“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.”
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.
The girl sighed, but dutifully got up from her chair. “Yes, Miss Billings,” she said, and left the room.
“Jane, Viola, Bia, and I know some of the boys at Easton from back home,” Theresa said as soon as Helen was gone. “And I happen to
know that they’re all going to be gathering at Gwendolyn Hall tonight. They do it every year on the first night at school.”
“Ooooohh!” Alice cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Then what are we waiting for?”
“I’ll go get my wrap!” Jane offered, dropping her needlepoint in her chair.
“How would we get there?” Viola asked.
“There’s a tunnel not far from Crenshaw, at the edge of the woods. It will take us right there,” Theresa said, her dark eyes gleaming as she placed both hands on the back of Eliza’s vacated chair. “I overheard my father and his friends talking about it at cards. It’s amazing the things you learn about men when they think they’re on their own.”
“So you want us to sneak out of here in the dark and take some tunnel to Gwendolyn Hall to meet the boys?” Eliza asked skeptically.
“Precisely.”
“Are you sure about this?” Catherine asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “If we get caught, we’ll be forbidden from the welcome dance. And that’s the best-case scenario.”
“Helen already overheard your plan,” Clarissa pointed out from her chair.
“Helen just heard me suggest it,” Theresa replied. “She won’t report us unless she sees us leave.”
“But I do not wish to be kept from the dance,” Genevieve said. She placed the top on her box of chocolates and tucked them away into a quilted bag she had slung over her shoulder.
“Nor do I,” Marilyn added, her accent even thicker than
Genevieve’s. According to Alice, the two of them had grown up together in Paris. Eliza hadn’t seen them leave each other’s side all day.
“Oh, come on, girls. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt us,” Theresa said, waving a hand. “Besides, I own this place, remember? If she threatens us, I’ll just telephone Father. He owes me after insisting on that change to our curriculum.” She walked to the door and grasped the brass doorknob. “Now, do you want to stay in here under lock and key all night, or would you rather go on a little adventure?”
Though she hated to admit it, excitement pounded through Eliza’s heart at the word
adventure.
“Is the tunnel safe?” Lavender asked.
“Of course it is,” Theresa replied, rolling her eyes. “My grandparents and the Eastons had it built as a hiding place for runaway slaves back in the day.”
“The Underground Railroad?” Eliza asked.
Theresa nodded. A few of the other girls wrinkled their noses and shuddered, but Eliza was intrigued.
“Not that you’ll be coming along, Eliza,” Theresa said, looking her up and down.
Eliza blinked. “Why ever not?”
“Why, you’re a Williams,” Theresa said with a snort, looping her arm through Catherine’s. “The faculty might have revered your sister, but that girl wouldn’t know an adventure if it jumped out of a bush and bit her. Given your love of libraries, I have to assume you’re cut from the same bland cloth.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped, and Theresa turned to face the room. “The rest of you, go get ready. I’ll wait for you outside. But hurry. Helen will be back soon. Perhaps Eliza can tell her we all went up to bed.”
Catherine eyed Eliza sympathetically. Eliza felt as if her insides were about to burst.
“I’m coming with you,” she said in a determined voice.
Theresa paused. She turned around and raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Eliza said firmly. “I am
not
my sister. I’m always up for an adventure.”
“We’ll see about that,” Theresa said.
Runaway slaves walked these steps,
Eliza thought excitedly.
They touched these walls.
Of course, the runaway slaves probably didn’t have Petit Peu barking nonstop behind them, his high-pitched yap echoing off the walls. Genevieve and Marilyn had finally agreed to meet the boys, while Clarissa had stayed behind, listlessly promising to tell Helen that the others had gone to bed.
“Theresa Billings, if this tunnel doesn’t end soon, I’m going to go right back to Headmistress Almay and have her telephone your father,” Viola said, her voice tremulous. She gripped Eliza’s arm tightly.
“She can telephone all she wants. My father’s currently on a steamer bound for Portugal,” Theresa said, holding her lantern aloft.
“But didn’t you say that if we got into trouble, you’d phone him?” Lavender asked. She had insisted on bringing up the rear so she could keep an eye on everyone.
“I say a lot of things,” Theresa replied under her breath.
Suddenly Eliza heard a scrabbling sound, as if claws were scraping against the stone floor. She froze.
“
Turn back,
” a voice whispered in her ear, so close that a shiver raced down her spine.
“We can’t turn back now, Viola,” Eliza said. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
“Huh?” Viola said with a confused look. “Why are you telling me?”
“You just said ‘Turn back,’” Eliza replied.
“No, I didn’t,” Viola said.
“Yes, you did. You whispered it right in my ear.”
Viola’s face paled. “I didn’t say anything. Did you say anything?” she asked her sister.
“No,” Bia whimpered.
Suddenly everyone was whispering in a panic. “It’s a ghost. A slave ghost,” Viola said, grasping her sister even tighter as her eyes rolled around wildly, looking for the ghoul. “Oh, Bia. We have to get out of here.”
“Yes. Let’s turn back,” Genevieve said. “I did not come all this way from Paris to be murdered by a ghost.”
“There are no ghosts down here!” Theresa blurted in frustration, waving her lantern around. “Look what you’ve started, Eliza!”
“But I’m sure I heard something,” Eliza replied, her pulse racing. “Somebody said ‘Turn back.’”
Theresa clucked her tongue impatiently. “You just want to be the center of attention. Just like the mighty May.”
Eliza felt as if she’d been slapped. She had just opened her mouth to defend herself when Catherine stepped forward and took the lantern from Theresa.
“Girls, we’re almost there,” she said firmly. “Follow me.”
To Eliza’s shock, the girls fell almost entirely silent and did as they were told.
After several long minutes, Catherine paused. “I’ve found a door!”
She held the lantern up. Sure enough, it illuminated the grainy wood surface of a slated door set into the stone wall just ahead.
“Welcome to Gwendolyn Hall, ladies,” Theresa said.
Alice let out a squeal and rushed forward, shoving a few girls aside in order to be the first through the door. Theresa, however, had other ideas. She blocked Alice’s forward motion with one arm, then reached past Catherine to open the door herself. Instantly, warm light and the sound of deep voices filled the tunnel. Despite herself, Eliza’s heart took a few extra spins as she recalled their true reason for being here. She couldn’t help but hope to see the blond-haired boy from the great lawn.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Theresa said. “Do you have room for a few more?”
Whoops filled the air. Alice, Theresa, and Catherine stepped inside. Viola lifted her skirts up a good foot from the ground to keep them clean, dragging her sister and Eliza inside with her.
They emerged in the basement of Gwendolyn Hall, a wide, lowceilinged room that was nevertheless spotlessly clean and bright. Its walls were made of white plaster, its floor of dark gray cement. The
boys had lit several lanterns and candles, all of which were set on a high shelf that ran clear around the room, their flames flickering jovially. Most of the boys were still in their formal day attire, but a few had tossed their jackets aside and undone their collars, taking on a far more casual appearance.
One of these was the boy from that morning.
As soon as Eliza saw him, she found she couldn’t move. He was laughing uninhibitedly with a group of his friends, and she had a moment to enjoy the sound, to let it fill her from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. Then he turned from his companion and found her with his eyes. His laughter stopped. Eliza’s knees all but gave out on her at that moment, and she was grateful to have Catherine at her side to support her.
“Eliza, do you feel faint?” Catherine shot her a worried look.
“No, no, Catherine. I’m fine,” Eliza said, blushing furiously.
At that moment, the boy’s companion turned around. His entire face brightened.
“Eliza Williams!” he said in a booming voice.
It took Eliza a moment to focus on this person who’d said her name. His pinstriped shirt barely contained his broad shoulders, and he wore a formfitting tweed vest. His tie was loosened, his sleeves buttoned at the wrist. His face seemed slightly square, which might have been due to an obviously fresh haircut that left him nearly shaven around the ears, but his smile was kind and his brown eyes warm.
“It’s Jonathan Thackery,” he said, bringing a large hand to his own
chest. “We are to be brother and sister, once May and George wed.”