“So many beautiful gowns,” Violet sighed. “How I wish I could wear one for even a moment, just to feel the silky material against my skin.”
I managed to smile. “While you clean the hearth?”
“Oh no. While I descale the fish, of course.” She nodded toward the left. “I’d wear that beautiful white concoction while cleaning the hearth.”
We shared a grin, and for a moment it was just she and I, back in our garret room in the slums, dreaming of something better. And in that moment, I wished we’d never come here. Never seen how they lived, never known what we were missing.
“Here,” she whispered, pulling her hand from her pocket. A small, flat, brown biscuit rested upon her palm. “Gingersnap.”
“I’m starving! Bless you.”
“Smelled them cooking and couldn’t help but snatch one.”
I bit into the small biscuit, sweetness and spice combining into a pleasant taste that sent me reeling back in time to when I used to make them with Aunt Helen.
“Violet!” Mrs. Finch whispered furiously. “Get to the kitchens.”
I shoved the rest of the treat into my mouth and chewed quickly.
“Yes, Mum.”
Violet fled, leaving me with the angry housekeeper. She crossed her thick arms and glared at me. “Can you sew?”
I gave her an innocent, wide-eyed smile, hoping I had no crumbs on my face. “What woman can’t?”
“Mind your tongue missy, and get to the upstairs retiring room. Find the hems that need work.”
Better than cleaning fish. “Yes, Mum.”
I raced up the side stairs, careful to avoid the railing wrapped with fir branches. Following the soft glow of the gas sconces lining the wall, I didn’t dare glance back at the ballroom. This world was not for me, no matter how much I secretly wished it.
Besides, I didn’t want to stand there, watching as Gabe smiled down at that woman. He’d never treated me so kindly. Never looked at me like I was an angel in need of gentle treatment. I was nothing to him but someone to use and toss aside.
A few guests strolled the halls, women my age who whispered and giggled, sharing confidences like Vi and I used to in our garret room. That was where our similarities ended. These women did not have to worry about where their next meal might come from. If they’d have a roof over their heads.
As I entered the large chamber I was assaulted by the scent of French perfumes. So overwhelming I had to press my finger underneath my nose to keep from sneezing. Gilt-framed mirrors hung on the walls, reflecting the gas lamps and colorful dresses. A dazzling display. In front of the mirrors were small stools where the ladies could sit and have their hair repaired. Other women stood while their torn hems were stitched.
Although the ball had only just started, the space was already crowded with women jostling for attention. Harriet stood near the mirrors, helping a woman with her hair. The other maids I’d not yet had a chance to befriend.
“You there,” an older lady in a satiny blue dress called out. “Fix my bustle.”
I started across the room to where she stood in front of a large mirror. “Yes, my lady.”
She might have been a tiny thing but it was hard to tell with the layers of skirts around her trim body. If being wealthy meant wearing such ridiculous clothing, I’d rather be poor. I shifted the large contraption hanging above her arse, then moved my hands around her tiny waist, pulling the wide ribbon smooth. Still, she was pretty, and even the tinge of gray in her hair looked regal.
“You seem familiar,” she snapped. “Do I know you?”
I almost laughed. Of course we didn’t know each other. How could we? “No, my lady, I don’t believe so.”
She narrowed her brown eyes. “Hmm.”
I moved to the side to straighten the ribbon, and could feel her shrewd attention on me.
“I could have sworn…”
She gripped my right wrist. A startled yelp slipped from my lips before I could prevent it. Confused, I met her gaze. A few of the women in the room glanced our way. Somehow, I managed to remain still as the older woman turned over my arm, exposing my wrist.
“Where did you get that scar?” she demanded.
I dared to glance at the small X on my wrist. A burn mark I’d had since I was a child, although how I’d gotten it, I wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, my lady. Accident when I was little, I suppose. I don’t rightly