The Streel: a Deadwood Mystery by Mary Logue

Author:Mary Logue [Logue, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC022060 Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Historical, FIC044000 Fiction / Contemporary Women, FIC033000 Fiction / Westerns
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2020-05-12T00:00:00+00:00

17

Charles Hunt sent a note inviting me to have dinner with him at Delmonico’s. I had talked it over with Padraic and Billy. Billy insisted I should go, but Padraic thought I should not go alone.

“He must like our Brigid. Alone she might find out more from him. That can only be to the good for our deal,” Billy pointed out.

“Tell him nothing, pour him wine, and listen hard,” was the advice Padraic gave me. I meant to use it. I had been planning on going anyway, but I listened to them as if considering their arguments and then smiled and said I would indeed go to dinner with Mr. Charlie Hunt.

My new waist was ready from the dress shop and my velvet skirt was in good repair. I dressed myself and walked over to Elizabeth’s as she had promised to do my hair for me. She knew all the latest fashions.

Before I sat in the chair she had proffered me, I took a book off her shelf. It was one I had longed to read, Little Women.

“Take it. I found it rather romantic,” she laughed. Her color was better and she seemed in high spirits.

“Is your husband due back soon?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. He said he would not be gone long. He was to be back in time for the ball. But I don’t really care if he is.”

This was such a change from the way she talked about him before that it surprised me. “Don’t you miss him?”

“There are a lot of men in this town, and some of them know how to be quite kind to a married woman in need.”

She brushed my hair back from my face. I thought of twisting around to see her face, but I didn’t want to ruin her concentration. “The absolutely latest style is fringe, you know. Let me cut you a few curls. Your hair waves naturally on its own. I wouldn’t even need to use the curler.”

“Are you sure?”

Elizabeth took up a pair of scissors and snipped several times. She handed me four long tendrils of my hair, dark as coal. She rolled and twisted my hair and pinned it and fussed with it. “They are wearing the hair higher on the head, even putting in switches and something called ‘lunatic curls’ this year. I’ve read about the new styles in Lady Godfrey’s.” She arranged the top and asked me if I would like to borrow a pair of her earrings to wear.

“Do you mean it?” I asked.

“I have a pair of ruby drops that would go well with what you’re wearing.” She ran to get them and came back with a small pot of lip rouge.

“Oh, I couldn’t, Elizabeth. Not makeup.”

“Yes, you could. All sorts of nice women wear a bit of it. Not so much that you’d notice, but a little to enhance what they already have. I’ll put it on quite sparingly. Then I’ll show you the glass.”

When I looked in the mirror she held out for me, I gasped at the change.

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