“You were still in Württemberg, were you not, for Mrs. Witt’s Night of Illusions? Though perhaps you came for lunch or tea?”
“I asked one of Mrs. Witt’s servants for a quiet place, is all,” Cora says breezily.Focus, Cora. No need for any contradictions, not when we are so close.“Please. Come sit.”
Arabella slides beside Cora onto one of the nearby chairs.
“I know you are anxious about your future, Arabella,” Cora starts. “But I assure you, Württemberg is a truly breathtaking place. Green pastures as far as the eye can see. Rolling mountain ranges. The Black Forest, with its shining lakes. Around every corner, there are treasures to rival even the mines themselves.”
Arabella nods absently, studying her lap. “So I’ve heard.”
“And yet I know all these things can feel so very... abstract,” Cora continues. “Only painted in your mind’s eye through Wilhem’s letters, which can be unnerving.” She steals a breath. “Which is why I think you should join us at the embassy next week.”
Arabella looks up. “The embassy?”
“Mr. McAllister will be handing your parents an invitation at some point tonight,” Cora explains. She takes Arabella’s hand. “Despite to whom the card is specifically addressed, as your friend, I beseech you to be there as well. Württemberg is your future home, after all, and you should be fully informed about the mines andyourcompany. How the new investment structure impacts your future.”
Arabella lets out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure my parents would agree. One of our housekeepers was once dismissed just for allowing me a glimpse of a grocery bill. They prefer me to keep my mind... unpolluted.”
“I don’t believe a solid grounding in finance to be anything but useful,” Cora retorts. “Do you think so, truly?”
“I would always prefer to know more rather than less,” Arabella admits, rather shyly—though the girl’s answer comes as no real surprise, given Arabella and budding scientist Harry have always gotten on so swimmingly. “But my parents can be quite forceful in sheltering me.”
“I see.” Cora sighs. “Then... tell them that you must be there for, I don’t know, emotional support. For me. On such a momentous occasion. We will be cousins by marriage, after all. I should think our close kinship means a lot to your mother.”
“Well. That is unarguable.” Arabella smiles hesitantly, looking more resolute by the moment. “All right, Cora. Yes. I will try my best to be there.”
“Wonderful. And one more thing...”
Cora hesitates.How very important it is to walk the proverbial tightrope here.“I should like to know that I can truly count on you for emotional support. If I ask you for something comeTuesday, I would very much appreciate it if you would comply, with no questions asked.”
Again, Arabella’s brow wrinkles, but this time she smiles. “You canalwayscount on me, Cora.”
“Good.” Cora squeezes the girl’s hand before letting go. “Now that that is settled, shall we return to the madness?”
The girls exit, laughing. As soon as the doors are open, Arabella peeling off to greet others, Cora nearly wilts with relief.
“Everything all right?” Alice asks archly.
Cora startles, turning to find her mentor looming over her.
Goodness, was Alice following her? Did she know Cora was in the theater? Does she have any suspicions as to why?
“Right as rain, dear cousin.” Cora offers a bland smile, steering her away from the theater doors. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
The rest of the party is a sickly blur. A late dinner of mush and cabbage, another round of rotgut punch, and then, once the remainder of invitations have been delivered to their targets, she, Alice, and Ward take their leave—a quiet ride via Mr. McAllister’s carriage to the apartment on Thirty-Eighth Street.
“Get some beauty rest, my dear duchess, my little heiress.” Mr. McAllister winks at each of them. “Big day come Tuesday.”
Alice retires to her chambers without another word. For once, Cora is relieved to have that door firmly shut between them.
Even so, she’s too pained to sleep. Tossing. Turning. This will be one of her final nights, she realizes afresh, in this snug little bedroom she’s come to regard as home.
She hears a whistle of a kettle from the kitchen.
Perhaps she’s not the only one having trouble sleeping.
Cora ventures out to find Alice sitting at the table, one lone lantern by her side, brow stitched, poring over that damned ledger, as always.
She looks up curiously as Cora approaches.
