Up ahead, she glimpsed a large mansion through the fanlike trees, with a pretty glass tower on its roof that reminded her of the top of the Liberty Lighthouse. A knot of anxiety clenched in Deirdre’s stomach as she neared the gate and saw just how fine the house was—all Roman columns and porch rails hung with ferns. She smoothed her plain skirts and went up the porch’s steps. A plaque nailed to the clapboards next to the door said:
MISSMUNRO’SFINISHINGSCHOOL FORYOUNGLADIES OFCHARACTER
Deirdre looked over her shoulder once more, pulled in a shaky breath, and knocked.
Two girls answered, giggling as they jostled one another. One was fair haired, with a round face and a comely figure to match. The other was tall and slender as a coachwhip, with dark eyes and brown hair done up in long curls. The blonde swept her eyes over Deirdre and scowled. “I’m sorry, MissMunro isn’t hiring any help.”
“I ... I’m not here for a job. MissMunro should’ve had a telegram from Hannah Bledsoe? I’ve a letter from her, too.” Deirdre reached into her pocket and offered Hannah’s letter of referral.
The blonde snatched it from her hand, raising her brows. “Wait here,” she said.
The girls turned as one, slamming the heavy door shut behind them. Deirdre slumped, her shoulders rounding forward. She had no mind what she might do if they wouldn’t let her in. What if Gentry found her, out here alone?
Run little rabbit, run.
Minutes passed, soupy hot and slow. A bead of sweat crept down Deirdre’s temple, and she wiped it away.
The door swung open again. The blonde motioned her inside, her demeanor lit with frustration. The other girl had disappeared. “Come in,MissWerner. I’ll show you to your room. MissMunro will call you in for a conference this afternoon.”
“Oh, thank you.” Deirdre bustled over the threshold, relief flooding through her. “And it’s just Deirdre,” she said with a smile, hoping to warm the girl’s icy manner.
“MissMunro asks that we not address one another with our Christian names, MissWerner. But I’m Phoebe Darrow.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Phoebe sighed. “Likewise.”
They went through a vestibule lined with empty cloak hooks into a large, squarish foyer with hallways shooting off in three directions and a staircase at its edge. The house was fine enough on the inside to match the outside, if a bit plain, but cobwebs hung in the corners. Deirdre could hear muffled voices coming from behind the closed doors along the halls. She wondered how many students lived here, and whether she’d find friends among them.
Phoebe motioned toward the staircase. “You’ll have to room on the top floor. The attic. It’s the only dormitory with an open bed.”
Deirdre cast a wary eye up the dizzying rectangular spiral above her. The steps seemed to go on forever. But she was a mountain girl. She could climb. And she reckoned it would be good practice for when she became Robbie’s wife. There were even more steps to the top of the lighthouse.
She hefted her valise, heavy with her clothes and the added weight of Oma Anneliese’s grimoire, and followed Phoebe, her dress snagging on the sharp corners of the balustrade as they went up, up, up.
By the time they reached the fourth landing, her legs had gone as soft and useless as bread left too long to rise. She stopped to reclaim her breath in the heavy, Carolina-wet air. This wasn’t anything like walking up the slow and steady climb of Tin Mountain. This was terrible. She clawed at the high neck of her bodice, desperate to cool off.
Phoebe shot an impatient look over her shoulder. “You’ll have to get used to going up these stairs. Scrubbing them, too. We don’t have housemaids, only kitchen help.”
“Didn’t reckon so, given all the cobwebs.”
“MissMunro won’t favor your sassy mouth.” Phoebe huffed another annoyed sigh and flounced to the third door on the right. “This is it.”
Deirdre trudged down the hall, her lungs still heaving, and followed Phoebe into the room. It was spare, but brightly filled with afternoon sun. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves came through the window on a sea-rich breeze. Two beds stood on opposite sides of the garret; on one of them sat another girl.
She raised her neat brown head from a book. Dark-lashed eyes blinked behind wire spectacles. She was the prettiest thing Deirdre had ever seen, with a narrow, pointed chin and freckles sprayed like stars over her nose.
Suddenly self-conscious under the girl’s quiet regard, Deirdre ran a hand over her sweating brow. She must look a sight.
“I’ve brought your new roommate.” Phoebe’s lip curled. “This one’s from the sticks. You should hear how it talks.”
It.Deirdre clenched her teeth. She had the feeling if she didn’t stand up for herself from the start with Phoebe, things would only get worse. “My name’s Deirdre, like I told you. And you should know, MissDarrow, if you aim to cast aspersions, I give as good as I get.”
Across the room, a tiny smile lifted the corner of the pretty girl’s lips. Deirdre couldn’t mark whether the smile was friendly or merely amused.
“Dinner’s at seven.” Phoebe crossed her arms and eyed Deirdre’s rumpled clothes. “Surely, you’ve brought something better to wear? What you’ve got on now won’t do.”
“I’ll manage.” Deirdre set her valise on the bed by the window. The springs creaked in protestation. Phoebe gave a curt nod and stalked off.
