And now here Cora is. In position and out of ideas.
Down onstage, a sweet-voiced soprano sings to the tenor hero. Thanks to Béa’s lessons, Cora can make out a few of the words in the French libretto. Something about a letter, an engagement?
Cora presses her hand to Harry’s and nods to the stage. “Who is she?”
“Michaëla,” Arabella supplies. “His childhood sweetheart. Still in love with him, the fool.”
The box grows quiet. A discomfited Harry begins pulling at his collar.
“Apologies.” Arabella’s pale cheeks turn rosy. “You were asking Mr. Peyton, not me.”
She buries her face in her program.
“And yet, very useful,” Cora chirps. “Thank you, Arabella. Have you seenCarmenbefore?”
Arabella stays quiet.
“You’ll have to forgive my gloomy daughter.” Mrs. Ames leans conspiratorially toward Cora and Harry. “She’s pining for your cousin, the prince. Perhaps this opera is a bit heavy for her current spirits, but I thought this a perfect introduction to the opera for our Württembergian friends.” She flashes Cora a cloying smile. Then her eyes dart resentfully across the theater to the Vandemeers’ box. “Pity the duchess was unable to accept our invitation.”
“It was only that the Vandemeers asked her first.” Cora dares a little wink. “You know how they do so love to be first.”
“Indeed!” Mrs. Ames covers her snicker with her fan. “Veryaptly observed, my dear. I dare say, one visit to New York and you’re as canny as a native... and may I also say, we so hope to enjoy the closest possible relations with your dear family for many years to come.”
Cora valiantly resists the urge to roll her eyes. Had the devil himself arrived in New York and offered the Ames family a royal title, Mrs. Ames would have had her daughter penning letters to hell for the past three months.Who has been keeping up the other side of this princely correspondence?she wonders now.Béatrice? Mr. McAllister? Alice herself?
Cora lets out a giggle at the very thought. Mrs. Ames blinks, affronted.
“Forgive my wandering mind,” Cora says carefully. “I was caught in imaginings of all of these good times. Our new beginning here in this grand city.”
As Mrs. Ames nods, apparently mollified by that, Cora moves on, gazing across the open space, scanning the boxes surrounding them. There’s Ward in ridiculous white tails beside the stout, regal Mrs. Astor. The Witt and the Ogden booths side by side—Mrs. Witt ignoring the opera entirely while whispering something into the ear of her guest. Mr. Ogden staring rather obviously at Alice in the next box.
And Alice staring daggers at Cora.
Cora sits back, face flushing. Perhaps it’s time to use her own damned fan.
“There will be many visits to Württemberg on the horizon as well, no doubt,” Mrs. Ames says, drawing Cora’s attention once again.
Cora blinks, perplexed.
“Once the conflict has been resolved.” Mrs. Ames leans closer to speak over the swelling orchestrations filling theopera house. “We’d thought perhaps to divide our time between there and here once Arabella is wed.”
Harry leans across Cora. “After the weddings, I expect our families will grow closer than ever,” he says emphatically. “Like we used to be. For all the years to come.”
Arabella turns to peer at him with those waiflike eyes of hers, not exactly looking as if she’s happy with that forecast.
Harry looks away, suddenly flushed.
Cora chases away the guilt, teasing her throat like the start of a cold. She has a job to do tonight, no room for doubt. Alice may never think of her as an equal, or value her to the extent she might Mr. McAllister or Béa, but she is uniquely relying on Cora tonight.
And it’s time to deliver.
The theater erupts into applause as the curtain closes and houselights rise throughout the vast space.
“Intermission,” Mr. Ames grunts, walking out of the box more quickly than Cora’s ever before seen the man move. Not a fan of the opera, apparently. “Let’s go find a drink.”
“Oh, darling!” Mrs. Ames laughs awkwardly. “He does have a knack for putting into five words what it would take me seventy to say. A drink. Yes, let’s.”
Across the expanse of the Met, Mimi Vandemeer rises from her seat and turns to speak to someone. Alice stands more slowly, staring at the exposed clasp on the back of Mimi’s neck. Then back at Cora.
