“I don’t mean tonight,” Cora persists, a desperate hitch to her tone as she continues down the corridor. “I mean earlier, before, before... all of this.”
Alice turns to face the girl, eyes aflame. “I willnotspeak of it! Leastof all to you!”
Cora flinches in turn. It’s as Alice intended, but she still feels the insult as if she’s launched it at herself.
She runs to her room and locks the door for good measure, protecting herself against any kind of intrusion against her person. Her mind, her body—what’s the difference?
Outside the door, she hears Cora’s rustling skirts. Pacing footsteps. And finally, silence.
Alice places the derringer on the floor between her bed and the door and stares at it, unmoving.
She begins to cry but forces herself to be quiet. She can hear that Cora has returned and is now speaking in a low voice to Béatrice outside. She waits, knowing the gentle knock will come, and when it does, it hurts more than anything else she’s experienced tonight.
“Alice?” Béa’s sweet voice seeps through the door. “Are you all right?”
She doesn’t answer. Half of her wishes Béa would knock again, perhaps try a bit harder, but she doesn’t. Alice can feel her standing there, however, keeping silent vigil, as Alice balls up in her undergarments, not bothering to change further, and falls into a shaky dreamless sleep.
She rises early. Before the others. She is dressed, ready. She can rely on Dagmar not to say a word beyond, “Coffee?” which feels to her the most beautiful word in the world at the moment.
She is seated upright and alert by the time Cora rousesherself enough to poke her head into the study. Alice doesn’t look up from the letter she’s penning.
“Good morning,” Cora ventures.
Alice lets her squirm for a minute before acknowledging her. She’s not even sure why. “Can I help you with something?”
Cora’s smile drops off completely. “No. Just letting you know I’m stepping out for a bit.”
“Bring Béa with you,” Alice blurts, her foolish heart pumping wildly all of a sudden.
Cora shakes her head. “She’s at the dressmaker’s. Picking up—”
“Dagmar then.”
Cora’s face softens with understanding. “Alice, you don’t need to worry for my safety—”
“For appearance’s sake,” Alice snaps. “Can’t have rumors spreading about Miss Ritter’s lack of propriety. Not now, when we are so very close.”
Cora nods, the image of practiced possession, despite the new shine to her eyes. “I understand. You can rely on me. Entirely, Alice.”
She turns away and shuts the door quietly behind her before Alice can gather her defenses once again.
Not now,Alice repeats to herself, spreading her fingers wide to keep them from shaking as she returns to her letter.Not now, Alice. So very close.
Chapter 24
Chasing Headlines
Cora shifts awkwardly as Dagmar lets out a loud, late morning yawn, stretching her thick legs across the hansom cab.
“Comfortable?” Cora asks.
Dagmar, always a lady of loquacity, simply shrugs.
Cora gathers her jade velvet skirts, edging closer to the window, covering her mounting, soul-consuming vexation with a practiced smile. To say something is going on with Alice would be a colossal understatement, and even still, Alice expects Cora to merely nod and smile demurely and obsequiously obey her every command.
Well, that ship has long sailed away. Cora has grown to deeply care about the woman—as a mentor, as a friend—and moreover, she suspects the fondness might even be mutual. If Alice will not let her in, she simply needs to find another door, another window. Shewillget access, insight, today, unforeseen complications be damned—all it will take is a very slight detour to shed her culinary keeper.
The carriage careens around Washington Square Park, bustling now with promenading ladies, a rainbow of fashionable dresses and parasols, businessmen striding purposefullyacross the gravel walks ribboned through the green oasis. The palette turns rather sharply into monochrome as they venture into the Lower East Side, the soot-stained tenements and tight alleys grayed by shadows and overcast gloom, as if even the sky is leached of joy south of First Street.
