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Authors: Kate Griffin
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wall to the left. I noted the way my brother was just as comfortable among that set as in the grand dining rooms of the city. I followed as he moved from table to table, a nod here, a wink there, a smile, some larky patter in the lingo, a generous tip to the red-haired girl with a tilted nose and a gap-toothed grin who brought a jug of some gut-rot green stuff to our booth. Half an hour in and Lucca was over by the stage talking to a knot of gents gathered by the music pit. From their looks I took them for four brothers – they all had white blond hair, cat-slant eyes and cheekbones you could slice a ham on.
When Joey took me back to the hotel later that evening, Lucca didn’t come with us, but early next morning he was back at my door with a guilty smile and a ribbon-covered box of sweet pastries so beautiful I almost didn’t want to spoil them by biting into them.
Little works of art they were, no wonder he bought them.
*
‘The dress suits you. I think you are made for the Parisian style.’ Lucca stepped back and nodded. ‘It is perfect. Turn to the left.’ The grey watered satin skirt whispered as it moved with me. The dress was cut narrow and low. Complicated pleats and folds of material gave the bodice the look of a close-petalled flower about to open and the skirt was caught up at the back in a parted bell-like shape with a fantail of silver lace trailing out behind.
I stared at myself in the mirror and I hardly recognised the girl looking back. I say girl, but with my hair plaited and looped up top, my waist tightened to a pint glass and other parts of me looking more prominent than felt proper, it was a woman I saw there – for the first time ever. I didn’t know how I felt about that.
‘Does it look . . . decent, Lucca? I don’t want to be taken for a bangtail or whatever they call them over here.’ I glanced at the handwritten note on the table.
‘You look like a lady. And the maid has done an excellent job with your hair.’ He smiled and slipped into his jacket, pulling the sleeves so that the buttons at the cuffs lined up. ‘She said it was unusual for a woman to travel without a servant, but was happy to assist when I explained that you were travelling on urgent family business and had to leave London without making arrangements. Also, the coins helped – she didn’t ask another question when I counted them out in front her.’
He raised a brow. ‘I think they find us to be a most interesting couple. At least our rooms are on separate floors, otherwise we would be a scandal.’
Lucca was done up fine too. Matter of fact, I’d never seen him look so smart. I could tell he was revelling in it – there was a streak of vanity in Lucca Fratelli that hadn’t been burned away.
Joey sent the evening clothes to our rooms. Monogrammed boxes padded out with scented tissue had arrived that morning. In both cases the fit was almost perfect, although I’d had to ask the hotel seamstress to adjust the filmy, chiffon-covered straps of the bodice so they didn’t gape.
I was going to do it myself. Not having been away before I’d packed for all eventuals, I even had my sewing kit with me. Lucca pulled a face when he saw my things laid out on the brocade cover of the hotel bed and he laughed out loud when I showed him all the clothes hung up by a chamber maid in a mahogany wardrobe half the size of my old room at Mother Maxwell’s. I pointed out that as I’d bought a trunk for the trip it seemed a shame not to use it.
I told him about the straps on the evening dress and what I needed to do to make them sit straight, but he said that when you are staying in an establishment as grand as Le Meurice, there are people to take care of that sort of thing. It made me wonder again about his way of living in the days before the fire took his looks, but I didn’t say anything. That was the past, and I didn’t want it to cast a shadow now I’d found Joey again.
‘How do I walk in this rig without
When Joey took me back to the hotel later that evening, Lucca didn’t come with us, but early next morning he was back at my door with a guilty smile and a ribbon-covered box of sweet pastries so beautiful I almost didn’t want to spoil them by biting into them.
Little works of art they were, no wonder he bought them.
*
‘The dress suits you. I think you are made for the Parisian style.’ Lucca stepped back and nodded. ‘It is perfect. Turn to the left.’ The grey watered satin skirt whispered as it moved with me. The dress was cut narrow and low. Complicated pleats and folds of material gave the bodice the look of a close-petalled flower about to open and the skirt was caught up at the back in a parted bell-like shape with a fantail of silver lace trailing out behind.
I stared at myself in the mirror and I hardly recognised the girl looking back. I say girl, but with my hair plaited and looped up top, my waist tightened to a pint glass and other parts of me looking more prominent than felt proper, it was a woman I saw there – for the first time ever. I didn’t know how I felt about that.
‘Does it look . . . decent, Lucca? I don’t want to be taken for a bangtail or whatever they call them over here.’ I glanced at the handwritten note on the table.
‘You look like a lady. And the maid has done an excellent job with your hair.’ He smiled and slipped into his jacket, pulling the sleeves so that the buttons at the cuffs lined up. ‘She said it was unusual for a woman to travel without a servant, but was happy to assist when I explained that you were travelling on urgent family business and had to leave London without making arrangements. Also, the coins helped – she didn’t ask another question when I counted them out in front her.’
He raised a brow. ‘I think they find us to be a most interesting couple. At least our rooms are on separate floors, otherwise we would be a scandal.’
Lucca was done up fine too. Matter of fact, I’d never seen him look so smart. I could tell he was revelling in it – there was a streak of vanity in Lucca Fratelli that hadn’t been burned away.
Joey sent the evening clothes to our rooms. Monogrammed boxes padded out with scented tissue had arrived that morning. In both cases the fit was almost perfect, although I’d had to ask the hotel seamstress to adjust the filmy, chiffon-covered straps of the bodice so they didn’t gape.
I was going to do it myself. Not having been away before I’d packed for all eventuals, I even had my sewing kit with me. Lucca pulled a face when he saw my things laid out on the brocade cover of the hotel bed and he laughed out loud when I showed him all the clothes hung up by a chamber maid in a mahogany wardrobe half the size of my old room at Mother Maxwell’s. I pointed out that as I’d bought a trunk for the trip it seemed a shame not to use it.
I told him about the straps on the evening dress and what I needed to do to make them sit straight, but he said that when you are staying in an establishment as grand as Le Meurice, there are people to take care of that sort of thing. It made me wonder again about his way of living in the days before the fire took his looks, but I didn’t say anything. That was the past, and I didn’t want it to cast a shadow now I’d found Joey again.
‘How do I walk in this rig without
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