“You are an excellent card player,” Camille said with a shrewd glint in her eyes.
“And people like you. You draw them in wherever you go, you make them want to be around
you. I saw that in Monte Carlo.”
Sophia laughed wryly and thought again of Lord Hammond. “Sometimes the
wrong
people want to be near me, I fear.”
“But it is a skill! A gift you can use to much success, especially here in Paris where
such things are valued. The French appreciate charm and style, and it is quite wasted
on the English. You should come and work for me. I have no time to do everything I
need to do, I need help.”
“Work for
you
, Camille?” Sophia said. “I thought you were a widowed lady of leisure, traveling
wherever the whim takes you. Do you need a secretary now?”
“I am no longer a lady of leisure. I grew so bored, you see. So I opened a small business
near the Palais-Royal.” Camille leaned across the table, her dark eyes sparkling with
mischief. “A gambling club!”
“A gambling club?” Sophia said, intrigued. She had considered doing such a thing herself,
until she realized her funds wouldn’t allow her to open as elegant an establishment
as she would want. A place such as the Devil’s Fancy.
“La Reine d’Argent. It can’t be called a gambling club, of course, not with such a
fusty old stick as Louis Philippe on the throne. It is a salon, an exclusive little
place for friends to gather and play a friendly hand of whist.”
“Friends?”
Camille laughed. “Friends who pay a small membership fee, perhaps. I have just opened,
and already it is so busy I cannot manage by myself. I could so use your help, Sophie.”
Sophia had thought for a moment. A new life in Paris; a time to linger before she
had to decide what to do with her future. Before she had to return to her parents.
“It would be so much fun,” Camille coaxed. “You could make a great deal of money.
And many of my guests are so charming, even the English ones! You might find one you
like and marry again one day…”
Sophia firmly shook her head and finished off her champagne. “I am obviously terrible
at marriage.”
“Just as you wish. But it is good to keep one’s options open,
non
? Come to Paris. It will be such fun…”
And that was how Sophia found herself on a coach, lumbering closer to Paris with every
moment, rather than being sensible and returning home.
“It is just one more adventure,” she told herself, but deep down inside she knew she
would always crave yet one more adventure. Being sensible had never been her strong
point.
She watched the trees swirl past in a blur as she curled her gloved fingers around
the book in her lap. Mary Huntington’s journal, which had been her companion ever
since she left England, was going with her into Paris now, along with Mary’s painful
lessons never to count on anyone but herself.
“Almost there,” Sophia whispered, the excitement inside her growing. This was
her
adventure now; she had only herself to think of here in Paris. It was an exciting
thought indeed, but also rather frightening.
The carriage swung around in a turn in the road and careened down a steep, cobbled
slope. Suddenly they were plunged into a darkened labyrinth of narrow streets, the
broad country lanes left behind. Stone buildings, tall and packed close together,
darkened with age, crowded in around her. The coach slowed amid a crowd of wagons,
drays, fine carriages, and street vendors with their push-carts.
Sophia lowered the window even more and heard the cacophony of voices from outside,
the rustle of wheels on cobbles, the laughter and French words. She could smell the
mud and muck of the gutters, but also spiced cakes from the vendors, smoke curling
up from the chimneys, and flowers creeping up from behind garden walls at the old
aristocratic
hôtels
. The smell of Paris.
The carriage slowly made its way out of the tangle of old streets and onto the avenues
that ran along the river. The sunlight turned the whole city golden as the vista opened
up before her. Sophia craned her neck for a view of the long vistas to bridges and
turreted palaces, statues and tall gaslights. People hurried along on the walkways:
fashionably dressed couples, ladies’ maids in
black carrying packages, starched nannies with their little charges who scampered
along laughing.
Sophia almost laughed with them, her spirits suddenly higher than they had been since
before Jack died. She was in a new place, a place where almost no one knew her and
she could start again. Where she could become anyone she wanted to be.
As they passed one of the grand bridges, Sophia glimpsed a man standing there leaning
lazily against the stone balustrade. Something about him, something familiar, made
her turn to look at him. He swept his hat off to bow at two giggling ladies walking
by, and the sunlight glinted off pale blond hair, as radiant as the sun itself.
Sophia remembered Dominic St. Claire kissing her in that dark room, remembered running
her fingers through his bright hair as a passion like none she had ever known exploded
inside her, and she felt a pang for how long ago that magical night was. How many
things had changed. For an instant her heart leaped to think that was
him
on that bridge, that she could be that innocent girl once more.
But then she fell back down onto the carriage seat, feeling ridiculously foolish.
Dominic St. Claire was far away, and even if he
was
in Paris she wasn’t likely to run into him. He had never even known that it was her
he kissed, and he never would know. That memory was hers alone.
And she hated feeling like a silly, fluttery schoolgirl every time she thought of
him! She had too much to do here in Paris to be daydreaming over a handsome man she
would likely never even see again. Once the carriage arrived in Paris, she had to
make her way to Camille’s club on the rue Vivienne and learn her new duties. Paris
was a new beginning for her. She wanted to make the most of it.
The coach jolted to a halt on the street outside a busy station, where passengers
hurried in and out amid piles of luggage and harried porters. Sophia climbed down
and took a deep breath of the Parisian air, glad to be out of the swaying vehicle
at last. The city seemed to unfold in front of her, and she wanted to rush out and
grab it all.
Just across the street was a row of shops. She glimpsed a sign in the bow window of
an expensive-looking hat shop—
Aide Demandé
, “help wanted”. It immediately caught her attention. She knew about hats. Surely
a hat shop would be slightly more respectable to her family? And a bit more independent
than taking advantage of Camille’s friendship. She needed more money to get home properly,
as well as more time to plan her approach. But she had hardly had time to contemplate
the shop when she heard someone calling her name. She spun around to find Camille
hurrying toward her through the crowds. The people seemed to part before her, as if
she were a statuesque Parisian goddess in a fashionable green silk walking dress,
her red hair shining in the sun.
“Sophia,
chère
! You are here at last,” Camille cried. She seized Sophia’s hands and kissed her cheek
as Sophia laughed. “And just in time for my new establishment to officially open.”
Sophia had not known such a welcome in a long time, and it made her even happier to
be in Paris. “I’m glad I made it in time.”
“I will need your help in finishing the arrangements. I remember you had such lovely
taste in Baden-Baden,” Camille said, leading Sophia away from the station.
Porters leaped to obey her when she gestured for them to gather the bags. “I need
your help desperately.”
“I am happy to help however I can,” Sophia said. “But I do not want to take advantage
of your friendship.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean I must earn my own way! And not just by playing cards.”
Camille laughed. “But you were so good at the cards.”
Sophia sighed. “And that is just the trouble. Hopefully I can make my way back to
my family soon, and they will definitely not approve of my livelihood. Also I can’t
take advantage of your kindness forever.”
Camille shot her a puzzled glance as she ushered Sophia to a fine carriage waiting
by the walkway. “Your English ways are a puzzle to me, but you must do as you see
best. You are welcome to stay at my club as long as you like. I am happy to have someone
to keep an eye on the premises when I can’t be there. Now, tell me—what happened in
Baden-Baden after I left? I haven’t had so much fun since then…”
I
t was all even more beautiful than Camille had described.
Sophia stood on a small balcony high above the main salon of La Reine d’Argent and
leaned her lace-gloved hands on the gilded railing as she examined the crowd gathered
below her. She had seen the rooms during the day, of course, and had admired their
elegance. But at night, with the gaslight casting its ethereal glow, everything looked
otherworldly and magical. A haven of fun and elegance that seemed to shut out the
rest of the world.
After ill-fated attempts to find other employment, she had determined to do her best
here for her friend’s business and work hard until she found something else she could
do. Working had kept her busy—and kept her from dreaming too much.
Sophia laughed at herself and turned her attention back to the salon below. It was
the club’s official opening night, and, despite the rain outside, people had shown
up in droves. It seemed Camille’s reputation for being a good hostess had spread far
throughout Paris. It looked
like an undulating sea of stylish, ruffled gowns in fashionable pastel blues, greens,
and pinks, men’s black evening coats, and flashing jewels, all blended together like
the indistinct mosaic of a kaleidoscope. Footmen in gold satin livery and powdered
wigs in the style of fifty years ago threaded their way through the throng, offering
silver trays bearing crystal goblets of champagne and Bordeaux and plates of delicacies.
The tangle of conversation sounded happy and excited, lighthearted, and it made Sophia
feel happy, too. When she first stepped out of her room and smiled, she hadn’t been
sure what that feeling was. It had been so long since she remembered anything like
happiness. But here in Paris, she felt her sense of fun, so long buried under worries,
breaking free again. She had to revel in it now, until she had to go back to her family
and try to mend her fences there.
Despite the troubles the newspapers shrieked about, the unpopularity of King Louis
Philippe and the ill-fated Spanish marriages, Paris seemed as eager to embrace fun
and merriment as Sophia was herself. That desire for fun felt almost frantic in the
air. Camille was smart to seize onto that desire for a good time, and Sophia was glad
she was here to be a part of it, if only for a short time.
The door to the balcony opened behind her, and Camille cried, “Sophie, there you are!
What do you think of our opening night?”
Sophia studied the crowd again. It already seemed to have grown as more and more people
squeezed into the salon. “I think you will have a wonderful success.”
Camille laughed, the diamond stars in her upswept red hair flashing. “Tonight, perhaps.
They are curious to see
what we have here—and to see my mysterious new English friend.”
Sophia shook her head. “No one knows me here, and that is the way it should be. The
way I want it.” She would be leaving Paris soon enough, and the fewer scandals her
family knew about the better.
“But you will not get your wish. Paris loves a beautiful woman, and one who is a mystery
is irresistible to them. They wonder who you are.”
Sophia laughed. “How can they even know I’m here?”
“
Exactement
! You have made them wonder. People have probably glimpsed you going to the shops,
the beautiful lady in black who hides in Madame Martine’s house, and they want to
know your story.” Camille tapped her fan on the railing. “I was at dinner at the Café
Anglais last night and met a party of English people visiting Paris, theatrical sorts
who are appearing at the Theatre Nationale. Even they had heard of you, and they asked
me so many questions. But I told them nothing. I just invited them here tonight.”
Sophia shook her head again, but secretly she was intrigued. English theatrical types?
Could it be…? But surely not. It seemed too unlikely that she would see him again,
and it was probably better she didn’t. She didn’t need that sort of trouble, not now.
“They will soon lose interest in me when they find out the dull truth.”
“Then don’t tell them anything! Just let them go on wondering.” Camille studied the
throng of guests below. “I do hope those Englishmen come tonight. The men were so
very handsome, though one did have some rather fearsome-looking scars on his face.
But one of them was very sweet, and seemed rather intrigued by you. And it
wouldn’t hurt you to meet more people. Then perhaps you will put aside these silly
thoughts of finding another job. You are perfectly suited to this one.”
“I will certainly do my best while I’m here. And I will meet anyone you like. It’s
the least I can do after your kindness to me.”
Camille smiled happily. “
C’est bon!
That is all you need to do. And now, we should make our appearance before those ravenous
hordes consume all our champagne. We want them happily tipsy, not falling down drunk.”
Sophia laughed and followed Camille as they made their way down the narrow, winding
staircase that led to a secret doorway. The building was an old one that had once
belonged to a family awarded it by Louis XIV, and it had been used for all sorts of
nefarious purposes in all the upheavals of France since then.
Camille had refurbished the palace rooms with polished parquet floors, pale silk wallpapers,
and new artwork and furniture, but behind the scenes the old place was full of hidden
stairs and corridors, and tiny rooms complete with peepholes for keeping an eye on
everything that happened there. Sophia loved it; it was the perfect place for secrets.