Cinderella Six Feet Under(49)

“Lock her up, Hume,” Lady Cruthlach said.





15




The International Exhibition had had Paris in a lather since April. Eglantine and Austorga told Ophelia all about it during the carriage ride. Seraphina kept aloof. Exhibits from dozens of nations displayed artworks, handicrafts, the latest scientific and industrial inventions, ancient relics, and even entire Japanese and Chinese houses. The center of everything was an enormous building that enclosed a pavilion and gardens.

Their carriage crunched to a stop on a packed drive. Henri handed them down one by one. Seraphina ignored Henri, but Eglantine and Austorga both treated him to a simper.

Henri’s brown eyes twinkled. He did not seem to have noticed any rashy red upper lips.

In the packed exhibition hall, the echoing chatter was deafening. Some folks pushed and others, their faces buried in catalogues, tripped. The crowds around the daises were so thick that Ophelia couldn’t really see the newfangled steam-powered mechanisms on display.

“Mademoiselle Smythe is mad for velocipedes, Madame Brand,” Austorga said in Ophelia’s ear. “Her father has given her two of them, but her mother won’t allow her to ride them anywhere but in their back garden.”

Ophelia stood on tiptoe to observe the steam velocipede. It did not have pedals to turn the wheels, as a usual velocipede had. Instead, it glistened with a large brass canister, pipes, and tubing.

“It looks dangerous,” Ophelia said.

“Well, yes, but Papa always says that danger is the price one pays for scientific advancement.”

“Does he, now?” Danger. Interesting. Were the clockwork inventions in Malbert’s workshop dangerous? “Miss Austorga, I have been meaning to ask you—do you have a great interest in the ballet?”

“I do enjoy attending the ballet, yes. As well as the opera and the theater—I do so enjoy beauty and spectacle, as well as opera chocolates, and, well, the society.” She blushed.

Gentlemen’s society. “I see. And do you happen to know a great many persons who work at the ballet?”

Austorga glanced away. “Work there? Why, no.”

“You have never been backstage at the opera house?”

“Mais, non! A lady would not go there. Why do you ask me such things, Madame Brand?”

“Oh, because the Boston Ladies’ League for the Betterment of Fallen Angels wishes to extend their ministry to Paris—and it occurred to me that you might make a splendid president of—”

“My days are ever so full . . .”

Ophelia patted Austorga’s arm. “Fine, dear, fine. Perhaps, also, you are too young for such a post.”

They moved with a noisy clump of people to the next display. Austorga receded into the crowd, and Ophelia found herself next to Eglantine.

Eglantine studied her exhibition catalogue, dark eyebrows furrowed.

“When I was a girl, I did so love to read stories,” Ophelia said in the rambling fashion people expected of matrons.

“Ah, indeed?” Eglantine didn’t look up from her catalogue.

“Magical stories, mostly. You know—fables and romances and fairy tales. Particularly fairy tales.” In fact, when Ophelia was little she’d enjoyed, more than anything else, the no-nonsense hints in the Farmer’s Almanac.

Eglantine’s gaze snapped up. “Fairy tales?”

“Oh, yes. At any rate, I meant to say that once, I cannot recall precisely when or where—perhaps in my uncle’s library in Concord, because the old dear was such an avid collector of rare books—once, I read a different version of the ‘Cinderella’ tale. It was only slightly different, but I do recall that in that version, the tale provided the address of Cinderella’s home.”

Eglantine slitted her eyes.

“Yes, my dear,” Ophelia said. “Fifteen Rue Garenne. Your house.”

“What a fine memory you have.”

“How true! I simply cannot be defeated at that charming game called ‘I’m Going on a Picnic’—”

“We do not speak of this,” Eglantine said, lowering her voice. “Our family has our privacy to think of, but yes, Cinderella dwelled in our house. I never heard of this knowledge printed in a version of the story, however. It is simply something we know in our family. I must confess, Madame Brand, that I find it not a little alarming that you know this family secret when you only happened to meet Prudence in Germany.”