Ring. Sister. Piano (Book 4 of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Twenty Nine: Euterpe

It would be all right when it happened. When it all went wrong. She was prepared for it.

She couldn't have said what it was she was prepared for exactly. For him to turn on her? No, she didn't think he would do that. Disappoint her? Maybe.

At any rate, she wouldn't blame herself. It had been madness – wonderful, irresistible madness. The fact that it had seemed, at the time, like the sanest thing in the world only proved that it had been madness. And madness couldn't be controlled or reproached. 

She had seen his pain and thought she could make it right. She had realized she loved him and thought she could give in to it for a while. She had thought she could be that woman – someone who could show her feelings without fear of disaster or reprisals or a coach-load of consequences. But oh, it had been wonderful, while it lasted!

When he disappointed her, or tried to control her, it would not lessen what had gone before. She would accept the consequences without complaint. She had been warned, and it had been worth it.

And this knowledge – the bright, bubbling idiocy of it – made her quite giggly as the day wore on. There was just one thought, going round and round her head:

I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I did that.

Although there were occasional variations:

I can't believe I did it with my gloves on! I can't believe I did it three times!

Matthi took her all over the building, and Ellini was shaky with the exertion. She had been dreading making speeches, or answering the same question very poorly a hundred times, but her girls were... well, they were her girls. They weren't really interested in her apologies. And they'd all heard about her rooftop scamperings and her near-death experience. They wanted to tell her things – about the men they were 'walking out' with, the positions Jack had found for them, the kind of England they had come back to.

"My George 'ad been carrying on with another woman, so I just left them to it."

"I've been having lessons, look-"

"His name's Joe Jacobs. He says he reminds me of his mother – is that wrong?"

"They all thought I was dead. Bessie named her youngest after me. I don't think they like me so much now they know I'm alive, but the poor girl's stuck with the name!"

"Jack says I can be on the London stage someday, I just have to practise."

And with every new conversation, her heart swelled for Jack and Manda, who had spoken to them, comforted them, reunited them with their families, and just generally salvaged something from the wreckage.

When they had visited every room, and spoken to every girl they could find, Matthi took her up to her own room. Nowhere was very grand in this place, because it had once been a school. But this room – or suite of rooms, rather – must have belonged to one of the school-mistresses, because the windows weren't quite so high and unreachable. The occupant of this room had been trusted with a velvet couch, a four-poster, and a door that didn't slam shut automatically, as if to cut off all escape. Ellini's cases were on top of the bed, and this fact seemed to raise the ceiling and push the walls back even more. Those cases always spoke to her of freedom.

"This is my room," said Matthi. "Yours is just through there." She pointed to a door in the far wall, through which another four-poster could be made out. "I've already 'ad your cases brought up from the coach-yard. There's no other door to that room, incidentally, so the only way to get to you is through me."