Page 42 of The Gilded Heiress

I allowed myself another moment to revel in the quiet. This was the privilege of the wealthy—big houses, wide streets, and

neighbors that were too far away to hear. Quite the change from life downtown.

I would need to leave soon. I had to find Melvin, arrange for a place to stay, and send for my things. But for now, I supposed

I could relax a little while longer and pretend my life hadn’t fallen apart.

Pretend that the one man I’d allowed myself to care for hadn’t used me or lied to me. Or slept with me.

God, I was pathetic.

Eventually, the need for a washroom overrode my misery, so I rose and crossed the long room. I discovered a corridor lined

on both sides with giant paintings. I knew nothing about art, but these were probably expensive. Three gold chandeliers hung

along the ceiling, their teardrop crystals shimmering in the gaslight.

“May I help you, miss?”

Startled, I turned toward the sound. A footman waited nearby. I hadn’t heard him approach. “Yes, please. The washroom?”

“The facilities may be found at the end of the hall. Follow me.”

I nodded, though I was capable of finding the washroom on my own. But wealthy people were notoriously incompetent, with a

legion of staff to do every little thing for them. This footman’s only task might very well be showing guests to the washroom.

Who was I to deprive him of his only responsibility?

As we walked, I admired his perfectly pressed livery, the polished shoes that hardly made a sound on the marble floor. Even

the servants here were better dressed than me.

He showed me the washroom door, but he didn’t leave. I frowned. Why was he waiting? To ensure I didn’t steal anything? Of course. How utterly stupid of me. They believed I was friends with Leo and Ambrose, who were established thieves.

“There’s no need to wait,” I said. “I won’t take anything, I swear.”

His brow creased with confusion. “I will wait here, miss. To show you back to the sitting room.”

Oh. That made sense. Couldn’t have the riffraff running amuck in the place, could we? I pulled the handle to open the door.

“Suit yourself. But after I finish here, I’ll be on my way.”

The washroom was every bit as elegant as the rest of the house, with not a speck of dirt to be found. I tried to hurry, feeling

out of place and awkward. I didn’t want to break anything with my clumsiness. The sooner I left here, the better.

I washed my hands at the marble sink. The mirror reflected a woman I barely knew—gaunt, pale. Dark circles under my eyes.

I used the manager angle to get close to you.

Fresh cuts opened around my heart, like thorns strangling my insides. I would never get over those words.

But this was not the time for wallowing. I shoved thoughts of Leo aside and left the washroom.

The footman was still there. “Follow me, miss.”

I assumed we were headed to the front door, but he led me back toward the sitting room. “I must be going,” I told him. “I’ve

taken up enough of their hospitality.”

“Pray, come in here, girl,” a feminine voice called. I peeked into the room and found Mrs. Pendelton perched on the sofa.

Sighing, I considered making a run for it. But that was a terrible way to treat her after all she’d done for me today. Furthermore,

I supposed there was no use in resisting. If I answered her questions, she’d let me leave.

As I settled at the other end of the sofa, she ordered a tea tray from the same footman who’d escorted me. “That’s not necessary,”

I said when he left. “I won’t stay long enough for tea.”

“You need to eat. You look terrible.”

Well, that was a blunt assessment. “I know. Today has been awful. Thank you, by the way. The tonic worked wonders.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m no stranger to migraines myself. That tonic is an old family recipe.”

“I haven’t experienced one in a long time. I used to get them at the asylum when I was younger.”

“Speaking of this asylum, you said you left when you were around eighteen.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“And what have you been doing since then?”

“Singing on the street and in a saloon. I live with Pippa. She has a job in the saloon where I sing sometimes.”

“That must be difficult for you both.”

I lifted one shoulder. “We manage. But I have an agent now, and he feels confident that I’ll have a successful career as a

performer.”

Three footmen entered, each carrying a tray. I couldn’t believe my eyes as they set the plates out on the low table. In addition

to tea, there was a selection of both sandwiches and desserts that made my mouth water.

“Please,” Mrs. Pendelton said. “Select whatever you like, Miss Smith.”

I felt no shame as I began piling a small plate with as much food as it would hold. “You should call me Josie.”

“You may call me Josie.”

I paused in the process of biting into a small sandwich. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind,” she said as she fiddled with the tea. “This manager of yours, the man with whom you were arguing outside of

Maillard’s?”

“Former manager,” I corrected.

“Yes, former manager. Why were he and his conspirator so certain you could pass for my daughter?”

I dusted off my fingers, which prompted Mrs. Pendelton to hand me a serviette.

“Thank you. Um, let’s see. Leo said, ‘When I saw you on the street in Boston, you reminded me of someone. It took a moment, but then I remembered Mrs. Pendelton. Your hair and eyes are the same color.’ He thought it would be enough to fool you. ”

She made an elegant sound that would’ve been a snort coming from anyone else. “Have you any idea the number of women with

blond hair and green eyes who have tried to convince us they were Joséphine?”

“I bet a fair amount, ma’am.”

“Indeed. So these two characters hoped to pass you off as my missing daughter, collect the reward money, and disappear.”

“From what I’ve learned today, that sounds about right.” I knew I had to tell her the rest of it. The woman had suffered enough,

and she deserved the truth. “But Leo had good reason to believe the resemblance might work.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. His surname is Hardy. Does that name ring any bells?”

The cup rattled on the saucer, tea spilling over the rim, and she carefully set it back on the table. “Goodness,” she muttered

and dabbed the spilled liquid with a cloth. “He is the son, isn’t he? They believe his father—” She pressed her lips together,

unable to finish.

“Steven Hardy wasn’t responsible,” I said gently. “I know some people may think he was involved in your daughter’s disappearance,

but he wasn’t.”

“How could you possibly know such a thing? The investigator we hired was sure of it. And there were letters.”

While I hated Leo, I couldn’t lie. Furthermore, I remembered Leo’s genuine horror upon learning his father was a suspect.

He’d been devastated. “Steven Hardy took the family to Boston and drank himself to death. They live humbly. There was never

any money or any evidence of his involvement.”

“His tendency to imbibe could very well be a result of the guilt. And I cannot accept the son’s word on his father’s innocence, especially when we’ve established the son is a liar.”

She handed me a cup and saucer, which I gratefully accepted. “On this I believe Leo is telling the truth.”

“You cannot know for certain, not when the case remains unsolved.”

“Well, no one can know for certain. But I do know that Leo’s family struggled after their father was let go after twenty years

with no reference from you.”

“A reference! For a man who may have helped the kidnappers take my child? He was fortunate not to end up behind bars.”

“But what if he didn’t do it? Then the detectives wasted time and energy chasing after the wrong man.” I bit into another

soft round cookie, the vanilla flavor like absolute heaven in my mouth. I groaned in happiness. I’d never tasted something

this elegant and delicious. “Why are these so good?” I mumbled to myself.

Mrs. Pendelton was quiet for a moment. “It is the uncertainty, the not knowing what happened to her that eats away at me.”

I could see the sadness, the hurt she carried every day, and her comments at the opera made much more sense. Quietly, I recited,

“‘It’s a terrible thing, hope. It’s a prison without walls.’”

“Yes, that’s quite true. How perceptive of you.”

“No, those are your words. You said them to me in the retiring room at the opera.” I sipped my tea and tried not to think

about that night. Specifically, about Leo and his glorious kisses. When Mrs. Pendelton still appeared confused, I explained,

“I’m able to remember every conversation word for word if I try.”

“That...” Suddenly, Mrs. Pendelton covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide. For a second I worried I’d offended

her until she said, “How remarkable.”

“Sometimes. But it can be awful, too. I’m also able to recall every terrible thing ever said about me.”

I used the manager angle to get close to you.

Yes, precisely like that. Thanks, brain.

Mrs. Pendelton’s expression softened, her smile a bit wistful and sad. “I suppose that is true as well. Are you able to recall

our conversation from the retiring room?”

I sensed this was her subtle way of proving I wasn’t a liar, but I didn’t mind. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t out to

fleece her, too.

Closing my eyes, I thought back to the ladies’ retiring room. I visualized the wallpaper, the carpets. The soft glow of the

electric lights.

“You spoke first. It is far too much, wouldn’t you say?

“ I beg your pardon?

“ The room. A tad gaudy, wouldn’t you say?

“ It’s not relaxing, at least not for me. I’m worried I’ll break something.

“ Are you particularly clumsy?

“ Yes. No. Maybe? With all this fancy glass and crystal around, I feel like a donkey at a debutante ball.

“ One would never know it. You are a beautiful young woman.

“ Thank you. Are you escaping the performance? Or all those people out there?

“ What makes you think I’m escaping?

“ Like recognizes like, ma’am.

“ You are very perceptive. I know my excuse. However, I can’t understand why you would need to escape. Is your escort misbehaving?

“ No, it’s not him. I feel like a camel out there, with everyone staring at me.

“ A donkey and a camel? Goodness, you have quite the imagination—”

“That is enough,” Mrs. Pendelton whispered, then cleared her throat.

I let out a breath and opened my eyes. She was watching me with rapt attention, surprise and something else in her expression. I reached for another round cookie, feeling self-conscious. “I apologize. After I start it’s often difficult to stop.”

“My mother had the same gift. I’ve never met a single other person who possessed such an ability.”

Odd. I hadn’t met anyone else with the ability either.

“The nuns didn’t like it. They thought it was evil, that I was touched by the devil.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say to a child.”

True, but god knows I’d heard worse. “I tried not to let it bother me. Mostly I use it to recall stories for Pippa.”

“The girl you live with?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve been good friends for a long time. We grew up in the asylum together. There’s no one I love more than her.”

“Not even your Mr. Hardy?” When I choked on a bite of lemon cake, Mrs. Pendelton quickly added, “I apologize. However, I saw

the way he stared at you, how desperate he was for you to hear his explanations. It was a romantic relationship, I gather?”

“Not romantic. There was a moment where I thought it could become more...” I sighed heavily. “But it turns out he’s a scoundrel.

I never want to see him again.”

“What did Pippa think of him?”

“She was skeptical, but supportive. Though she warned me to keep an eye on him. I suppose we could say I failed in that regard.

He sure had me fooled.”

“Do not blame yourself for believing in the goodness of others.”

That simple phrase lifted my spirits a tiny bit. It was true. I wasn’t in the wrong for trusting Leo; he was in the wrong

for lying to me. He deserved the blame, not me. “That is sound advice. Thank you. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

I glanced at the windows and noticed the sky had darkened. When had it grown so late? I had to get to Melvin’s office as quickly

as possible.

I set down my cup and saucer, then rose. “I need to be on my way. I must get to Herald Square and speak with Mr. Birdman, my agent.”

She came to her feet, but her brow was creased with concern. “It is rather late for a meeting, isn’t it? Is it safe?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time. Thank you for tea, ma’am.”

“You are most welcome, but I think you should stay. Here, that is. For tonight.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with two

fingers. “I am tongue-tied, forgive me. I would prefer you stayed here for the night instead of going out into the darkened

city streets alone.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. I’ve already imposed with the tonic and the napping on your sofa. Not to mention the tea and

food. You’ve been too kind already.”

“Nonsense. We have eight bedrooms in this house. Seven go unused every night. It is hardly an imposition.”

Without waiting for my response, she went to the sitting room door and leaned out. “Jacob, have the yellow room prepared,

will you? Miss Smith shall be our guest this evening.”

“Of course, ma’am,” a male voice said. “I’ll instruct one of the maids to unpack her things.”

“I have no things,” I said loud enough for both of them to hear. “I’ll need to fetch them from where I was staying downtown.”

“I will send a man,” Mrs. Pendelton said in that no-nonsense tone of hers. “Write down the address, please.”