The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

Helen placed the tray on the side table near the door and walked up to Eliza and Catherine.

“Well, thank you,” she said quietly, looking Eliza directly in the eye.

“We haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for keeping us out of trouble,” Catherine said, turning in her chair to face Helen. “You could have told on us, but you didn’t. We’re all very grateful.”

“You’re welcome, miss,” Helen said tonelessly.

Eliza wasn’t sure what to make of the girl’s complete lack of personality or inflection.

“Here. Would you help me fasten my necklace?” she asked, hoping to get the girl to warm up a bit. She sat before the vanity, placed her compact down, and lifted the gold locket from the table. Helen reached for it, but hesitated when she saw the pendant. Her skin looked almost gray.

“What? What is it?” Eliza asked, alarmed.

Helen blinked, tearing her eyes from the etching in the pendant’s surface. “It’s nothing, miss.” She took the clasp and worked it in one try. “It’s beautiful, Miss Williams,” she added politely. “Yours as well, Miss White.”

Catherine touched the gold fleur-de-lis that dangled from a simple chain around her neck. “My mother gave it to me,” she said, smiling. “And please, Helen, I must

have told you a hundred times in the past, you can call me Catherine.”

“And me Eliza,” Eliza added. “We’re all the same age, aren’t we?”

She turned to look up at Helen. “How old are you?” she asked when the other girl didn’t answer.

“Seventeen, miss,” Helen replied. Her eyes flicked to Eliza’s locket again, but just as quickly flicked back to her face.

“Then you are our senior and should certainly call us by our first names,” Catherine said warmly.

Helen seemed about to respond when Theresa interrupted from across the room. “Well, I look stunning tonight, if I do say so myself,” she announced turning this way and that in front of the full-length mirror. “I’m going to have a tough time keeping Harrison’s hands from wandering.”

“Would you like some of . . . what we were making?” Alice asked, glancing warily at Helen.

“No, thank you.” Theresa smirked, then looked across the room at Eliza. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

This brazen statement was met with gales of laughter. Eliza, however, saw Catherine glance sympathetically at her. Eliza immediately looked down at the surface of the table, pretending to be preoccupied with the many colors of rouge laid out before her. Did Catherine suspect something? Did she know how Eliza felt about Harrison?

But you feel nothing, remember? she told herself. He’s just another boy, and he’s engaged.

She took a deep breath and held it, driving out the awful feelings of disappointment and guilt. In the reflection of the mirror, she saw Alice slip the book of spells out from hiding again, and a few of the girls bent over its pages, whispering now so that Helen wouldn’t hear.

Avoiding Catherine’s eyes, Eliza smiled brightly at Helen. “So tell us about yourself, Helen,” she said, patting the stool next to her chair, opposite Catherine. “How did you come to be at Billings?”

Helen glanced around warily at the girls before taking the offered seat. She tucked her ankles and laced her fingers together in her lap.

“I used to live here, Miss Wil—I mean, Miss Eliza,” Helen said. “When it was an orphanage.”

Eliza felt the color rising in her cheeks. “Oh, my . . . well, then . . . your parents are not with you?”

“They were both taken by the measles. As well as my little brother, when he was just a baby,” Helen replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s horrible, Helen. I’m so sorry,” Eliza said.

“There’s no need to pity me,” Helen said, meeting Eliza’s gaze. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s that. I was the lucky one. When the Billings family bought this house to turn it into a dormitory, Mr. and Mrs. Billings were kind enough to take me in and give me room, board, and wages. I owe a world of debt to them.”

“What was this place like when it was an orphanage?” Catherine asked, looking around at the plate glass windows, the scrolling wall sconces, the gleaming floors.

“Nowhere near as nice as this,” Helen said. “This room was used as our classroom, though not many learned a thing in here. It was loud and crowded, and there were too many young ones running around.”

Eliza gazed across the busy, bustling chamber—at the gloves and evening bags strewn about, the fine jewelry being exchanged and borrowed, the rouge and lipstick being applied—unable to imagine the life Helen had experienced here.