“But you have one another.” Priscilla glanced around where all six girls made up the entourage climbing alongside her.
Mary Grace waved a hand through the air and laughed. “We don’t count. By this point, we’ve all read the same books, gone on the same adventures, taken the same walks, and met the same people.”
“You, Allison—may I be so bold as to call you Allison?” At Priscilla’s nod, Lady Isadora continued. “You are like a window to the world.”
“I would like to hear about the school. What the teachers are like, what you do when you don’t have classes,” one of the twins spoke up.
“I’m happy to tell you everything.” Priscilla laughed nervously, all her misgivings returning. She was going to have to be extra careful what she said around these delightful young ladies. Dear lord, this was a complication she hadn’t considered.
Because Priscilla was inclined to address them as a teacher would. They were the age of her students—Allison’s age.
She must be careful not to fall into her typical role with them.
“I’ll tell you everything,” she said again. “But on one condition.”
The girls all paused, curious as to what her demand might be.
“Of course,” Isadora answered.
“That you tell me all your names again.”
Priscilla could not remember the last time she’d experienced such a warm and enthusiastic welcome—anywhere. Even when she’d first come to the school she’d had to prove herself worthy.
By the time Lord Hardwood’s sisters drifted out of the magnificent suite she was to share with Chloe for the next two weeks, most of Priscilla’s nerves had settled down.
And the suite was, in fact, splendid.
Priscilla dragged her fingertips along the silk counterpane as she drifted across the plush rug to stare out the window.
“I’ve never seen anything this beautiful.” Even her brother’s estate, which was also set on a cliff along the sea, didn’t offer views such as this one.
“It makes me a little dizzy.” Chloe refrained from joining her. “I feel as though the floor could drop out from me any moment, plummeting both of us onto the rocks to be carried out with the tide.”
This sensation reminded Priscilla of why they were here, and she nodded, feeling somber again. “They are all so… kind.” She shook her head. “This would be so much easier if they were like the Metcalf girls.”
“Allison would have wanted to come herself if they were like the Metcalf girls,” Chloe said, wandering through an opening to an adjacent room. When she returned, her eyes were wide and almost dreamy. “This bathroom has running water, Priscilla! And the tub! Oh, my stars, I might just have to marry him myself.”
But Priscilla was wincing. “Chloe…”
“I’m only kidding.” But she was already disappearing again. “Hang up the primrose frock while I give this bath a try. Or better yet, wear the puce. It turns your complexion green.”
“Wonderful.” Priscilla stared at herself in the mirror. “What if I don’t want to look green?”
“Then stick with the primrose. You look like a corpse in that one.”
* * *
Priscilla pinched her cheeks, hoping to draw out a tinge of color. Because they’d agreed she ought to put a drab foot forward and decided on the primrose gown after all.
And Chloe had been correct in that it leached every ounce of color from Priscilla’s complexion.
Having spent an excessive amount of time lounging in the incredible tub, Chloe hadn’t as much time to fuss with Priscilla’s hair as was necessary to affect the most obnoxious ringlets Allison preferred.
“Confound it, Pri—Allison! You almost look pretty.” Chloe sighed as she jabbed the last pin into Priscilla’s coiffure. They’d decided on a high updo with straggling curls and ribbons that matched the gown. It wasn’t a style a teacher would ever wear, but unfortunately, it was almost too sophisticated for their purposes.
“We’re out of time, so it’s going to have to do.” Indeed an hour had passed since the dinner gong sounded. “Lady Isadora should be here any moment.”
Priscilla rose from the vanity, fluffing the gown and the sleeves that rivaled the fullness of the skirt itself, and sure enough, a knock sounded.
