—"

"Marie is not suitable for a common soldier," he said angrily.

Marie's mouth dropped open and she clapped a hand over her lips to keep from uttering a sound. How dare he? Her uncle thought her lower than a soldier? Why? How had she sunk so low in his estimation?

"I fail to see why you are so angry. I understand you are protective of your niece, but she is a grown woman. She is what, twenty?"

"Twenty-two."

"More than old enough to be entertaining beaus. I know some women are married by that time. And a young woman likes a bit of excitement. She enjoyed herself tonight. Would you deny her the chance to meet some eligible young men?"

He grunted. "It is not for me to say. Her parents— "

"Ah, yes. A subject which young Marie seems to know little about, and which you seem oddly reticent about. Tell me, why is that?"

"Her parents placed her into my care. They left it to me to look after her education and said nothing about her carrying on with men. Especially English soldiers." He gave a little harrumph, one which Marie often found amusing, but at that moment, she found it utterly annoying. It was his little sign that he was done with the discussion.

"Well, as I said, it was a favor. And now she has the welcome ear of a very good French lady. With the right connections and good favor, Marie could make a very suitable match. If you were to allow her to continue as a social companion to the lady Mrs. Martin."

"Who is she? This Frenchwoman?" Uncle Baptiste asked.

"She is the well-to-do wife of an English colonel, and they now have the means to entertain themselves at the gambling tables. But she is alone and knows no one besides her husband. Whilst the language is no barrier to their relationship, she expressed a wish to know some ladies who could speak her language."

"Why not introduce her to some of the young ladies present?"

"Ah. There is a difference between the schoolgirl French we are taught by our governesses and speaking like a native. I am afraid that Mrs. Martin prefers the latter in her companions, and the English guests to whom I have introduced her found her wanting in English graces and conversation. It is a mismatch, again and again. So when I saw your niece, I thought perhaps she might do me this one favor."

He breathed in. "What is in this for her? Won't it detract from her duties?"

"Yes, it will. But I think no servant would turn it down, especially when they are allowed to wear smart clothing and converse with fine ladies. She has been such a help to me, Mr. Allard, Mrs. Martin has taken to her already, and I can already tell they will be good friends. Please, Mr. Allard, allow Marie to be a social companion to her. Once Mrs. Martin tires of her, she can return to her duties below stairs. "

"Won't this give her airs above her station?" he said. "She will develop a taste for rich things and miss that world when she returns, if we are not careful."

Marie smiled and realized then that Mrs. Dove-Lyon had convinced him to allow her to continue, whether he comprehended it himself or not. She rubbed her hands together.

"I think Marie has a smart head on her shoulders, and she is imminently sensible. Now if we can just keep her out of the kitchen and avoid offending the cooks, we will have peace downstairs. What say you, Mr. Allard? Will you allow her to continue working above stairs?"

He paused. "I wonder how the other servants will treat her, when they hear of this. We are new here. I would not have her face any unkindness, if she is seen to be raised above the others."

"There will be none of that. I have a good staff, and they are very kind. Those who step outside the bounds of good nature and common decency do not stay here long. What do you say?"

Marie waited. With a word from him, she could be spending her evenings chatting with Mrs. Martin or dancing with that handsome soldier. Or she could be downstairs, clearing away the servants' dinner service. She gave a tiny sigh and prepared to walk away.

She knew her uncle. He had always been fiercely protective of her, as long as she had known him. She fingered the locket around her neck and straightened from her bent pose by the door, when she heard a voice say, "Miss?"

She ignored it, when came a hand touched her arm. She whirled around with a cry. It was Lucy, one of the parlor maids, and the girl with whom she shared a bedroom.

The maid's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. She gripped Marie's arm and held up a finger to her lips for silence. She pulled Marie from the door. "What are you doing?"

"Listening."

"Why? It's not your business. Mrs. Dove-Lyon doesn't like it if we're listening at doors. It's a good way to get dismissed if you're not careful."

Marie lowered her head. "I—"

"And why are you dressed like that? Like a lady?"

Marie looked down at her beautiful dress, her slim, white gloves, and her dancing shoes. She felt like a lady, and yet she felt like an imposter at the same time.

"Lucy, what are you doing out here? Oh, Marie." Mrs. Dove-Lyon and Uncle Baptiste came out of the parlor. The mistress looked amused, but Uncle Baptiste was not. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, "What were you doing? Were you listening at the door?"

"No." Marie bit her lip, a sure sign of her deceit.

"You are a terrible liar, Marie. That is why you should never play cards," Uncle Baptiste told her. "Go change out of that dress. You need to clean it and return it for the morning."

"I will," Marie said.

"But first, a little word," said the mistress. "Miss Cadough, if you would?" At a glance from Marie's uncle, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, "Just between us women. Not to fear, Mr. Allard. It will only take a moment."

Marie glanced at her uncle, then joined Mrs. Dove-Lyon in the parlor and at her instruction, sat as her hostess shut the door.

"Well, I assume you know already what was discussed. How much did you hear?" Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.

"Some. Enough." Marie paused. "Will I really get to dress up again and talk with Mrs. Martin?"

"Would you like to?"

Marie had thought about this already, whilst overhearing their earlier discussion. "Yes, I would."

"Good. I thought you might. You are accepting of being Mrs. Martin's companion again, for however long she wishes?"

"Yes. "

"But bearing in mind, you may have to return downstairs when she leaves, or if she tires of you?"

Marie nodded.

"Very well. Then I don't see a reason why not to let you continue. She seemed to like you tonight and enjoyed watching you dance even more."

"Mrs. Dove-Lyon, could you tell me a bit about the man I danced with? The lieutenant."

"I'm surprised. I thought he would have told you a bit about himself. Lieutenant Samuel Gage is a brave soul, and an honorable man, from what I understand. Why?" A smile warmed Mrs. Dove-Lyon's face, despite being shrouded in shadow from her black veil.

"No reason."

This mistress's smile grew. "It is a funny thing. I had not thought I would ever see him dance, but ever since coming here two nights ago, he has come here every night once we opened and stayed almost till closing. I rather thought he might be looking for someone. Was it you?"

"I don't know." She wanted to ask, Is he married? Then she bowed her head.

"Well, never mind. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself tonight. You really did do me a favor. You can go." She dismissed Marie with a wave of her hand.

As Marie rose to leave, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, "Marie, just one question."

"Yes?"

"Did you enjoy the dancing?" The mistress's smile was back.

Marie couldn't hide the shy grin on her face as she bobbed a curtsy and said, "Good night, Mrs. Dove-Lyon."

She stripped off the dress in the dressing room and once she'd put her own clothes back on and had cleaned the dress and hung it back in the closet, she crept up to the servants' rooms on the top floor and went to bed, her dreams full of dances and light music.