“We have every right,” he retorted. “We have a respectable business and—”
“…and if word got out we took in some disreputable women—”
“Exactly! We aren’t immune to gossip, no matter your standing in the community.”
“My standing in the community?” Josephine put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “There isn’t one person in this town that doesn’t know where I came from. And not one who doesn’t know I’ve been a good and faithful wife and mother for over twenty years. Ralph Wright made sure of that.” Her voice caught a little when mentioning her late husband.
“Mother—”
“No, Gabriel.” She laid her hand on his arm and smiled. “I know you mean to protect me, but you’ve no need. There is some truth in that tale Miss Speex spun for us. She is afraid of a powerful man. And if there is one thing of which I take great offense, it’s a powerful man taking advantage of a woman not his equal.”
The case was closed. Josephine Wright could take care of herself. She had proved that a long time ago. Mother and son spoke no more on the topic.
Barbara had watched the familiar play of emotions cross Gabriel’s face. He had never been acknowledged by the man who had taken advantage of their mother twenty-eight years before. While Ralph Wright had willingly given Gabriel his name and, most importantly, his love, the shame of her brother’s origins was lodged firmly in his heart and could not be shaken loose.
Barbara tied off the thread and lifted her head to look out over the gardens. She was sitting on the window seat the late afternoon sunshine highlighting her work. March had indeed come in like a lion, leaving the park bare. The dirt walks were bordered by flower beds tilled and ready for the spring. Johnson, the gardener, moved purposefully among them. He was quite old but still strong and sure in his movements. Just now he was examining the lovely topiary chess pieces that were the only sculptures to survive the park’s decades-long transition into a natural garden. Barbara sighed. Mr. Pope’s admonitions notwithstanding, she still missed the whimsical topiary sculptures that used to dominate the park’s walkways.
A flurry of activity at the parlor door announced the entrance of a new arrival. Barbara shook off her thoughts and stood up as a rotund little German man scuttled over to make his bow. He waved her back to her seat.
“Nein. Nein. Do not get up. I can see your hands are full,” he said in his clipped, accented English.
“Mister Schumacher, what brings you here?” Barbara asked as Cara breezed in from the sitting room and called over her shoulder, “Ah, Odette, the master shoemaker is here.”
Odette followed with a look of intense interest on her face. She held out her hand to the little man then quickly dropped it back into the folds of her skirt. Barbara had seen her do this first upon meeting Johnson. She reached out and shook the confused gardener’s hand before letting go and smiling up at him. Only Barbara had been witness to his perplexed stare, and Odette’s obvious embarrassment. She wondered if this was a common gesture among Odette’s people. She had only seen handshakes among men of similar class and then, only to seal a bargain.
“Mister Schumacher.” Odette smiled. “I’m so glad to see you again. Have you the samples already?”
Barbara was perplexed. “Odette, how do you know Mister Schumacher?”
“I went out a few days ago to meet with him. Your mother told us he was the best shoemaker in town. Even by London standards,” she added to the delight of the little German.
Barbara frowned, her typically good-natured face anxious.
Odette quickly added, “I took the kitchen maid, Mary, with me. She had some errands to run for your mother and showed me the way, and I helped her carry the purchases.”
Barbara relaxed. Odette’s easy ways were charming, but her tendency to venture out alone was disconcerting. While not as repressive as her brother, Barbara still worried about how these strangers’ behavior reflected on their mother and did not look kindly on the cavalier flaunting of convention.
“Yes, yes,” the shoemaker responded excitedly. “I have the samples. I was so intrigued by your design; I even kept Mister Rawlings, the tanner, awake past midnight.”
He quickly unpacked the wooden box containing several pairs of very odd-looking slippers. “Now these…” He held up a pair of pink slippers that looked as if silk had been stretched over a flattened cone-like toe and then molded into a stiff cast around the heel. Turning it over, the women could see that the sole was a piece of thick, hardened leather. “These are built to your precise specifications.”
Odette took the slippers from him and sat down as she prepared to try them on.
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine they will be very comfortable, especially for dancing.”
Odette laughed softly as she put a tuft of lamb’s wool into the toe before slipping her stocking foot into the shoe. “They never are, Mister Schumacher.”
Odette knew it would be impossible to procure elastic and had asked the shoemaker to build some lacings into the front of the shoe. She laced them tightly and then tied the ribbons securely around her ankle.
“There,” she said and stood.
What happened next, Barbara could barely describe later to her mother. “It was like she was floating! Almost like she had no feet at all!”
Odette held her skirts a little above her ankles and pirouetted around the room. A few more graceful moves and she came to a stop in front of Barbara and the shoemaker.
She put out one foot and placed the blunt, flattened toe of the shoe on the floor. She pushed forward with her foot and bent the slipper backward. “I think they will need to be stronger. And there are some moves I will definitely be unable to perform, but for now, these will do. Thank you.” She smiled brilliantly at the two astonished onlookers.
Cara cleared her throat. “Yes. Well, darling, that was lovely.”
Finding her voice, Barbara stammered, “How… how did you do that?”
“That was unbelievable!” added the shoemaker.
She looked guiltily over at Cara who shrugged her shoulders helplessly at Odette’s careless display.
Odette saw on their faces an expression of confused awe. She remembered the riots caused by Chronicle and understood the power of art, particularly something completely new.
The ballet of the mid-eighteenth century was typically an accompaniment to opera or theater, and generally featured men. The female ballerina was a nascent creature. Odette was almost sure her plan would disrupt history but felt the spread of democracy more important than the invention of pointe. Nevertheless, she muttered a silent prayer for forgiveness to Marie Taglioni.
To Barbara and Mister Schumacher she told a story carefully crafted to explain her particular ability. “It’s a new technique. I learned it at a very small dance academy in Cernobbio, Italy. The dance master there… ah… um… Mister Blasis, was experimenting with new steps and selected only a few of us to train. It took many hours of practice every day over years to learn. I think it’s very beautiful. But because it requires short skirts to dance, the local authorities eventually shut the school down.” She smiled at her listeners. “I’m hoping Mister Garrick will see the artistry, and not just my scandalous ankles.”
“Well, it is certainly lovely to watch,” pronounced Mister Schumacher. “Did this Mister Blasis also design the shoe?”
“He had help from the dancers,” she explained. “It was a group effort.”
Cara cleared her throat and looked a warning at Odette. “Barbara.” She turned to the still-amazed girl. “How is that skirt coming along?”
Barbara looked down at the elaborate costume in her hands. “Well… I think. I’m not quite sure how it’s supposed to fall. But you were right. The bodice can easily support several layers of material.” Sufficiently diverted from Odette’s earlier display, she moved away with Cara to discuss the costume’s construction.
Odette, left standing with the shoemaker, quickly examined and approv
ed several pairs of simple leather slippers and another pair of pointe shoes.
After a few more exchanged words and payment, Odette saw the little German out just as Gabriel was making his entrance.
He nodded politely to the shoemaker as they passed, then looked at Odette with raised eyebrows. Odette cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows as well. She felt a prickling of irritation at his inquisitiveness, which was only heightened by the distrustful look in his very fine blue eyes.
“Mister Wright,” she said sweetly, “do you have a question for me, or am I to interpret your speculative look for you?”
His lips twitched, but he frowned down at her seriously and said, “Please, give me your interpretation of my ‘speculative look.’ ”
“Well, your eyebrows were definitely asking why the shoemaker was here,” she answered.
“Traitorous eyebrows!” he exclaimed. “I’m going to have to learn to control them if I should ever be a barrister.” He bowed to her. “Why indeed, Miss Spee… um… I mean, Miss Swanpoole, was the shoemaker here?”
“Oh, Gabe! But you should have been here!” interrupted Barbara. “You should see what Odette can do! I’ve never seen such dancing, and I’ll bet no one else in London has either.”
Gabriel walked over to the window seat and looked at Barbara and Cara’s handiwork. He reached down to touch the delicate fabric, and Odette noticed his lovely strong hands.
Like Michelangelo’s David.
She shook herself at the thought.
“Yes, Mister Wright,” she commented aloud. “I learned a new form of ballet in Italy that I hope Mister Garrick will appreciate. Mister Schumacher was here to deliver some slippers made to my specific instructions.”
“Italy?” He turned again to look at Odette. “When were you in Italy, Miss Swanpoole?”
“Oh, really!” Barbara interrupted again. “Could you two please stop with the ‘Mister Wright,’ ‘Miss Swanpoole’ nonsense? All this formality is a little ridiculous, Gabe. You had no problem calling Odell by his given name, and neither did I.”
“Miss Swanpoole is a young woman completely unrelated to me—” he began stiffly.
“How can you be so silly? You address Caroline as Caroline. And she’s the daughter of an earl and completely unrelated to you.”
“That is entirely different…”
The siblings good-natured bickering faded into the background as Odette quietly moved into the sitting room and out of sight. She leaned against the mantelpiece and blew out a gentle breath. Grateful for Barbara’s timely intervention, she had a moment to collect her thoughts before facing Gabriel’s scrutiny. He was sure to ask the kinds of questions Barbara and Josephine never did. And while his sharp and distrustful intellect irritated her, she couldn’t really blame him. If their roles had been reversed, she wouldn’t believe her either.
“Really that Barbara is a gem.” Cara floated in on a whisper of silk. “Not only can she sew but she has an unerring talent for diverting her brother.”
Odette smiled.
Cara glanced quickly into the parlor to find the two still quibbling. “He really is outrageously good-looking.”
“I’m more concerned with his outrageously quick mind.”
Cara was skeptical but didn’t contradict her. “I don’t think it will overrule his mother’s kind heart.”
Odette looked at her guiltily. “That’s what has me worried. We must be out of here before we find Drake. I don’t want the Wrights mixed up in this any more than they already are. They’ve been so kind. I don’t want them in any danger.”
“I won’t pretend that I have any real understanding of how we got here,” Cara responded. “But if what Odell told you is to be believed, we have some time before he and Lord Westchester arrive.”
Odette and Cara drifted back into the parlor in time to see Gabriel’s departing back. Odette looked after him and said, “I hope he didn’t think us rude, Barbara. I just needed to retrieve some lamb’s wool, and Cara wanted to discuss our housing venture.”
“Oh think nothing of it.” She waved away any concerns. “He just dropped in on his way out anyway.”
“At this time of day,” Cara protested. “Won’t he miss his supper?”
“This is his night dining out with his philosophical club at St. Paul’s coffeehouse.”
“What topics do they discuss?” asked Odette.
“Mostly science and politics. But tonight they’re discussing the arrival of a diplomat from the colonies.”
Odette had turned away to inspect a piece of appliqué for the costume’s bodice but, at this, turned abruptly back. “The American colonies?” she asked sharply.
“Yes. Pennsylvania, I believe.”
Odette’s hands trembled. She clasped them together. “Do you know the name of this diplomat?”
Barbara shrugged her shoulders. “No. Gabe says he’s coming to try and settle a dispute between the colonist and Lord Thomas Penn. You may have heard that the Penn family owns Pennsylvania. I really know nothing more about him, but my brother says he is quite brilliant.”
Cara approached and laid a calming hand on Odette’s arm. “And when should England expect to see this shining intellect?” she asked in a careless tone.
“Sometime this summer. At least that’s what Gabe hears.”
A look of understanding flashed between them. It had to be him! Odette’s mind was in a whirl. Her plan to become the toast of the London stage had been a way to rub elbows with powerful people. To reach luminaries like Benjamin Franklin and Charles Drake. But now, if Gabriel were to meet him, how much easier…”
She stopped herself with a sudden realization. If Gabriel were to meet him or even become a member of his circle, keeping the Wrights safe and out of harm’s way was going to be more difficult than she imagined.
Chapter 12
Gabriel walked into the coffeehouse. The evening chill clung to his cape as he swung it off his shoulders, and was enveloped in the warm conviviality of the room.
He was of above-average height, and had been described as lanky when a youth. Now a man of twenty-eight, he was broad and filled-out but still trim. He had known hard labor as a child while helping his parents build their business. Slowly the inn prospered, and they were able to hire servants to help with the most onerous tasks. But he still lent a hand when needed, chopping wood, hauling furniture, and assisting Johnson in the gardens. Occupied as his days now were with higher thoughts, he often felt the need of physical labor to clear his mind and keep his body strong.
He wove his way easily through the crowded tables.
“Ho, Gabe!”
Hailed by his friend Simon Keller, Gabriel turned to see him and three other men seated at a long table beneath the street window. He walked over and sat down on the bench next to Simon. Taking off his hat, he clapped Simon on the back and flashed a broad, slightly crooked grin at the other three men.
“I was hoping to get here before the ‘Lofties.’ ”
The others laughed and nodded. “Lofties” was the name they called the more eminent members of their supper club. In fact, it wasn’t really their supper club. They were mere hangers-on, young professionals who sat on the periphery and mostly listened to the quick flow of conversation. It was never easy to get a word in. Even if one was successful in venturing an opinion, the sharp intellect of the Lofties could cut deeper than any knife.
It was Gabriel who had come up with the name. He had a dry, low-key wit that never failed to make them laugh.
Simon swirled the coffee cup in his hands and glanced at his newly arrived companion. Really, that combined with his good looks, would have made him intolerable if he wasn’t such a fine fellow and good friend.
“Geoffrey said much the same,” he commented quietly. Simon was soft-spoken and more reticent than most to speak his mind or give an opinion. As a young clergyman, this served him poorly at the pulpit. But his kindness and non-judgmental demeanor endeared him to his small f
lock nonetheless.
“I met Mister Price on my way up Bridges,” Simon continued. “He mentioned a previous engagement but hoped to make it nonetheless.”
Richard Price was one of the young men’s favorites. At the relatively tender age of thirty-four he was already widely published. His Newington Green Unitarian Church was a bastion of liberal thought and political activity. His opinions were solicited by a wide array of notables.
The others murmured their hope he would indeed make it.
Geoffrey saying, “We attended his sermon on rationalism and free will a fortnight past. Margaret found it particularly enlightening.”
Geoffrey Prime, short, round, and with a slight overbite, was arguably the most well-educated man at the table. Unlike the other three, he came from the aristocracy and had married well. His position as the fourth son of a peer of modest standing necessitated an early marriage to a distant cousin.
Fortunately for his domestic happiness, she was equally interested in the political debate and scientific inquiry that were the defining characteristics of their time. He thought it a great pity that Margaret could not accompany him to the coffeehouse for these gatherings. But found it one of his greatest pleasures to recount the conversation and hear her thoughts and opinions. Many of which he relayed to his friends.
So they weren’t surprised when he added, “She feels that much of what he said could logically apply to women as well.”
Gabriel and Simon nodded agreeably, indulgent of Geoffrey’s close attachment to his wife.
“A good point,” Cyril replied, although he couldn’t help a slight eye roll and his habitual sneer.
Cyril Redmond completed the usual group of four friends. He was a handsome fellow in a rather feminine way. Tall and slender, Cyril’s golden curls and heavily-lashed green eyes were the envy of his less-favored sisters and many female cousins. Like Gabriel, he had started life as a bastard. Being the result of an ill-fated love affair between his mother, the gently-bred young daughter of a duke, and his father, the duke’s secretary.
Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 Page 10