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How she hoped she was giving him that. It was frightfully easy to feel uncertain about how she was raising her child. She wanted nothing more than for him to grow up honorable and respectable, considerate and wise. But raising him alone...Alice wasn’t sure if she was up to the challenge.
Which was why, the next afternoon, Alice stood with her back toward the long mirror in her bedchamber as Mrs. Clarke wrapped a strip of fabric tightly around her chest. When Alice had first dreamed up acting the part of a man, she’d never imagined how hard it was going to be to simplybreathewhile doing so. Hopefully she wouldn’t be called upon to perform any strenuous acts while being Mr. Allen.
Next came the special stays Mrs. Clarke had artfully crafted. The stays secured around her middle, like any would, only these added a slight bulk, all well-placed, that further concealed her female figure. Alice’s lips twisted up at the corner as she glanced down at her new self. She’d already lost a bit of her figure after having Joseph. For the first time, she was almost grateful. This would have been even more difficult a half-dozen years ago.
Her mind flitted back to that summer when she and Lord Hoskins had been engaged. She’d met him but once before Mr. Grant had called her into his study and announced the union had been settled. At seventeen, she’d known far better than to gainsay her father. She’d silently and politely nodded. And that had been that.
A couple of weeks later, she was wife to one of the wealthiest men in the county.
Alice slipped on a shirt and then stepped into the breeches Mrs. Clarke offered. She hadn’t had a say then on her future or her lifelong companion. But this time would be different. This time, she wouldn’t connect herself to anyone but the very finest of men. No more money-grabbing, status-seeking, duplicitous fakes. She would avoid the flatterers and the charmers. She would avoid the men with wandering eyes—she was wanting a prime example for Joseph—and she would avoid anyone prone to gambling or whose estates were in need of funds. Such a man would never be able to see past her wealth and truly love her separate from the financials she would bring into the marriage.
With a waistcoat and jacket on, Mr. Clarke was summoned in to do her cravat since he’d once served as valet to a well-togged man of means.
“I feel a simple knot is in order for tonight,” Mr. Clarke said as he worked. The many wrinkles around his eyes blossomed as he smiled. “Though I cannot say I have ever tied a knot around so short a man’s neck.”
A small bit of panic shot through Alice. “Do you think my height will be that much of a problem?”
Mr. Clarke only smiled more. The truth of it was that Alice had never met a man who smiled as much as her butler. Between the wrinkles, greying hair, and his large nose and ears, he was the quintessential sweet, old grandfather. It was rather a pity he wasn’thergrandfather; Alice could dearly use some wise guidance in her life just now.
“You may be tall for a woman,” Mr. Clarke said, the knot holding most of his attention, “but you are short for a man. But not too short, I’d wager. And don’t forget, people see what they want to see.”
It was the mantra the three of them had repeated most often since first coming up with this plan:people see what they want to see.
It was the whole reason why Alice was first appearing as Mr. Allen at the local gentlemen’s club. There, of all places, no one would be expecting to see a lady. Mr. and Mrs. Clarke were convinced that so long as other gentlemen believed Mr. Allen to be a man during their first meeting, no one would have cause to question the fact after the matter.
Mr. Clarke finished the cravat and stood back. With hands behind his back, he turned toward his wife. “Is it time for the surprise?”
“Surprise?” Alice asked, her gaze going from one to the other.
Mrs. Clarke walked in front of her, a small tin box in her hand. “I found these from my days on the stage. They weren’t exactly the right color but after a quick dye, I think I’ve just about got it right.” She opened the small tin and Alice peered inside.
Only...she wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at. There appeared to be two very small, almost rectangular pieces of fur. Mrs. Clarke picked one up and held it up to the side of Alice’s face.
“Facial hair?” Alice guessed.
Mrs. Clarke nodded, moving back once more and pulling a small jar from her apron pocket. “Mustaches and beards may have gone out of style years ago, but a bit of hair down the side of your face wouldn’t be amiss, and it will help sell the act.”
With a bit of glue out of the small jar, Mrs. Clarke adhered the bit of what Alice could only assume was mouse fur just in front of her ear. The fake hair extended almost to her chin. Then she did the other side. It itched a bit and Alice could only hope she’d grow used to the feel rather than be driven mad over it.
Both her housekeeper and butler stepped back. Mr. Clarke extended his hand to Mrs. Clarke. “Spectacles, if you please.”
She placed them in his hand. Opening them, Mr. Clarke slipped them onto Alice’s face.
Her hair caught beneath the loops around her ears and Alice removed them once more and placed them on herself.
“What do you think?” Mrs. Clarke asked her husband. “Will it work?”
“Will it work? She would be ready for any performance in such a costume as this.”
Alice didn’t feel so certain. She’d loved this idea ever since it first came to her months ago. But now, standing in a man’s suit with her hair short and mouse skin on her face, she was feeling far less confident. “I may be ready for the stage, but I’m not walking onto one. There won’t be any distance between me and the audience for my act.”
“Never you fear,” Mr. Clarke persisted. “You’re ready. Turn around.”
Alice steeled herself, clenching her hands into fists by her side. Then, slowly, she turned and faced the tall mirror.
At seeing herself—at seeing themanin the mirror—Alice let out a short bark of laughter. “I can’t believe it.” She turned and looked at herself from the side, then straight on once more. “I look...like a man.” Who would have thought she’d ever be so pleased to find herself appearing decidedlyun-feminine?
“Well, Mr. Allen,” Mr. Clarke said. “I believe an afternoon of cards might suit you, sir.”
