Page 76 of The Art of Theft
But the problem seemed blindingly obvious to Livia. “Well, if Mrs. Watson is inclined toward ladies, don’t you worry that she might feel something other than friendship for you?”
Charlotte’s look remained blank. “No more than Lord Ingram worries that she might feel something other than friendship for him. She did have a younger husband once. Who is to say that she can’t have an even younger one?”
Livia’s lips flapped a few times. “But he doesn’t live with her.”
“Most men and women engaged in illicit affairs do not live together.”
Charlotte’s expression still hadn’t changed, nor had her tone. But Livia suddenly felt silly. She adored Mrs. Watson. She’d adored Mrs. Watson from the very beginning as the mother she never had. Nothing about Mrs. Watson had changed. Why should Livia now establish hurdles that Mrs. Watson must jump over, when she had never needed to prove anything to Livia in the first place?
When she looked back at Charlotte, she said, “I think your austerity measures are working. You’re visibly farther from Maximum Tolerable Chins than you were a few days ago.”
Charlotte patted herself under her jaw. “I will not bore you with tales of hardship, but it has been dreadful. The things I do in service to my vanity.”
Livia smiled. In the corridor, Mr. Marbleton was calling for the rehearsal to begin. She tapped Charlotte on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
?Hôtel Papillon sat on a large but irregular plot of land and had its own sizable garden. In the middle of the lawn, the gentlemen who had stayed behind in Paris had installed an eight-foot-wide section of wrought iron fence.
It wasn’t identical to the periphery fence at Château Vaudrieu,but it was of the same height and the same design, with similar sharp finials on top, pickets the same width apart, and, as was the case at Château Vaudrieu, no crossbars except at the very bottom and the very top.
The garden was shielded from view by high walls. The servants had been sent out for various tasks. The ladies, for whom the practice session had been arranged, arrived wearing bloomers. The strategy was clear. Charlotte must always be the first person to be sent over the fence, as she, along with the contraband that would be strapped to her person, made for the heaviest escapee and benefitted from having all the other three women helping her up.
Lord Ingram and Mr. Marbleton were on the scene to lend a hand, if need be. But mostly Mrs. Watson coordinated the ladies. It took Mrs. Watson, the maharani, and Livia some time to work out how to best arrange themselves, so that they gave the greatest upward boost to Charlotte.
The first time Charlotte got both of her feet on the top cross-bar, she became petrified. She was too high for anyone to reach up and steady her. The fence, which had felt firmly planted while she was on her way up, now seemed to sway to and fro. She was sure that if she swung her leg over, she would bring the whole thing crashing down.
Lord Ingram was already reaching for the ladder that had been brought for just this purpose, but Mr. Marbleton stopped him. “Miss Charlotte, I promise you this fence is solid as a rock. Whatever you do, it will not tilt over. You have my word on it.”
With that, he scaled the fence in a single motion and shook it from the top. Charlotte didn’t scream, but she did let out an audible gasp. But as Mr. Marbleton promised, the fence held. Very well, too.
Charlotte exhaled and swung her leg over, only to then become sincerely stuck on the finials, which hooked onto the voluminous fabric of her bloomers. She sighed. She’d never been fond ofbloomers, which did not flatter her figure, but now their uselessness was confirmed.
The ladder was brought. Livia climbed up and freed Charlotte’s bloomers. Mr. Marbleton now demonstrated for her how she was to hold on to the top crossbar and gently lower herself, and then finally to let go and drop the remaining distance to the ground.
Or rather, to the mattress that had been placed on the other side.
She landed on shaky legs. Her arms too felt sore from exertion. And of course she was the weakest one among the ladies, the maharani proving herself surprisingly agile, Mrs. Watson strong and determined, and Livia as scrappy as any street urchin who needed to scramble up a wall to escape a bobby.
Charlotte dearly wished to settle down in a comfortable padded chair with a cup of hot tea, a slice of heavenly cake, and a Patent Office catalogue or two. But there was nothing for it. She took a deep breath, rubbed her hands together, and said, “Let’s try that again?”
?The day before the ball, Livia and Mr. Marbleton took a walk in the Jardin des Tuileries.
They’d strolled from one end of the Grand Allée to the other and taken in the sweeping view from the Louvre to the Place de la Concorde. Now they were in a slightly more intimate area, walking past stone sculptures and old Parisian women seated in clusters. It wasn’t the best time to be in the garden—the trees had lost their foliage and stood naked underneath a grey sky. Still, Livia loved a large, well-kept park at the heart of a city.
And Mr. Marbleton’s company.
She’d been worried about him going into Moriarty’s stronghold. He, far less concerned than she, pointed out that it was a masquerade ball, and that no one would see his, or anyone else’s, face. And so she had allowed herself to relax a little.
There were still preparations to make and rehearsals to hold for their undertaking at the ball, but he’d insisted that she couldn’t come to Paris without having experienced a little of the city. After the park they would browse in his favorite Parisian bookshop and then have a meal at a neighborhood brasserie, before returning to Hôtel Papillon for the home stretch.
“I have finished my Sherlock Holmes story!” she blurted out, as they rounded a faded garden bed.
He stopped in his tracks. “Congratulations!”
She wanted to laugh and cry all at once. “Thank you. I got to the end on the rail journey from Dieppe to Paris.”
The day she, Charlotte, Mrs. Watson, and Lord Ingram returned to France.
“You reached this monumental milestone two days ago and you didn’t say anything in the forty-eight hours since?” He threw up his hands in mock outrage.
