She walked past her brother and took the dress without looking at any of them. She held it to her chest and went to the screen to put it on, folding the old one carefully into the corner. She pulled the laces tight and smoothed the skirt.
It fit like it was made for her.
It was the first thing that had in a long time, and when she walked back out, all three boys looked a little stunned by it.
“Well,” said Matthew. “Good.”
Teddy was still frowning.
“Do you have pomade?” Roland was already asking, hopping off the desk and craning his neck from side to side, his own hair, long and curling and golden, looking perfectly styled in the morning light. “I can pin it up, but I need something to make it neat.”
“Can’t you just use water?” Teddy asked impatiently, making Roland turn and stare at him for such a long time that her brother actually blushed.
“Pomade,” said Matthew absently. “Father keeps some in the washroom.”
“Do you have any pins, Vix?” Roland asked kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her toward the washroom. “I only need a couple.”
She nodded. The top half of her hair was pulled back in a loose coil to keep it off her face. She knew it was not done very well, but it was all she knew how to do herself, without her mother to stand behind her with a comb and help.
Teddy was helpless about it, of course.
Roland knew how to do a woman’s hair because he lived in the bawd house with his parents. He knew how to use curling wands and ribbons and pins. He’d shown her how to do the little half twist she was wearing today, though of course the job she’d done of it made her wonder if she was doomed to be a bad student after all.
“Ugh, it smells like turpentine,” Roland commented upon finding the pomade. “We’ll only use a little. No wonder Matthew refuses to use any at all.”
She sat on the little stool and let him comb through her hair, pulling the frizzy stack of her brushed-out natural curls into order. He had told her to stop using the horsehair brush, but she was always losing the comb.
She was glad he did not chide her about it today. Perhaps it was because he knew she was nervous.
The pomade did indeed smell terrible, but she thought it looked very nice once he’d worked some into her dark tresses. It made the strands shine prettily, like polished wood.
“How far away is Bath-Spa?” she asked him, holding the pins up in the palm of her hand. “Will I be able to visit?”
He met her eye in the mirror as he twisted her hair into a glossy rope. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never left London. I suppose you can write if it is very far away, though.”
“I can, that is true,” she said with a frown. “None of you will write me back, though.”
“Matthew will,” Roland answered, plucking up two of the pins and wiggling them into her scalp. “He loves writing things.”
She pressed her thumbnail into her palms, watching herself in the mirror. “It is all right,” she said, studying her reflection to see if the lie would show, “I don’t need letters.”
“There,” Roland said, pushing the last pin into place. “Look at me for a moment.”
She turned, raising her dark eyes to meet his as he reached up above her ears and worked two little strands of hair out of the pinned coil, twisting them around his fingers with the remnants of the pomade until they held the artificial curl.
He released them gently and gave her a little half smile. “Perfect,” he said. “No more frizz.”
“Perfect,” she repeated, and glanced back at herself.
Or whoever it was, there, in the mirror.
“They’re here,” came Matthew’s voice as soon as they emerged. He sounded harried, scattering drying powder all over his father’s desk with manic haste. “They’re early!”
Teddy was frowning, running his big hands over his hair. “Should I—”
“No!” Matthew said, glancing up with his eyes wild. “Not you. Reed.”
“Fine,” said Roland, squeezing Vix’s shoulders and spinning away to meet the assessors at the church door.
