Do it, please, she silently signals.It’s for your own good.
Cora’s eyes clear. She understands.
“Very well.” Cora clasps her hands formally in front of her bosom. “‘Unt... Demelisk... in Pleinum.’”
As Alice sits, she motions for Mr. Ogden to retake his seat beside her.
Cora draws a deep breath and begins.
“In de pelleper gons phillipa, den shutten goss ver plitti-plat—”
“She is describing our brooks and rivers,” Alice murmurs low into Ogden’s ear, her own voice like velvet. She feels his attention returning to her, bit by bit.
“Unt fa bellingen sha pilsner...,”Cora goes on, her voice rising rather too prettily.
“And here is where the warbling really kicks in!” Alice announces, clapping.
Cora grits her teeth for a beat, before going on,“In Pl-EI-ei-EI-ei-EI-num.”
“Heavens,” Mrs. Ogden breathes.
“And again!” Alice chirps.
Cora’s yodel is even more impressive in the recapitulation:“In Plei-EI-ei-EI-ei-EI-ei-nuuuuuuuuuum.”
If this song reminds Alice of anything, it’s the howling of stray cats in heat in the alley below their house. The poor girl is perfectly—and she does meanperfectly—wretched.
She grants Cora a standing ovation, putting her out of her misery rather than torturing her—indeed, them all—with a second verse. Ward and Ogden clap along, Ward with a hearty whistle, while Mrs. Ogden glances bemusedly around at the rest of them before applauding and murmuring, “That’s how it’s meant to sound. My goodness.”
“Here in America, you have the expression ‘voice of an angel,’” Alice says. “In Württemberg, we say, ‘Stimme einer Schleiereule,’ which means ‘voice of a barn owl.’ Much more highly prized. Well done, Miss Ritter,Stimme einer Schleiereule, indeed.”
“Thank you, cousin,” Cora says sweetly, sitting beside Mrs. Ogden once more. “Where are the dogs? Oh, they’ve fled, haven’t they.”
Ogden now watches Cora with a mix of amusement and disgust. Objective achieved.
“Returning to our earlier discussion,” Ward begins.
“Yes.” Ogden pivots back to Alice with renewed enthusiasm. “The mines. My dear friend... I hope I may be informal in calling you by your own given names, Marie... Charlotte... Gabriella...”
He draws each name out like a caress. Ridiculous man.
Alice slowly lifts her eyes to peer at him through her thick lashes. “My intimates call me Marietta. And so may you.”
With a swift glance to check that his wife is occupied—she is, as the dogs have deemed the room safe to return to—Ogden takes Alice’s hand and presses a kiss to it, murmuring against it, “Darling Marietta.”
“As to themines,” Ward cuts in, thankfully breaking the moment in two. “I think it’s fair to say there is nobody on our fair shores Her Grace would rather be financially entangled with than you, Mr. Ogden. Not even yours truly, though goodness knows I’ve tried.”
“We may yet come to an arrangement.” Alice laughs dotingly. She widens her eyes as she turns to Mr. Ogden. “And if my brother, the grand prince, does see the value as I’ve expressed it of forming stronger alliances abroad, opening up our company to a very select group of American investors, you would be my very first and most essential... partner.”
A look of almost sensual rapture overtakes Mr. Ogden’s marble statue of a face.
Before he can act on it further, Alice stands.
“Oh, Cora, you’re looking very fatigued since your performance. Perhaps you are growing ill. Come, let us take ourleave.” She hurries across the room to Mrs. Ogden, kissing her fervently once on each cheek. “You have honored us beyond words with this invitation. It was a night we will not soon forget.”
“Nor will I,” Mrs. Ogden says, her eyes bugging a little as they dart to Cora, no doubt in reminiscence of that “stirring” performance.
Their hostess sees them to the door, her fingers picking idly at the seam on Alice’s sleeve.
