“Well, I just hope it ain’t tuberculosis. The nights have been chilly this year, and it wouldn’t take much for a cough to become something more if you’d been out in the cold.”
I can feel Katherine’s glare and the man raises an eyebrow in my direction, but I keep my expression mild. Auntie Aggie used to say I was like as not to poke Satan with a stick just for fun. Guess not much has changed.
Mostly I’m just thinking about Miss Anderson being in cahoots with the mayor and whatever he’s done with Lily and the Spencers, as well as her comment about pickaninnies, and every mean-spirited thing she’s done to me. It takes all the self-restraint I have to keep from launching myself at her and beating her senseless. But I’m saved from doing anything untoward by Miss Preston entering the room. She takes in the tableau before her and frowns. “Is something amiss?”
“No, ma’am,” Katherine says, a smile breaking out over her face, making her look like an angel from a painting. My anger and disgust grows a little more, fed by a mean streak of envy. I grit my teeth and say nothing. Katherine didn’t pick the face she was born with, and it ain’t her fault her perfect smile makes me want to break things. My dark feelings are my own problem, and I aim to keep them that way.
Miss Preston sits heavily in her chair with a sigh. “Well, then, I suppose we should get to the reason as to why we’re here.” She shuffles through a stack of papers on her desk and pulls out a lovely cream-colored vellum envelope. “In recognition of your . . . heroics at the Baltimore University lecture, the mayor’s wife has invited you girls to a formal dinner. A few of her close friends have lost their Attendants lately, and she would like you to augment her household staff in order to guarantee her guests’ safety.”
Katherine gives me a wide-eyed look, but I don’t feel any of the excitement I see on her face. The penny under my blouse has gone cold.
Miss Preston continues. “This is an excellent opportunity to present yourself to the finest ladies in all of Maryland. Miss Anderson and Mr. Redfern here will be taking you to be fitted for Attendants’ wear. At Mayor Carr’s expense, of course. Miss Anderson will also be accompanying you to dinner as your chaperone to ensure that you represent the school with dignity and honor.”
My penny is a snowball at the hollow of my neck, and I ain’t at all encouraged by Miss Preston glossing over the fact that multiple Baltimore Attendants have been killed, presumably within the city limits. All my anger at whatever Miss Anderson and the mayor have done with Lily and the Spencers disappears, replaced by fear.
I’m shaky and out of sorts as I take a deep breath and let it out. “Miss Preston, I’m honored by the invitation, but I’m afraid I must decline.” My words come out too fast, my tongue tripping over syllables. I see my end in this fine invitation, and I ain’t a hog to go happily to the slaughter, no matter how pretty the ax.
Miss Preston opens her mouth to speak and I continue, in an attempt to cover my lack of grace and decorum. “What I mean is, it would be terrible of us to accept such a generous offer without including Miss Duncan. She was instrumental in putting down the restless dead, and I just don’t feel right taking advantage of such an invitation without her.”
“I’m sure our honorable mayor would be happy to include your teacher as well.” Mr. Redfern’s voice is a low rumble, and I barely manage to keep myself from jumping in surprise. I’d forgotten he was even standing there in the corner, as intent as I was on not ending up at the mayor’s dinner.
Miss Preston smiles. “Well, it’s settled then. You girls will be excused from classes tomorrow for your fitting, and next week you will attend dinner at the mayor’s residence.” Miss Preston levels a withering look at me. “Try to conduct yourselves in a matter befitting a Miss Preston’s girl. After all, a contract with a good family is the difference between a future and, well . . .” She trails off, giving us knowing smiles.
“Thank you, Miss Preston! We are doubly blessed, and we will not let you down,” Katherine chirps in answer, all but bouncing as we take our leave.
Behind us, Miss Preston asks Mr. Redfern in a low voice, “Have you or the mayor heard anything further on the Edgars’ disappearance?”
I whirl around, perhaps too quickly considering that I ain’t supposed to know anything about missing families, but I meet Miss Anderson’s eyes. Her smug expression convinces me to keep on walking out of the room and unleashes a barrage of worry that unsettles my stomach.
She’s got the look of a cat that just caught a mouse. No wonder I feel like squeaking.
Momma, I do hope you’ll share news of Rose Hill in your next letter. How is everyone? Did the cabbages and okra do well this year?
Do you still love me?
Do you still regret having me?
Do you miss me half as much as I miss you?
Chapter 11In Which I Remember Rose Hill and My Momma’s Sworn Enemy
That night, exhausted and preoccupied with the mayor’s untimely invitation, I do the same thing I always do when I’m fretful: I dream of Rose Hill, and of Rachel, the only person I ever knew to hate my momma.
My momma is an unusual woman. She didn’t much like the whole concept of slavery no matter how honorable it was, and there were rumors that she was sore disappointed with her husband, the major, when he left her to fight for the Confederacy. But the strangest thing about Momma, the thing that made some of the neighbors smile tightly and alienated all the rest, is Momma’s rumored penchant for field hands—the stronger,
