“Sit on the floor and lean back and I’ll dip your head in the bucket,” Fiona instructed. “That’s the only way we’re going to get all the soap off.” By the time they were done, there was more water on the floor than left in the buckets. Tiki was shaking uncontrollably, but her skin was clean and even her hair smelled fresh.
She shivered as she rubbed herself dry with the cleanest edge of one of their tattered blankets, anxious to move closer to the heat of the box stove. She slipped on a long shirt that doubled as her nightgown and pulled a crate over near the warmth. Fiona came and stood behind her, finger-combing the long strands.
A moment later, Tiki squirmed as Fiona tugged at her hair with the small filigreed brush. “Careful, Fi,” Tiki warned her. “I want to leave some hair on my head.”
“It’s just so tangled. You should brush it more often,” Fiona said, unconcerned. “Especially now that we have a brush. Sit still, I’m almost done.”
* * *
AN hour later, Tiki’s hair was almost dry and she was warm and comfortable next to the fire. The boys still hadn’t returned.
“Okay, let’s get this dress on,” Fiona said, “and see where I have to take it in.”
Tiki’s heart was beating like a stick on a tin can, and her fingers were fumbly, which was a rare state for her.
“How will you do that?” she asked.
“I’ve got a bit of thread and a needle. It’s all you need.” Fiona picked up the dress. “Lift your arms up.”
“Don’t poke me.” Tiki’s voice was muffled as yards and yards of fabric seemed to swallow her. She wiggled to maneuver the dress over her head, and then the gown settled like a cloud over her shoulders and down her hips.
“Pull the sleeves down, they’re meant to be worn off your shoulder,” Fiona said. “Now stand still and let me get all these buttons.” She pulled at the back of the dress, bringing the pieces of fabric together. After she finished securing the buttons, Fiona turned Tiki around and gave her an appraising glance. She reached forward and pinched the loose fabric at Tiki’s waist. “I think just a little bit here on each side.…”
After an hour of measuring and stitching, trying on, and more measuring and stitching, Fiona pronounced her ready to go.
“Now for the finishing touches on your hair.” Fiona pulled Tiki’s long, dark tresses away from her face, then secured them at the top of her head. “I know just the style for a ball.” Tiki debated asking Fiona how she knew such a thing but decided to let her have her fun.
Fiona hummed as she worked, something that sounded like a waltz. She twisted and braided Tiki’s hair to gather at the back of her head, then let the thick strands cascade down her back in soft ringlets. Tiki wondered if the whole mess wouldn’t collapse from the weight of the pins.
“Okay, turn around, Teek.” Fiona stood back with her hands on her hips.
Tiki turned, and the dress swung out with a graceful whoosh, then settled down around her ankles.
Fiona’s jaw went slack and she stood speechless for a moment. “Cor, Tiki, you look like a bloody princess,” she whispered, then clapped her hands together in delight. “Wait till the boys see you.”
Just then the panel for the back door swung to the side.
“Can we come in?” Shamus called.
“Yes, come see,” Fiona replied. She yanked the blanket across the rope in front of Tiki to hide her while Shamus and Toots entered the room. “Ta da da dumm,” Fiona sang, sounding as though she were announcing the arrival of royalty.
“Oh, stop it, Fi.” Tiki brushed the blanket aside. “This is business tonight.”
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Unsure at their reaction, Tiki looked down, nervous at the amount of creamy skin that was revealed. Her sleeves, worn off her shoulder, were slim to just above her wrists, where they fanned out in a spill of lace. The neckline dipped down in a V, revealing the tops of her breasts. Fiona had taken in the sides of the gown until it fit snugly around her small waist. From there, the skirt dropped away in shimmering golden folds to puddle on the ground around her bare feet.
Tiki put her hands on her hips and looked from Shamus to Toots. “What’s wrong with you two?”
“God bless the queen,” Shamus uttered. “Fiona, what have you done to Tiki?”
“You look like a princess,” Toots whispered.
“That’s what I said.” Fiona laughed. “Ain’t she grand and beautiful?”
“Stop it right now. I’m nervous enough as it is,” Tiki said. But she was secretly pleased that they liked the way she looked. She couldn’t help but wonder what Rieker would think if he could see her dressed like this.
* * *
NIGHT had fallen as they finished the last of the hard bread. Tiki was almost afraid to move for fear she would damage the dress or knock her hair askew. She clutched her fingers together tightly in her lap to still the rumbling in her stomach.
“Have you got Binder’s wagon, Shamus?” Tiki asked.
“Yes. Toots and I went by earlier to get things ready.”
“And he doesn’t mind that you’re going to use it tonight?” Fiona looked from one to the other in surprise.
“Ol’ man Binder doesn’t mind what he doesn’t know.” Shamus smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. “Some generous bloke left him a pint of gin this afternoon, and last time I saw him, he was dozing off.”
“What if he wakes up and finds the wagon gone?” Fiona asked.
“He won’t be waking up anytime soon.” Shamus pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go get it. You lot go out the back way and wait for me in the alley.”
“Wait, Shamus.” Tiki motioned to Fiona.
“Oh, right.” Fiona hurried to the far corner of the room and moved aside a pile of blankets. She turned and held up a black stovepipe hat. “This is for you, Shamus. From Tiki.” She gave a sly glance at Tiki, then looked back at Shamus. “So you look respectable.” Then she burst into laughter.
Shamus looked over at Tiki. “You got that for me?”
“Of course. I think you’re a gentleman, Shamus.” She smiled. “You’ll look handsome in it.”
Shamus took the hat out of Fiona’s hands and positioned it at a cocky angle on his head and struck a pose, a broad grin across his face.
“Shamus McFerguson, at your service.”
Toots looked from Tiki to Shamus and slapped his hand to his forehead in perfect imitation of Mr. Potts. “Oh, fer the love of Pete.”
* * *
WHILE Shamus ran to get the “carriage,” Fiona and Toots helped Tiki navigate her way out the back door and through the maintenance tunnels to the alley.
“Hold her skirt up,” Fiona snapped at Toots.
“I am, but there’s a lot of cloth. It keeps slippin’.”
They worked their way to the edge of the alley. It wasn’t long before Shamus returned, driving a black wagon, pulled by a single horse. The words BINDER’S BAKERY were written in black on a white sign above the doors. The horse jerked his head against the reins, and the jingle of bells echoed in the night air.
Tiki turned to Fiona and Toots.
“Okay, back inside, you two, and don’t budge until we get back. Shamus will have to stay and wait for me, but we won’t be gone too long. I just need to get in, take care of business, and get out.”
Fiona threw her arms around Tiki, careful not to crumple her dress or dislodge the elegant hairdo. “Oh, Teek, I wish I could go with you,” she cried. “You look so ladylike and fancy. Be careful.”
Toots hung back, looking awkward. “Yeah.” He couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from Tiki. She turned to climb in the carriage when Toots stopped her. “Uh … Teek, what about your mask?”
“Oh, good Lord, the mask.” Tiki gasped, putting her fingers up to her face. She turned to Fiona. “Can you run inside and grab it, Fi?”
Fiona was back in just a few minutes, holding the elegant gold eye mask festooned with white feathers. With great care she positioned it over Tiki�
�s face, tying the lace ribbons in back to hold it in place.
“There.” Fiona stepped back to examine her. “Even I wouldn’t recognize you,” she breathed. “It’s a shame Clara’s not here to see this. She’d be so excited.”
Tiki smiled at the mention of the little girl, and her nerves relaxed. Clara and the three standing before her were the reason she was doing this. Her family. It was worth the risk to try to find them a better life.
Chapter Twelve
TIKI sat on the hard wooden seat and stared out the small window as they passed the Queen’s Park. Mr. Binder’s wagon was a delivery truck, so the inside had only one bench, which faced multiple wooden shelves where he stored his baked goods. But it was a way to get to the ball, and that was all she cared about.
Her plan was to sneak in the same way she had before—through the door that led to the kitchens. If anyone stopped her, she would say she’d become lost. She hoped no one would ask to see her invitation.
The gas lamps were blazing on the front of Buckingham Palace as they drew near. A line of black, elegant hansom cabs formed a queue to drop their occupants off at the front of the palace. Shamus steered the old horse along the road between St. James’s Park and the palace, headed toward the Royal Mews. No one paid any attention to the bakery wagon.
He pulled the carriage to a stop, hidden in the shadows under several low-hanging trees in an area of the side yard.
Shamus climbed down and opened the door. “This is as close as I can get.”
“Is there anyone about?” Tiki asked.
“It sounds like everybody’s out front. There’s a door propped open on the side of the building here.”
“That’s it.” Tiki gathered her skirt and lifted it so she could climb out the door. She hopped to the ground and shook out the folds of her gown, taking a deep breath to slow the wild beating of her heart.
“Teek…” Shamus’s voice was soft. “Remember, you’re more of a lady than anyone else in there tonight.”
Tiki leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Shamus. Wish me luck.” She adjusted her mask, making sure it would stay firmly in place. “I’ll try to hurry.”
Holding her head high, Tiki swept into the dim hallway that led to the immense kitchens, praying that no one would question her. She had never attempted a deceit this daring before. Once again, pots were banging amid a babble of conversation. Over it all Tiki could hear the voice of the cook, barking instructions.
Tiki slowed as she neared the door, afraid of being seen. Then, with a deep breath, she drew herself up and walked by the door as if she owned the place. If anyone from the kitchens saw her, they didn’t try to stop her, which gave her renewed confidence.
She hurried along, following the swell of conversation that echoed in the distance. She took several wrong turns in the maze of hallways before she spotted a footman up ahead.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice wavering with nerves. “I seem to have gotten turned around.”
The footman didn’t make eye contact with her, which gave her an odd sensation of feeling invisible. Instead, he stared at the opposite wall as he swung his arm out. “This way to the ballroom, miss.”
“Thank you.” Tiki inclined her head as she glided by, wishing she could remain invisible for the rest of the night.
After checking her mask one last time, Tiki moved into a larger room and followed a swell of beautifully dressed people toward the stairs. The sound of violins, cellos, and flutes wafted toward them from the ballroom upstairs. Women wore gowns of every color, from vibrant rich satins to ethereal silks. The matching masks were adorned with gaudy feathers and sparkling sequins, making their owners look like exotic birds. Men were elegant in their black tails, wearing crisp white shirts with white cravats tied neatly under black vests.
Tiki’s fingers shook as she slid her hand along the shiny black handrail of the Grand Staircase, trying not to stare in awe at the glittering gold design of the railing. Above her on the walls, life-size pictures of the royal family were displayed, and she could feel the weight of their painted eyes as she passed underneath.
Lessons she had learned as a young girl, of how to stand straight and carry her head just so, came back to her. Tiki straightened her shoulders as she tried hard not to stare at the glittering jewels on the ladies around her, knowing how easy it would be to lighten their burden without their knowledge.
Not yet. She couldn’t give in to the temptation until she had taken care of the real reason she was here.
As she entered the ballroom, Tiki’s jaw went slack. Her first impression was of a room created from gold. The walls and ceiling appeared to be carved from the stuff, such was the quantity of elaborately sculptured gilded trim. High on the walls, huge oil paintings framed in gilt were interspersed between gold-trimmed windows. Gold moldings circled the room at multiple levels on the walls.
Near the ceiling, luxurious painted images of cherubs danced among otherworldly beings with wings. The ceiling itself was divided into precise squares of gold, each painted and stair-stepped to a center containing an enormous sparking chandelier ablaze with lights.
Beyond the din of people talking, the notes of an orchestra swelled from one corner as dancers swirled on the floor in the intricate movements of a quadrille. The sound of a piano blended with violins and horns and enveloped her with a wash of music. The rustle of silk and velvet, the sparkle of gold and jewelry, all glittered together like an exquisite painting come to life.
Tiki patted her bodice, making sure that the small package she had hidden down the front of her dress remained in place. Her eyes scanned the exits as she worked her way around the perimeter of the room. Where could she hide the ring?
It was with a measured pace that Tiki made her way through a door and down a hallway. Her eyes roamed over the huge paintings that lined the walls as well as the tall, ornate vases and elegant furniture that filled the corridor. She was in a different part of the palace tonight.
A small alcove set off to one side caught her eye, and with a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she slid behind the partially closed drapes. The small room looked out to a view of a beautiful garden lit by hanging lanterns. Two carved chairs were positioned adjacent to each other beneath a painting hung on the wall.
Tiki caught her breath. In the painting, a man held his hand out to a woman. Her beauty was riveting, reminding Tiki of the blond girl. But what truly caught her eye were the ethereal wings that adorned the woman’s back, as thin and delicate as the wings of a dragonfly. Faerie wings?
I didn’t believe it either, Tiki. Rieker’s hushed words came back to her. What did you see when Marcus touched you? What did you feel? Tiki’s stomach lifted with a sickening motion. The wing she had seen in the alley that night, the wing that had been on Marcus’s back, had had a similar stained-glass appearance as those in the painting before her.
With a trembling hand, she ran her fingers along the gilt frame of the picture. The wood had been carved in elaborate swirls of loops and curls. Tiki reached around the back corner of the frame. Behind the picture she could feel a small nail used to hold the canvas in place.
Tiki cast a cautious eye up and down the hallway, but there was no one to notice her hidden in the shadows behind the curtain. With a trembling hand, she reached down the front of her dress and retrieved the small package she had hidden there.
* * *
“OH, pardon me.” Tiki smiled at the woman she had just purposely bumped. “I’m so sorry.”
“Quite all right, dear,” the older woman replied. The faded eyes behind her green velvet mask were a bit glassy as she raised her goblet and drank deeply. “It’s not a ball if we don’t rub elbows a bit.” She swayed slightly on her feet as her eyes narrowed at Tiki.
“Enjoy your evening,” Tiki murmured as she patted her hair, letting the emerald earring slide down her sleeve. As she moved away, she heard the woman gasp, and for a second Tiki thought she had a
lready missed her jewels.
“Have you forgotten your crinoline, my dear?”
Tiki dodged behind a stout old man who reminded her of a penguin in his black-and-white dress clothes. She found herself trapped by people on all sides in the crowded room.
“May I offer you a drink?”
Tiki turned with a start. A servant inclined his head over a silver tray.
“Oh, yes, thank you.” Tiki reached for the glass, filled with dark red liquid. She took a sip and coughed, trying to catch her breath from the pungent flavor of the wine.
“Are you all right?” a new voice inquired.
“Y-yes.” Tiki coughed again, her eyes watering at the corners.
“I often have the same reaction to fine wine,” the young man said. One corner of his mouth lifted as he gazed down at her.
Tiki’s stomach dropped like a rock into a pond. His chiseled face was partially hidden beneath a black mask. Though the mask was of a simple cut, the quality of the embellishments suggested that this was a young man of means. The outside corners of the eye cutouts were shaded with glittering gold, and an intricate design of gold embroidery embellished the area above the eyes and down the center portion over his nose. A single black gem sparkled from the center amid the embroidery at the top of the mask.
“Would you like me to fetch you something different to drink?”
He stood straight and tall, immaculately dressed in black trousers with a shirt, waistcoat, and cravat of the purest white silk, covered by an overcoat of black tails. His gray eyes watched her with amusement through the slits in his mask.
“I don’t…,” Tiki started.
“Perhaps a sweeter negus?” he said. “Or, if not that, could I offer you some tea?”
“Wills, you’re not hiding this scrumptious tidbit from the rest of us, are you?” a voice interrupted.
The dark-haired young man turned. “Oh, hello, Leo.”
The newcomer moved into view, and Tiki was surprised to recognize Prince Leopold, the youngest son of Queen Victoria. Though he wore a mask, his short brown hair and receding hairline were unmistakable. He was without a doubt the young man who had stopped her in the park. She dipped into a low curtsy, relieved the package was gone from the depths of her bodice.
The Faerie Ring Page 10
