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been so noisy at night?
    Tossing aside her yellow silk duvet, she slid out of bed. She had a full day ahead of her. First, she and Hannah would clear out that storeroom off the butler’s pantry and get Hannah moved down from the third floor. Mrs. Beauvais was sending Tommy Cooper over around noon to talk about his helping Walker with the grounds. And then . . . then she’d get Papa’s cashbox down from its hiding place . . . and, finally, tomorrow morning . . . she’d go to Mr. Vandekamp. But only after Mother’s room. She wasn’t certain what she dreaded facing most, Mr. Vandekamp or the memories in Mother’s room.
    Her black silk skirt was still where she’d left it draped over her dressing mirror in the night. Taking it down, she laid it across the bed, pausing to study herself in the mirror again. You’re all grown up now. Stepping out of her nightgown, she pulled on a chemise, hesitating when it came time for the corset. It was going to be a workday. She needed to breathe. She would forego a corset today.
    Going to the wardrobe on the opposite wall, she pulled out a lavender calico day dress. She supposed it was shocking to depart from full mourning when Mother had only been gone a few weeks, but it was only while she and Hannah cleaned out a storeroom. No one important would even see her. That wasn’t disrespectful. It was sensible.
    She began to hum as she buttoned the row of jet buttons marching up the front of the dress and tucked her blond hair into a snood. She pulled the chair away from the door. Returning it to the dressing table, she saw the jewelry pouch and opened it. Mother’s amethyst earrings sparkled in the morning light. Fannie put them on, turning her head from side to side and admiring herself in the mirror.
    Unbuttoning her dress, she tucked the facings back to create a décolletage and donned the necklace. Reaching up to feel the texture of the large faceted stone in the center, she envisioned the periwinkle blue ball gown Mother always wore with her amethysts. How she’d longed for gowns like that. Mother had unbending and hopelessly outdated ideas about what a “young lady of high moral character” should and should not wear. At times, Fannie had despaired of ever getting to wear beautiful gowns like Minette’s.
    She studied herself in the mirror. As soon as she put off mourning, she’d be able to wear what she wanted. She touched the cool stone at her throat. Was it disloyal to look forward to yards of ruffles and imported lace . . . to blush at the idea of using a parasol or fan to flirt? Was it wrong to lament all the black and gray, mauve and purple in the months ahead?
    She turned away from the mirror, removed the jewels, and buttoned back up. The dark cloud threatened again. Maybe if she hurried downstairs she could outrun it.
    Hannah had been up just long enough to cook oatmeal, and as the two women ate breakfast, Fannie teased her about defending them with a curtain rod even as she made fun of herself for fainting. Together, she and Hannah planned the new room off the kitchen.
    “I’ll ask James to bring some things down from the attic this morning,” Fannie said. “I remember a rag rug that might look cheerful on the floor. Minette and I used to stage our attic tea parties on it. And there’s a comforter Mother had sent over from France. I think I remember matching draperies that just might fit your new window.
    Hannah got up to wash the dishes. “There’s no need to bring anything down from the attic. Nothing’s wrong with my things. Your mother wouldn’t approve of me putting on airs with fancy draperies and carpets and such.”
    “I know for a fact that Dr. Eames believes cold air makes joints hurt worse. He told Mother that more than once. It only stands to reason that whatever we can do to keep you warm will only make you a better housekeeper, and Mother would most certainly approve of that.”
    Fannie cleared her throat. “I don’t know what