“You're a very special little girl,” Marianne said softly as she bent to kiss her again, and then took the tiara gently from her head and pinned it easily onto her own head again, with a last glance in the mirror. “Your parents are very lucky people.” But Gabriella's eyes only grew desperately sad as she said it. If Marianne only knew how bad Gabriella was, she would never say things like that. She knew her mother could have told the woman a very different story, and would have. “I think I probably should go back downstairs now. Poor Robert is waiting for me.”

Gabriella nodded wisely, still overwhelmed by what she had done, the kiss, the tiara, the gentle touch, the kind words. She knew she would remember it for a lifetime. It was a gift to her beyond anything the woman could have known or suspected.

“I wish I lived with you.” Gabriella blurted out the words as she held the woman's hand, and they walked slowly to the top of the stairs. Marianne thought it was an odd thing for Gabriella to say and she couldn't imagine what would make her say it.

“So do I,” she said gently, hating to let go of the child's hand, feeling her tug at her heart, and seeing something so sorrowful in the child's eyes that it physically pained her. “But your mommy and daddy would be very sad, if you weren't here with them to keep them happy.”

“No, they wouldn't,” Gabriella said clearly, and Marianne stopped for a long moment, looking down at her, wondering if the child had gotten into trouble that day, or been scolded by her parents. To her, in her naïveté, it seemed as though it would be impossible to scold a child like this one.

“I'll come back and wave to you in a little while. Shall I come upstairs and visit you in your room?” Promising her something at least seemed the only way to leave her, to soothe her own conscience at leaving those eyes, that pleading look that tore at her heart now. But Gabriella shook her head wisely.

“You can't come upstairs to see me,” she said solemnly. The price to pay for it would have been almost beyond bearing, if she was discovered by her mother. Eloise hated it when her friends talked to Gabriella. It would be worse still if she found out someone had come upstairs to see her. Gabriella knew her mother would blame her for annoying their guests, and her fury would know no measure. “They won't let you.”

“I'll see if I can slip away later…” Marianne promised, as she started down the stairs and then blew her a last kiss over an elegant shoulder. The gown seemed to float around her again as she moved, and she stopped halfway down the stairs, and looked back up to the child watching her. “I'll be back, Gabriella… I promise…” And then, feeling something odd and uneasy in her heart, which she didn't quite understand, she ran the rest of the way down the stairs to her husband. He was drinking his second glass of champagne by then, and speaking to a very handsome Polish count, whose eyes lit up instantly when he caught sight of Marianne. He kissed Marianne's hand as Gabriella watched them. It was like watching a dance as she gazed at them, talking, laughing, and then moving slowly away toward the other guests. Gabriella wanted to run down the stairs and cling to her, to find safety with her, and protection. And feeling the child's eyes still glued to her, Marianne glanced upstairs one last time, and waved, as she disappeared on her husband's arm, as the count said something funny to her and she laughed a silvery sound. Gabriella closed her eyes at the sound of it, and leaned her head against the banister for a little while, just remembering, and dreaming. She could still see the little tiara on her own head, and remember the look in the woman's eyes, and the delicious smell of her perfume.

It was another hour before the last of the guests arrived, and Gabriella sat there silently, watching them. None of the others spotted her, or ever glanced upstairs. They arrived, smiling, and talking, and laughing, left their wraps, took their champagne, and moved inside to see the other guests and her parents. There were more than a hundred people there, and she knew that her mother would never come upstairs to check on her. She just assumed that she was in bed, as she was supposed to be. It never occurred to them that she'd be watching the guests and being wicked, as usual, disobeying their orders. “Stay in bed and don't move, don't even breathe,” had been her mother's last words to her. But the lure of the magic downstairs had been too great for her. She wished she could go downstairs and get something to eat. She was starving by the time the last guests had arrived, and she knew there was a lot of food in the kitchen, pastries and cakes, and chocolates and cookies. She had seen a huge ham being prepared that afternoon, a roast beef, and a turkey. There was caviar, as there always was, although she didn't like it. She had tasted it once, and it was terribly fishy, but her mother didn't want her to eat it anyway. She was forbidden to touch it, or any of the things they served at their parties. But she would have loved to have one of the little cakes. There were éclairs, and strawberry tarts, and little cream puffs that were her favorites. But everyone had been so busy that night, no one had thought to offer her dinner. And she knew better than to ask her mother for something to eat when she was getting ready for a party. Eloise had been in her dressing room for hours, taking a long bath, doing her hair, and putting on her makeup. She didn't have time to think of the child, and Gabriella knew that it was better if she didn't. She knew what would have happened if she'd asked for anything. Her mother always got very nervous before their parties.

Gabriella could hear the music playing louder now. There was dancing at the far end of their huge living room, and the dining room and library and living room were full of people. She could hear them talking and laughing, and she waited for a long time, hoping to see Marianne again, but she never returned, and Gabriella knew she had no right to expect it. She had probably forgotten. Gabriella was still sitting there, hoping for a last glimpse of her, when her mother suddenly swept through the hallway downstairs, looking for something, and instantly sensed Gabriella's presence. Without hesitating for a moment, she glanced up at the chandelier, and then beyond it, to the top of the stairs, where Gabriella was sitting in her old pink nightgown. Her breath caught instantly, and she leaped to her bare feet and moved backward, falling over the first step, and landing with a hard thump on her thin bottom. And the look on her mother's face told her instantly what was coming.

Without a sound or a word, Eloise came up the stairs, as though on winged feet, a messenger from the devil. She was wearing a tight black satin gown, which revealed her spectacular figure and shone like her black hair, pulled back in a tight bun. She was wearing long diamond dangling earrings, and an elaborate diamond necklace. But just as Marianne's gown and jewels seemed to soften her, to surround her in an aura of light and gentleness, what her mother wore seemed to accentuate her harshness, and made her look truly scary.

“What are you doing here?” She spat out the words in whispered venom. “I told you not to leave your room.”

“I'm sorry, I just…” There was no excuse for what she had done. Even less for having lured Marianne Marks up to see her… or worse yet, trying on her tiara… If her mother had known that… but fortunately, she didn't.

“Don't lie to me, Gabriella,” her mother said, grabbing her arm so tightly it instantly stopped the circulation, and almost as quickly made it tingle. “Don't say a word!” she said through clenched teeth as she dragged her down the hall, unseen by the people enjoying her hospitality downstairs. Had any of them seen what was happening, they would have been shocked into silence. And as though she knew that, she continued in a poisonous whisper to Gabriella, “Don't make a sound, you little monster… or I'll rip your arm off.” And Gabriella knew with absolute certainty that she would have. She didn't doubt it for a moment. At seven, she had learned many valuable lessons about her mother, and she knew that whatever tortures she promised, she generally delivered. That was one thing about Eloise you could always count on.

Gabriella's feet were literally lifted off the ground, as her mother half carried her to her room, with the rest of her body dangling as she tried to run along beside her mother, so as not to annoy her further. The door was still open, and she threw Gabriella inside, who fell with a sharp thud to the ground, twisting her ankle, but she knew better than to make a sound as she lay on the floor in the darkness.

“Now you stay in there! Do you understand? I don't want to see you out of this room again, is that clear? If you disobey me this time, Gabriella, I promise you, you'll regret it. No one wants to see you out there… no one likes you… no one cares about you sitting at the top of the stairs like some poor pathetic little orphan. You're just a child, you belong in your room, where no one has to see you. Do you hear me?” There was silence from where Gabriella lay, crying silently in the darkness from the pain in her ankle and her arm, but she was too wise and too proud to complain about them to her mother. “Answer me!” The voice sawed into the darkness and Gabriella was afraid her mother would approach her and deliver her message even more succinctly.

“I'm sorry, Mommy!” she whispered.

“Stop whining. Go to bed where you belong!” Eloise said, and slammed the door. She was still scowling over the incident as she hurried back to the stairs, and then as she descended them hurriedly, her face seemed to transform, and the memory of Gabriella and what she had done to her seemed to vanish entirely as she reached the hallway. Three of her guests were standing there, putting on their coats, and she kissed each of them warmly as they left, and then returned to the drawing room to chat and dance with the others. It was as though Gabriella had never existed. And to her, she didn't. Gabriella meant nothing to her.