“I think I’d like that very much,” Mariah said.
“Although, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fit through the window if I get too much larger.”
Mariah grabbed Sophie’s hand. “You must promise me that you’ll never do that again. I nearly had heart failure watching you hang out the window. What if you’d fallen?”
“I don’t think I would have died—it’s not high enough,” Sophie said, waving her hand. “But you’re right. Using a rope pulley is far too noticeable for every day. I was lucky that the bedroom window overlooked the back garden and alleyway … Still, finding a way out presents an interesting challenge.”
“You’ll be careful?” Mariah asked, squeezing Sophie’s hand one more time.
“I’ll be the very soul of caution,” she replied with a smile. “I don’t recall ever tasting such delicious food. I’d hate to miss out on it.”
Mariah did recall tasting it at the Trentons’ home, but Sophie hated any mention of their former foster parents.
From the pile of clothes Mrs. Kimball had brought, Mariah selected a lovely frock of the palest blue with puffed sleeves that tightened at the wrists. Sophie helped her put on a large petticoat and buttoned the back of her dress. It was a little too large, but so fine that Mariah didn’t mind how it fit. The frock made her feel like a real lady.
Unsurprisingly, Sophie selected the plainest dress—a simple green frock with a high collar. She then twisted her mostly dry hair into a loose bun at the back of her neck.
“Would you like me to style your hair before you meet our aunt?” Sophie asked.
“Please,” Mariah said, touching her unruly red curls.
She sat in a chair as Sophie carefully pinned each of her curls in just the right place.
“Now what do we do?” Mariah asked.
“I suppose you ought to go down and meet our aunt,” Sophie said as she picked up her plain straw bonnet and tied the ribbon at her neck. “And I need to find a less conspicuous way out of the room, or I’ll be a permanent resident of the wardrobe.”
“Where will you go?”
“On an adventure,” Sophie said, tucking away her pocket watch. “Please don’t latch your window, just in case.”
“Our window,” Mariah said.
“Yes, ours,” Sophie agreed.
Mariah opened the door and peered down the hallway—no one was in sight. Sophie pointed for Mariah to go toward the grand staircase, and she went in the direction of the servants’ staircase. Mariah walked down the hall a few steps and turned around; there was no sign of her sister. With equal parts relief and worry, she continued to walk toward the staircase and then down it. She closed her eyes and pretended she was wearing a fancy ball gown and was making a grand entrance to a party all her own. Her gentle fantasy was broken by a harsh voice.
“Who the devil are you?”
Mariah’s eyes popped open, and she saw a tall young gentleman in a long overcoat and beaver hat at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark green eyes and a strong chin, and his face was quite tanned. His hands were gloved, and his clothes were tailored. He most certainly was not a servant and he didn’t seem pleased to see her.
“I’m Ma—Miss Sophie Carter. Lady Bentley’s niece who has come to stay with her for the season,” Mariah said confidently, pretending to be her sister in more ways than just name. Sophie would not have been intimidated by Prince Albert himself.
“I was not aware Sophronia had any living relatives,” he said coldly.
“Fortunately for her, she has two nieces,” Mariah said.
She saw a reluctant smile play on his lips.
“Are they both staying in my house?”
“Your house?” Mariah blurted out in surprise.
“I inherited this house and my title from Sophronia’s late husband,” the brusque young man explained. “I’ve been her ward since the age of twelve.”
“Then you’re Lord Bentley now?”
He gave her an exaggerated bow. She curtsied back, unsure whether he was mocking her. At least she wasn’t wearing her old work dress.
“Where’s the other one?” he asked.
“Other what?”
“Niece.”
“Oh, only one was invited,” Mariah said.
“For what?” he demanded.
Mariah blushed and managed to stammer, “I believe m-my aunt thinks that she might help me find a … a suitable husband.”
“And no doubt that will solve all your problems,” he replied sardonically.
“No,” Mariah said, nettled. “But if I do, I’ll at last have a home for myself and my sister where we’ll be treated as equals and not as unwanted dependents or unpaid servants.”
He took off his hat and she saw his face more clearly. He looked younger than she’d originally supposed, not much older than herself. But there were lines around his mouth and eyes, and it looked as if he had recently been unwell. His tanned skin had an unhealthy grayish tinge to it.
“Forgive me, Miss Carter,” he said in a kinder tone. “I’ve been traveling for many weeks and didn’t expect a stranger in my home.”
“I arrived only this morning,” Mariah said. “I haven’t even seen my aunt yet. Or maybe I should call her Lady Bentley … I’m not sure.”
A voice from above them said, “Charles, are you all right? What are you doing here? I thought you were in America for the rest of the year.”
Mariah looked up and saw a woman who didn’t look at all like she had imagined. Lady Bentley had brown eyes and hair, and a sharp, distinguished face. She was about the same height as Mariah, but she seemed larger, because she wore a voluminous gown of striped purple. Lady Bentley slowly stepped down each stair until she stood in the grand foyer with Mariah and the surly young man she’d called Charles. Her keen eyes scrutinized them, from each strand of hair to the scuffs on Mariah’s boots.
Mariah curtsied slowly.
“Sophronia, may I present your niece, Miss Sophie Carter?” Charles said.
“You have the beauty of my sister, though little good it did her.” Lady Bentley sniffed. “Sophie, you may go.”
Mariah looked right and left. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”
She saw Charles’s lips twitch again. “Miss Carter, if you go left, you’ll find a comfortable sitting room where you can wait until Sophronia is ready for you.”
Mariah bobbed another curtsy and opened the door to a bright room decorated in yellow. She closed the door behind her, but she could still hear their voices. She ought to have sat down on the lovely cream-colored settee, but instead she stood by the door and listened.
“Charles, you look unwell … Have you been sick?”
“I contracted yellow fever and even though I recovered after a fortnight, my doctor thought it best that I come back to England for a period of convalescence,” he said. “Mr. Merritt will take over the business in New York and I will look after my interests here.”
“Don’t work yourself too hard, Charles,” she said. “I will, of course, send my niece back to her father’s friend. It is now most inconvenient to have her staying in the house during your convalescence.”