Like, say, anemerald.
Cora swallows hard. Time is ticking, options dwindling.
Across the theater, Mimi idly strokes her necklace, unknowingly taunting her.
Carmen’s second act is quite stirring. Cora is pleased to find that even with her limited French, she can follow the plot just fine. Without really intending to, she sinks into the story. The curtain close at the end of act 2 subsequently comes as a jarring surprise.
Second intermission. The lights turning on, the crowd below rising into animated conversation.
Cora looks again to the Vandemeers’ box, readying herself to begin tracking them, trailing them. But this time Mimi stays in her seat, stretching her arms with an extravagant yawn.
“I should like to stretch my legs, beat the crowd this time,” Harry says, standing. “You stay here.”
“Oh!” Cora shakes her head. “But—”
“I insist.” And he’s gone, right on the heels of Mr. and Mrs. Ames, off to visit with the Ogdens, if Cora’s heard correctly.
Cora stands staring at the Vandemeer booth, rendered immobile by newly learned social mores. She’ll drink her champagne when Harry returns and then she’ll go; she’ll run if she has to.
“Do you think I’m a fool?”
Cora startles and turns. She nearly forgot Arabella was still here.
The girl looks ghostlike in the corner, ivory dress making her milky skin appear bone white.
“Of course not,” Cora says, careful as porcelain. “Whyever would I?”
Arabella sighs. “Pinning all my hopes on someone I’ve never met. Rather than... well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Cora’s heart settles down to a more manageable pace. “You mean my cousin? I can assure you, he’s a man of honor. You couldn’t choose anyone more solid to, ah, pin your hopes on.”
“He sounds like Harry,” Arabella says, rather wistfully. She brightens, with effort, extending a hand to Cora. “You’ve made such a good choice, Miss Ritter. I’ve known Harry my entire life. He is such a find. Brilliant, in his way. A truly thoughtful, curious person, who sees the good in everyone.”
“Yes,” Cora agrees, perhaps too hastily, taking Arabella’s hand. “I could see that about him from the start.”
“I only hope I shall find a happiness equal to what you two have found.” Arabella sounds the furthest thing from happy right now.
“The barkeep convinced me to purchase a bottle,” Harry says sheepishly as he enters the booth again, cradling three empty coupes in one arm. With hope, he looks to Arabella. “I’d love touncorkone smile out of you tonight, Bella.”
Arabella’s eyes glisten, but she musters a grin.
As Harry begins happily pouring, Cora seizes on the momentary distraction.
“Oh heavens,” she blurts. “Mimi will be so put out if I don’t at least say hello—”
And then she’s out the door like a cannon blast... only tobe waylaid by Ward McAllister, who appears to be standing in wait for Cora, his hand outstretched like a horse tamer, a look of sharp amusement in his eye. “Not so fast, my dear, not nearly so fast.”
A sour taste rises in Cora’s mouth at the sight of him. She cannot say why, but she’s most certainly grown to dislike the man. Perhaps only because she’s jealous. He’s clearly a true associate of Alice’s, or however Dagmar put it during their visit to the saloon. And by that logic, Ward knows the whole game far better than she does.
Cora supposes she’d be wise to listen to him.
“We’re halfway through intermission,” she whispers, drawing nearer.
“Which leaves me just enough time to stop you from making a colossal mistake,” he drawls, that “cat who stole the cream” expression plastered thick on his bearded face. He takes Cora’s arm and strolls with her farther down the hall from the saloon crowd. “If you undertake this swap of yours in the booth, as you are no doubt planning, you’ll have all of New York high society as witness to it. That emerald’s already drawn their eye. The Vandemeers’ box is practically a second opera stage tonight. I know you’re a consummate performer, but surely this is a magic trick you’d prefer not be talked about all over town for days to come.”
There’s a whole lot of sense in what he’s saying, loath as Cora is to admit it.
“What are you suggesting?” she whispers back.
