Lesson Forty-Five: Wardrobe ~ December 9
This lesson, held in Cora’s chamber, concerns a set of newly purchased garments laid out upon her bed. Outside the narrow windows, it has begun to snow.
Nearly Christmas, Alice thinks absently,which means nearlyJanuary, nearly the ball, and the girl is not ready—and yet she can’t help but be charmed by the image of Cora standing reverently beside the mattress, considering the garments as one might regard priceless artifacts.
Alice is careful to keep her voice mechanical, businesslike.
“Two chemises, skirts, dresses, demi-toilette for daytime. Two dresses that will suit for balls and dinners. And one”—Alice carefully lifts the last, a pale pink chiffon embroidered with silver rosettes, and Cora lets out a blissful sigh—“for the opera.”
“Thank you, Alice,” Cora breathes. “I hardly know what to say.”
The moment feels strangely intimate. Rather too affecting. Like sisters might feel, like a normal family, warm with trust.
Perhaps it would have been like this with her own little sister. Had she lived.
A stab of tears threatens Alice’s eyes. She turns quickly away. “No need to thank me, as this is not a gift. We’ll sell each ball gown after use in order to purchase another. My entire budget for the season is forty thousand, not a penny more, so it is imperative we keep costs low. We’re not actually aristocrats, after all.”
“Of course not,” Cora murmurs.
Still, a second after Alice shuts the door, she hears Cora’s quiet squeal of delight.
And Alice allows herself a small smile of her own.
Lesson Fifty-One: French and German (Again) ~ December 12
“Es ist schönes Wetter, nicht wahr?” Cora remarks. Her voice has quieted to a demure purr.
“And in French?” Béa prompts.
“Qu’il fait beau aujourd’hui,” Cora supplies, just as sweetly.
Alice, watching from the doorway, catches Béatrice’s questioning glance.
Alice offers a nod. She smiles minutely, disappearing before Cora can spot any sign of approval.
The girl must not grow complacent. Nothing can slip or this house of cards will tumble.
Lesson Fifty-Four: Street Comportment ~ December 19
Cora stands ready in her spring demi-toilette, day jacket buttoned up, hat pinned just so, and parasol in hand.
“The streets in the city are filthy,” Alice starts.
Cora snorts. “I’ve noticed. My room overlooks the alley where they shovel the horse manure.”
“Better it go there than on your skirts,” Alice says. “You’ll need to hold your hem out of range of spray from the carriages, but not high enough to showcase even a hint of ankle. Like this.”
She demonstrates. And Cora repeats the movement.
Nothing above her boot shows, nothing drags, and she does not display any discomfiture whatsoever.
“Good,” Alice says.
Cora squints. “That’s it? No corrections?”
“I’m not asking you to perform an aria, merely a skirt hike,” Alice shoots back.
But she’s pleased. The gesture looked effortless. Elegance has crept into every aspect of Cora’s bearing. Gentility hasbecome second nature to this scrap of a thing, who mere weeks ago moved like a hayseed queued up to audition for a chorus girl slot.
