“He knows this is a fight that will be won with propaganda.” Ethan pulled out his watch, glanced at it, then said, “You’d best get started if we want this news in the evening editions.”
“Does this take precedence over the project of renovating Katie Armstrong’s house?” Adam asked in a teasing voice. “Or is making your mistress comfortable a more important task?”
“Don’t be impudent. The newspapers come first, of course.” The mention of Katie reminded him of something else, and as his secretary rose to leave the study, Ethan spoke again. “Adam, I want those repairs made today. Hire as many workmen as needed, and get them over there now. Also, the house has mice. Be sure the workmen get them out. Every last one of them.”
Adam grinned. “You just told me the newspapers were more important.”
Ethan frowned. “I also told you not to be impudent.”
10
Ethan was a man of his word. When Katie returned from the marketplace, it was half past nine o’clock, and she found a slew of workmen had already descended on her new home. From the kitchen of the Mermaid, she watched them across the alley as they swarmed over the roof and walls of her house like a mass of bees. They were repairing roof shingles, replacing windows, patching crumbling brick, and giving the shutters a new coat of paint. She watched them for some time and concluded that given the number of men and the speed at which they were working, they would probably finish all the repairs in one day.
Molly echoed this conclusion when she came into the kitchen a few moments later. “You’ll be sleeping in a bed tonight, that’s my opinion.”
Katie smiled, savoring the prospect. “I was thinking the same thing.”
The other woman caught sight of that smile and frowned at her in return. “Katie, don’t be getting too fond of it. It isn’t your home, remember.”
Her smile faded. “I haven’t forgotten that,” she said. “But if I have to play a part, I might as well enjoy myself.”
“Aye,” Molly said with a resigned sigh. “Just be careful of your tongue in Ethan’s circle. Those Tories have spies everywhere.”
And she was one of them. Katie wondered what Ethan would really do to her if he discovered her secret. She shivered, remembering the night of their bargain and the cool, impersonal way he had contemplated her fate.
Once she turned him over to Lowden, she wouldn’t have to worry, she reminded herself. Ethan would be dead.
“Katie, what’s wrong?”
“What?” She looked at Molly blankly, and it took several seconds for the other woman’s question to sink in. “Wrong? Nothing.”
“Suddenly, all the color just drained out of your face. Are you ill?”
“Of course not. I—”
She was saved from making up some excuse by the arrival of a boy at the back door. Grateful for the interruption, Katie opened the door. “Yes?”
“Katie Armstrong?” When she nodded, the boy thrust a folded sheet of parchment toward her. “Note for you. I’m to wait for a reply.”
Katie took the letter from him. It was closed with a seal of red wax, and the initials E.C.H. set into the wax told her the identity of the sender. She broke it open and scanned the lines of handwriting that reminded her to meet Ethan at the dressmaking establishment of Elizabeth Waring at ten o’clock. She nodded to the boy. “Tell him I have not forgotten, and I will be there,” she instructed, and thrust the note into her pocket as the boy departed.
She turned to Molly. “Where is Elizabeth Waring’s shop?”
“West Street. Near the Mall by Boston Common.”
“That’s a bit of a walk from here.” She glanced at the battered enamel watch pinned to Molly’s dress. “I’d best be on my way if I’m to be there by ten.”
“Why are you going there?”
“Ethan seems to think his mistress should have a new wardrobe.”
Molly frowned, clearly conveying her dislike of the plans Ethan had made. But then she shrugged, as if telling herself there was nothing she could do about it. “I suppose that one good thing to come out of this is some decent clothes for you.”
“Or indecent ones,” she answered with a grin. “After all, I’m supposed to be a mistress.”
Molly seemed slightly shocked. “Elizabeth Waring’s is a respectable establishment, and Ethan would never buy you anything that was not perfectly respectable. He is not that sort of man.”
Katie wanted to laugh at that. “He is willing to blackmail me into spying, coerce me into playing the part of his mistress, and let me suffer the consequences if I’m caught, but he is not the sort of man to buy me wicked underclothes?”
Molly pressed her lips tightly together and did not answer for several seconds. Finally, she said, “He does what he has to do. You should not have tried to spy on him. Or on the rest of us, for that matter.” Katie started to speak, but Molly stopped her. “Katie, girl, I’ve been in your shoes. I know you were only trying to keep body and soul together. But that doesn’t mean I can condone what you’ve done. And don’t expect any tender regard from Ethan because you’ve had a hard life.”
“I don’t,” Katie answered. She knew better than to expect anything from anyone.
Elizabeth Waring’s dressmaking establishment was indeed a respectable one. Clearly, it was also the best of its kind in Boston. Katie came to these conclusions before she even reached the front door of the shop. Luxuriant carriages clogged the tiny street outside the entrance, and a group of liveried footmen stood by the front doors, ready to handle any packages brought out by the ladies inside.
When she stepped into the shop, she could see that the showroom itself was filled with ladies of Boston’s highest social echelons. One quick glance around enabled Katie to pigeonhole the women into various categories. There were several debutantes wrapped in swaths of pastel silk, discussing their coming-out balls with a great deal of giggling. Their mamas, obviously the grand dames of Boston society, were also in evidence, examining bolts of aubergine velvet and burgundy wool as they spoke in autocratic tones to fawning shop assistants. Another quick glance around told Katie that Ethan had not yet arrived in this feminine domain.
Uncertain how to proceed without him, Katie halted just inside the entrance. She caught the attention of a shop assistant, whose expression immediately changed from a welcoming smile to a look of dismay. She crossed the room, taking in Katie’s tattered cloak and dress with one horrified glance. It was incredible, Katie reflected, just how effectively a shop girl could look down her nose. Given that her social class was probably not much of a cut above Katie’s own, she didn’t have cause to be such a snob.
“I am here to purchase an entire wardrobe,” Katie told her, pretending blithe indifference to the girl’s obvious scorn.
“If you are here to pick up a wardrobe order for your mistress, you must use the servants’ entrance in the back.”
As the woman spoke, Katie could hear the room quieting down and feel the stares of other women in the showroom, as her appearance began to be noticed by the ladies present. She lifted her chin a notch. No mere shop assistant was going to get the better of her.
It would take gall, but gall was one thing Katie possessed in abundance. It also helped that she knew Ethan would be arriving at any moment. “I am not a servant,” she informed the girl coldly. “As I said, I am here to purchase a complete wardrobe, and that wardrobe is for myself.”
The girl smiled with obvious contempt. “If you have the money to purchase even a handkerchief, you must have stolen it. This is a ladies’ establishment. Women of your sort are not welcome here.”
Those words stung like a slap, as they had been meant to do, but Katie refused to show that they had any effect on her. She opened her mouth to dress the girl down as she so richly deserved, but another voice entered the conversation.
“My dear, I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Katie let out her breath in a sigh of relief at the sound of Ethan’s voice. She turned to him gratefully. “D
arling, thank God you’re here. I am having the most dreadful time.” She stuck out her lower lip in a fretful pout and made a gesture of tearful feminine distress. “This woman is being incredibly rude to me.”
She didn’t miss the slight tilt of his mouth that told her he was doing his best not to laugh. But when he turned to the girl, he raised one eyebrow, and with that tiny gesture, he managed to show all the disdain of his class for a mere shop assistant. “Rude to you?” he repeated, as if incredulous at such a turn of events. “I am appalled.”
The girl swallowed hard, and her eyes widened as she realized she had made a serious mistake. Katie simply could not resist giving her a triumphant smile. The girl practically wilted on the spot.
“Where is Mrs. Waring?” he asked. Before the shop assistant could gather her wits enough to answer, he went on, “Find her, and tell her that Ethan Harding is here and requires her attention.”
The girl bobbed a quick curtsy and departed, disappearing from view through a set of curtains at the back of the shop.
“How do you do that?” Katie asked in a whisper. “Do you practice that haughty, contemptuous look in front of a mirror?”
“Every day.”
At that moment, another woman emerged from the back of the shop and came toward them, holding her hands out to Ethan in greeting. “Ethan, how lovely to see you,” she cried, clasping his hands in hers and kissing him on both cheeks. “And I was delighted to know you had made an appointment, but my curiosity was piqued by your note. You have, I believe you said, a project for me.” She glanced at Katie and back to him. “I believe I can guess what that project might be.”
“You have always been a shrewd woman, Betsy.” He gestured to Katie. “This is a friend of mine, and I am putting her into your capable hands. From head to toe, I want her turned out in every particular. Hats, shoes, stockings, gowns, underclothes, everything. I presume she will also be able to take away a few ready-made things with her today. As you can see, she is in need of them.”
“If you are paying the bill, Ethan, my dear, I would be delighted to give her every gown I have.” She turned to Katie and gave her a long, sweeping glance. Katie was somewhat relieved that there was no disdain in that look.
Elizabeth studied Katie for several minutes with the professional thoroughness of a dressmaker. Then she gave a decisive nod and took Katie by the elbow. “Come with me, my dear,” she said, and waved farewell to Ethan with an airy gesture of her hand. “Darling, you may leave her with me,” she told him over one shoulder. “By this evening, you won’t recognize her.”
Ethan departed, and Katie was left in the hands of the dressmaker and her assistants. Some of the customers looked at her askance, making her feel defensive and wary, but Elizabeth ignored them. “Now, my dear,” she said, leading Katie into the back of the shop, “let’s have some fun. Have you ever had a milk bath?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and led Katie up a set of stairs to what were obviously her own apartments.
During the next two hours, Katie was given several luxuriant beauty treatments, including a milk bath to enhance her complexion, followed by a rinse in icy water and a rubdown with fragrant oil. Warm oil was also poured onto her hair, and afterward her hair was washed with the finest soap and trimmed at the ends. She suspected that dressmakers did not usually offer baths and other such attentions to their clients, but she didn’t know if it was her own disreputable appearance and stained clothes or Ethan’s influence that had given her these uncustomary treats.
Her old clothes and boots were consigned to a dustbin, and she was dressed in a ready-made day dress of willow-green wool. Elizabeth then led her back to the showroom, where she spent the remainder of the day lounging on the fat cushions of a chaise and selecting her new wardrobe.
Katie savored every pleasure that came her way that day. She studied the beautiful clothes being paraded before her with a feeling akin to awe, but she acted as if she bought beautiful clothes all the time. She sent the shop girls scurrying to and fro for bonnets and shoes to match, and she took what she had to admit was a wicked delight in turning thumbs down on some of the most beautiful gowns she had ever seen. She nibbled sweet biscuits and sipped mulled Madeira. She discussed laces and trims, tried on numerous bonnets, and paid careful attention to Elizabeth’s recommendations for colors that suited her complexion and clothing styles that suited her figure. She soaked up the attention of the women who waited on her as the parched desert soaked up rain. By the end of the day, she felt exhausted. She also felt more beautiful and alluring than she ever had in her life before.
Money, she decided, was a wonderful thing indeed.
Ethan approached the Old South Meeting House with the casual demeanor of a man simply out for a stroll. As he passed by, he noticed that quite a crowd had already gathered in front, though the meeting was not scheduled to begin until later. He saw many familiar faces. Aside from Whig leaders such as Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and Dr. Joseph Warren, he also saw many of his own friends and acquaintances, including David, Colin, Adam, and Joshua.
Another group was also gathering nearby, a group that caused Ethan grave concern. A group of British officers lounged on the corner, wisely remaining separate from the Boston citizens who were eyeing them with clear hostility. To Ethan, the troops looked bored, idle, and in search of trouble, and the sight of them only increased the misgivings he had expressed to Adam earlier that morning.
Recognizing one of the officers, he approached the group of redcoats and paused to make conversation. “Lieutenant Chase, what have we here?”
The young officer scowled. “They’re having some kind of meeting. Defying the king, that’s what they’re doing.”
Ethan nodded as if in agreement. “With these Whigs getting all fired up, there could be trouble.”
“Don’t you be worried, Mr. Harding. If they get out of line, we’ll soon put them in their place.”
His hand closed over his musket, and Ethan felt his lip curling with contempt. He quickly concealed his expression, but inside he felt his anger growing. God, was there no end to the arrogance of the king’s troops? Couldn’t a group of citizens even gather for a town meeting without being afraid of reprisal?
Ethan tipped his hat and gave Lieutenant Chase a suave smile. “I’m certain you will, Lieutenant,” he murmured. “Good day to you.”
He walked away from the officers, but he bought himself a mug of hot cider from the stand nearby and took up a position on the opposite corner from the meeting house. Sipping his cider, he watched and waited with a tense feeling in his guts. Before the end of the day, there was going to be serious trouble. He glanced at the stand where others were gathered to buy mugs of cider as he had done, and he concluded ruefully that the cider seller was probably going to be the only one who profited by today’s events.
Despite Ethan’s concerns, nothing happened during the several hours he waited outside the Old South Meeting House. He watched the crowd of Bostonians go inside when the doors opened, and he saw several of the officers follow them in. When he left to return to Elizabeth Waring’s shop, the meeting was in full force, and nothing untoward had happened. For that Ethan was grateful. Perhaps, he thought in some surprise, it would all end peacefully. He hoped so.
When he arrived at the dressmaker’s, he found a second surprise awaiting him. It took him several moments to find Katie in the crowded showroom, and when he did, he almost did not recognize her. For several seconds, he simply stared at her, unable to think of a thing to say.
Even in rags, she had been a beautiful woman, but there was something about her now that came from more than physical beauty. She was dressed in fine clothes, and her short hair gleamed with all the warmth of polished amber, but her beauty, her clothes, and her hair were not what made him unable to take his eyes off her.
It was something else. Elizabeth, being a woman of sense, had left Katie’s face free of cosmetics, but her complexion glowed with a radiance that came from inside. There
was something about her, a nuance of pride in the lift of her chin, a soft smile of quiet confidence in the curve of her lips, a knowing look in her eyes as she studied him from beneath the velvet brim of an absurdly small bonnet.
Elizabeth, standing behind her, smiled at him. “She looks a picture, doesn’t she?”
Katie laughed with mischievous delight. “Elizabeth, he seems to be stunned.”
“I am,” he assured her. “You’ve stunned me.”
She ducked her head and smoothed her skirt. Then she looked up at him again and smiled almost shyly. “I do look rather good, don’t I?”
“Good?” He laughed. “Good is hardly the word. My God, you were beautiful enough before, but now—” He broke off and shook his head. “There isn’t a woman in Boston to touch you.”
“I hope he still feels that way when he gets the bill,” Elizabeth told Katie. She held out an armful of wrapped packages to Ethan, but it was to Katie she spoke. “Here is another ready-made dress for you, as well as a change of linen and nightdresses. The rest of your clothes should be arriving to you during the next week or so.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth glanced at Ethan. “The bill will be high,” she said. “Be prepared.”
Ethan waved away the cost with such disinterest that the dressmaker raised her eyebrows at him.
“Whatever it is, Elizabeth, I’ll pay it willingly,” he assured her, and turned to offer Katie his arm. “Come with me, and I’ll wager ten guineas that half the men walking down the street will turn their heads to look at you.”
If it had been a true wager, he would have won hands down. As they strolled back toward North Boston, nearly every man who passed them gave Katie an admiring glance, an appreciative smile, and a friendly tip of the hat.
“You were right,” she told him as they turned onto her street. “I am beginning to feel a bit self-conscious.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment. You’re a beautiful woman. Surely you know that.”
The Charade Page 14