Read Online Kitty Peck and the Child of Ill-Fortune by Kate Griffin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Griffin
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taking a tumble?’ I moved away from the mirror and felt the waterfall of lace at the back of the dress twist with me. It was heavy and made of many layers, some of them sewn with tiny glittering beads. I couldn’t work out how to keep it from winding round my ankles.
Lucca knelt beside me. ‘There is a loop here in the underskirt. May I?’
He burrowed around at my feet. ‘Here – take this in your left hand, hook it around your ring finger. When you walk along a hallway let it drop so that the dress flows behind you. If you go upstairs or if you dance—’
I snorted. ‘We’ve been invited to dinner, not a bleedin’ ball, Lucca.’
He glanced up at me. ‘Perhaps not tonight, but you will wear this dress again, Kitty, trust me, I know you will. You look like a Botticelli.’
He must have dialled the look on my face because he sighed and followed up on that immediately. ‘Sandro Botticelli – a painter of the Renaissance, famous for his beautiful women – angels, goddesses. That’s how you look in this dress. Joseph chose well.’
It was our last evening in Paris. We’d spoken about meeting in the early afternoon and later going out to dine, the three of us, so I was surprised when I read the note that arrived with the clothes. I’d got the distinctive impression – mostly by omission – that Joey wanted to keep us away from rue des Carmélites and his life there, but the invitation was clear.
Kitty,
Forgive the formality and brevity of this note. I am afraid I cannot join you early today as planned. There is something I must attend to. To make amends, I write to invite you to dine at my house tonight. We gather at nine.
I have taken the liberty of selecting a gown for you. You will find it in the box labelled ‘Maison Cordelle’. I hope you like it, little sister, I chose it most carefully; firstly as a gift and secondly because I want you to shine for my friends. I will send a carriage. I trust Lucca will also join us.
It is time for honesty.
J
I’d read that note a hundred times. We gather at nine . I wondered what that meant, exactly. And there was the other line too, I want you to shine for my friends. I looked at my blue frock folded neatly at the top of the open trunk. I would have worn it this evening if Joey hadn’t sent the dress I was wearing now.
Lucca fussed around my ankles again, smoothing out the train so that it pooled in a shimmering semi-circle behind me. He cleared his throat. ‘You understand about tonight, what you will see?’ He didn’t look up. Instead he busied himself with his cuffs, pulling them down so that just the right amount of white showed at the wrist.
Then he stood, brushed lint from his knees and stared at himself in the long dressing mirror, adjusting the starched collar of his shirt so that it rose higher on his scarred neck. He swept his dark hair forward and nodded at the half-handsome young man reflected back at him.
After a moment he caught my eye in the glass. ‘You do know what I mean, Fannella?’
I nodded. ‘ It is time for honesty ? That’s what his note said.’
‘But are you ready for it?’
Tell truth, I did wonder about that – when the images came I chased them out of my head. I pulled myself up straight and shifted my shoulders to bring the gauzy straps higher.
‘I’ve seen a lot in the halls, Lucca – and on the streets. I’m not a country parson’s chavy, am I? I know right enough what you’re on about.’
‘To know is one thing, but . . .’ He stared hard at me and I couldn’t read his expression, not exactly. It might have been concern, but it could just as easily have been a challenge.
The little gilt clock on the mantle struck three notes, it was quarter to nine already.
I tried to smile. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
Chapter Six
The conversation and laughter died the moment the Monseigneur ushered us into the vaulted candlelit dining room. At the far end of the table someone rose to greet us, but I didn’t,
Lucca knelt beside me. ‘There is a loop here in the underskirt. May I?’
He burrowed around at my feet. ‘Here – take this in your left hand, hook it around your ring finger. When you walk along a hallway let it drop so that the dress flows behind you. If you go upstairs or if you dance—’
I snorted. ‘We’ve been invited to dinner, not a bleedin’ ball, Lucca.’
He glanced up at me. ‘Perhaps not tonight, but you will wear this dress again, Kitty, trust me, I know you will. You look like a Botticelli.’
He must have dialled the look on my face because he sighed and followed up on that immediately. ‘Sandro Botticelli – a painter of the Renaissance, famous for his beautiful women – angels, goddesses. That’s how you look in this dress. Joseph chose well.’
It was our last evening in Paris. We’d spoken about meeting in the early afternoon and later going out to dine, the three of us, so I was surprised when I read the note that arrived with the clothes. I’d got the distinctive impression – mostly by omission – that Joey wanted to keep us away from rue des Carmélites and his life there, but the invitation was clear.
Kitty,
Forgive the formality and brevity of this note. I am afraid I cannot join you early today as planned. There is something I must attend to. To make amends, I write to invite you to dine at my house tonight. We gather at nine.
I have taken the liberty of selecting a gown for you. You will find it in the box labelled ‘Maison Cordelle’. I hope you like it, little sister, I chose it most carefully; firstly as a gift and secondly because I want you to shine for my friends. I will send a carriage. I trust Lucca will also join us.
It is time for honesty.
J
I’d read that note a hundred times. We gather at nine . I wondered what that meant, exactly. And there was the other line too, I want you to shine for my friends. I looked at my blue frock folded neatly at the top of the open trunk. I would have worn it this evening if Joey hadn’t sent the dress I was wearing now.
Lucca fussed around my ankles again, smoothing out the train so that it pooled in a shimmering semi-circle behind me. He cleared his throat. ‘You understand about tonight, what you will see?’ He didn’t look up. Instead he busied himself with his cuffs, pulling them down so that just the right amount of white showed at the wrist.
Then he stood, brushed lint from his knees and stared at himself in the long dressing mirror, adjusting the starched collar of his shirt so that it rose higher on his scarred neck. He swept his dark hair forward and nodded at the half-handsome young man reflected back at him.
After a moment he caught my eye in the glass. ‘You do know what I mean, Fannella?’
I nodded. ‘ It is time for honesty ? That’s what his note said.’
‘But are you ready for it?’
Tell truth, I did wonder about that – when the images came I chased them out of my head. I pulled myself up straight and shifted my shoulders to bring the gauzy straps higher.
‘I’ve seen a lot in the halls, Lucca – and on the streets. I’m not a country parson’s chavy, am I? I know right enough what you’re on about.’
‘To know is one thing, but . . .’ He stared hard at me and I couldn’t read his expression, not exactly. It might have been concern, but it could just as easily have been a challenge.
The little gilt clock on the mantle struck three notes, it was quarter to nine already.
I tried to smile. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
Chapter Six
The conversation and laughter died the moment the Monseigneur ushered us into the vaulted candlelit dining room. At the far end of the table someone rose to greet us, but I didn’t,
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