The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

“I’ve always loved dark pink roses,” Clarissa said. “My grandmother grows them in her garden.”

“Pink rose it is.” Catherine held out her hand toward Clarissa’s dress. “Hubeo deep rose.”

Instantly, a swirl of color appeared in the center of Clarissa’s stomach. Just as Alice’s nightgown had changed that first night, Clarissa’s dress transformed into a lovely solid pink.

“It’s beautiful!” Clarissa exclaimed, giving a twirl.

“Not so fast!” Viola said. “We must do something about that neckline.” She held her hand out and bit her lip. “Collar exposé!”

With a snap, the fabric around Clarissa’s neck tore free and fell to the ground, leaving her collarbone exposed. Clarissa’s hands flew to her neck.

“I’ve never worn anything so revealing,” she protested with a blush.

“Trust me. I know fashion, and this is au courant,” Viola replied, taking her hand in a reassuring way. “What do you think, girls? Shall we fix the skirt next?”

“Absolument!” Marilyn said, clapping her hands.

Soon all the girls were comparing ideas, holding out their palms, and making adjustments. Scraps of fabric fell to the floor. The lace trim shot right into the fireplace. A set of ribbons lifted off Alice’s dressing table and flew over to adorn Clarissa’s bodice, and another set wove through her hair. When Eliza and her friends finally stepped back, Clarissa looked as if she’d stepped out of a magazine. Her hair was done up in a curly, chic updo with blond tendrils around her face. Her skirt was slim around the hips with a slight flare at the ankle, and the rose color was perfectly complemented by the dark purple velvet ribbon trim.

“The boys are going to fall over themselves to dance with you,” Eliza assured her.

Slowly Clarissa turned and looked into one of the mirrors. She touched her hair carefully with her fingertips, her mouth open in awe. “Thank you, girls! Thank you so much!”

Eliza hugged her as the others congratulated themselves over a job well done.

“Come on! Let’s get to work on that potion for wandering hands!” Jane suggested, grabbing Alice’s wrist.

“What does this one do, exactly?” Clarissa asked, carefully lifting her new skirt as she followed them to the far wall.

“It will give boils to any boy whose hands wander too far,” Alice said mischievously.

“Oh. I like the sound of that!” Lavender put in. They all gathered around the coffee table where Alice had already laid out the small tubs and satchels of herbs, petals, and roots they had been collecting around campus over the past few days.

“It looks as though we have everything,” Alice said. “Dandelion, mushroom, poison oak . . . But we need someone with gloves to handle it.”

“I’ll do it,” Theresa offered, holding up her gloved fingers.

Theresa’s dress was of a modern style, with sleeves that opened wide over her shoulders, exposing the sides of her arms, before the fabric came together again just above her elbow. The bodice was white, with a black bolero-style vest, and the skirt was made of several layers of black and white fabric draped one atop the other. She looked like a Harper’s Bazaar illustration come to life, and Eliza noticed more than one of the other girls eyeing her enviously.

“But what about the Smitten Potion?” Genevieve asked as Theresa got to work, measuring out the ingredients into a glass bowl. “I thought that sounded interesting.”

“Turns out, it only lasts for twenty-four hours,” Alice said dismissively.

“Good riddance, then. I have no interest in twenty-four hours,” Genevieve said with a sniff, turning toward the mirror on the east wall to add a purple feather to her hair. “What I need is a potion that will win a husband for me forever!”

Eliza laughed as she and Catherine returned to their vanity table.

“See that? That’s where I would draw the line,” Catherine said.

“You can’t make a boy fall in love with you for all eternity.”

Suddenly, the double doors opened.

“Shhhh!” Alice said, slamming the book and tucking it behind her.

Eliza turned, expecting to see the headmistress hovering at the door with a severe expression on her face. Instead, Helen hovered in the doorway, carrying a tray laden with a glass pitcher of water and a set of glasses.

“Hello, Helen,” Eliza said in a welcoming voice, even as her heart fluttered with nervousness. After having caught Helen watching her so many times, she felt constantly on edge around the maid. “How are you this evening?”