In that moment, I recognized Frances Howard to be the dream I had long held and suffered from, because it had appeared unattainable. She was a young thoroughbred, stamping about in her dark stall. If she allowed me, if I dared, we could take off her halter and together race the course in our own fashion. With Frankie, I could have the life I had always wanted and regain the honor I sought for myself and my family, and with me she could forge something more satisfying from her own.

She looked at me over the bottle as she took another drink. Had she an inkling of what I imagined for us both? I had no plan, no scheme, just a basket of desires. I sensed that deep-lying in us both was a longing for something to happen; we scanned the horizon daily, expectant. She lowered the bottle to the floor and stood, she in bare feet and I in heels, so that our faces were level. Her eyes flickered minutely as she tried to see both of mine. She held out her hand, like a man. It was a strange gesture but exactly what was required. I shook it.

That was it.

My entry to her world.

From this stemmed everything that followed.

“You have a weapon,” I said, picking at her clothes for items not offensive to my tastes. “Your beauty. You must harness it to better serve you.”

“It is a curse. Essex chose me over my younger sister because of it. You would think she would be nicer to me. My husband is already blind to it.”

“I doubt it, and others won’t be; they might protect you.”

On Frances’s palm sat the white oval, like a large, fluffy pearl. It quivered unnervingly, as if some manner of insect lived within, but it was only the trembling of her hand.

“What is that?”

“Nothing of value if my mother gave it to me,” she said, tossing it to her little dog. I unpinned her hair and brushed until it was bright from crown to knee.

“Will your husband give me something more potent than wine to numb my misery?” she asked.

“I myself brew a hypericum tincture that lifts the spirits. Have you silk?” Frances pointed to a chest and I pulled out a fine piece from which I cut a strip, coated it with a balsam to cover and heal the seeping welts, and pressed it to her back. I asked about her black armband as I untied it. It was a few moments before she answered, in a voice that had lost all its bravado.