Oh, yes! It's Ladies' Night and the feelin's right... and all that... So happy to finally get to this chapter!

*********************

"Oh! Well, the more, the merrier. Care to join the party?"

Emilia shrugged at Prudence, then followed as Miss Poole disappeared back into the kitchen, of all places. She couldn't imagine what Miss Poole was doing down here and why she would call it a party, but apparently, she wasn't alone. Both Miss Marbury and Lady Adele were seated on the benches on either side of the weathered kitchen table, all in their nightgowns.

"Oh! Have you joined as well?" Miss Marbury stood. "How very nice!"

Evie rushed forward, hissing low. "I told you three. Mrs. Stern might be on her day of rest, but that doesn't mean she's restin' at all." She glanced back toward the servants' hall. "And she ain't deaf neither."

Miss Marbury covered her mouth, then whispered through her fingers, "I'm so sorry."

Evie sighed. "Y' see, this is why I suggested you have your little sorree in the drawing room or—"

"It is a soiree," Miss Poole said, taking the bench on Lady Adele's side. "And we aren't paying you enough to go fetching things from here to there, I'm sure."

"I think you are," Evie said.

Emilia turned to Evie, surprised. "Have you a deal with them as well?"

"Aye." Evie grinned. "I'm making more pocket money than I know what to do with this week."

Emilia had to respect her sense of industry.

Mopsy also seemed quite happy to join the party. He slipped from her grasp, popping up between Lady Adele and Miss Poole, staring at the board in the middle of the table, piled with cheeses, fruits, and bits of bread.

"You see, after last night's disastrously silent dinner put us off our supper completely," Miss Poole began, taking a seat, "my French friend and I stole down here for a little late night repast and dear Evie was kind enough to accommodate us and we thought, we might make a little party of it tonight with Cecilia as well?"

"We did think we should invite you," Miss Marbury put in, "but you seemed in such a hurry to go to bed."

Emilia had actually been in a hurry to speak to Prudence, and for everyone else to go to bed so she could see to that pile of laundry. "Yes, well... I was just coming down to collect Mopsy here. He craves my company."

Mopsy suddenly seemed supremely uninterested in her, now that Lady Adele was dangling a bit of cheese for him. He slavered over it as if he'd never had a bite of food in his life before gobbling it up.

"But I really wanted to see that my clothes were prepared for tomorrow," Emilia went on, turning to Evie. "Do you think I could look in to—"

"But the clothes are just fine, Miss Crewe." Prudence pushed her toward the table, whispering, "Didn't Evie say they came out well? Stop fretting and join the party or you'll look suspicious."

Emilia reluctantly took a seat. She truly didn't like others interfering with her work, especially laundering. She had a long history with Miss Prudence's dresses and didn't trust others to care for them properly. And, really, she was certain she looked suspicious anyhow, creeping about with her supposed maid in the middle of the night.

"Nous aurons besoin d'un autre verre de brandy pour Miss Crewe," Lady Adele said.

"Nay, two," Miss Poole said. "Miss Finch must join us as well. Only you must tell us your first name."

"Yes," Miss Marbury put in eagerly. "There are no last names at the table. Here, I am just Cecilia."

"And I am just Vanessa," Miss Poole added.

"Je suis simplement Adele," Lady Adele said, plucking up a strawberry.

"Now, now," Miss Poole... or Vanessa said. "Didn't we also say there are no lies or pretenses at the table, Adele?"

Adele rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Very well. No lies. I am simply Adele," she said in perfect, if accented, English, turning to Miss Poole. "Happy?"

"Extremely," Vanessa said. "Secrets are much more fun when they can be shared."

"Ah, but then they are no longer secrets," Adele sighed.

Mopsy interrupted then, popping up next to Emilia. She couldn't resist giving him a bit more cheese, the silly darling.

Evie came back to the table with two more brandy glasses. "There we are. And perhaps if ye're sharing secrets, ye can remember to speak lower. I'll go keep watch."

"I am Emilia and this is Prudence and I shall only join the party if Evie does, too," Prudence cut in.

They'd said there were no lies at the table, but since Prudence had yet to sit, perhaps this one would pass...

Vanessa shrugged and smiled. "If you can convince her. She refused to join us last night."

Evie looked tempted, but conflicted. "But I should really keep a look out in case Mrs. Stern—"

"Didn't you say we'd not see her until tomorrow night?" Prudence prodded. "Come now, Evie."

Evie did finally take a seat next to Prudence on the bench.

Vanessa tapped at an empty brandy glass with her fingernail. "Now that you've joined, let me reiterate the rules..."

"They already heard the rules," Adele groused.

"Yes, that's why I'm reiterating, or repeating them more clearly."

"We only made them up last night," Adele said on a laugh. "You are far too serious about them."

"As we said," Vanessa sighed, "There are no secrets at the table. No lies. Only true words can be spoken."

Emilia felt that might be difficult, considering she and Prudence carried the biggest secret here. Even if this was all a girlish game, she didn't want to break the rules. She'd never been part of a little party of ladies like this, unless she counted the "get to sew you" session, and that was much less pleasant... perhaps because of Mary Hartley's presence.

"Is Miss Hartley coming?" Emilia asked, glancing fearfully toward the stairs.

"God, no!" Vanessa gasped.

"Mon Dieu. Never!" Adele added.

Cecilia shook her head. "Mary's really not that—"

"No lies at the table, Cecilia," Vanessa broke in firmly.

"She's horrid," Adele scoffed. "She'd bore us all to sleep telling us how wonderful she is, n'est-ce pas?"

Emilia relaxed, feeling quite vindicated that most of the table also saw through Mary's veneer. Except for poor Miss Marb... Cecilia. She turned to Adele. "So... you speak English?" Emilia burst out, unable to stop herself,

Adele lifted her chin. "Oui, and quite well. But I don't like people to know."

"That's another rule they need to know," Vanessa cleared her throat. "Nothing said at the table leaves the table."

Emilia nodded. "But why don't you just speak English, then? It would certainly make things easier."

Adele gave a very French shrug at that. "Why should I make things easier for The Ton? They have it easy enough." She leaned in. "I find it much more fun, hearing what is said when people think I cannot understand."

"Come to order, please." Vanessa cleared her throat before turning to Adele. "Did you bring it?"

"Oui, bien sûr." Adele bent down and came back up with a rounded bottle with light brown liquid inside, also a pear floating inside. "Voila! This is a nice, sweet one. Much better than your English swill." She uncorked and began pouring it in the glasses.

Evie left the table at that and Emilia worried she'd heard something, but she came back with another glass. "Me, too!"

Emilia reached for her glass before Adele could pour into it, but Prudence took it first. "Evie is only fifteen."

"Fifteen and a half," Evie protested.

"Still a bit too young for brandy, I'm afraid," Prudence said.

"You English," Adele tutted. "In France, children are given ghosts at the table from almost birth."

"Ghosts?" Evie looked alarmed.

Adele turned to Vanessa. "N'est-ce pas correct?"

"I think you mean spirits," Vanessa said.

"Spirits, then. It's good for you," Adele insisted. "Helps to develop the palate."

Evie sat up straighter. "I would very much like a developed palate."

Emilia turned to Evie. "How about a nice hot cup of chocolate instead?"

Evie seemed to brighten up at that.

Cecilia frowned at her brandy glass. "I'd prefer a nice hot chocolate as well. Not sure about this stuff."

Evie stood. "I can make some for you, but perhaps just... hot milk for me. It feels strange, having something meant for guests. Chocolate is very dear."

"Dear to me as well," Adele said, sipping at her glass. "But I still prefer brandy."

"I think, by dear, she means costly," Vanessa put in. "And perhaps I wanted chocolate as well. But... Oh, dear! I've changed my mind. Evie can have my portion."

"Oui, and mine," Adele agreed. "But I do understand how costly things are. My English cousins love to tell me how much I am costing to them. I suppose, when I come home, still not engaged, they will toss me into the hedgehogs."

"Hedgerows," Vanessa corrected. "And you can always come stay with me after this."

"Or me," Cecilia put in. "My mother would love to show off real French nobility."

"It would be a sight more impressive than her showing off Mary Hartley," Prudence put in.

Emilia pinched her side. No matter her opinion on Mary, she'd never say so, not as a lady's maid.

"Why are you pinching me?" Prudence hissed. "There are no lies at the table."

Emilia whispered, "But must you volunteer—"

"Are you two whispering?" Vanessa tapped her glass again. "No secrets at the table."

"Too right." Prudence lifted her head. "I refuse to contain my disdain for Mary Hartley."

Vanessa laughed. "I prefer when you give your opinions freely, anyhow. I look forward to more of that... in the future, perhaps?"

Prudence dipped her head at that, taking a sip of her brandy. "Yes, well..."

"Do I detect a secret between you two?" Cecilia asked merrily, finishing her brandy and holding her glass out for more.

Emilia turned to Prudence, curious as well.

However, Evie returned then, with a steaming cup of chocolate for Cecilia. "There we are. I put lots of sugar and milk in. I like it best that way."

"Oh, no. I find I quite like the brandy," Cecilia said with a little hiccup.

Emilia reminded herself to be careful with hers.

"I'll take this one, I suppose," Evie said, savoring a long sip.

"Now that we've all got our libations of choice," Vanessa announced, "let us commence."

"Vanessa likes to think she is in charge of everything," Adele said. "I allow it because I am but a leaf in the wind."

"Not a leaf, surely," Cecilia said. "You're more like a very pretty blossom."

"How lovely. But you are quite a little blossom yourself, ma chérie." Adele gave her a little wink. 

"I think I'm more of a pear than a blossom," Cecilia said thoughtfully. "Or perhaps a melon."

Adele rolled her eyes. "This one, as you see, will not accept compliments."

"I think I'm just not accustomed to them," Cecilia sighed.

"Certainly not, if you're hanging about with Mary," Prudence snorted.

"She means well. And my mother thinks her influence on me will be... slimming." Cecilia glanced down. "It hasn't worked out that way thus far."

"You are lovely the way you are," Emilia said, frowning. Her dresses could use a little help. Even her nightgown was too tight. Her mother's work, from what Cecilia had said yesterday, stuffing her into things that were too small was a crime against fashion. But she held her tongue. She didn't want to insult the girl's mother. Mary, however, was fair game at this table. "Who does Mary think she is anyway? It's not as if she's got suitors dangling after her." 

"Let's all be honest," Vanessa declared. "None of us do. I doubt any of us are here, at this particular house party, because we are considered the catches of the season."

"Bien sûr que non," Adele said. "I am noble, but I am poor."

"You are also very pretty," Vanessa put in. "I am rich," Vanessa said quite casually, "but I am a dark-skinned bastard."

"I am rich and noble," Cecilia said on a giggle. "But I am fat."

The other girls rushed to protest.

Cecilia held up a hand. "Are we not to dispense with pretense here? I know that there are poets going on about dimpled thighs and whatnot, but I've overheard quite a few things about myself over the years, some from people at this very party."

"Whatever Mary Hartley has to say," Emilia began hotly, "I wish you wouldn't—"

"I'm not talking of Mary," Cecilia said. "At least Mary says things directly to me. And as kind as you all are, most people are not, particularly men! The things I have overheard..."

"Hommes!" Adele scoffed. "They are all hairy, smelly idiots! This is why I prefer ladies!"

"Adele!" Vanessa broke in with a giggle. "You must not say such things! You will scandalize them!"

"Oh, the English. So easily scandalized." Adele rolled her eyes. "Ladies are much more attractive than men. If I could marry a woman, I would. Là! Je l'ai dit!"

"I am not scandalized," Prudence said. "The only reason some people are is because they do not read enough of the classics. Sappho would be a good place to start. Such beautiful poetry."

"I have not heard of him," Adele said.

"It's her," Vanessa corrected. "And I agree with Miss... Emilia."

Emilia lifted her head, since she hadn't said anything. She was also not as scandalized as she might have been last year, but... God, she meant Prudence!

"People would have more sympathy," Vanessa went on, "if they read more poetry on the whole."

Adele turned to Vanessa. "And it is not as if you do not have a scandalous romance interdite with your own poet friend."

Vanessa flushed. "It is not a forbidden romance at all. My poet friend is... He is merely a friend," Vanessa insisted, finishing her brandy and pouring another.

"A friend the earl forbids you from seeing," Adele chuckled. "Yet you still find a way."

"So you do have sweetheart," Prudence put in. "I knew it."

"He's not my sweetheart," Vanessa insisted. "And I... I don't... The earl wants me to marry well. Perhaps he thinks it will negate the circumstances of my birth."

Emilia turned to Vanessa now. "So you truly are a..."

"A bastard," Vanessa supplied blandly. "It's not a dirty word when it's true."

Emilia shook her head. "I thought you were a foundling or orphan or—"

"Yes, that's the story, but everyone knows, or at least suspects, Lord Mayworthy is my father. He doesn't say it and neither do I. But I'm not ashamed of it," Vanessa nodded to herself. "He loves me and he wants the best for me. Unfortunately, he cannot always get the best for me. Hence my presence at this party with a nearly broke baronet, a nouveau riche man of industry, a bug-obsessed lord, and an impoverished architect. And this rag-tag group of ladies. Though, I have to wonder, Prudence, why you are here."

Emilia nearly turned to Prudence herself before she realized that was meant for her. How was she to answer that without lying?

"Prudence Crewe has gone through far too many seasons without marrying," Emilia said carefully, finishing her brandy with a slight cough.

Cecilia laughed and poured her more. "Come now, I hear you reject a dozen proposals every year."

"Only half that," Prudence herself supplied. "And they're only there because of the dowry. And some sort of ongoing bet at White's," she added on a mutter.

Emilia rather wanted to protest her interjecting, but if meant not having to lie...

"Yes, the dowry bestowed by her exorbitantly rich duchess aunt," Vanessa snorted, pointing at Emilia. "Your prospects are far better than ours. No wonder Sir Anthony won't leave you alone! Has he proposed?" Vanessa leaned forward. "And please do remember, there are no secrets at the table."

Emilia saw no reason to lie. "Yes, Sir Anthony has put forth a proposal," she said carefully. "It is a very practical proposal involving him living his life in London and his wife living her own in the country, being a companion for his beloved aunt. But it is not one that tempts a lady who is opposed to matrimony on the whole." There. That was all true enough.

Cecilia leaned toward Emilia now. "So you mean to refuse it?"

Emilia chose her next words carefully as well. "His offer will not be accepted."

Cecilia leaned back. "I am relieved to hear it. Though, I must say, living a life with Miss Baddeley wouldn't be all that bad. She's such a dear, but Sir Anthony..." Here, she shuddered.

"What is so wrong with Sir Anthony?" Emilia wanted to know. She had been very curious to know for days now.

Cecilia shook her head. "He is our host. I'd rather not—"

"No secrets at the table," Adele reminded her.

Cecilia took in a deep breath and lifted her head. "Very well. Sir Anthony is... or he was a longtime friend of the family. His uncle married Miss Baddeley, who is a second cousin of mine, and one of the sweetest ladies I've ever known. I shouldn't want his behavior to reflect on her because she truly—"

"We won't blame her," Adele insisted.

"She's an angel," Vanessa added.

"She seems nice enough," Prudence said.

"Just tell us!" Emilia drew back after her outburst. She couldn't help it. After what she overheard last night, she was so damned curious.

"I've known Sir Anthony for years, even before he was... before his father... Anyhow, we've been thrown together often and he was so very playful and amusing, and he'd always been so kind to me. But things... changed when we grew up. Or perhaps he did." Cecilia shook her head. "Or perhaps I did."

"Perhaps you both did," Emilia said impatiently. "But how?"

"I don't know. I didn't think they had, at first. When I made my debut, I rather looked forward to seeing him at balls. At one in particular, I saw he was with the other men, lounging about above the staircase, and I went to greet him, but he..." She dipped her head. "You see, they were all talking about the new debutantes and I stopped, hiding behind a pillar. The other young men were not kind, criticizing this one and that one. I was quite disgusted. I started to leave, but then one of them mentioned me..."

"The curs," Vanessa growled.

"Les connards," Adele agreed... Emilia assumed.

Cecilia took a deep breath. "And then Tony... I mean, Sir Anthony said, 'She's as plump in pocket as she is in the rump.'"

Prudence gasped, "He did not!"

"What an awful thing to say," Emilia hissed.

"It was!" Cecilia nodded. "And the worst part is, when I finally confronted him about it, he insisted it was a compliment."

"I would have slapped him," Adele said firmly.

"I actually punched him," Cecilia said, smiling a bit.

Emilia shook her head. "And here I thought he did it to himself with a billiard cue."

"Oh, no," Cecilia laughed. "That happened, too."

"It seems everything in the house wants to hit Sir Anthony," Prudence giggled.

"There we have it." Vanessa threw her hands up. "We shall have to make our own fun here. There is no man at this party worth bothering with. We can't be blamed if no one leaves engaged. Sir Anthony is a cad, Lord Swinton is only here for the bugs, Mr. Walford is only interested in the stones..."

"I think Mr. Browning is rather pleasant," Emilia had to put in.

"Ah, but let us be honest," Vanessa said. "No lies at the table. He's a second son with no prospects and far too young to marry. It won't do for my father."

"And I need a man with money," Adele added. "Yes, I'd like someone who let me have my paramours as he had his, but we must not starve."

"Really, the only catch here is Mr. Byrne," Vanessa said firmly. "And we all know where his interests lie." Here, her eyes slid to Emilia.

Emilia froze.

Adele sighed. "Oui, it would be a good match if not for that. I am very attracted to his money, but c'est la vie."

"Where do his interests lie?" Prudence asked, obviously curious.

Emilia didn't dare say a word, nor move a muscle.

"Why don't you ask your mistress?" Adele smiled.

How had they caught on? Any moments she and Mr. Byrne shared had been private, hadn't they?

"He doesn't even bother talking to anyone else," Cecilia put in.

"And he looks only at you. Constantly," Vanessa added, her eyes still on Emilia.

Up till now, she'd only thought of his disinterest in the other girls — Mary, especially — with a sort of relief. She'd never imagined it might draw more eyes to herself.

Emilia turned slightly to Prudence, who was looking at her in shock. "I hadn't the slightest idea," Prudence said, sounding a bit hurt.

Luckily for Emilia, Mopsy hopped up, but not to beg for more cheese. He simply put his head on her shoulder with a little whine. "My, my! It looks like someone is ready for bed. I think I should be, too." She stood, taking his lead. "It has been lovely, ladies." It really had, apart from this last awkward bit.

Prudence followed her to the stairs. "I shall help you."

"I've already got my nightgown on," Emilia said on a laugh.

"Yes, but I think we have more to speak about, or at least you do," Prudence whispered.

"About Mr. Byrne? I assure you, there's nothing to tell. I... I don't even know what they're talking of."

Prudence tilted her head, studying her. "No lies at the table."

"We are not at the table," Emilia said firmly. "Goodnight."

She could hear a bit more whispering as she ascended the stairs, and wondered if it was about her. But at least she wouldn't be there to slip up and confirm any of their suspicions.

Really, she was surprised anyone had any.

She reflected, as she got into bed, that she should be worried, but she found herself smiling. Maybe it was the brandy. Maybe it was the camaraderie. She'd never spent a night giggling with a gaggle of girls.

She laughed and tried to say that several times as she settled Mopsy against her, thinking she would not mind attending such a party again.

Still, her eyes popped open, wondering what to do about Mr. Byrne. If people were talking, then she must do more to discourage him. She should definitely not kiss him again. In fact, she should avoid being near him entirely... even if that was where she most wanted to be.