by Kate Brian
“We’ll see about that,” Theresa said.
Agreed
Runaway slaves walked these steps, Eliza thought excitedly. They touched these walls. Of course, the runaway slaves probably didn’t have Petit Peu barking nonstop behind them, his high-pitched yap echoing off the walls. Genevieve and Marilyn had finally agreed to meet the boys, while Clarissa had stayed behind, listlessly promising to tell Helen that the others had gone to bed.
“Theresa Billings, if this tunnel doesn’t end soon, I’m going to go right back to Headmistress Almay and have her telephone your father,” Viola said, her voice tremulous. She gripped Eliza’s arm tightly.
“She can telephone all she wants. My father’s currently on a steamer bound for Portugal,” Theresa said, holding her lantern aloft.
“But didn’t you say that if we got into trouble, you’d phone him?” Lavender asked. She had insisted on bringing up the rear so she could keep an eye on everyone.
“I say a lot of things,” Theresa replied under her breath.
Suddenly Eliza heard a scrabbling sound, as if claws were scraping against the stone floor. She froze.
“Turn back,” a voice whispered in her ear, so close that a shiver raced down her spine.
“We can’t turn back now, Viola,” Eliza said. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
“Huh?” Viola said with a confused look. “Why are you telling me?”
“You just said ‘Turn back,’” Eliza replied.
“No, I didn’t,” Viola said.
“Yes, you did. You whispered it right in my ear.”
Viola’s face paled. “I didn’t say anything. Did you say anything?” she asked her sister.
“No,” Bia whimpered.
Suddenly everyone was whispering in a panic. “It’s a ghost. A slave ghost,” Viola said, grasping her sister even tighter as her eyes rolled around wildly, looking for the ghoul. “Oh, Bia. We have to get out of here.”
“Yes. Let’s turn back,” Genevieve said. “I did not come all this way from Paris to be murdered by a ghost.”
“There are no ghosts down here!” Theresa blurted in frustration, waving her lantern around. “Look what you’ve started, Eliza!”
“But I’m sure I heard something,” Eliza replied, her pulse racing. “Somebody said ‘Turn back.’”
Theresa clucked her tongue impatiently. “You just want to be the center of attention. Just like the mighty May.”
Eliza felt as if she’d been slapped. She had just opened her mouth to defend herself when Catherine stepped forward and took the lantern from Theresa.
“Girls, we’re almost there,” she said firmly. “Follow me.”
To Eliza’s shock, the girls fell almost entirely silent and did as they were told.
After several long minutes, Catherine paused. “I’ve found a door!”
She held the lantern up. Sure enough, it illuminated the grainy wood surface of a slated door set into the stone wall just ahead.
“Welcome to Gwendolyn Hall, ladies,” Theresa said.
Alice let out a squeal and rushed forward, shoving a few girls aside in order to be the first through the door. Theresa, however, had other ideas. She blocked Alice’s forward motion with one arm, then reached past Catherine to open the door herself. Instantly, warm light and the sound of deep voices filled the tunnel. Despite herself, Eliza’s heart took a few extra spins as she recalled their true reason for being here. She couldn’t help but hope to see the blond-haired boy from the great lawn.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Theresa said. “Do you have room for a few more?”
Whoops filled the air. Alice, Theresa, and Catherine stepped inside. Viola lifted her skirts up a good foot from the ground to keep them clean, dragging her sister and Eliza inside with her.
They emerged in the basement of Gwendolyn Hall, a wide, lowceilinged room that was nevertheless spotlessly clean and bright. Its walls were made of white plaster, its floor of dark gray cement. The boys had lit several lanterns and candles, all of which were set on a high shelf that ran clear around the room, their flames flickering jovially. Most of the boys were still in their formal day attire, but a few had tossed their jackets aside and undone their collars, taking on a far more casual appearance.
One of these was the boy from that morning.
As soon as Eliza saw him, she found she couldn’t move. He was laughing uninhibitedly with a group of his friends, and she had a moment to enjoy the sound, to let it fill her from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. Then he turned from his companion and found her with his eyes. His laughter stopped. Eliza’s knees all but gave out on her at that moment, and she was grateful to have Catherine at her side to support her.
“Eliza, do you feel faint?” Catherine shot her a worried look.
“No, no, Catherine. I’m fine,” Eliza said, blushing furiously.
At that moment, the boy’s companion turned around. His entire face brightened.
“Eliza Williams!” he said in a booming voice.
It took Eliza a moment to focus on this person who’d said her name. His pinstriped shirt barely contained his broad shoulders, and he wore a formfitting tweed vest. His tie was loosened, his sleeves buttoned at the wrist. His face seemed slightly square, which might have been due to an obviously fresh haircut that left him nearly shaven around the ears, but his smile was kind and his brown eyes warm.
“It’s Jonathan Thackery,” he said, bringing a large hand to his own chest. “We are to be brother and sister, once May and George wed.”
“Mr. Thackery, of course!” Eliza stepped forward and extended a hand, which he clasped in both of his. She had met Jonathan at the engagement party his parents had thrown for May and George over the summer, and they had spent nearly the entire next day sunbathing with their siblings on the lake near the Thackerys’ summer home.
“Allow me to introduce you to my friend here,” Jonathan said, slapping his hand on the blond boy’s back. “Eliza Williams of Beacon Hill, Boston, this is Harrison Knox of Manhattan, New York.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Williams,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Welcome to Easton Academy.”
Eliza opened her mouth to reply, though she wasn’t certain she would be able to get any words past the sudden tightness in her throat. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “Do you two know my friend Cath—” She turned to introduce Catherine, but the girl had slipped away. Eliza’s brow knit as she turned back to the boys. “Perhaps she was an imaginary friend,” she said, joking over her embarrassment.
Both Jonathan and Harrison laughed.
“Well, how did you find our tunnel, Miss Williams?” Harrison said, turning to the side slightly and, in effect, edging Jonathan out of the conversation. Jonathan joined a much more raucous group of boys who had formed a loose circle around a grinning Alice. “I hope the spiders and mice weren’t too unpleasant for you.”
“It takes more than mice and spiders to intimidate me,” Eliza replied. Feeling warm, she wished she had a fan of some sort, although an item might have seemed out of place in a damp, windowless basement. “On the contrary, I enjoyed it. It reminded me of something out of an adventure novel.”
Although I could have done without the eerie whispers, she thought with a shiver.
Harrison’s handsome jaw dropped slightly. “You read adventure novels?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Eliza asked.
Harrison considered this. “Everyone worth talking to, I suppose.”
Eliza smiled as he held out a hand toward a pair of chairs near the wall. She sat down, tucking her skirt beneath her legs. Her heart fluttered like mad as he sat next to her.
“What have you read?” he asked with genuine interest.
Eliza hesitated. Her mother would have a fit worthy of Marie Antoinette if she knew that Eliza was even considering telling him about the novel she had smuggled to school in her travel bag. She sat up a bit straighter and looked Harrison in the eye.
> “I’m in the middle of The Jungle by Upton Sinclair,” she replied.
His eyebrows shot up and he turned fully sideways in his chair, the soles of his shoes scratching against the cement floor. “I’ve just finished that one. What do you think of it?”
“I adore it,” Eliza gushed. “It’s horrifying in its vivid details, and the tragedy just mounts from page to page.”
Harrison smirked. “You enjoy tragedy, do you?”
“Of course not. But when Mr. Sinclair wishes to make a point, he’s certainly deft at making it.”
“Has he turned you socialist, then?” Harrison asked, a bit of a challenge in his voice.
“Hasn’t he turned you?” Eliza asked.
“Not I,” Harrison said with a laugh, shaking his head.
“But I’m glad his work caused the government to start regulating the working conditions in our factories.”
“But do you really think it’s enough?” Eliza asked. “What about the monopolies and the gang-run city governments? Just regulating wages and hours and cleanliness isn’t going to solve all the evils brought about by big business!”
“My word, Eliza Williams. You’ve certainly thought a lot on this subject,” Harrison said.
Eliza’s heart skipped an awful beat. “You’re teasing me,” she said, turning to face forward. The rest of her friends were just starting to feel comfortable enough to insert themselves among the boys.
“No, I’m not,” Harrison said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just . . . impressed.”
She dared a sideways glance at him. He nodded toward the rest of the party. “How many of them do you think are discussing politics and literature right now?”
Eliza scanned the basement. Alice was batting her eyes at no fewer than four boys, while Theresa and Jane were listening to two others in the corner. Lavender and Catherine sat alone together, conversing in low tones. The rest of the girls were giggling and casting glances at the various groups of boys.
“My guess would be none,” she said, smiling and looking down at her hands. “My mother would tell me to turn the topic toward the weather, or ask you about your family or your aspirations.”
“The weather is fine, thank you. My family is boring, and I aspire to keep talking to you for as long as possible, if you’ll agree to not mention any of those dull topics again,” Harrison said lightly, looking intently at her.
Eliza grinned. “Agreed.” For a long moment she held his gaze.
“Miss Williams, would it be too bold of me if I said that you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen?” he said quietly.
Eliza couldn’t breathe. She could barely even think. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her mother teaching her the proper way in which to react to a compliment: Cast her gaze down, blush, and either thank the boy politely or protest. But as Eliza looked into Harrison’s dark blue eyes, another answer came to her.
“Likewise, Mr. Knox,” she said.
He grinned.
“There you are, Harry! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Harrison nearly jumped out of his chair. Theresa was cutting across the basement purposefully, a hand outstretched toward Harrison, the engagement ring upon it twinkling in the candlelight.
“Theresa. You look lovely as always,” he said. He took her offered hand and kissed it, an everyday gesture that nevertheless made Eliza’s stomach twist into knots.
Theresa chuckled and slipped her arm through his, pulling him proprietarily to her side. Together they faced Eliza, who rose belatedly from her own chair.
“You’re ever the gentleman.” Theresa reached up and brushed an errant lock of blond hair off his forehead. The knots in Eliza’s stomach tightened. “I see you’ve met Billings’s newest student, Eliza Williams.”
“Yes. We’ve just been discussing our aspirations,” Harrison said, his tone suddenly formal.
Eliza stared at Theresa’s hand on Harrison’s arm. “How do you two know each other?”
“Oh, Harry didn’t tell you? He and I are engaged to be married,” Theresa said, thrusting her ring toward Eliza’s nose.
The entire world dropped out from beneath Eliza’s feet. She tore her eyes from the diamond long enough to glance at Harrison. He looked away sheepishly.
Engaged. He’s engaged. And to Theresa? How could he be engaged to someone so awful?
A sour desperation spread through Eliza’s gut. She knew she was to congratulate the pair and ask what season they planned to wed. But her mouth felt glued shut, and her thoughts were a confused tangle. Harrison had complimented her taste in books, her thoughtfulness, and her eyes. Was that standard behavior from an engaged man? Obviously she had misinterpreted his interest in her. Suddenly Eliza felt awkward, naïve, and pathetic.
“We’re thinking a spring wedding, right, Harry?” Theresa said, smiling up at him.
“Spring, yes. Spring would be . . . fine,” he said in a strangled voice.
And just like that, something snapped inside of Eliza. Anger crowded out her desperation—anger not at Harrison nor at Theresa, but at herself. She had promised herself she wouldn’t turn into May and sell her soul for a boy, yet here she was, on her first night, ready to cry over the first one she’d met. What had gotten into her?
She drew herself up and lifted her chin. “Congratulations,” she said. “I’m sure the two of you will be very happy together.”
Then she turned and strode over to join Jonathan, Alice, and two tall boys, resolving to put Harrison Knox and Theresa Billings entirely out of her mind. He was a flirt, and she was a witch. As far as Eliza Williams was concerned, they deserved each other.
My Harrison
“Everyone, stop here,” Theresa said as they emerged from the tunnel. She paused at the edge of the woods and glanced up at Crenshaw House, which stood just across an open expanse of the hill. The rest of the girls crowded behind her, camouflaged by the trees. Eliza stood at the back of the pack with Alice, her pulse pounding in her temples. She couldn’t stand how Theresa kept taking charge of every situation, how everyone looked to her as though she was some sort of messiah. All Eliza wanted to do was get inside her room, pull the covers over her head, and pretend this night had never happened.
“We’ll go across in twos,” Theresa said. “When you get there, keep to the wall and out of sight. I’ll go last and let you all in.”
Everyone nodded their agreement.
“Viola, Bia, you go first.”
As the two sisters sprinted off across the grass, grasping each other’s hands, Alice leaned in toward Eliza’s ear.
“I need your opinion on the boys,” she whispered.
“What boys?” Eliza asked, keeping one eye on Theresa. She was walking along the line of girls like some sort of army general.
“Jeff Whittaker and Christopher Renaud!” Alice said, wide-eyed. “You met them.”
“Right. Of course,” Eliza said, remembering the names of Jonathan’s other friends. Theresa glanced in her direction, then turned and walked back to the front, urging Genevieve and Marilyn to go next. A cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead, stirring up the scent of freshly fallen pine needles. In any other circumstances Eliza would have been taking in the scenery, enjoying the rare treat of being outdoors at night, but thanks to Theresa—and Harrison—she just couldn’t seem to relax.
“I’m deciding which one of them I’m going to allow to escort me to the welcome dance,” Alice said breathlessly. “You seem like a levelheaded girl, Eliza. Whom do you think I should choose?”
Alice grasped Eliza’s hand, and Eliza felt a rush of sudden and unexpected affection. Alice was almost like a little girl—a little sister, which was something Eliza had never had.
“Well, Jeff might be better for conversation, with his recent travels to talk about, but you and Christopher have similar coloring, so . . .”
“Oh my goodness, I hadn’t thought of that! We would make a handsome pair, wouldn’t we?” Alice gasped.
“But Jeff is so attentive. He actually noticed my shoe had come undone and risked his pant leg on that musty floor in order to refasten it for me! Oh, why does this have to be so hard?”
She looked up into the boughs overhead as if the trees would offer some sort of answer. Nearby, Catherine stifled a laugh.
“I’m sure you’ll make the right decision in the end,” Eliza said, squeezing Alice’s hand. “Perhaps you should go see Christopher at Easton tomorrow and ask where he summers. That may help tip the scales.”
Alice nodded solemnly. “Of course. Thank you, Eliza. I knew you were the right person to talk to.”
Catherine turned around then, clearly unable to stay away any longer. “She’s right, you know, Eliza. You may claim to have had no beaux, but clearly you understand the perils of romance,” she teased.
“Thank you, Catherine. I do consider myself a student of the human condition,” Eliza replied, feeling Theresa’s eyes on her as she sent Jane and Lavender off into the night.
Catherine laughed quietly. “That reminds me! I wanted to ask you, have you read The Canterbury Tales?”
“Oh, it’s one of my favorites!” Eliza held a hand over her heart. “The language, the imagery, the dialogue! Don’t you feel as if you’re right there with the characters?”
Suddenly, Theresa cleared her throat. She eyed Catherine and Eliza, her hands behind her back. “Catherine, Alice, you may go.”
“What?” Catherine said. “But I—”
“I know we always stick together, Catherine,” Theresa said as if humoring her, yet in a somehow condescending tone. “But I’d like to get to know our new charge a bit better.” She looked Eliza up and down in a way that made Eliza’s blood curdle.
Catherine gazed at them for a moment, then shrugged.
“All right, then. But play nice,” she added, giving Theresa a shrewd look. She took Alice’s arm and turned around. “Shall we?”
“We shall!” Alice said.
Theresa watched the two girls race off into the night, then turned toward Eliza. She placed the lantern down on the dirt path. The flame cast dancing shadows along the ground, but Theresa’s face was shrouded in darkness. Eliza’s pulse began to pound with apprehension.
