“So what would you like?” Arthur asked her.
Odile simply stared at him with wide, anxious eyes.
“Perhaps a place to stay,” said Señora Alvarez. “A…refuge when needed.” She said the word with a combination of reverence and melancholy.
“We might hire a house in London that could be used for such a purpose.” In fact, Arthur had already sent out inquiries and unearthed several possibilities in neighborhoods that were safe but not overly fussy about their denizens’ occupations.
“Is this what they call the royal we?” asked the señora, as if he’d mocked her.
Arthur didn’t understand why she was so prickly today. He’d been careful not to seem to dictate.
“And you are to pay for this,” Señora Alvarez added. “Forever?”
“I expect Miss Finch would join in to help. And her friends. We would set up a fund.” He might have paid for it all himself, but that would cause talk. More talk. There was quite enough of that already. He turned to the dancers. “What do you think of this plan?”
“A place to go and stay for free?” asked Maria.
“Yes.”
“For as long as we want?” asked Jill. “Without any rent?”
“There would have to be rules about that,” said the señora.
Arthur nearly objected, until he saw the nods of agreement. “You shall make them,” he said to Señora Alvarez. “With others you choose to consult. Women should oversee everything about this place, I think.”
Odile narrowed her eyes as if trying to see some trick in this suggestion. This was the world they navigated, Arthur thought, continually waiting for an unpredictable hammer blow to fall. He’d had no notion before he met Señora Alvarez.
His visitors all agreed that this seemed a good plan. And over the next few days, the arrangements were made. A suitable house was found and engaged. Arthur went to call on Miss Harriet Finch and ask for her help. Alone, as the señora claimed to be too busy to accompany him. Miss Finch quickly agreed to contribute. “People may wonder at your interest in such a cause,” Arthur warned her.
She shrugged. “The thing I have discovered about being a great heiress is that people will accept a host of eccentricities if they come with money,” she answered. “It is one of the few advantages.”
“Señora Alvarez hopes that you will serve as one of the overseers of the new refuge.” He had been told to ask this.
Miss Finch looked flattered and intrigued. “I will. Perhaps I can do some good in the world. At least until I am harangued into marriage and all the money is handed over to my husband.”
“You can find a husband who would also like to help,” he suggested.
“You are a rare breed, Lord Macklin. I don’t expect to meet another like you.”
He shook his head and told her she was wrong, but she had clearly not been convinced.
And then, quite suddenly it seemed, all was settled. Some of the dancers returned to lodgings near the theater and their work. Odile and others moved to the new house to recover more fully in peace. Señora Alvarez departed with the briefest of goodbyes for her own home. And Arthur’s house suddenly seemed very empty. He might have felt melancholy about that, if he had not had a firm plan in mind for the future.
Fourteen
Teresa sat before the small fire in her small parlor and contemplated her narrow little life. Not long ago, this state had seemed the height of peace and contentment. Now, because she had allowed herself to venture out into another sort of existence, it felt empty. Her tranquility was spoiled. She’d let that happen.
Yet how could she have done otherwise? When the dancers began disappearing, should she have turned away and ignored this…evil? Impossible. That was how evil grew, when no one stepped forward to fight it. And she’d done well. She’d found a way to help those who needed it. She had been part of creating a refuge for women going on into the future. This was splendid. She was proud and glad. So she mustn’t care if this effort had caused difficulties for her. The result was well worth the sacrifice.
If only she had not allowed herself to fall in love with an earl and then to believe, for a while, that there might be some future with him. She ought to have resisted this stupidity.
Eliza looked in from the kitchen. “Would you like some tea, ma’am? Or a glass of wine perhaps?” The maid had been delighted to have Teresa back in the house, but now she appeared concerned.
“No thank you, Eliza.”
The girl frowned at her before she withdrew.
She had resisted him, of course, Teresa thought. With all her might. She had held back, doubted, rejected. It had been a long battle of will and wits. But Lord Macklin had countered every gambit and gradually made his way into her heart. So deeply into her heart. Even now her thoughts were full of his handsome figure, his wonderful smile, his many sterling qualities. Most of all she remembered the kiss—a simple act, lasting only a few moments, that had shown her how much of life she’d been missing. It still made her dizzy to think if it.
But in the last few days, as the final arrangements for the dancers’ future were being made and her part in things had dwindled down to nothing, Teresa had been reminded of their inequality. He had great power in the world, and she had none. He had taken over all the helping. She had stood back and watched and remembered times when she’d been helpless. She’d hated that. And the truth of their differences didn’t change because he was a good person.
Must she stop seeing the Earl of Macklin now? Because it hurt too much? If she asked him to stop visiting the theater workshop, he would want to know why. Her spirit cried out against such a loss.
Again, Eliza looked in from the kitchen. “Are you sure I can’t fetch anything at all for you, ma’am?” she said.
“No thank you, Eliza.” Perhaps she should leave London, Teresa thought, but she couldn’t think where she would go. And she didn’t want to.
“There’s nothing like a nice cup of tea,” said the maid.
“Not right now.”
Eliza went out, looking over her shoulder as if hoping for a different answer.
The knock on the door was unexpected. Teresa rose in response even as Eliza returned and went to open it.
The Earl of Macklin stood on her doorstop. Teresa couldn’t pretend not to see him. She was perfectly visible.
“I beg your pardon for calling without warning,” he said. “I have something particular to say to you.”
She could only invite him in. “Some tea after all, Eliza,” she said.