Ang had no idea when a bath had been ordered, but there was a tub full of deliciously hot water waiting for her by the time Lisette led her back to the guest room. Adding a bit of orange blossom oil with a splash of honeysuckle, she eased herself in and moaned audibly in pure delight. She'd been at the theater so long, her only way to wash having been with a pail and a cloth, that she'd forgotten just how amazing a hot bath felt. At this point, she could have happily remained there for the rest of her life.
"Miss?" Lisette called through the closed door just as the water began to cool. "Miss, you ought to come out if we are to have sufficient time to arrange your hair."
Ang was beyond thankful that the maid had heeded the request to remain outside the door. Ang already felt like a street rat, and the last thing she wanted was to bring more undue attention to herself by being seen climbing from the tub with only one leg, let alone having to reattach the prosthetic to her stump of a thigh. No doubt that would fuel the gossip mill within mere hours if Lisette saw. Not that Ang thought the maid was malicious, but such an oddity couldn't help but set tongues wagging.
Wrapped in a plush bathing robe, Ang reattached the prosthetic Erik made for her, then returned to the main room where Lisette awaited her, hands already holding aloft a sheer, lace-trimmed slip with dainty sleeves – a chemise? Is that what those were called?
"Thank you for your help, Lisette; I do appreciate it. But I really must return to the theater tonight. You don't understand. If I'm gone, things happen! Bad things!
With the patience of a saint, the young maid offered an indulging smile. "Miss really should have something hot to eat first. And as supper preparations are always well underway, it would be just as easy for you to join the company for supper before leaving."
"But my job! You don't understand–"
Lisette took gentle hold of Ang's hands and gave them a reassuring, affectionate squeeze. "I do understand, Miss. But Madame and her grandson are both quite insistent upon your joining them this evening, and your friend from earlier was very worried about your returning to the theater at all. I believe Madame's grandson, that you will surely have a position to return to due to his letter." She paused, her head tipping gently to one side. "I truly believe it is for your good if you stay here. There are dangerous people in the city, Miss. I promise, you are safe here."
Ang's brows pulled down in simmering anger, frustration, and barely concealed fear. There was a dangerous person at the theater, too, and he would be all the more dangerous when he found that she'd left. But this woman was loyal to her mistress and would be of no help. She heaved a deep sigh. "Fine. Would you please close your eyes while you help me into… whatever that is?"
"Of course, Miss," and the girl's eyes slid closed while the garment was held in such a way that Ang could easily slide her head and arms into their respective locations. Ang also insisted upon doing up the silk stockings herself, fearful of the girl catching sight of the awful scars that served as a reminder of the twisted proclivity toward blades that continued to haunt her. Once Ang's shortcomings were sufficiently hidden from sight, however, she gratefully allowed the maid to dress her like her own life-sized doll. She didn't don the pastel green dress that had awaited her earlier, and instead it was an evening gown which was brought forth, one that rivaled the extravagance of those she'd seen on ladies who attended the opera. Before being helped into it, Ang allowed herself a moment to explore the garment, her fingers caressing the rich ivory silk that swept over the front in an elegant drape, the lacy fringe that dripped from the off-the-shoulder sleeves, the embroidery that was done across the sapphire dyed bodice and the layers of fabric and trim that cascaded over the bustle and down into a train. Swallowing hard, Ang peered almost fearfully at the maid.
"This is for me?"
Lisette only smiled her usual, good-natured smile. "Of course, Miss. Madame only has the best on hand for her guests and she thought the blue would look exquisite with your hair. Her sense of style is unerring, you know."
Ang was thankful the maid wasn't the superior type that would have made her feel like trash tossed out onto the street. Madame Valerius must have been a rare lady indeed to not only extend such kindness but also to ensure her staff were just as kind as herself. It was an appreciated surprise. High-handed or not, at least the gentlewoman was lending aid in the best way she knew how.
She obediently allowed Lisette to dress her up. Once she was in her gown, Lisette bade her sit. Before anything else was done, the maid brought out a small jar full of a strong-smelling paste. The maid dipped her fingertips into it and reached for Ang's face.
"Madame asked that I apply this to help with the bruising," she offered kindly. "I will be gentle." And true to her word, the fingertips danced across Ang's cheek, lightly massaging the ointment in until traces of it had fully soaked into her skin. Only then did Lisette turn her attention to Ang's hair: brushing it out, curling and plaiting it, adding strands of ribbons and beads to the already extravagant hairstyle. The ensemble was ultimately completed with a pearl necklace and matching teardrop earrings.
Ang's breath caught in her throat as she stared unbelievingly at her reflection, with Lisette beaming at her from over one shoulder.
"Miss is most beautiful," the maid complimented.
"The dress is beautiful," Ang corrected. "And it's the hair and the jewelry and everything else you did."
The young woman tugged Ang to her feet. "Oh no, Miss; you have the sort of beauty that is perfect as a picture no matter what. I just helped to give you a fancier frame." With a bright grin, Lisette opened the door to leave just as the dinner bell rang.
Ang bit back a sigh. She had to remember to be polite, at least to Madame Valerius. It was not the lady's fault that she was dragged into Ang's mess. She had to remember that her anger was justly directed at Gus and Raoul.
Ugh, Raoul. As if her life wasn't impossible enough already with one fictional character, in walked another. Granted, the stage play she had been working on made the older brother, Phillippe, the hero of the story, but she was fairly certain the original novel focused on Raoul
She cursed herself, not for the first time in the last several months, for not paying closer attention to the book she'd read in high school. Perhaps that would have somehow aided her. She couldn't guess how, and she supposed wishing for it in the first place was utterly useless. Even if she did remember more, how was that going to get her out of 19th century Paris and back to 20th century America where she belonged?
"You are an utter vision, Miss Angelique," Raoul crooned the moment she stepped into the parlor, rising properly to his feet.
She offered a tight smile and nodded her head. "Thank you." Her eyes searched for their hostess and found that only Raoul and a single servant occupied the room besides herself. More waiting then. She couldn't believe the unbelievably slow, leisurely pace of those who didn't have to work for their living. Didn't they bore themselves to tears? Americans would go crazy if they weren't busy every moment of every day.
"Would you care for a drink?" Raoul asked, already in the process of preparing one.
"Thank you, I–" She stopped and blinked, staring hard at the green liquid he poured into the glass. "Is that…absinthe?"
"Naturally," he replied as if it were the most normal drink in the world.
Instantly, flashes of the movie Moulin Rouge floated through her memory and she gently shook her head. "No, thank you. I should keep a clear head for when I return to the theater tonight."
Raoul paused for half a second before taking a long sip of the peculiar green drink. "As we have discussed, for your own safety it is best for you to remain here."
"That is not your decision to make. Perhaps you don't understand or cannot appreciate the importance of keeping a job, but I do."
"I told you, your position is secure. My brother and I are both both patrons of your theater, now; they won't dare release you against my request."
Ang huffed and paced away from him, struggling to rein in her annoyance and temper. Was he really self-important that he thought the entire theater would simply bow to his every whim? And even if they did, what would that mean for her when she came back? Working for Blanche would be unbearable if it was put about that she was the patron's new favorite toy. Her shoulders shuddered at that. Women who wanted to live in 'romantic' bygone eras had no idea what they were wishing for; it was nothing but a world even more heavily dominated by chauvinistic mysoginists! They didn't know how good they had it! Talk about a wage gap!
"Sir, it is in the interest of everyone's safety that I respectfully request to be returned to the theater tonight. I will dine with Madame Valerius if she wishes, but please, please take me back."
Madame Valerius crossed to where Ang argued quietly with Raoul and slipped her arm into Ang's. "Come, my dear. I find that I do my clearest thinking on a full stomach, and you look as if you have missed too many meals." With a motherly smile, she towed Ang in the direction of an open set of double doors, beyond which was set the most lavish table she'd ever seen.
Erik had antiques and wealth aplenty in the catacombs below, and the place settings had been very fine in their own rights. But the pieces here were cherished and cared for, each plate rimmed with real gold to match the gold utensils; the goblets had to be genuine crystal; even the centerpieces would have cost a small fortune in 'her world'.
Ang hesitated just within the door, and Madame Valerius paused at her side and peered into the girl's face. "My dear?"
"I– I don't belong here. It's too much," Ang whispered.
"Oh, sweet child! How quaint you are!" the madame exclaimed as she led Ang to a chair being held out by a man in a perfectly pressed black suit and white gloves.
With burning cheeks, Ang carefully took her place and began to sit but stopped herself when she saw the madame circle the table to take her place at its head. Only when the madame lifted her arms, and Rauol gave her the tiniest nod, did Ang sit.
Ah, and this was where the nightmares of fine dining originated from: too many forks. Too many everything, to be honest! She glanced down and stared at the line of utensils extending to the left and the right, her attention snared by the tiny fork set to the right by the knives.
Well, if she had one thing in her favor, it was that no one thought she was anything but a penniless working woman; she could express her confusion and they wouldn't be surprised by or put off by it. And if they were, well then they were the sort of people she wanted to be acquainted with, anyway.
Of course, her fears were unfounded. Both the madame and Raoul kindly displayed the proper utensil for each of the courses as well as any etiquette that went along with it, and Ang was as quick a study as she'd always been. Blending into her surroundings to the point of disappearing had been her main parlor trick and how she'd survived to adulthood, and she used that skill of self-preservation now.
Unfortunately, the pair of hosts insisted upon dragging her into every bit of the conversation. Rather than looking down on her for working for her living, they asked eager questions about her life working behind the scenes of their favorite theater: What were the performers like? How many hours a day was each production rehearsed? Did they practice at the same time as the orchestra? How long had she worked there? Was was her favorite part? By the time the fruit and cake were served, it was all Ang could do to keep her eyes open, she was so tired from being the center of their very pointed attention.
Or perhaps it was the wine. She always had been a light weight when it came to alcohol, and without fail it made her sleepy faster than it made her giddy. She should have remembered that.
Ang heard a soft laugh and her gaze refocused upon her hosts, attention shifting back and forth between the two of them. "I'm so sorry. What was the question?"
Madame Valerius chuckled good-naturedly. "I think we have plied you with quite enough questions for one evening. Forgive my curiosity, child. There is more time to speak at length tomorrow morning. For now, it is late and I believe you have had more than enough excitement for one day."
"Oh, but I really should—"
"I insist, my dear. If your employers have any problem with your absence, they can deal with me directly. That is one of the perks of being an old woman with plenty of money: people seldom try to gainsay me." The madame reached out and gave the back of Ang's hand a loving pat. "I never had children of my own. Please do allow me to pretend you belong to me for a little while longer."
Damn it. She could be furious with Gus and Raoul, but how could she deny this sweet and generous old woman? Granted, the lady couldn't be more than 50, so in reality the madame wasn't old at all, but the pure silver hair gave her more of a grandmotherly air. She reminded Ang a bit of the old woman in that Disney animated movie with the cats. What was her name? Duchess? No, that was the girl cat, not the woman…
"Allow me, Miss Angelique."
Her chair was tugged back and Raoul's forearm was offered. With a sigh of capitulation, Ang settled her fingertips atop his sleeve and stood. "Thank you for dinner, and for a lovely evening. I apologize for–"
"You have nothing in the world to apologize for, my dear," the madame interrupted. "It was a pleasure to have you as my guest. I pray you will rest well and find peace in your dreams."
She didn't know what compelled her to do such a thing, but without actually deciding to move, Ang stepped forward and dropped a feather-light kiss to the woman's rose petal cheek, then fell into step beside Raoul, allowing him to lead her through the house toward her room.
"I have not seen Grandmother so taken with anyone the way she is with you. I think you must have woven some sort of spell over her," he remarked quietly.
"She is the most wonderful woman I have ever met. I wish I did belong to her. I wish I belonged to anyone at all," Ang answered honestly, not realizing what she'd said until it was too late. Her sleepiness was affecting her verbal filter. Oh well; she couldn't take it back now.
"So, your family is…"
"Nonexistent. Little Orphan Angie; I even have the red hair," she commented ruefully, forgetting that Raoul wouldn't understand the play on words.
He said nothing to that, and was quiet the rest of the way to her door.
"I'm sorry. It seems that, the more tired I am, the less I think before I speak."
"You apologize quite frequently. Were you aware of it?"
Ang scowled. "It's habit; I've usually done something to warrant it so I get it out of the way before it's required of me."
As they came to the door, Raoul opened it but kept gentle hold of Ang's arm. "I think someone made you feel so guilty for something that you believe you must spend the rest of your life asking for forgiveness for even living."
She gasped softly and stepped back, eyes reflecting her surprise.
Raoul wisely said nothing more. Instead, he politely took up her hand and brushed his lips against the back, briefly and chastely. Then he stepped back and offered a small smile. "Good night, Miss Angelique."
Ang watched him disappear around the corner of the hall, allowing the doorframe to take her weight as his words pierced her armor and sank deep.
Author's Note: March, 2024. I've read every comment several times over - thank you! - and you are all quite correct: Ang should have been more peeved with the guys for going all presuming alpha-male on her, so it's been slightly updated! Thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think. I was waylaid last year by a most exciting thing: I am officially a published author! Writing under my non de plume Lily M. Winter you can find my debut novel "The Boxer and the Rose" on Amazon. If you'd like to purchase a signed copy, PM me and we'll exchange info for it! With that story complete and available, maybe now my brain will let me finish Ang's story! Likely, I'll be going back through from the beginning to make subtle tweaks here and there and trying to catch any inconsistencies!