Midnight in Everwood(18)
‘And that you bribed the chauffeur, no less. I am appalled by the behaviour you have so wantonly displayed today. Several of your mother’s acquaintances have sent word of your shocking carousing through the centre of Nottingham. She is quite mortified. I suppose your blasted brother instructed you in driving an automobile. I shall be having a word with him.’
Marietta retained her silence.
‘I cannot begin to comprehend the thoughts passing through your head. You displayed an utter disregard for both your own reputation and ours, not to mention attempting to handle such a machine by yourself. If your actions were not so thoughtless and infuriating, I might be impressed. You possess a sharp mind and not a little of my own penchant for strategising. You’ll make someone a fine head of household.’
He was becoming distracted. Marietta knew she ought to maintain her silence; retorts were sticky and invited further vexation, feeding the flames of argument. But her skin prickled, his opinions rankling. She raised her head and met his eyes. ‘I am worth more than that.’
Theodore held up a finger, a warning she remembered well from her adolescent days. ‘Do not test me. I am already severely disappointed in your actions today.’
Marietta’s flames of indignation ignited. ‘Women attend universities now,’ she said. ‘Some of us may own property, train as doctors, and one day in the near future, we shall attain the vote, too. For all women, no matter their class or skin colour. Your attitude is outdated. A relic better befitting your collection than seeing the light of day.’ She gestured at the glass cases.
Theodore’s forehead mapped his consternation. Clouds gathering before a storm. When he spoke, his voice was iron. ‘No daughter of mine will address me in this manner, do I make myself clear? I shall not tolerate such brazenness.’
Marietta stood. ‘You forget yourself, Father; I am no longer a child.’ She walked out of the library in a slow, measured manner. Only once she had shut the heavy door behind herself did she close her eyes, breathing deeply for a spell.
That evening, Marietta rang her bell and ordered a pot of coffee. It arrived with a slice of Victoria sponge, clouded with cream, and her favourite Sèvres cup, hand-painted in gold and Prussian blue. She sat on her bed-silks and poured cup after cup, thinking deep into the night by the light of a single candle. A plan began to form. If she engineered herself to be in the city centre at the opportune moment, she saw no reason why she could not evade Miss Worther’s close attention and attend her audition. She crossed the room to her dressing table and opened her jewellery box. She might not be a woman with an independent purse, but she was a woman of means. She ran a finger through the diamonds glittering back at her, contemplating their worth.
From her window, the gas lamps illuminated the street. A bank of clouds clustered on the horizon. When Marietta glanced up at them, for a moment she fancied she’d been transported to some faraway land with mountain ranges looming in the distance with great frosted peaks. Madame Belinskaya had told stories of such sights in continental Europe, where she had toured, dancing on stages across their grand cities. Marietta’s longing and ambition rent through her, fierce enough to tear the world in two. She pledged a silent vow to herself: that the plans she had forged over coffee and candlelight would be worth the risk.
Chapter Ten
Nottingham welcomed Christmas in style. The day December arrived, the winter market opened, spilling out from Old Town Square in twinkling lights and festive cheer. It was the kind of event that enticed old and young, rich and poor alike, out from their homes into the cold. The air was scented with iced gingerbread, sugarplums and mulled wine. The spectacle crawled all the way from Long Row and Cheapside, culminating in the centre of the square, where a gigantic Norse fir tree glimmered in strands of electric lights.
‘Two hours ought to do nicely. Thank you, Jameson,’ Marietta said, gesturing at the vast fa?ade of the Griffin and Spalding department store that rose six generous storeys above her and Miss Worthers.
‘Right you are, miss.’ He doffed his hat and swung back onto his seat, his black and white livery blending with the carriage paint.
She watched the coffee-coloured pair of horses weaving around the Christmas market that was bustling under the dingy winter sunset. She steadied her nerves for the lies she was about to spin, sweet as sugar. The hour of her audition grew closer. She held onto her beaded reticule, the Italian silk-lined bag weighted down with her pointe shoes and ballet dress tightly rolled and fitted inside.
‘I am still failing to understand why it was so imperative we shopped today.’ Miss Worther’s words were accompanied with a disapproving sniff. Her beetle-eyes scoured the square. ‘The city is frightfully busy this time of year.’
‘I think it rather magical.’ Marietta feigned a look of delight. ‘Why, that vendor is selling the most darling boxes of marzipan. I simply must purchase one for Frederick’s Christmas stocking.’
Miss Worthers cast a doubtful look at the tangle of stalls and melee of crowds. Vendors shouted their wares, the crowds pressed in and smoke chugged up from the roasting carts. ‘I am not certain it is the proper place—’
‘Nonsense,’ Marietta said firmly, banking on her companion’s reticence. ‘Why don’t you collect your orders and I shall meet you in the tearoom shortly. There really is no need for both of us to venture into this madness.’