The clock struck half past eleven. Pearson stood facing away outside the door, hands behind his back. “May I help you, mum?”

I handed him the letters. “Is Master Rainbow here?”

“No, mum, he and Mr. Anthony left together. They aren’t expected back until after dinner.”

I returned to my study. I’d hoped to get Morton’s impressions on the matter, but it would have to wait.

Someone had tried to kill Morton once already by bombing his yacht as he slept. Although Morton disagreed, I felt certain this was the work of Frank Pagliacci and his false Red Dog Gang. Then Birdie shot at Morton outside Vig’s saloon. My guess was that Birdie was one of Frank Pagliacci’s lovers, who he was using as he used Dame Anastasia, Zia, and who knows how many others.

Morton’s encounter with Birdie the night Marja died might have been by chance. Meeting Morton probably surprised her — especially if she believed him dead — her shot being a way to garner favor with Frank by killing Morton for certain.

A female secretary was strange enough, but carrying a gun?

If I could learn this woman’s true identity, it might help. Birdie was present moments before Marja died; perhaps she saw the man who killed her.

I had no real information on Birdie other that she was young and pretty (or at least Morton thought so), with black hair. I needed to speak with Morton further about her — if we ever got a chance to speak without others present.

I’d been accompanied by a maid, waiter, footman, or nurse almost every second of every day of the past month up to now, which infuriated me. Perhaps I didn’t choose to speak, or have anything to say, but I was no invalid. At times I suspected they knew it, that this intense scrutiny was my punishment for causing them trouble.

Dr. Salmon approved me to return to the Manor as long as I took daily walks in the garden. So after luncheon, I asked Amelia to show me the flowers she put in my hair.

We ambled along the paths. Many of the plants reminded me of Ma’s garden.

“You stupid girl! You’ve ruined everything!”

Ma dragged me by one arm through her garden to the carriage, shoved me inside.

Why did she never contact me? Didn’t she care?

Shaking my head to clear it, I followed Amelia to a bush in the far corner. I brought a white blossom to my face, inhaled, the scent bringing back intense happiness and pain.

Oh, Nina.

What did they do to you?

“Mum, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head, forcing the terrible image from my mind. “Old memories, Amelia, nothing more.”

“Here, mum, let’s get you into the shade.”

I sat on the grass, closing my eyes, willing back the tears. I couldn't remember her that way. I couldn't.

I was thirteen when I first saw her.

Amelia fanned me. “Here, stretch out for a while. Do you need a drink of water?”

Nina Clubb stepped into the hallway of Spadros Manor, the afternoon sun shining golden through the open doorway on her rosy cheeks. Laughing, she turned to me, her glossy dark brown hair loose like a young girl’s, flowing like water straight and heavy past wide hips.

Our eyes met, and I could see nothing else.

“No, Amelia, I’ll be fine.” Why did I think of Nina Clubb now, after so many years? “I’m just tired.”

I lay gazing at the flowers for some time.

“It’s almost time for tea. Would you like it out here?”

“That would be lovely.”

Amelia left, returning with Pearson’s sons, who carried a tea-table and chairs. Mary appeared a bit later with our tea.

“I’ll take dinner in my rooms today,” I told Amelia. “And bring some of these flowers for my dresser.”

“Yes, mum. Whatever you need.”

After Amelia set the vase of jasmine in my room, I lay on my bed, eyes closed.

The aroma of jasmine lay thick in the air ... we lay on our stomachs facing each other on a blanket in the shade of a brilliant summer. Thick straight hair spilled beside round freckled cheeks as her brown eyes met mine. I longed to touch her hair, her face, her lips.

“One day I’ll fly far from here,” Nina said. The polished wooden beads in her necklace rustled as she moved. “I want to travel the world.”

Some day I’d be in a position to avenge Nina, and all the spying in the world wouldn’t save Mrs. Clubb.

Tony returned from whatever he was doing well after dinner, climbing into bed. I turned away as he slid his arm under my pillow, molded his body to mine. “I hear you’ve had a long day.” He stroked my hair, kissed it. “Just rest.”

I laid my cheek on my pillow, still damp from my tears.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I wished I could rest without nightmares, as I did the night after I rescued David. Yet it was not to happen.

* * *

The next afternoon, Amelia dressed me in my peacock blue dress to visit Madame Biltcliffe’s instead of mourning garb. But only after I agreed to wear a long, elderberry-colored shawl to cover it, with a matching hat and veil. “This is most unwise, mum,” Amelia said. “It’s unseemly to wear bright colors now. And you can’t be recognized out and about, it isn’t safe.”

Somehow she knew I meant to do more than take tea with Madame Biltcliffe. Was I so transparent? “It’s our favorite dress.” Tony said he liked it because it matched my eyes. “Have you sent Madame Biltcliffe’s mourning garb back to her?”

Amelia blinked. “Why, of course, as soon as she sent yours here, just before we left for the Country House.”

I smiled. “Good. Thank you.”

Amelia stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Keep this veil with you, mum. It’s a good one.”

You mean, it’s thicker than Madame’s, should I go out. I patted her hand. “Don’t worry; I’m just going to take tea with Madame.”

That day, outriders surrounded the carriage. Outriders had never joined me when I traveled to Madame's shop before. But my old enemy Jack Diamond, a volatile man with a keen hate for my family, had already entered our quadrant more than once despite guards at the bridges and waterfronts.

Madame Biltcliffe’s dress shop was on 42nd Street, with a lovely oak storefront and large beveled glass windows behind which stood perfectly coiffed and dressed mannequins.

Today, though, the mannequins stood in odd spacing, as if recently moved and not checked. A hat-pin lay on the floor. The oak chair trimmed in brass which normally held a placard referencing her work for me was missing, and the window hastily cleaned. Bits of eggshell adorned the sidewalk.

Madame, a handsome middle-aged woman with black hair, came outside as the Spadros Family carriage pulled up. Honor came round to help me from the carriage, and I thanked him, as I always do.

Madame approached to greet me. “Welcome, Mrs. Spadros! Come inside.” She glanced over my shoulder.

Honor smiled, tipping his hat. For the first time in memory, he was armed. He’d never gone armed before, not even when we went to visit other quadrants.

What was going on here?

“I’m so glad you could visit, my dear.” Madame ushered me inside, then locked the door, turning the sign on it to “Closed: entry by appointment only.”

As it turned out, Madame Biltcliffe really did want to take tea with me; she had small cakes filled with jelly set out with the usual tea and toast. They were delicious.

“I thought you might need time away from the home and servants,” she said, “but it is pleasant to know you better.”

“I appreciate your help.”

She waved it off. “It’s nothing. Long ago, I needed time to myself, so I have since then always been mindful of ways to help other women.” She smiled knowingly. “Perhaps some day I can be of aid in that way as well.”

I laughed. A romance affair? I felt a stab of longing for Joseph Kerr. But was it fair to encourage his ardor? Was it right to put him in such danger?

If only I had listened to Air, to my Ma ... Joe and I would be together now. None of the past ten years would have happened.

“Your face shows regret,” Madame Biltcliffe said. “Never feel sorrow for what is no more.” She patted my hand. “Be happy for what is now.”

I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling melancholy. “Tell me about yourself, Madame.”

“Please, call me Marie.”

“Of course.”

“Ah, well,” Madame said, “there’s not much to tell. My husband was a ... you say ‘stodgy’ ... aristocrat in an equally stodgy town. I took time to myself,” she glanced aside with a sad, wistful smile, “yet that didn’t last as long as I liked. He discovered my secret, so I came here.”

“And he hasn’t searched for you?”

She laughed. “Oh, no. His only concern was that there be no scandal. I much prefer this town, and last I heard he has declared me dead and married a woman half his age.” She smiled. “I’m sure we are both happier.”

“So do you enjoy your life here?”

“Why yes. I enjoy my work, I meet many fine women, and from time to time I enjoy the company of those who intrigue me.” She smiled.

At her smile, I blushed: her secret had nothing whatsoever to do with men. “I had no idea.” Indeed, I had no inclination, at least, not for Madame. She was beautiful, but as old as my Ma. I suppose up to then I had thought of her more as a mother.

“Ah. I see,” she said, then smiled. “Never fear, ma cherie, we shall remain as dear friends.”

I felt relieved. “That would make me quite happy; you’ve done me a great service over the years.” Then I felt chagrined. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to know each other.” I paused, considering. “If I meet anyone who might wish to meet you, in whatever capacity, I’ll speak to you of it at once.”

Madame Biltcliffe gave me a soft smile. “I’m sure that would be lovely.” She gazed to the side for a few moments as she sipped her tea. “I suppose you’ll want to borrow my dress.”

“I’m astonished: everyone knows my mind today.” I wasn’t sure this was a good thing. Perhaps I had been at ease for so long I no longer knew how to keep my plans from my face.

Madame Biltcliffe chuckled. “I only recall your concern for the boy ... the one whose mother was here last time. And it’s probably safer to wear mourning. But if you wish instead to converse further, or have more tea, or return home, it’s of no consequence.”

I checked the clock: half past five. Should I leave so soon? “If it wouldn’t offend ...” I couldn’t see what harm it might do, and I might be of help to David and his mother. “I believe I might make a short trip to Bryce Fabrics after all.”

Madame called out, “Tenni!”

Tenni, a girl of seventeen, came in at once. “Yes, Madame?”

“Clear these plates, then inform the servants of Mrs. Spadros that we will do some preliminary fittings for her Summer gown.”

Tenni curtsied, the reddish-brown curls peeking out from under her shop maid’s cap bouncing as she left with the tray.

Tenni and I looked similar from behind — the same hair, height, form, and light brown skin — so I often used her as a decoy when leaving Madame’s shop to go on my cases.

When Tenni returned, I put on Madame’s mourning dress, adding my dark purple scarf, hat, and veil. Then Tenni put on my blue dress and fixed her hair. Once Tenni and Madame went into my private dressing room by way of the front room (so my men might believe I was still there), I left using Madame’s back entry.

This was my first time behind Madame’s shop at this time of day. The alleyway was busier than usual, with men coming and going, deliveries being made and picked up. The men seemed familiar, although I didn’t recall them being here before.

The streets were the same: unusually crowded, but by no one who seemed out of the ordinary. And no one followed me.

After David Bryce’s kidnapping, men in brown began following me everywhere, often on orders from Frank Pagliacci. But few of these men wore brown (the color was going out of fashion as spring approached), and the ones who did walked past, paying me no mind whatsoever.

In the taxi-carriage, I took a jasmine-flower from my handbag.

“I want to travel the world,” said Nina.

“I do too.”

“We could take zeppelins to the seashore, then hire ourselves onto a steamship bound for Europe.”

I gasped at the idea. “Could we really go round the world?”

“Why not?” Nina put her plump freckled arm up as men do when they wrestle. “Let’s make a pact on it.”

Overwhelmed, I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her. A brief hesitation, then her arm went round my shoulders as she kissed me.

In that brief instant, I was happy as I’d never been before: she loved me too.

Madame had taken an awful risk to speak as she did. She worked with women of high standing every day; with one word I was in position to ruin her should matters have turned badly.

“Girls!” Mrs. Clubb pulled me and Nina apart. “This is not the way to behave! It’s time for Jacqui to go home.”

I only saw Nina once more. To this day, I wish I hadn’t.

At the time, I thought: What did they do to her? Was what happened to her because of me?