She stepped into the dark staircase. The candle flame fluttered in the breeze that swooped down the stairwell from roof to basement. Her heels clacked on the wooden treads. She climbed one story, then two. Sound rose from the party below, distorting the music and laughter to a low, discordant moan. At the top of the staircase, she took a deep breath, splayed her hand on the rough wooden attic door, and pushed.
There were no cherubs painted on the walls. No scenes of battle glory etched on the ceiling. No gold-plated candelabras. There was just the scent of a thousand people squeezed in too tight a space and door after door in a hallway lit by her candle alone. Her dress brushed the sides of the narrow hallway as she walked silently on the balls of her feet.
A right, a left, another left, and a right. She repeated the servant’s directions. Faded numbers without rhyme or reason were painted on black doors. Finally, she lifted the candle to find a faint ninety-two painted into a black door with chipped paint.
Across the way, a couple argued behind another door. No other footsteps or sound broke the silence.
She pushed her way into Gabriel d’Aumont’s apartment. Becca didn’t care how much prestige came with living in Versailles. She couldn’t imagine living in this jail cell of a room.
There were no windows. She was swaddled in darkness.
The air still held the day’s heat and something else, a smoky, sweet scent. There had only been a touch of that scent in the powder Becca had mixed into Daniel’s drink. The room didn’t smell like any tea she had ever sipped, but still….
Where was Daniel? She pushed the thought away. There would be time to look for him later.
She raised her candle. The room was as simple as a monk’s. There was a chair instead of a night table next to a cot. Becca smoothed her hand along the rough wool blanket to feel for any hidden items. Nothing.
A desk and second chair lined the wall to the left. A large water bowl decorated with blue flowers rested on the floor. One neat pile of papers and a silver letter opener with an onyx handle were the only objects on the desk.
Five sets of colorful clothes–jackets, vests, shirts, and breeches–hung on hooks along the far wall. She jammed her hands into the pockets of his breeches and came away with nothing. Becca tried not to think about what she was doing. It was a personal invasion.
Where was the tea? Had Gabriel given it all away? Her fingers crawled along the bottom of the chair. Nothing. She was wasting time. She crouched, stretching her arms to feel the floor under the bed, then the nubby ropes that held up the mattress. She shook out her hand to fling away the dust.
She had sent herself on a fruitless endeavor. The tea meant nothing. She was merely creating a diversion to trick herself into leaving a party she’d dreaded.
Still crouching, Becca slid her hand along the bottom of the desktop and caught a splinter of wood beneath her index finger. Her hand flew up, knocking the wood and something else that released a sweet and smoky scent. Something soft. Something fixed to the bottom of the desk.
Her fingertips gently squeezed the cloth bag pinned there until she felt an opening near the top. She hooked one finger into the bag, pulling out a round, dried pod. It went into the pocket tied round her waist. So did a handful of loose herbs.
Was this the tea Melodié mentioned? She would show it to Hannah. Her mother would know what it was.
Best to get back to the Hall of Mirrors as quickly as possible. She lifted the candle above her head. Had she left anything behind to suggest her presence? Not that she could see.
Footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway in the distance.
Becca swiped the letter opener from the desk. The hard onyx handle was comforting in her hand. The folds of her gown hid the knife. This damned dress. She had to turn sideways just to fit through the doorway.
A dim light down the hall bounced its way toward her.
There was nowhere to hide, but she couldn’t retreat back to Gabriel’s apartment. She’d be trapped within the room’s walls if someone came looking for her. She tightened her spine, lifted her chin, and headed toward whoever held the candle.
“It’s a good thing you told Mrs. Wright where you would be. I have been searching for you.” Gabriel’s face puckered with disapproval. “Best to come with me now.” He reversed course, retracing his footsteps. He didn’t look back to see whether she followed.
She rushed to catch up. “What has happened?”
“You were going to watch Dr. Franklin, and instead, you ran off on some frivolous mission,” Gabriel called behind him. “I didn’t think you were a frivolous woman, Mrs. Parcell. A tryst,” he scoffed. “With me. To make Mr. Alloway jealous. You tell a story at Versailles, and it spreads within moments. What were you thinking?”
A guilty man would not turn his back on her. He wouldn’t chastise her for failing her friends.
“I am embarrassed,” she said. That much was true. “I have made a terrible mistake.” That was true, too. What had she been thinking entering Gabriel’s apartment and stealing his possessions? “Please. Are they all right?” Her breath came in short huffs.
Daniel had disappeared, and she had walked away without a thought for his well-being. If he was hurt, she’d never forgive herself.
Three strides brought Gabriel to the stairway. Becca followed. He swung the door open.
“Mr. Alloway disappears, and do you wonder for one second whether he needs you? Did you stop and think?”
“What has happened?” She grabbed Gabriel’s arm with her free hand and yanked him around.
“Mrs. Wright is unbalanced. You know that. You have seen her.” His voice echoed in the stairwell. He shook off her hand and entered the stairwell. Becca followed. Light from their candles danced on the walls. “She is telling everyone that you are her best friend, since you helped her secure a commission from the queen.
“And now that the two of you are such friends….” Gabriel’s voice crackled with sarcasm. “…she hates Mr. Alloway with as much passion as she hated Jude Fenimore.”
“Take me to him,” was all she said. Gabriel’s explanation rang true. Mrs. Wright was a woman of strong, sudden passions. What had she done to Daniel?
He slowed at the next landing and opened the door. Lights blazed from chandeliers. “Go back to the party, Mrs. Parcell. I will come get you later and let you know.”
“Know what?”
“This is no sight for a woman.”
“Damn you, Monsieur d’Aumont. Bring me to him.”
Gabriel appeared uncertain, almost meek. “If you insist.”
They blew out their candles, handed them to a passing servant, then hurried down the grand staircase.
Becca’s thoughts slowed, and her senses quickened. She would remember the rough feel of the stairway banister under the hand, the sound of Gabriel’s even breath, the dip in the center of each stone step carved by a hundred years of footsteps. Because disasters are all sound and sight and feel. A blur. A pain. A scream. Only afterwards, did thought return. For now, she put one foot in front of the other, took one breath and the next, and followed Gabriel d’Aumont.
“Dr. Franklin, he is all right?” Becca called.
“Yes, he and your mother-in-law are in the Hall of Mirrors surrounded by his friends. Quickly.” He led her out into the night through the black-and-white marble courtyard. They turned left and entered a wing of the palace.
Becca couldn’t have felt more disoriented if Gabriel had blindfolded her. Down another long hallway they ran, past galleries, and too many rooms to count.
Running was mathematics in motion. 1–2–3. 1–2–3, she counted to the rhythm of her stride, taking her first deep breaths since Gabriel confronted her in the residence hall. 1–2–3. Gabriel had rattled her, tugged at her guilt for leaving Daniel behind. What if Daniel isn’t here? What if Gabriel is lying?
“How much longer?” She fell behind. Their footsteps were the only sounds Becca heard.
“We are almost there,” Gabriel called. “Brace yourself. I don’t know what we will find.”
She picked up her pace again. What if Gabriel is telling the truth, and I retreat now? “Where is Patience Wright?”
“Patience? She is gone.” Gabriel brushed away Becca’s concern.
They burst through the final door into a room larger than any Becca had ever seen, overlooking a stage and seats two stories below.