Molly Hooper's cousin stepped into the bedroom and dropped her dressing gown and sat at the dressing table. She wore only her chemise, knee length drawers, and stockings.

"What?" Irene said at Molly's gasp, raising a delicately arched eyebrow.

She turned to the mirror and began experimenting with her hair. The dark, glossy tresses always looked best framing Irene's heart shaped face, but she'd told Molly that she wanted to do something more elaborate tonight.

"Well," Molly said, gathering up the dressing gown and laying it on the bed. "First, I've not even seen my little sister in anything less than a petticoat in years. But also. Well. Erm. Irene. Your underthings."

"What about them?" she said in alarm, inspecting her fine silk stockings. "I haven't got any holes or tears do I?"

"No." Molly said. "That's rather the point." She lowered her voice. "They're so—nice. I don't think I've got as much fine lace on my three nicest frocks combined. Did you buy all new things to come here? I don't see why it was necessary. "

"I did buy all new, but not because I was coming here. The other things were worn out and had holes."

"Don't you patch them?"

Irene looked at Molly as though she'd just sprouted horns.

"Some, yes. To keep for when I'm ill," she said. "But otherwise I like all of my things to look and feel nice."

"But, no one's going to see them, so I don't understand."

"I see them, and that's important enough." Irene peered at the younger girl. "Molly, your father is richer than even mine. Are you saying you go around with holes in your underthings? And patches?"

"Well, my father didn't become wealthy from wasting things." Molly groaned. "Oh lord, has my mother seen your things?"

"Well I'm sure your lady's maid's told the housekeeper and the housekeeper's told her plenty. She just wouldn't say anything to you because I'm certain she'd like to pretend you don't even know what underclothes are. Now come on and help me with my hair. Your maid is hopeless with anything but the basics and you have such a nice touch."

The girls had been invited to a fancy dress ball hosted by Captain Gregory Lestrade in honor of his ward Sally's eighteenth birthday. They were to dress as Autumn and Winter, with two of Molly's friends, another pair of cousins, rounding out the year as Spring and Summer. Molly had ordered a rich burgundy velvet cap sleeved evening gown with a bodice just a bit lower than she would normally wear. She usually only had her dressmaker cut her dresses and then sewed them herself, but this one had so much rouching on the two layered skirt and draping on the bustle and train that it was beyond her skill. The dressmaker had sewn on an array of silk autumn leaves in a swirling pattern that complemented the fabric's draping and her milliner had fashioned a lovely matching wreath for Molly's hair. Once the leaves were snipped off, the gown would easily do for any upcoming formal events.

Irene's gown was a vision of silk and gossamer that Molly doubted would ever be suitable for future wear, except to be done over for another fancy dress ball. The style was Grecian inspired, like the gowns from the early part of the century. Molly had seen Irene in it at the final fitting. When she stood still, the gown was deceptively modest, barely skimming her body, showing off her graceful arms and decolette . However, once Irene moved, the fabric clung to her figure, outlining the curve of her hips and legs and, since she wore the less restrictive stays of the time period, even the soft swell of her abdomen. The white silk under layer had been adorned silver and blue beads in snowflake patterns, and the gossamer overlay with enough crystal drops to outfit a moderately sized chandelier. On the dressing table lay two dozen hair pins with the same crystal drops attached.

It was quite a blessing that Molly's mother would not be attending the party, though she knew that Mrs. Hooper would hear all about what her husband's niece had worn by the next morning.

Irene was always "My niece," when Mrs. Hooper referred to her good qualities (her grace and beauty) and accomplishments (lovely singing voice and tidy needlework) but she was "Mr. Hooper's niece" when the older woman disapproved. She usually ended such statements with "but I suppose that's what it's like in America."

Irene had debuted in New York in the spring and had so far refused to marry any of the beaux who flooded the drawing room of her father's townhouse. After a mild scandal involving Irene riding bareback and astride in central park, Mr. Adler had tried to banish her to their country home in New Jersey until she came to her senses, but Irene had somehow convinced him to let her come to London to visit her cousin and see if she found English boys more amenable. He trusted his late wife's brother as a sensible man, and hoped that Irene's serious younger cousin might have a steadying influence on his daughter.

The girls had not seen each other since they were still in short dresses, when the Adlers had made the voyage to England to spend the summer. They became good friends immediately, sharing a few interests despite the differences in their temperaments, and had kept up a furious correspondence over the subsequent years. Molly had squealed with delight, much to her mother's ire, when the letter had arrived from Mr. Adler asking if he could send Irene for a few months and begged her father to send a telegram in reply instead of writing. Two weeks later, they'd collected Irene and her chaperone (a dour distant relative who wanted to return to Devon) from the docks and ensconced Irene in the pretty guest room that connected to Molly's room.

"Do you want any of it down?" Molly asked as she laid the hair pins out neatly. She did the same with Irene's brush, comb and hair jar.

"All up. Are you arranging my hair or preparing for surgery?"

Molly blushed and began brushing Irene's hair. It hung almost to her waist in soft waves. Irene closed her eyes and practically purred, causing Molly's blush to deepen.

"Shouldn't this wait until you've got your dress on?"

"I can step into it."

Molly pinned Irene's hair in elaborate coils and plaits on top of her head, arranging the adorned hair pins in a halo-like patter. When she saw herself in the mirror, Irene sprang from the chair and gave Molly a fierce hug. The two girls were about the same size, but Irene's strength took Molly by surprise. She hugged her cousin back and then went to call for their maid.

"I don't know why we have to have her when we could help each other get dressed," Irene said.

Molly shrugged. "It's just the way it's done. You have your own maid at home."

"That's because there's no one else to help me, and our corsets tie in back and our bodices button in back and it's ridiculous. Boys' clothes are so much easier to put on."

"You say that as if you've worn them!"

Irene smiled. It was the smile that always appeared right before she said something wicked. "I have. My friend and I dress as boys all the time and go out that way. It's the only way to see certain parts of the city."

Molly sat down on the bed. Thanks to her father's indulgence regarding her education, she did possess a few progressive attitudes, and while she had imagined how lovely it would feel to run around outside wearing trousers, she had never actually thought to do it, despite having a younger brother whose clothes would likely fit her.

"Where do you go? And when? In broad daylight?"

Irene started to answer but was interrupted by the arrival of Kate, their maid. Irene asked her to go fetch her gown from the other room, then sat down beside Molly.

"I'll tell you all about it later," she said. "Or maybe I can just show you. I'm a little tired of going on social calls and riding around the Park."

Before Molly could answer, Kate came back with the gown and the conversation turned to clothes and gossip for the next hour. Molly dressed behind a screen, and as Kate tightened her corset, Molly wished briefly that she hadn't been so practical about her dress for tonight. Irene might scandalize everyone at the party, but at least she would do it in comfort. Molly was so used to wearing a corset that she used to not notice, but a few months ago her mother had begun pestering her about her waist size, even though it hadn't gotten any larger. She imagined it either had something to do with getting her married off, or there was some competition among her mother's friends regarding whose daughter had the smallest waist.

"Kate, that'll do. My frock will be too big if you lace me any tighter."

"Sorry, Miss. Your mum told me that she was concerned about your posture."

"Now, Kate," Irene said. "Look at Molly. Her posture is fine. And my aunt would be much more upset to have her daughter going out in ill-fitting clothes or fainted before she stepped onto the dance floor."

"Yes, Miss Adler," Kate said, and helped Molly into her petticoat. She struggled a bit getting Molly's bustle fastened around her waist, and then on went the heavy skirt and the bodice.

Irene applauded as Molly stepped from behind the screen. She made quick work of her hair, braiding it and pinning it in a thick coil at her crown. She pinned the wreath in place and dismissed Kate as soon as she'd assisted them with their shoes.

Molly pulled Irene over to the chaise near the window. She sat gingerly, careful not to crush her bustle, and once again envied Irene her freedom of movement.

"Now," she whispered. "Tell me everything."

"Well, we don't go out in daylight unless we really dirty up our faces. It's much easier to pass at night."

"But isn't it dangerous? Even for grown men it's not safe in some parts of London after dark. I imagine New York isn't much better."

"Oh in some ways it's worse. But we never go to the really bad parts. Just the parts there the rich boys go to play and pretend they're in the bad part of town. Music halls mostly. Keeps us safe from men who like boys since everyone's there to see the girls."

"But you can't look more than fourteen! How do you get in?"

"We pretend to be errand boys. Gets us in everywhere, even backstage. There's even a few girls we actually run errands for. That's how we got to see the inside of a brothel one night."

"You are teasing me now, Irene!"

Irene clasped Molly's hand in hers and leaned forward. "I promise you, Molly. I would never lie to you. Edith and I ran an errand for a can-can dancer who doesn't just dance for her money. She had us run a note to her mistress saying she wouldn't be returning home that evening, with a description of the man she was going home with. They do that in case something bad happens. "

"What was she like? Her mistress?"

Irene laughed. "I've gotten my hands on more than a few trashy novels, so I was expecting so much velvet and brocade and red and purple everywhere. But it was really not very different from any other home except that all of the bedrooms had been cut in half to create more bedrooms. And of course the number of girls in their underclothes right in the parlor with the men. And the Madame, she was southern, or said she was. Miss Louella, they called her. She smelled better than any woman I've ever been around, and I think she knew right away we weren't boys but didn't say anything. Told me I was welcome back any time, and she might have some small jobs for me."

Molly stared at her cousin for a long moment. "You're not going back to America, are you?" she said softly.

The older girl straightened up slightly, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"I just can't see you going back there once you've gotten this close to the Continent. And I think you'd rather do anything than settle down and have babies."

"You can keep a secret?"

"Of course, Irene."

"I purposefully ran up an astonishing amount of charges at all of the stores where my father has credit. I knew he wouldn't cut me off, because how I look reflects on him. He started giving me my allowance in cash and told me I couldn't ask for a dime more if I ran out before the month was up. I am actually quite capable of living within my means so I've been saving part of it for the last two years and I have quite enough to travel the Continent for at least a year if I'm careful or settle somewhere in the Mediterranean for longer. "

Molly was completely gob smacked. She'd know Irene to be adventurous, but she'd also thought her to be impulsive. However, this plan had required careful planning.

"Are you going to leave, then?"

"Well, I do still need a companion of some sort in order to not arouse too much curiosity. Miss Louella told me, the only way a woman can have true freedom is to be a wealthy widow or a Madame. But I think that with enough money and an older companion I should be fine. Though it'd be absolutely wonderful to find some wicked poet to run away with, and the best poets are still in England. All we've got is Whitman." Irene shuddered and stood up. "Oh dear, don't look so glum. I don't plan on leaving just yet, and I might lose my nerve at the last moment and go running home to father or marry some impoverished Lord in need of an American heiress to bolster the coffers."

It tickled Molly to hear Irene speak so plainly about such things. More than one of her friends had married into the aristocracy. Objections to new wealth and the merchant class often fell away when faced with crumbling manors and lands that no longer produced any income, but people didn't speak about the matches that way. They were always presented as love matches, with the high born parents showing the right amount of socially acceptable reluctance before welcoming the girl and her income into the fold.

"I'm somewhat afraid that's going to be my fate," Molly sighed. She accepted Irene's outstretched hands and stood up. "I'm only seventeen and I only came out in May, on my birthday, but Mother is already sighing over the lack of suitors."

"Well, Molly, I don't honestly see why you don't have more. I assumed that since your Mother didn't want anyone calling on me until after the party that she'd prevented anyone seeing you in the meantime. You're absolutely lovely to look at and to talk to."

"I'm not, really," Molly said, double checking that her clothes were all in order and searching for her reticule. "Some of them are fine, but with the really charming ones, or the really good looking ones, I either get tongue tied or start talking about inappropriate things."

"Oh do tell!"

"Not those sorts of things. I start talking about anatomy and biology because they're the first things that pop into my mind. Consequently I already have a reputation for being ghoulish and strange. And I probably am. I just wish Mother would give up and Father would let me go to university. But I'm sure that Mother's thrilled you'll be around because you'll have dozens of suitors and she'll make me chaperone and she'll hope one of them falls in love with me when they realize you're out of their league."

"Molly," Irene said, taking her cousin by the shoulders. "Do you want to get married?"

"Yes, of course. One day. To the right man. And I don't even know what that means, but I think it'd have to be someone who doesn't turn green when I mention what I've just read about the thyroid or the spleen. I doubt I'll find him among the set we'll be celebrating with tonight."

"Well, there's only one way to find out. I should probably wear my shawl downstairs if I don't want you mother to faint. Get your wrap. And if we don't find our gentlemen tonight, we'll just have to steal your brother's clothes and see what other sorts London has to offer."

"Irene, you're not serious?"

"Of course I am. Don't worry. It'll be grand."