The Book of Spells (5 page)

Eliza’s face burned, but she ignored the girl’s barb. “It’s our first night here together. Shouldn’t we do something . . . exciting?”

Across the room, Marilyn stopped cooing and Genevieve stopped playing the piano. Bia and Viola leaned forward with interest.

Lavender eyed Eliza timidly. Helen frowned. Only Clarissa didn’t move. She simply turned the page in her book, her brow knit, the picture of concentration.

“Like what?” Catherine asked, folding her cards on the table.

“Isn’t there a phonograph here? Maybe we could dance,” Alice suggested excitedly.

“Or we could go visit the boys,” Theresa said, walking in through the open parlor door. She wore a formfitting deep red dress with a matching cape. Her thick black hair hung loosely down her back, and she’d changed her necklaces to a set of crimson beads. Eliza fought the urge to scowl at the girl’s arrival.

“I’m listening,” Alice said.

“Helen. We’d like some water,” Theresa said without even looking at the young maid.

The girl sighed, but dutifully got up from her chair. “Yes, Miss Billings,” she said, and left the room.

“Jane, Viola, Bia, and I know some of the boys at Easton from back home,” Theresa said as soon as Helen was gone. “And I happen to
know that they’re all going to be gathering at Gwendolyn Hall tonight. They do it every year on the first night at school.”

“Ooooohh!” Alice cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“I’ll go get my wrap!” Jane offered, dropping her needlepoint in her chair.

“How would we get there?” Viola asked.

“There’s a tunnel not far from Crenshaw, at the edge of the woods. It will take us right there,” Theresa said, her dark eyes gleaming as she placed both hands on the back of Eliza’s vacated chair. “I overheard my father and his friends talking about it at cards. It’s amazing the things you learn about men when they think they’re on their own.”

“So you want us to sneak out of here in the dark and take some tunnel to Gwendolyn Hall to meet the boys?” Eliza asked skeptically.

“Precisely.”

“Are you sure about this?” Catherine asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “If we get caught, we’ll be forbidden from the welcome dance. And that’s the best-case scenario.”

“Helen already overheard your plan,” Clarissa pointed out from her chair.

“Helen just heard me suggest it,” Theresa replied. “She won’t report us unless she sees us leave.”

“But I do not wish to be kept from the dance,” Genevieve said. She placed the top on her box of chocolates and tucked them away into a quilted bag she had slung over her shoulder.

“Nor do I,” Marilyn added, her accent even thicker than
Genevieve’s. According to Alice, the two of them had grown up together in Paris. Eliza hadn’t seen them leave each other’s side all day.

“Oh, come on, girls. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt us,” Theresa said, waving a hand. “Besides, I own this place, remember? If she threatens us, I’ll just telephone Father. He owes me after insisting on that change to our curriculum.” She walked to the door and grasped the brass doorknob. “Now, do you want to stay in here under lock and key all night, or would you rather go on a little adventure?”

Though she hated to admit it, excitement pounded through Eliza’s heart at the word
adventure.

“Is the tunnel safe?” Lavender asked.

“Of course it is,” Theresa replied, rolling her eyes. “My grandparents and the Eastons had it built as a hiding place for runaway slaves back in the day.”

“The Underground Railroad?” Eliza asked.

Theresa nodded. A few of the other girls wrinkled their noses and shuddered, but Eliza was intrigued.

“Not that you’ll be coming along, Eliza,” Theresa said, looking her up and down.

Eliza blinked. “Why ever not?”

“Why, you’re a Williams,” Theresa said with a snort, looping her arm through Catherine’s. “The faculty might have revered your sister, but that girl wouldn’t know an adventure if it jumped out of a bush and bit her. Given your love of libraries, I have to assume you’re cut from the same bland cloth.”

Eliza’s jaw dropped, and Theresa turned to face the room. “The rest of you, go get ready. I’ll wait for you outside. But hurry. Helen will be back soon. Perhaps Eliza can tell her we all went up to bed.”

Catherine eyed Eliza sympathetically. Eliza felt as if her insides were about to burst.

“I’m coming with you,” she said in a determined voice.

Theresa paused. She turned around and raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Eliza said firmly. “I am
not
my sister. I’m always up for an adventure.”

“We’ll see about that,” Theresa said.

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?”