Page 5 of The Secret Daughter
“When the coach reaches Paris, hire a hackney cab and show them the address.” She repeated the address aloud several times to help Marie remember, for of course she could not read. “The driver will take you to Lady Thornton’s home, you will give her the letter and she will look after you. I will join you there later.”
Marie didn’t move. She looked doubtful and unhappy.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Zoë said gently, “but since you said you had nowhere to go…I thought this would be best.”
“You are very kind, mademoiselle, it’s just that…”
“You are nervous?”
She nodded.
“I understand. Until I was sixteen I had never traveledmore than a few miles from where I was born. But I promise you, it will all work out. You will have a job and a home with me at Lady Thornton’s. And nobody will treat you cruelly.”
“But why do you not come with me?”
“I have other things to do first—things that are important to me.” Things that she had not told anyone about.
“Dressed like that?” Marie jerked a chin at the clothes Zoë was wearing.
“Yes, because it will be easier for me if nobody thinks I am a lady. And it will be easier for you dressed in my clothes because people will assume you are a lady. And you will be seated inside thediligence, not outside or on the roof.”
“Inside?” Marie’s eyes widened. Poor people invariably rode on top of thediligencecoach; it was more expensive to sit inside. “But will you not be frightened, mademoiselle? It is dangerous for a woman to be on her own, especially someone young and pretty like you.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to look after myself,” Zoë said with more confidence than she felt. Really, it would be more sensible to give up the idea of visiting Maman’s former home and return to Paris with Marie. But there had been some unrest in Paris, so once Lucy’s morning sickness had passed, she and Gerald planned to return to London, taking Zoë with them. This would be Zoë’s last chance. “I handled Monsieur Etienne, didn’t I? And I will be careful.”
Marie bit her lip doubtfully.
Zoë said, “Now, make up your mind—thediligencewill depart soon. Do you go to Paris, or do we part ways in the village?”
Marie ran her palms down the fine cloth of her dress. “Can I still keep the clothes?”
Zoë’s heart sank a little. “Yes, of course. And the moneyI gave you. And the portmanteau. But I will want the letter back.”
There was a short silence. Birds twittered noisily in the hedge that bordered the road. In the distance a rooster crowed. “Well?” Zoë asked after a minute.
Marie considered it for a few more moments, then said decisively, “I will go to Paris.”
Zoë grinned. “Excellent.” She produced a length of black lacy netting and a small paper of pins. “Now, let us pin this around the brim of your hat.”
Marie frowned.“Pourquoi?”
“Because it will disguise that nasty bruise on your face and make you look mysterious and like a lady who does not wish to be drawn into conversation with curious busybodies. But please, one more thing—do not tell anyone I have gone off on my own. I will be perfectly all right, but I don’t want anyone to worry. Do you promise?”
“I promise, mademoiselle,” she said, but she didn’t look happy about it.
They pinned the veil into place and walked into the village. Just in time, because after a few minutes thediligencebowled into town. A short time later it moved on, with Marie safely installed inside and waving a nervous goodbye to Zoë.
Zoë took a deep breath. So, that was that. Now to start on her own adventure.
She picked up Marie’s bundle and headed northwest along a narrow road. She’d hoped that someone at the house party would drive her there, but that was before she knew what Etienne was like, and wild horses wouldn’t get her into a carriage with him. Shanks’s pony it would have to be.
She was completely free to do as she wanted. The thought cheered her. Ever since her mother had died, she’d been subject to the control of others—first the strict and repressive control of the orphanage, then Clarissa and LadyScattergood, and later Izzy, the half sister who looked exactly like her.
Oh, they’d been endlessly kind and benevolent, but their expectations and sincere desire for her to better herself had been, now that she was considering the matter, a little stifling.
And then there had been dear Lucy, who had taken her up as a challenge, to turn a street urchin into a lady, and was always correcting her grammar and English pronunciation so that no sign of her early life showed. Zoë was grateful to all of them—well, perhaps not Miss Glass at the orphanage—but certainly to her sisters and Lucy and Lady Scattergood, who had offered her not only security and a home but also unconditional acceptance and love.
But it did get a little wearing at times constantly striving to be perfect.
