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Jane skimmed over the spines. There were several books on chess strategy, but also crime novels and private inquiry stories. Jane’s eyebrows rose as she glanced at Calliope, who looked smart and sharp but also sweet and kind. “Do you like sleuth stories?”

A maid and a footman came in with two large trays filled with teacups, a teapot, and plates of biscuits, macarons, scones, and sandwiches. While they set everything on a round tea table in the center of the room, Calliope said, “Oh yes. I’ve read everything about murders, robberies, burglaries, and disappearances since I was a child.”

“A child?” Jane chuckled. “Your mama allowed you to read them?”

“No.” Calliope shrugged. “But ever since I learned how to read, I have had a habit of sneaking into the library and reading things I shouldn’t.”

Jane laughed. “I wasn’t quite so brave as you, but I did read anything I could get my hands on.”

“Feel free to borrow any books you like,” she said. “My favorite is The Inquiry Agency Chronicles.”

“Thank you!” said Jane, finding the book and opening it. “I will.”

The footman left, and the maid together with Calliope laid out three dresses that they thought would suit Jane’s coloring. The first one was a silvery-white frock with gauze as thin as spiderweb around the skirt. The second one was pale blue with thin and floaty fabric, short, puffed sleeves, and a low neckline. The third one was creamy, with pearls and lace over the bust.

“Which one do you like, Jane?” asked Calliope, studying them.

“This one,” said Jane, gesturing to the silvery one.

“Oh, I agree,” said Calliope. She picked it up and held it against Jane’s body, looking her over. “Oh yes, quite. It makes your eyes so bright and so…alive! Put it on and we’ll start adjusting it. I have gloves that fit it so well.”

When Jane emerged from the dressing room in Calliope’s frock and looked at herself in the mirror, she suppressed a small gasp. The silver did bring out her eyes, even with her spectacles, and it complemented her skin tone, making it look healthier and bringing out the color of her cheeks. It even made her lips brighter, redder.

Mrs. Newman arrived, a beautiful fifty-year-old woman with kind eyes and impeccable taste.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Newman,” said Calliope.

“Of course, anything for my favorite client,” Mrs. Newman said. “And, of course, a suitable reflection in my bill,” she added with a chuckle.

“You are worth every pound,” said Calliope. “Now, this is my future sister-in-law, Jane. As I explained in my note, this is urgent. She never came out because her papa died, and tonight is her first proper introduction in the ton. So she must look her best, absolutely stunning and beautiful, just as she deserves.”

Mrs. Newman looked Jane over with a businesslike glint in her eyes. She put down her small case, opened it, and began to work. As she measured, pinned, made marks with a piece of soap, instructed Calliope’s maid to hand her more pins, and asked Jane to turn, raise her arms, and so on, Calliope and Jane kept talking.

The conversation flowed easily, and Jane found herself telling Calliope about her school, about the children, and the situation in Whitechapel. Calliope promised she’d contribute, too.

“Do you intend to keep teaching after the wedding?” asked Calliope. “I can’t imagine that you would wish to abandon such an important task.”

“I do intend to continue teaching,” said Jane as she raised her arm and Mrs. Newman pinned the dress under her armpit. “Actually, I’d like to expand the school, hire more teachers—proper teachers with experience—and have several classes.”

“That is wonderful. Knowing Richard, I believe he would support you in that.”

“He’d better,” murmured Jane, even though she knew he probably would not. No husband would.

Calliope picked up a scone and took a small bite. “I understand your ambition,” she said thoughtfully. “I do have one myself.”

“Oh?” asked Jane. She didn’t think ladies of the ton had any ambitions other than marrying the best match they could make. “What is it?”

Calliope sighed. “Mrs. Newman, Abigail, not a word to anyone.”

Both nodded. “My lips are sealed. Seamstress’s word,” said Mrs. Newman.

“I’d like to become a sleuth. To open my own agency.”

Jane couldn’t quite find her voice. “A sleuth?” she finally asked.

“Yes. And please don’t tell me I read too many crime novels like my brothers did.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Jane. “And not done by women?”