Chapter 28 Rotgut and Vittles #2
real surprise, given Arabella and budding scientist Harry have always gotten on so swimmingly. “But my parents can be quite
forceful in sheltering me.”
“I see.” Cora sighs. “Then . . . tell them that you must be there for, I don’t know, emotional support. For me. On such a
momentous occasion. We will be cousins by marriage, after all. I should think our close kinship means a lot to your mother.”
“Well. That is unarguable.” Arabella smiles hesitantly, looking more resolute by the moment. “All right, Cora. Yes. I will
try my best to be there.”
“Wonderful. And one more thing . . .”
Cora hesitates. How very important it is to walk the proverbial tightrope here. “I should like to know that I can truly count on you for emotional support. If I ask you for something come Tuesday, I would very much appreciate it if you would comply, with no questions asked.”
Again, Arabella’s brow wrinkles, but this time she smiles. “You can always count on me, Cora.”
“Good.” Cora squeezes the girl’s hand before letting go. “Now that that is settled, shall we return to the madness?”
The girls exit, laughing. As soon as the doors are open, Arabella peeling off to greet others, Cora nearly wilts with relief.
“Everything all right?” Alice asks archly.
Cora startles, turning to find her mentor looming over her.
Goodness, was Alice following her? Did she know Cora was in the theater? Does she have any suspicions as to why?
“Right as rain, dear cousin.” Cora offers a bland smile, steering her away from the theater doors. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
The rest of the party is a sickly blur. A late dinner of mush and cabbage, another round of rotgut punch, and then, once the
remainder of invitations have been delivered to their targets, she, Alice, and Ward take their leave—a quiet ride via Mr.
McAllister’s carriage to the apartment on Thirty-Eighth Street.
“Get some beauty rest, my dear duchess, my little heiress.” Mr. McAllister winks at each of them. “Big day come Tuesday.”
Alice retires to her chambers without another word. For once, Cora is relieved to have that door firmly shut between them.
Even so, she’s too pained to sleep. Tossing. Turning. This will be one of her final nights, she realizes afresh, in this snug
little bedroom she’s come to regard as home.
She hears a whistle of a kettle from the kitchen.
Perhaps she’s not the only one having trouble sleeping.
Cora ventures out to find Alice sitting at the table, one lone lantern by her side, brow stitched, poring over that damned ledger, as always.
She looks up curiously as Cora approaches.
We are all going our separate ways, Cora reminds herself. If I do not say this now, I’ll never have the chance.
“I have something to tell you,” she says evenly.
Alice leans back in her chair, placing down her pencil. “What a dramatic opening for a girl in a nightgown at four in the
morning.”
“And I need you to listen. For once.” Cora is surprised to find her tone remains level, despite her nerves. Steely, like Alice’s
own. “Because I really must thank you, Alice. You’ve changed my life, taught me everything. I know I can’t repay you. Nevertheless,
I’m going to try right now.” Tears, shockingly, sting her eyes, this little impromptu speech of hers suddenly feeling momentous.
She blinks them back. “I know you think you are infallible. Unflappable. Brilliant and sharp as an emerald yourself, and well,
you are, but . . .”
She takes a fortifying breath, ignoring the defensive skepticism playing over Alice’s face.
“You have built something here. Something worthwhile. And I’m not just talking about the con. I know you think it’s easier
to burn it all down, every last bit of it, and walk away, but you would be making a huge mistake. An irrevocable one.”
She dares a step closer.
“I’ve spent much of the past couple years convincing myself that vulnerability is stupidity, and in the process of trying not to play the fool, I’ve made countless foolish mistakes.
If you want to pretend I’m just a pawn, just a cog in the wheel of your game, that’s fine; cast me aside if you must. You’ve only known me for a matter of months, after all.
If I had my druthers, I’d prefer to continue to know you, but that’s your decision to make. ”
Cora presses her hands into the table, eyes sliding to the maid’s chambers across the hall.
“But I’ll tell you this as a parting gift. For all your grand plans and brilliant schemes, you are the most idiotic person
I know if you walk away from Béa. You deserve true happiness, Alice, same as anyone else. Showing love and showing weakness
are not one and the same. And of all the things I may have thought of you in private, I never took you for a coward. But here we
are.”
“Is that all?” Alice says, though there’s an uncharacteristic hitch to her tone. A now-familiar wrinkle forming in her forehead.
“Yes,” Cora says. “That’s everything. Good night, Alice.”
She closes her bedroom door without another glance. Buries her head under her blanket, her bittersweet satisfaction finally
eclipsed by exhaustion.