The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

“I was wondering . . . will we have any free time during the day?” Eliza asked.

Miss Almay leaned over the pulpit, her frown lines deepening. “Free time for what purpose?”

“For reading,” Eliza replied. “Is the library open all day?”

Miss Almay narrowed her eyes, her broad shoulders squared. Eliza’s heart pounded with fear. An ominous silence filled the room.

“You’re May Williams’s sister, are you not?” Miss Almay asked.

Eliza cleared her throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you attempt to be more like her and not ask impertinent questions,” Miss Almay said.

Theresa laughed. Eliza’s jaw dropped slightly as humiliation poured through her, white-hot and acidic. How could asking about the library be considered impertinent? Catherine laid a comforting hand atop Eliza’s, but there was no soothing this feeling away.

“May was like a goddess around here,” Theresa whispered. “I suppose we don’t have to worry about her second coming.”

Eliza looked down at her lap, her eyes burning. She refused to cry. But inside, her heart welled with disappointment. It seemed that the Billings School for Girls wasn’t going to afford her quite the measure of freedom she had dreamed of. Just like that, all her dreams went up in a puff of smoke.

“Remember, girls—wherever you go, you are a representative of this school, and your behavior is a direct reflection on me,” Miss Almay said, still hovering over her. Eliza could feel the headmistress’s gaze boring into the back of her burning neck. “So rest assured that wherever you go, I’ll be watching you.”

Adventure

That evening, Eliza sat at the card table in the center of the parlor, playing Hearts with Alice, Catherine, and Alice’s roommate, Lavender Lewis-Tarrington—the stout girl from the chapel, whose quiet personality couldn’t be more the opposite of Alice’s. Eliza’s attention, however, was not on the game. She couldn’t stop replaying the incident from the chapel in her mind. Miss Almay had humiliated her in front of the entire student body on her very first day. Every time Eliza recalled Miss Almay’s imperious glare, her stern words, Eliza’s heart sunk a bit further toward her toes. It seemed Billings would prove to be as stifling as her home had been.

Eliza sighed, both annoyed and bored as she took in her surroundings. The large brick fireplace at the top of the room was bare, and the windows along either wall had been thrown open to afford the girls some fresh air. Small tables dotted the wood floor, and wing-backed chairs lined the walls where Jane, Viola, Bia, and some of the younger girls had gathered to pore over the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar. A second-year named Clarissa Pommer sat with her chair turned toward the wall, engrossed in a science book she’d brought from home. Eliza had approached her earlier and introduced herself, but Clarissa hadn’t been much for conversation. In fact, she put forth a rather forbidding air altogether, with her sharp features, her two long braids pinned behind her head, and her high-necked floral dress buttoned all the way up to her chin.

In the corner, at the grand piano, Genevieve LeFranc played a classical tune, pausing every now and then to pluck a chocolate from the box she’d brought down from her room. Marilyn DeMeers sat beside her on the bench, cooing at Petit Peu, a Yorkie who’d been recently rescued from his cage. Mrs. Hodge had retired to the kitchen a few minutes earlier, leaving Helen Jennings, the young maid from the morning, sitting in a chair near the door, her hands folded primly in her lap as she kept a watchful eye on her charges.

Catherine laid down the two of clubs, so Alice laid down her ten of clubs.

“Eliza?” Alice said. “It’s your turn.”

Eliza blinked. She looked down at her cards, groaned, and tossed them down on the table.

“Eliza! You’ll ruin the game,” Lavender said, straightening her run.

“I’m sorry, but I came here to get away from the same old thing,” Eliza said, pushing away from the table and standing. “And yet here we are, playing cards, just as we might do on any other night of our lives.”

“What should we do? Go to the library?” Jane Barton joked, looking up from her magazine.

“Jane!” Catherine scolded, as some of the other girls laughed.

Eliza’s face burned, but she ignored the girl’s barb. “It’s our first night here together. Shouldn’t we do something . . . exciting?”

Across the room, Marilyn stopped cooing and Genevieve stopped playing the piano. Bia and Viola leaned forward with interest.

Lavender eyed Eliza timidly. Helen frowned. Only Clarissa didn’t move. She simply turned the page in her book, her brow knit, the picture of concentration.

“Like what?” Catherine asked, folding her cards on the table.

“Isn’t there a phonograph here? Maybe we could dance,” Alice suggested excitedly.

“Or we could go visit the boys,” Theresa said, walking in through the open parlor door. She wore a formfitting deep red dress with a matching cape. Her thick black hair hung loosely down her back, and she’d changed her necklaces to a set of crimson beads. Eliza fought the urge to scowl at the girl’s arrival.

“I’m listening,” Alice said.

“Helen. We’d like some water,” Theresa said without even looking at the young maid.