“Oh, am I indeed? And did I imagine I saw you enjoying yourself hugely dancing with him last night, hmm?” She hesitates, and then adds, “Darling Lily, I shouldn’t say it, and you may very well be cross with me, but I’ve never seen you look like that when you dance with Louis.”

Much to my relief, Mrs. Morell arrives at that moment with a discreet cough, an offer to have the gowns and coat delivered, and the bill. I am spared further grilling on the subject of Bram as I have to attend to settling the account. All the same I cannot deny to myself that I have imagined how I might look to him in my new clothes. The dresses make me feel different. Younger. Freer. Would he see a difference in me? And what if he did? The plain fact is, Charlotte is right: I am different when I am with Bram. I am a version of myself I had not known existed. With Louis I am who I have always been. Is that the attraction? I wonder. Do I see in Bram the opportunity to escape the roles in which I have been cast?

And surely it is foolish fancy to think I can continue seeing Bram, anyway. Charlotte cannot have many more sittings left, and after that I will have no reason for visiting the studio. Am I merely trying to make myself feel better? To bolster my confidence by having him admire me? I came so close to confiding in him, to telling him everything. Was it the champagne and the dancing that made me drop my guard? I wonder. Or was it the man himself? It would have been a terrible mistake, I see that now, in the unforgiving light of day. It is ironic that the Dark Spirit may have done me a service by stopping me from speaking further. And yet here I am, like some giddy girl, wondering how Bram would like me in pretty new clothes. I might distract myself with Charlotte and a little shopping, but I know I will have to return to my duties. The Dark Spirit has made his next move by declaring he wants something from me. He can only mean the Lazarus Elixir. I can play at being a carefree young woman for only a short time, that is the truth of it.