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“I hope you’re right, Ames. Now, let us have a look at some of these shops.” Emma scanned the storefronts until her gaze fell on a fabric store with ready-made dresses displayed in the window. That might be promising. She turned to Ames and pressed a coin in his hand. “Find me some lampblack and meet back here as soon as possible.”
“Lampblack, yer grace?”
“For my hair. It’s rather conspicuous. I’m going to get something to wear. I’ll see you soon.”
Emma entered the shop, and all four salesladies gasped simultaneously, for so elegant a lady rarely came to the village of Harewood, much less graced their shop.
“May—may I help you?” the bravest one finally inquired.
“Yes, indeed,” Emma replied, flashing them her friendliest grin. “I need something to wear.”
The head saleslady eyed Emma’s stylish green dress, her expression pained. She couldn’t offer anything up to Emma’s obvious standards and she knew it.
“What I need, actually, is a costume,” Emma said hastily. “I have a fancy dress ball to attend next week, and I want to get something a little different.”
“Oh. Well, we could opt for the Grecian look. I have some lovely fabric that we can use for a tunic.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Emma said, shaking her head. “My hair, you know. I don’t think the ancient Greeks had such bright hair.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” the saleslady immediately agreed, nodding her head furiously.
“Something simple. Perhaps…a maid.”
“A maid?”
“Yes, a maid. Of the serving variety. A housemaid.”
The salesladies looked dubious. No one jumped forward to assist Emma in her quest.
“I definitely want a maid’s costume,” Emma said sharply. “Don’t tell me that you don’t supply any for any of the nearby gentry.”
Two of the ladies crashed into each other in their haste to help Emma, and she exited the store not two minutes later, a packaged maid’s costume under her arm. A moment later Ames rushed up to her side.
“Did you get the lampblack?”
“Even better.” Ames held up a package. “A wig.”
Emma peered in the bag. An improbable shade of blond assaulted her eyes. “Well, I certainly won’t look like myself. Now, where is Shipton? We need to be off. Lord only knows what’s happened to Belle.”
As if on cue, Shipton bounded around the corner and nearly ran into them. “The carriage is next to the church,” he said, gasping for breath. “Bottomley’s already left for Westonbirt.”
“Good,” Emma replied. “Let’s go.” Walking briskly, she led her motley crew to The Hare and Hounds, where she asked for two rooms.
“And do you have any luggage, my lady?”
Oh drat, she’d forgotten that one needed bags when one checked in at an inn. “My grooms will bring it by later. It’s still in my carriage.”
“And for how many nights will that be for, my lady?”
Emma blinked. “Urn, I’m not sure. At least one. Perhaps more.” She straightened and adopted Alex’s most imperious stare. “And is it necessary that I tell you now?”
“No, no, of course not.” The clerk suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. “If you could just sign the register.”
Emma picked up the quill and signed with a flourish. Lady Clarissa Trent. “There,” she muttered under her breath, “she always wanted a title.”
As soon as Emma was shown to her room on the second floor, she changed into the maid’s costume and pulled on the wig. She crossed over to the fireplace and picked up a little soot and rubbed it between her hands until they were covered by a very thin residue. She slapped her hands gently against her cheeks, applying a tiny bit of the soot to her skin. A glance in the mirror told her that she was successful. Her skin now had a slightly ashen quality which, combined with the yellow wig, made her look frightful. But more importantly, she looked absolutely unlike herself.
She scooted out of her room and knocked on the next door down the hall. Ames pulled open the door. “Dear God, yer grace, you look awful!”
“Good. Now, one of you, go get my trunk before the innkeeper becomes suspicious. I’ll try to figure out which room Belle is in.”
After her grooms departed, Emma slunk down the hall, looking this way and that, all the while keeping an ear open for approaching footsteps. When she was convinced that she was quite alone, she pressed her ear up to the door next to hers. She heard passionate groaning.
“Oh, Eustace. Oh, Eustace. OH, EUSTACE!”
Emma jumped away as if burned. Definitely not Belle’s room. She moved across the hall. She heard a female voice.
“And idle hands are just an invitation for Satan. Satan I say. He lurks in every corner.”
Emma shook her head and stepped back. First of all, Belle’s captors were most definitely male, and anyway, she didn’t think they conducted conversations about the devil. She moved on down the hallway to the door next to Eustace’s.
“Not another word out o’ you, little missy. One more peep and I’m gonna take this belt an’—”
“Shut up, you ass. You know we promised the mort we’d serve ’er up safe an’ sound. ’E’s not gonna give us the gold if we touch ’er.”
Emma gasped. Belle must be in that room and from the sound of it, she wasn’t doing very well.
“’Ow much longer ’ave we got ta wait?”