“I’m sure they would behave beautifully.” Phoebe clasped her hands. “I’ll have lots of people around to make sure they do what they’re supposed to do. I know they would have lots of fun, and think of the pride you’d feel, seeing them up on the stage in one of my famous presentations.”
Gertie frowned. She didn’t know about pride. More like worry, considering how Mrs. Fortescue’s events never went without something awful happening. “I’d have to ask them,” she said at last. “If they want to do it, then I’ll allow it, but I wouldn’t want to force them into doing something they don’t want to do.”
“No, no, of course not.” Phoebe looked relieved. “Ah… would you mind if I did the asking? They might consider it more if I’m the one to ask them.”
Gertie wasn’t fooled for a moment. No doubt Mrs. Fortescue would make it sound like a grand adventure, possibly even bribing them with promises of a reward of some kind. “I’d rather ask them myself, m’m, if you don’t mind.”
Phoebe looked disappointed. “Very well, then. Just be sure to tell them what a tremendously exciting experience this would be for them.”
“I will, m’m.” Gertie bobbed a curtsey and headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how she felt about letting her babies perform onstage. True, it would be an experience for them, and it would be exciting to watch them up there with all the toffs watching them and clapping for them.
Gertie smiled as she imagined the cheers and applause as the twins took their bows at center stage. Yeah, what harm could it do? She’d talk to them just as soon as she got off work. Humming again, she shoved the kitchen door open and went inside.
Arriving at the address Mrs. Taylor had given her, Cecily stepped down from the carriage, wincing as melting snow seeped over the rims of her boots. The wind whipped at the scarf she had tied over her hat, and she was grateful for the fur collar on her heavy serge coat.
Samuel opened the gate for her, and she trod her way carefully up the narrow pathway, mindful of the slippery surface beneath her feet.