Watching the preparations for dinner causes a lump to rise up in my throat. A wave of homesickness like I’ve never felt washes over me, and I place a hand on my middle. Sudden tears threaten, and I blink hard to force them away. It’s been so long since I’ve been to Rose Hill that I wonder if the whole memory ain’t some kind of fever dream.
Does my momma even miss me? All my memories of Rose Hill are filled with her—her voice, her delicate beauty. But here, so many miles from home, I have to wonder if the place even exists. For all the letters I post to her regularly, Momma hasn’t written me in over ten months.
Is she even still alive? I could be writing to a ghost. Or worse, a shambler.
It’s a question I’ve refused to ask myself. I don’t want to think about what it would do to my world if Momma is dead. The only thing that’s kept me going at Miss Preston’s is the way Momma looked at me when the truant officer pulled me away toward the waiting pony. “Be the best. Learn what you need to learn and come back to me,” she’d said. So I will.
Now, I’m almost ready to graduate from Miss Preston’s, but I have no idea if there even is a Rose Hill to return to anymore. What is my future? This, right here, standing at the edge of a room like a piece of furniture?
The dinner bell rings, jarring me out of my reverie. I slip out of the dining room and into the gathering area, falling back to where the ladies mill about, waiting for their escorts. Katherine looks over as I sidle up, wearing her lemon-eating face.
“Where have you been?” she whisper-yells at me.
“I was right there in the doorway, watching the entrances. Why’re you so out of sorts?”
Katherine just gives a quick shake of her head, and I shrug. Whatever’s amiss, she ain’t sharing.
“Well, Jackson is in the dining room, by the by, all decked out like a servant.” I glance over in the direction of the white ladies, who talk to each other behind fans and gloved hands. They cast us curious glances that ain’t the least bit friendly. I look around the room and frown. “Where are their girls?”
Katherine glances around as well. “That is an excellent question, Jane. Perhaps you would have heard how most of them were dismissed after their cowardly behavior at the lecture, if you had joined us in the sitting room.”
“They dismissed their girls? Just like that?”
Katherine adjusts her gloves and ducks her head in respectful acknowledgment to a young fellow that can’t seem to stop staring at her. “Just like that. But get this: apparently there is some sort of scandal with folks going missing. The Edgars never made it home from Miss Preston’s two weeks ago. Their pony was overrun and they were consumed by shamblers! All things you would know if you hadn’t been off skulking about.”
“I was watching the entrance—”
Katherine silences me with a single glare. “There’s something going on here. Between the Edgars and the Spencers . . . Keep your head about you, Jane. And in the meantime, don’t ruin this opportunity for me.”
Folks line up to enter the dining room, the mayor and his wife at the front of the line. Katherine and I stand along the wall at attention, but even though we’re doing just what we’re supposed to, I can feel Miss Anderson’s glare burrowing into me, and I stand a little straighter. I ain’t going to afford that woman an excuse to give me any grief. But mostly, I don’t want to ruin things for Katherine. The mayor and his Survivalist pals might be as corrupt as the night is long, but this is the life she wants, and even though I’m lukewarm on her, I won’t do anything to stand in the way of her future.
Formal dinners require a procession from the sitting rooms into the dining room, a process I find to be the height of silliness. All the men and women pair off and go marching in to eat food that’s like as not gotten cold by the time they get there.
A handsome young swank comes to offer his arm to Katherine, and she reddens. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, sir. I’m an Attendant.” The man looks like he’s about to object to her polite refusal, but then he catches an older woman’s eye and moves off to escort a homely girl in a yellow dress instead.
Once everyone has filed into the dining room Katherine and I follow the dinner party in. “Well, that was a whole barrelful of awkward,” I say.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Katherine says stiffly, her eyes darting around like she’s afraid she might be on the dinner menu.
We take up our places along the wall opposite the serving board, a space left vacant for serving girls and Attendants. Someone clears his throat loudly next to me. I look to my left and all but groan.
“Mr. Redfern.”
“Indeed, Miss McKeene.”
“You here to keep an eye on us? It would be difficult to steal the silver when everyone’s using it.”
His lip twitches. “You aren’t the only one working tonight.”
I nod. “Well, then, what exactly are we supposed to do?”
“Wait and watch our betters eat.” The man crosses his arms, and there’s a recognizable bitterness to his voice that asks for no response.
The first course is served, a cream-based soup the servants ladle out from a large tureen. I sniff the air. Crab bisque. It looks heavenly. Mr. Redfern watches me intently, and I shrug. “What?” I ask.
“You aren’t missing anything,” he says. “What they’re eating is a little past it’s prime, carted in days ago from the docks. You girls eat better out at the school.”
My stomach growls, and I shift. “Would that we had eaten.”
Mr. Redfern shrugs. “Lesson learned I suppose.”
It’s the
