In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)

This was quickly turning into another case of “be careful what you wish for.” Growing up in Ballykillin I’d have given anything to be a lady, living the life of ease and not having to work from morning until night. Now I was living in the lap of luxury, had absolutely nothing to do but enjoy myself, and I was going mad with boredom.

After a couple of days, I was sorely tempted to go against our bargain, wash off the makeup, take off the wig, and go out as myself for a while. What would be the harm in it, I reasoned with myself. But of course I had promised. We’d made a bargain, and I was in possession of that check for a hundred dollars. So I stuck it out for six long days. Often during those days my thoughts turned to Daniel. I realized now, with a pang of guilt, that I had been treating him badly when he needed my support. Of course he was bad tempered because he was scared. His whole future hung in the balance. I suppose if I analyzed it, I hadn’t forgiven him for what he had put me through, even though he didn’t know the half of it and would never know. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it must be true because I found myself missing him and remembering only the good things. I wrote him a cheerful littlenote, to be posted as soon as we set foot ashore, assuring him that all would soon be well and promising to return home to him as quickly as possible.

“There's to be a fancy dress party tonight, Miss Sheehan,” Frederick reported to me on our last day at sea. “And you seem so much better, I was thinking, if you’d a mind to go, nobody need know it was you.”

I looked up from my latest hand of Patience. “A fancy dress party?”

“A costume ball, as they say in America, I believe.”

“But I have no costume.”

“That's no problem. It's easy enough to hire one. They keep a big selection on board for those passengers who haven’t brought their own costumes with them. Your maid could bring some up to your cabin for you to try on.”

“That's a splendid idea, Frederick,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I have been feeling too cooped up, stuck in here all the time. I’ll send for my maid and see if there are any costumes that would disguise me completely.”

Rose appeared a little later, red faced with exertion at having carried so many costume boxes up to my cabin. What fun it was to open each of those boxes and to be in turn Maid Marion, Columbine, a Spanish senorita...I finally settled on Marie Antoinette and added a stylish black mask for good measure. With that big powdered wig and the mask, I could be anybody.

For once I did need help getting dressed and Rose fussed around me, lacing me into the costume, adjusting the wig, even putting on a fake beauty spot for good measure. “You look lovely, miss,” she said wistfully.

“You could come too, if you wanted to,” I suggested. “Slip into one of these costumes. Nobody would know who you were.”

She looked horrified. “Me, miss? Go to a grand party? Holy Mother of God, I could never do something like that.”

“I’m just a plain Irish peasant like you, and I’m planning to go,” I said.

“But you don’t act like one of us, miss,” she said. “You’ve got—well, more of an air to you. Like you were used to fine things.”

I tried not to grin at the compliment. “One thing you learn in NewYork is that you are as good as the next person, Rose. So will you come with me? It would be a lark, wouldn’t it—them not knowing they were dancing with a couple of peasant girls from the Old Sod?”

She shook her head vehemently. “Oh no, miss. Not me. You go and have a good time and good luck to you.”

At last I sallied forth, a little nervously. In truth, the air Rose said I had about me was mostly bravado. Inside I still felt like an interloper. Being a prisoner in my cabin all week, I had had little chance to explore the first-class section of the ship. Now I walked into the gracious public rooms and tried not to stare like a peasant girl. I had been to fancy restaurants and even inside the mansions of New York's high society, but this matched any luxury I had seen so far. Lovely Greek statues, carved pillars, huge potted plants, mirrored walls. On a center table there was even a sculpture of a graceful swan carved out of ice. What would they think of next!

Music was spilling out through a doorway, and I followed the strangest-looking crowd you’ve ever seen into the grand ballroom— priests and nuns, gorillas and cats, cavemen and courtesans all made their way through that door, laughing with anticipation. The dance-floor was already full of costumed couples. It didn’t take me long to realize that everyone else was there as part of a group or at least a couple. I suddenly felt like an awful wallflower and almost turned right around to go out again. What on earth had made me think I’d have a good time gate-crashing a party at which I knew nobody?

I was close to the door when a male figure blocked my path. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a frightening black-hooded mask.

“And where might you be trying to escape to, my lady?” he asked in smooth, upper-class English tones. “Her royal majesty Queen Marie Antoinette, if I’m not wrong. We have a confirmed assignation, you and I?”