I sucked in, and the corset’s whalebones cinched in. “Too tight!”
“Too fat is more like it.” She gave one final tug before deftly knotting the laces. Then she helped me layer on the petticoats, bustle, skirts, and polonaise of the same gray gown I’d worn yesterday. It was a walking gown, so the train was shorter and allowed easier navigation of the Philadelphia sidewalks. Plus, the smoky color had the advantage of not showing dust.
“Where is it you’re goin’?” Mary asked, her mouth pruned skeptically. “You did the shopping yesterday, and the bank is closed today.” As my mother’s devoted servant, Mary kept no secrets from Mama—or rather, she only kept secrets when the payment was good.
I ignored her probing and focused on pinning my gray, feathered hat at the perfect jaunty angle. As I was pushing in the last pin, a loud knock startled us.
Mary and I exchanged wide-eyed glances before racing from the room. We reached the foyer just as Jeremy opened the door to find Allison Wilcox, flushed and beautiful in a sky blue walking gown. My eyebrows rose in a combination of awe and envy as she swept past Jeremy into the foyer.
“What brings you here so early?” I asked. A morning call could ruin my trip to the Spirit-Hunters—what if Mama woke up before Allison left?
“After last night, Clarence, Mother, and I were dreadfully worried.” She clapped her hands and leaned close. “But it was all a grand hoax?”
I tried to murmur an agreement, but all that came out was a strange gurgling sound. If only it had been a hoax.
Allison’s eyebrows shot up. “I knew it! Now come with me to the Continental. I’m just dying to have tea and show off my new gown.”
I blinked rapidly, at a complete loss for words. She wanted to spend time with me? And at the Continental Hotel no less?
Allison, sensing I needed an extra nudge, added, “I heard the Brazilian emperor is staying there! What if we caught a glimpse? Patience and Mercy would just die with envy!”
I forced a chuckle. Emperors? Overpriced tea? This was definitely not how I wanted to spend my morning—to say nothing of my outfit, which was absolutely unfit for luxurious society.
“Um, wh-who would chaperone?” I asked.
She gave a tinkling laugh and shook her head. “We don’t need a chaperone, Eleanor! It’s not as if we’re going to the theater or a party. I go to tea without Mother all the time.” She held out her arm and crooked it, waiting for me to slip my own arm through. “Now, are you coming or not?”
No chaperone? But that meant... My breath caught in my throat. That meant I had an escape! Ugly dress or not, this was a gaping wide opportunity for an unrestrained trip to the Spirit-Hunters!
My lips twitched with excitement, and before Mary could utter a protest, I snatched my parasol from beside the door and scooted outside with Allison.
We scurried to her family’s carriage—a well-made, black coach that could easily fit eight people.
Allison slid across the purple satin cushions to a window, tied back the lilac curtains, and then gestured for me to do the same. As I fumbled with ribbons, the horses clattered to a start.
I leaned close to the carriage window and watched the mansions, elaborate fences, and well-tended yards roll past. Usually I navigated the hour-long trek into the city on foot or sat crammed on a horse-drawn streetcar. To ride without dust, mud, or horse manure flying into my face—no wonder Allison could wear such a brilliant blue dress!
I snuck a glance at her beautiful gown and then stared mournfully at my own. My petticoat hems were frayed from all the scrubbing I’d put them through, and they’d long since evolved from white to a mottled brown. Plus, there was a rather obvious rip from that dratted old man’s boot at the depot.
Allison poked me with her parasol. “So how’d you do it?”
“Do what?” I shifted my body to face her.
“The séance, of course! How’d you get the floor to shake and the air to freeze?”
I lifted one shoulder and said casually, “It was all real, of course.”
“Pshaw! I don’t believe that.” She wagged her finger at me. “Your mother used to throw all sorts of séances—my mother told me so—but they were never so wild as that.”
I frowned. How did Mrs. Wilcox know about Mama’s séances? I thought we’d only known the Wilcox family a short while. Strange...
The carriage pulled onto busy Chestnut Street. Hackneys and wagons rattled by, and as we crossed the bridge with the Schuylkill River glittering below, the first buildings of downtown Philadelphia came into view. Shop after shop—all with enormous signs shouting their wares: BOOTS & SHOES, STRAW GOODS, GLASS & SILVERWARE—were interspersed with saloons, banks, restaurants, and offices.
Allison prodded me with her parasol again. “Clarence wants to know if you’re available tomorrow.”
“Huh?” I grunted.