A very lovely young woman with high-piled chestnut hair came gracefully into the parlor and thrust out her hand. ‘How do you do? I’m Chauncey Saxton, and this, my dear, is Agatha Newton. Oh, how beautiful you are
not that any of us doubted it for a moment! Saint has the most stunning taste.’ Jules took the gloved hand. ‘My name is Juliana, but Michael calls me Jules.’
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‘Michael?’ said Agatha Newton, arching an eyebrow. ‘Lordy, so the dear man does have a real name! I’m Agatha, my dear.’
‘Hello,’ Jules said, a bit dazed. Agatha Newton was an older woman, massivebosomed, with a booming, very kind voice.
‘I’ll bring in some tea, ladies,’ Lydia said. ‘You just sit down, lovie, and entertain the ladies.’
‘Mrs. Mullens.’ Chauncey Saxton said, ‘must think she’s died and gone to heaven. A lady, finally, in Saint’s house.’
‘Please,’Jules said, waving her hand, ‘please do sit down. Michael told me about the Saxtons and the Newtons, of course. He said you were all dear friends.’
‘Yes indeed,’ Chauncey said. ‘Jewels, huh? You mean like diamonds and emeralds?’ ‘No, actually, J-u-I-e-s,’ she said, spelling
out her nickname. ‘Michael didn’t want to distort my real name too much.’
‘Just wait until I tell Horace – my husband, you know – Saint’s real name! Lord, the dear boy is in for a thorough razing.’
Jules smiled, relaxing for the first time. ‘Actually, ‘Michael’ is only one of his real names,’ she said with an impish smile.
Both ladies leaned forward in their chairs, questions on their faces.
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Jules laughed. ‘No, I must have loyalty to my husband.’
‘Where is Saint, or Michael, by the way?, Chauncey asked.
‘There was a problem of some kind. He said something about having to go see Maggie.’
‘Ah,’ said Chauncey. Her husband, Delaney, had told her about the new Mrs. Morris’ experience. Now wasn’t the time to bring up Maggie’s profession, or the probable profession and sex of his patient.
Lydia Mullens came into the parlor at that moment, carrying a rather tarnished silver tray. ‘I didn’t have time to polish the thing,’ she said apologetically to Jules. ‘In fact, Saint’s never used the tray before.’
‘Things are very different now,’ said Agatha with great complacency.
‘Now, Jules,’ Chauncey said after sipping the delicious jasmine teas, ‘Agatha and I are here to invite you to a small dinner party at our house. Saint has already accepted, but we wanted to meet you and invite you in person. It’s time you met some of San Francisco’s fair populace.’ t would Jules felt a bolt of excitement. ‘Tha
be wonderful,’ she said enthusiastically. 10h dear, I must buy a new gown, and I must ask Michael if She broke off suddenlY.
/) 1) r
cMichael said it was all right?’
Chauncey paused a moment, suppressing the frown that threatened to crease her brow. VMat had this poor girl been through? What indeed was her relationship to Saint? She said finally, in a very firm voice, ‘Of course Saint agreed. He’s very proud of you and wants you to get out and about. Why don’t you accompany me tomorrow, say, to Monsieur David’s? He’s an excellent modiste – but that’s a woman, isn’t it? Well, whatever he is, he’s quite good and has a marvelous selection of lovely gowns, many of them from Paris.’
I’m blabbing like an idiot, Chauncey thought, bringing her flighty monologue to a halt.
‘I should appreciate that,’ Jules said. But she was worried about money. Clothes were expensive, she assumed. Perhaps Michael didn’t wish to spend money on things like that.
Agatha and Chauncey stepped into Chauncey’s open carriage some thirty minutes later after a thoroughly satisfactory visit. Chauncey said to their driver, Lucas, ‘Let’s
90 to the Newtons’ home now, please.’
‘She’s very Agatha broke off, shaking her gray head.
‘Vulnerable? Frightened? Wary?’ Chauncey said.
‘Yes, I suppose all of those things.’
‘I shouldn’t care if she were a wretched individual,’ Chauncey said. ‘We must take care of her, for Saint’s sake.’
‘Don’t you mean Saint Michael?’
Jules felt excited, yet very tense. Michael didn’t return home until late in the afternoon, and by that time she was nearly incoherent with anxiety.