I want you to trust me. I need you to trust me. We can’t make this partnership work if you don’t. I want to see the letters for personal reasons, so I am . . . content to wait. At least for now.”
I swallowed, unsure how to respond. I so desperately wanted to trust him too—wanted the easy reliance I’d shared with Elijah. “What if . . . what if we make a deal?”
“Ah.” His yellow eyes flashed bright gold. “I do love deals. What do you propose?”
“You help me with les Morts, and then I’ll let you see Elijah’s letters.”
His lips curled up. “What a lovely idea, El. I daresay, with me on this case, les Morts will be solved in a matter of days—nay, hours. And then those letters will be mine.”
My eyebrows twitched down. I had the distinct impression I had fallen into some unseen trap—
that I’d offered Oliver precisely what he wanted all along. Yet, as far as I could see, whatever it was he wanted matched up with my own desires, so I merely answered with “Thank you.”
His smile widened. “See if you can’t get me one of the bodies—that would help immensely.”
“Get you a body?”
“Yes. Missing eyes and ears could be a variety of things—all of them bad. But if you get me one, I might be able to—”
“Eleanor?” Joseph’s voice rang out from the hall. “Are you here?”
My heart skittered into my throat. “Go,” I hissed at Oliver. “I’ll find you later.”
He grinned, almost rakishly. Yes, he definitely enjoyed my panic. I shot him a glare before darting back into the main hallway.
After intercepting me in the hall, Joseph informed me—tiredly—that he had to attend a meeting with the Marquis and Madame Marineaux.
“But I would like very much for you to come to the lab once I am back. There are . . . things we must discuss.” His gaze flickered to my phantom limb. “I will let you know when I have returned, non?”
Dread cinched around my neck like a noose, yet as we walked into the foyer, I forced myself to give him a chipper “Of course!”
He nodded. “Until later, then.”
He was gone only moments when a porter came to my side and informed me that he would guide me to my room. Excitedly, I followed him up four flights and into a smaller version of Jie’s room—
though mine was blessed with a balcony that overlooked the gardens and the hollowed-out palace.
I had barely finished exploring the luxury of my new home when a dressmaker arrived, sent by
Madame Marineaux. Before long, the sun was in the middle of the sky and Jie was dragging me to lunch in the dining room.
Joseph still had not returned, and Jie explained over our meal—her words laced with annoyance—
that his daily absences were more the norm than the exception.
I hastily swallowed my mouthful of roast duck. “But where does he go?”
“Parties, salons, more parties.” Jie stabbed her fork into a potato.
I swallowed and wiped my lips with a napkin. “But shouldn’t he be working?”
She shrugged. “He wants to, but les Morts haven’t been here in three weeks, yeah? The demand for our services hasn’t been very high.”
“Oh. Right.” My forehead creased, and I chewed absently on a piece of a baguette. Well, I suppose this gives me more time to come up with a good story about my hand.
Except that my afternoon of planning excuses was not particularly successful. I had become too adept at ignoring my problems . . . or perhaps it was simply the magic of Paris. Either way, as Jie took me walking through the Tuileries Gardens and down to the river Seine, I found myself far more focused on this new, grand city than on the ever-present darkness lurking in my mind.
At first I fidgeted with my new gown, smoothing at the bodice and tugging at the skirts. Though the dress was of shockingly good quality for something premade, the muddy brown color left much to be desired, and I was painfully—and surprisingly—self-conscious in front of all the Parisians. They looked so effortlessly stylish, and they carried themselves with a grace I knew I could never match.
But no amount of fidgeting could improve my dress, so once more I mimicked Jie’s carefree stride until, soon enough, I was so lost in the gardens around me, I was able to forget about myself—and my problems.
Why, it was the most wonderful thing to see, for there were whole families in these gardens doing the things we Philadelphians usually reserved for more private areas. Children played while men read and women embroidered—and they did it all beneath the warm Parisian sun, the changing leaves, and the never-ceasing wind off the river Seine.
And the river—the first thing that struck me was: We do not have rivers like this in America . Our rivers might have been used for transport and industry, but they were still owned by Nature herself.