The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (282 page)

As she sat in the cushioned seat of her bay window overlooking sun-streaked Beacon Hill, she folded her dog-eared copy of
The Jungle
in her lap, making sure to keep her finger inside to hold her place. She placed her feet, new buckled shoes and all, up on the pink cushions and pressed her temple against the warm glass with a wistful sigh. It was September 1915, and Boston was experiencing an Indian
summer, with temperatures scorching the sidewalks and causing the new automobiles to sputter and die along the side of the roads. Eliza would have given anything to be back at the Cape Cod house, running along the shoreline in her bathing clothes, splashing in the waves, her swim cap forgotten and her dark hair tickling her shoulders. But instead, here she was, buttoned into a stiff green cotton dress her mother had picked out for her, the wide white collar itching her neck.

Any minute now, Maurice would bring the coach around and squire her off to the train station, where she and her maid, Renee, would board a train for Easton, Connecticut, and the Billings School. The moment she got to her room in Crenshaw House, she was going to change into her most comfortable linen dress, jam her floppy brown hat over her hair, and set out in search of the library. Because living at a school more than two hours away from home meant that her mother couldn’t control her. Couldn’t criticize her. Couldn’t nitpick every little thing she wore, every book she read, every choice she made. Being away at school meant freedom.

Of course, Eliza’s mother had other ideas. If her wishes came true, Billings would turn Eliza into a true lady. Eliza would catch herself a worthy husband, and she would return home by Christmas triumphantly engaged, just as her sister, May, had.

After two years at Billings, eighteen-year-old May was now an engaged woman—and to a Thackery, no less: George Thackery III, of the Thackery tanning fortune. She’d come home in June, diamond ring and all, and was now officially their mother’s favorite—though truly, she had been that all along.

Suddenly, the thick oak door of Eliza’s private bedroom opened and in walked her mother, Rebecca Cornwall Williams. Her blond hair billowed like a cloud around her head, and her stylish, ankle-length gray skirt tightened her steps. She wore a matching tassel-trimmed jacket over her dress, even in this ridiculous heat. The Williams pearls were, as always, clasped around her throat. As she entered, her eyes flicked over Eliza and her casual posture and flashed with exasperation. Eliza quickly sat up, smoothed her skirt, straightened her back, and attempted to tuck her book behind her.

“Hello, Mother,” she said with the polished politeness that usually won over the elder Williams. “How are you this morning?”

Her mother’s discerning blue eyes narrowed as she walked toward her daughter.

“Your sister and I are going to shop for wedding clothes. We’ve come to say our good-byes,” she said formally.

Out in the hallway, May hovered, holding her tan leather gloves and new brimless hat at her waist. May’s blond hair was pulled back in a stylish chignon, which complemented her milky skin and round, rosy cheeks. Garnets dangled from her delicate earlobes. She always looked elegant, even when she was destined only for a simple day of shopping.

Standing over Eliza, her mother leaned down and snatched the book right out from under Eliza’s skirt.

“
The Jungle
?” she said, holding the book between her thumb and forefinger. “Elizabeth, you cannot be seen at Billings reading this sort of rot. Modern novels are not proper for a young lady. Especially not a Williams.”

Eliza’s gaze flicked to her sister, who quickly looked away. A few years ago, May would have defended Eliza’s literary choices, but not anymore. For the millionth time Eliza wondered how May could have changed so much. When she’d gone away to school, she’d been adventurous, tomboyish, sometimes even brash. It was as if falling in love had turned her sister into a different person. If winning a diamond ring from a boy meant forgetting who she was, then Eliza was determined to die an old maid.

“Headmistress Almay has turned out some of the finest ladies of society, and I intend for you to be one of them,” Eliza’s mother continued.

What about what I intend?
Eliza thought.

“And you won’t be bringing this. I don’t want the headmistress thinking she’s got a daydreamer on her hands.” Her mother turned and tossed Eliza’s book into the crate near the door—the one piled with old toys and dresses meant for the hospital bazaar her mother was helping to plan.

Eliza looked down at the floor, her eyes aflame and full of tears. Then her mother did something quite unexpected. She clucked her tongue and ran her hands from Eliza’s shoulders down her arms until they were firmly holding her hands. Eliza couldn’t remember the last time her mother had touched her.

“Come, now. Let me look at you,” her mother said.

Eliza raised her chin and looked her mother in the eye. The older woman tilted her head and looked Eliza over. She nudged a stray hair behind her daughter’s ear, tucking it deftly into her updo. Then
she straightened the starched white collar on Eliza’s traveling dress.

“This green really does bring out your eyes,” she mused. “You are a true beauty, Eliza. Never underestimate yourself.”

An unbearable thickness filled Eliza’s throat. Part of her wanted to thank her mother for saying something so very kind, while another part of her wanted to shout that her entire life was not going to be built around her beauty—that she hoped to be known for something more. But neither sentiment left her tongue, and silence reigned in the warm pink room.

“May. The book,” her mother said suddenly, snapping her fingers.

Startled, May slipped a book from the hall table, where it had been hidden from view, and, taking a step into the room, handed it to her mother.

“This is for you, Eliza,” her mother said, holding the book out. “A going-away gift.”

Silently, Eliza accepted the gorgeous sandalwood leather book with both hands, relishing the weight of it. She opened the cover, her eyes falling on the thick parchment pages. They were blank. She looked up at her mother questioningly.

“Today is the beginning of a whole new life, Eliza,” her mother said. “You’re going to want to remember every moment . . . and I hope you’ll remember home as well when you write in it.”

Eliza hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you, Mother,” she said.

“Now remember, May is one of Billings’s most revered graduates,” her mother said, her tone clipped once again. “You have a lot to live up to, Elizabeth. Don’t disappoint me.”

Then she leaned in and gave Eliza a brief, dry kiss on the forehead.

Eliza rolled her blue eyes as her mother shuffled back down the hall. Then she bent to pluck her book from the box but froze as something caught her eye: May was still hovering in the hallway.

“May?” Eliza said. Usually her sister trailed her mother like the tail of a comet.

May looked furtively down the hall after their mother, then took a step toward Eliza’s open door. There was something about her manner that set the tiny hairs on Eliza’s neck on end.

“May, what is it?” Eliza asked, her pulse beginning to race.

“I just wanted to tell you . . . about Billings . . . about Crenshaw House,” May whispered, leaning into the doorjamb. “Eliza . . . there’s something you need to know.”

“What?” Eliza asked, breathless. “What is it?”

“May Williams! I’m waiting!” their mother called from the foot of the stairs.

May started backward. “Oh, I must go.”

Eliza grabbed her sister’s wrist.

“May, please. I’m your sister. If there’s something you need to tell me—”

May covered Eliza’s hand with her own and looked up into her eyes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” she said earnestly, her blue eyes shining. “Promise me, Eliza, that you’ll be safe.”

Eliza blinked. “Of course, May. Of course I’ll be safe. What could possibly harm me at a place like Billings?”

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs stopped them both.
Renee rushed into view, holding her skirts up, her eyes wide with terror—the sort of terror only Rebecca Williams could inspire in her servants.

“May! Your mother is fit to burst,” she said through her teeth. “Mind your manners and get downstairs now.”

A tortured noise sounded from the back of May’s throat. Then she quickly gave Eliza a kiss on the cheek, squeezing her hands tightly. “I love you, Eliza. Always remember that. No matter what happens.”

Then she released Eliza and was gone.

“Elizabeth Williams?”

Eliza’s foot had barely touched the platform at the Easton train station when she heard her name. A broad, straight-backed woman with a wide nose and sharp eyes approached Eliza, her outmoded black feathered cap perched firmly atop her head. Flanking her, but staying a few steps behind, were two girls about Eliza’s age. The first had auburn ringlets, blue eyes, and a bright smile. She was dressed in the latest fashion, though perhaps a bit overdone for daytime, with the elaborate lace trim of her full yellow skirt perfectly matching that of the collar and sleeves of her short jacket. She wore white-and-brown buttoned shoes and a hat with a turned-down brim, just like the one May had purchased last weekend on her trip to New York with their mother. The second girl was far more understated. Her modest blue-and-white striped dress was similar to Eliza’s, with a wide white collar and gathered waist. She wore sensible brown shoes and a plain
blue cap over her golden blond hair. Her clear blue eyes met Eliza’s, and she smiled.

Renee alit next to Eliza. “I am Elizabeth’s escort.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the woman said with a nod. “I am Mrs. Hodge, head maid of the Billings School for Girls. This is Alice Ainsworth, and this is Catherine White.” Stylish Alice twittered her fingers in greeting, while Catherine gave a polite nod.

“Hello.” Eliza lifted her chin, rounded her shoulders, and clasped her traveling bag with both hands.

“Our man has already been sent round to gather your things and bring them back to the school.” Mrs. Hodge reached out a thick arm toward Eliza and flicked her fingers in the direction of a busy thoroughfare.

Eliza’s heart began to pound with anticipation. This was it. She was about to say good-bye to Renee and the life she’d always known. Excited as she was, tears sprang to her eyes when she turned to the maid who had taken care of her every day since her birth.

“Good luck, Eliza,” Renee said, clasping her hands.

Eliza wrested her hands from Renee’s and pulled her into a hug. She inhaled her maid’s familiar, comforting scent of lilac and lemon.

“Thank you, Renee,” she said, her voice shaking.

Renee touched Eliza’s cheek with her palm as she pulled back. “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”

Eliza nodded. As her maid walked off, she wiped the tears from her lashes and took a deep breath, her chest puffing up as she filled her lungs with the sooty air of the train station. She was free. She was
really and truly free. A wide grin spread across her face, and it was all

she could do to keep from spinning in a gleeful, wide-armed circle.

“You look like the cat that just swallowed the canary,” Alice commented, her tone sly.

“Do I? I suppose I can’t quite believe I’m actually here,” Eliza said, falling into step with the two girls as they trailed behind Mrs. Hodge.

“Where are you from?” Alice asked.

“Boston,” Eliza said. “And you?”

“Philadelphia,” Alice replied, swinging her bag in a girlish way as she walked. Catherine opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off. “The most tedious place on Earth. Catherine here is from Georgia. She’s quite quiet. Then again, my mother says I am not quiet enough, so perhaps we will balance each other out.”

Alice laughed, while Catherine met Eliza’s gaze and shook her head slightly. Eliza had a feeling that Catherine would have spoken if she were given the chance.

“Are you both returning students?” Eliza asked, wondering if either of them had known May last year.

“Not me,” Alice said. “I spent last year at a school near home, but this year I begged to be sent away.”

“I’m new as well,” Eliza stated.

“Well, then, I’ll have to help you two navigate the school,” Catherine said, finally able to chime in. “I’ve been here three years. Billings is my home away from home.”

Then she definitely knows May,
Eliza realized, a twist of disappointment in her chest. But there was nothing she could do to change the
fact that May had attended Billings first. All she could do was make sure to make her own impression. One that showed everyone she wasn’t just a mini May.

Outside the station, the sidewalk bustled with travelers. A young woman took her two children by the hand as a dusty motorcar sputtered past. A few boys Eliza’s age joked around next to a pile of trunks and cases, clearly waiting for their own transportation to arrive. Nearby, a couple of men in open-collared shirts and dirt-caked pants loaded up an open wagon with huge sacks of grain. One of them caught Eliza watching and gave her a wink before grabbing another bag. Eliza blushed and rushed to catch up with the others.

“Here we are, ladies,” Mrs. Hodge said, pausing next to a large black coach outside. “Our driver, Lawrence, will help you in.”

“She should say
adorable
Lawrence,” Alice commented, quiet enough to seem as though she was trying to go unheard, but still loud enough that Lawrence did a double take. Eliza raised an eyebrow. Flirting with the help had never been an accepted practice in her world, and most servants were overlooked as if they were invisible. Eliza decided she liked Alice for noticing Lawrence’s doelike brown eyes—even if the attention had clearly made the now-blushing boy uncomfortable.

Alice placed her hand eagerly inside young Lawrence’s as he helped her into the carriage, grinning right at him until he looked away. Catherine was next. When Lawrence held out his hand to Eliza, though, she waved it away.

“I’m fine,” she told him, grabbing the handles on either side of
the door and hauling herself up under her own strength. As Eliza dropped ungracefully into the seat next to Alice, Mrs. Hodge shot her a disapproving look. But Eliza didn’t care. She didn’t need a man’s help just to get into a coach, and now that her mother wasn’t around to criticize, she wasn’t about to accept it.