Page 81 of When We Touch

“How kind of you to notice!” Fiona said.

Arianna flushed, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I was making no dispersion on commoners. I’m merely suggesting that there would be no reason for you to be afraid. I sent you out for information, not to walk the streets for business. Of course, I’m concerned. It’s terrible, what’s happening. But perhaps, if these women didn’t drink themselves silly and solicit men for more money to drink themselves sillier, this wouldn’t be happening to them.”

Fiona sat stiffly. “And perhaps, if money weren’t spent on massive jubilees and extravagant luxuries, more of it could find its way to areas where people have no hope—leaving them no choice but to drink and seek prostitution as a means to eat.”

“Most of them drink!” Arianna reminded her.

“Arianna! What would you do if you had nothing, nothing but the clothes on your back, not a room, not even a bed . . . unless you came up with the few pennies you needed!”

Arianna buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. So sorry. But I loved my father, so much. And he was such a good man, always sharing his wealth with the poor.”

Fiona relented. “Of course, your pain is very deep. But honestly, I went to St. Mary’s, where you suggested I might learn about her. And I met Father Vickers, and he glowed when he spoke about your stepmother. He had but one area of concern.”

“And that was?” Arianna demanded, quickly jumping at Fiona’s slip.

“She has a hatred for mesmerists.”

“Mesmerists?”

“You know . . . hypnotists. And spiritualists. Those people who think that they can bring back the dead. Or pretend they can bring back the dead. If you had just come to the wake and the funeral, instead of sending me, you’d have heard Lady Marian talking about her ‘dreadful’ experiences. Apparently, there are all manner of people out there who believe that they have special powers. The Lord knows, maybe they do. But some of them are out to find silly old rich fools like the Duchess—and take them for all that they are worth. Anyway, the Duchess is always trying to talk to the late Duke. She went to a séance and in the middle of it, a woman reached out, breaking the ‘circle.’ If I have the story right, the man—the medium—had said that her husband wanted to touch her one last time, and a hand had appeared. But this other woman at the table leapt up and grabbed the hand—and it was fake! The fellow and his cohorts tried to kill them, then, but there were others at the séance, and they fought back. Apparently, one man was killed, a man and a woman are to stand trial for attempted murder among other things, and one man escaped. Lady Marian talks about little else. She had me cornered for a half hour at the funeral, and I couldn’t escape, of course, because she knows you, so I didn’t dare talk and excuse myself!”

“There were others in the room?” Arianna said curiously.

“Not the Lady Maggie—surely the Duchess would have said so.”

Arianna studied Fiona. “Why? The Duchess didn’t recognize that you weren’t me! So far, no one has.”

“That will change, I tell you! I was terrified when Lord Graham lifted my veil this evening.”

“Lord Graham! Why should we care about him in the least? He won’t be around anymore. I believe that there is a meeting with my father’s solicitors tomorrow morning, and then Lady Maggie will be out of the house, and her brother won’t be around anymore. And I don’t even know him, so there’s nothing for you to worry about!”

“Arianna, I tell you that this game of yours is dangerous.”

Arianna shook her head miserably, and despite herself, she felt tears flood to her eyes once again. “Fiona, I loved him. I’m not playing a game, I’m desperate that there should be justice for him.”

Fiona sighed. “Well, I’m sorry. I haven’t found out anything at all that Lady Maggie has done that was illegal or immoral or even bad. She married for love, and so became a disgrace to her family. I’m afraid that I find that to be rather romantic. And surely, no matter how wealthy she is—and perhaps even overly impressed with her place in society—you must believe as well that she shouldn’t be fleeced out of her riches!”

“Fiona, you’ve done very well. Perhaps I need to get farther out into the streets myself,” Arianna mused.

“You know the shops in Coventry Gardens, and about the city, Arianna. You know nothing about the truly mean streets!” Fiona cautioned her.

“Perhaps I should find out more about them—firsthand.”

Fiona sighed. “Arianna, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to be scared about.”

Fiona rose, nervously casting off the cape, the black satin skirt, and the brocaded black bodice she had been wearing. “Where are my work clothes?” she asked Arianna. “Mrs. Whitley will be looking for me soon enough.”

Arianna waved a hand in the air. “Oh, don’t worry. My stepmother roused herself enough to tell Mrs. Whitley that you had to answer to her, and only to her.”

“Did she really?” Fiona mused.

“Don’t you dare start liking that woman, or feeling the least sorry for her!” Arianna protested.

“Arianna, I am not an heiress, just a working girl from Dublin.”

“You know that I’ll see to it that you’re well paid for everything you do for me.”