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"So there is nothing further you can tell us about the Order?" I ask tentatively.
"Have you an aversion to reading, ladies? If I wanted to learn more about any subject, I should find a good book or two," she says, ushering us down the stairs, where Mrs. Porter is waiting for us.
"Where are yer luv'ly drawings?" the landlady asks, inspecting us for paper or chalk."Don't be shy, now. Show old Por'er."
"We've nothing to show, I'm afraid," Ann says.
Mrs. Porter's face darkens. " 'Ere now, I run a respec'able establishment, Miss Moore. You said the admiral was payin' fer lessons. Whatchoo been abou' up there all this time, then?"
Miss Moore leans toward Mrs. Porter till the old woman has to take a step back. "Witchcraft," she whispers saucily. "Come along,
ladies. Button up. The wind is brisk and takes no prisoners."
Miss Moore ushers us out the door as Mrs. Porter shouts from the vestibule. "I don't like tha', Miss Moore. I don't like tha' a' awl."
Miss Moore never looks back or loses her smile. "I shall see you Thursday," she says, waving goodbye. And with that, we are dismissed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"THAT WAS AN AFTERNOON WASTED. MISS MOORE knows nothing more about the Order and the realms. We should have gone to the shops instead," Felicity announces as we arrive at her mother's women's club.
"I didn't force you to go with me," I say.
"Perhaps Pippa has had luck in finding the Temple," Ann says brightly.
"It has been two days," Felicity says, looking to me. "We promised to return as soon as we could."
"How can we come by any privacy together?" I ask.
"Leave that to me," Felicity answers.
The doors are held open for us by a white-gloved attendant. Felicity offers her mother's card, and the spindly man examines it.
"We are guests of Lady Worthington, my mother," Felicity says with disdain.
"Begging your pardon, miss, it is not the custom of the Alexandra to admit more than one guest. I am sorry, but rules are rules/The attendant does his best to look sympathetic, but in his smile, I see the slightest hint of satisfaction.
Felicity gives the man in his crisp uniform a steely gaze."Do you know who this is?" she says in a mock whisper that draws the attention of all standing near. I'm on my guard, for I know Felicity is hatching some plan. "This is Miss Ann Bradshaw, the recently discovered grand-niece of the Duke of Chesterfield." She bats her eyelashes as if the servant is an idiot."She is a descendant of the czarina herself. Surely you read about it."
"I'm afraid I have not, miss," the attendant says, less sure now.
Felicity sighs. "When I think of the hardships Miss Bradshaw has endured, living as an orphan, thought dead by those who loved her best, oh, it breaks my heart to know how she is being mistreated here at this very moment. Oh, dear, Miss Bradshaw. I am very sorry for this trouble. I've no doubt Mother will be quite put out when she hears of it." One of the society matrons comes near. "Dear me, Miss Worthington, is this really the long-lost grand-niece of the czarina?"
We've never said that, actually, but it serves us well.
"Oh, yes," Felicity says, wide-eyed."As a matter of fact, Miss Bradshaw has come to sing for us today, so you see, she is not really a guest of Mother's, but rather, she is a guest of the Alexandra."
"Felic--Miss Worthington!" Ann says, panicked.
"She is exceedingly modest," Felicity adds.
There is whispering among the society matrons. We are on the verge of creating a scene. The attendant is ill at ease. If he admits us all, he is breaking the rules in view of everyone; if he turns one of us away, he risks angering a member and perhaps being dismissed for it. Felicity has played her hand masterfully.
The matron steps forward. "As Miss Bradshaw is a guest of the Alexandra, I cannot see that it shall be any trouble at all."
"As you wish, madam," the man says.
"I look forward to hearing you sing this afternoon," the woman calls after.
