Part 5 (1/2)

”Much more flattering to you than to me. Even dead, I'm far prettier than you are.” She laughed her spooky little laugh and ran her bony fingers through her tufts of hair. Looking at me closely, she touched my nose. ”Consider that b.u.mp in your nose: it's especially unattractive and bound to get worse as you age.”

She jumped off the chair and did a few turns about the room, as graceful as a sylph in a ballet. Perhaps more so, for a living ballerina could not have floated as lightly as Sophia did.

”I must say, I enjoyed hearing Aunt's response to the sight of you in my dress,” she said. ”Poor old thing to mistake you for me-her eyesight must be failing.”

She twirled around the room again, her ragged skirt floating around her. ”I still have Aunt wrapped around my little finger, but she positively detests you.”

”Why don't you haunt her and leave me alone?” I asked. ”She'd be happy to see you.”

”Aunt is a boring old bat. She was useful when I was alive, but now...” Sophia shrugged. ”I have no need of pretty things or sweets. Indeed, it's a relief not to make a pretense of loving her. Why should I continue the charade by appearing to her?”

”You are the most wicked creature I've ever met,” I whispered. Despite my own feelings toward Aunt, I was glad she hadn't known Sophia's true nature.

Sophia smiled as if I'd complimented her. Twirling back to the chair, she settled next to me, numbing me with cold. ”Poor James is so afraid of me,” she giggled. ”Did he scream and cry and throw a tantrum at the sight of you?”

I tried to move away from her, but she kept me close to her. ”He told me you want him to die,” I said.

Sophia twirled a strand of hair around her finger and curled it into a ringlet. ”I was cheated,” she said. ”James was meant to die, not me.”

”How can you believe such a thing?” I asked. ”No one knows who is meant to die and who is meant to live.”

Clenching her fists in anger, Sophia jumped to her feet. ”It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!” she screamed like a small child. ”Why should he be allowed to make me miserable even after I'm dead? Didn't he make me miserable enough while I was alive?”

Frightened by her anger, I cowered in the chair. ”I cannot believe James ever caused you pain,” I whispered.

”He was born, wasn't he? Isn't that enough?” Giving me a look of pure hatred, Sophia ran from the sitting room. Behind her, the fire died down, nearly extinguished by the draft of cold air she created.

As soon as she was gone, the flames on the hearth leapt up, snapping and crackling, but it took a long time for them to warm the icy air.

When I was certain I was alone, I drew my knees to my chest and curled up in the chair like a cat. I tried to lose myself in my novel, but instead of reading Thackeray's words, I heard Sophia's voice in my head, taunting me. What did she want with me? Could I really resist her? Or was James right about her being too strong for me to fight?

Just before the clock struck seven, Nellie appeared in the doorway. ”Miss,” she said almost fearfully, ”I come to say dinner be ready and they be a-waiting on ye.”

”Nellie.” I ran to her side and took her arm. To my dismay, she flinched as if she expected me to hit her. ”Oh, Nellie, I am so sorry I spoke harshly to you. I don't know where those words came from. Please accept my apologies.”

Nellie studied my face, her eyes troubled. ”Ye scairt me, miss. I thought I'd done summat wrong to make ye so mad.”

”No, you did nothing wrong.” I gave her a quick hug. ”I promise never to speak to you like that again.”

Nellie nodded and darted out of the room as if I'd embarra.s.sed her.

Behind me, I heard a mocking laugh. ”You have the mind of a servant,” Sophia whispered. ”Soon you'll be helping that detestable girl with her ch.o.r.es.”

A draft swept out of the room ahead of me and vanished into the shadows.

In the dining room, Uncle sat at the end of the table and Aunt sat at his right. They looked at me but neither smiled. Their faces were solemn. Indeed, Aunt's was grim.

”Sit down, Florence,” Uncle said.

I sank into my chair across from Aunt. It was clear she'd told Uncle about my disobedience. Lowering my head, I toyed with my spoon, moving it to the right and back to the left. I had no appet.i.te for the steaming soup in front of me.

”You know that James needs peace and quiet,” Uncle said. ”He must not be upset or disturbed in any way. Yet you entered his room without permission and frightened him.”

”I'm very sorry, Uncle.” My face burned with shame. Unable to meet his eyes, I kept my head down. ”I never meant to harm James-I just wanted to meet him. I didn't think-”

”You are a thoughtless, selfish, disobedient girl,” Aunt interrupted. ”Excuses cannot change what you did. It is unforgivable.”

”Now, Eugenie-” Uncle began.

”The girl is a troublemaker. I sensed it from the first.” She took a deep breath and added, ”If you need to be convinced, listen to what else Florence has done. She went to the attic and removed things from Sophia's trunk.”

To my mortification, Aunt pulled Clara Annette from her lap and brandished the doll as if it were evidence in a criminal trial. ”I found this hidden in a drawer in her bureau.”

For a moment, we all stared at the doll as if we expected it to speak.

”The head is broken beyond repair,” Aunt went on, nearly in tears. ”It was Sophia's favorite, very expensive. I brought it home from Paris. A Madame Jumeau doll with a little trunk of clothing, made to order to match Sophia's wardrobe. And look at it. Look at it!” She shook the doll in Uncle's face.

Uncle tried to say something, but Aunt wasn't finished. ”There's more. When I caught her in James's room, she was wearing Sophia's best dress. Then do you know what she did with it? Thrust it into the coal fire in her bedroom. She could have burned down the house!”

”That was very foolish.” Uncle turned to me, clearly puzzled. ”I don't understand your reason for burning the dress.”

”I had to get rid of it,” I wept. ”I had to!”

”You see?” Aunt leaned toward her brother. ”The girl doesn't have good sense. Who knows what she'll do next?”

Uncle shook his head sadly. ”I do not understand,” he repeated. ”Your thoughtless act endangered us all.”

”I recommend locking up the kitchen knives,” Aunt said, her lips pursed so tightly, she could barely speak. ”Next she might take it into her head to murder us in our beds.”

”Now, now, Eugenie,” Uncle said calmly, ”you are on the verge of hysteria.”

”I'm sorry.” I wrung my hands in dread and remorse. ”I'm truly, truly sorry, Uncle. If you wish to send me back to Miss Medleycoate, I'll go.”

”Send you back to Miss Medleycoate?” Uncle stared at me. ”Whatever gave you such an idea? You're my flesh and blood, Florence. I have no intention of sending you away.”

”Except to boarding school,” Aunt said primly. ”We have agreed to that, brother. At Saint Ursula's Academy, Florence will be taught etiquette and deportment. She will cease reading novels and apply her mind to serious moral works.”

Uncle Thomas winced at his sister's rising voice. ”Perhaps we should discuss these issues at some other time,” he said, ”when we are all calmer. It's obvious that Florence is sorry she behaved thoughtlessly.”

”Thoughtlessly.” Aunt looked heavenward as if seeking patience. ”Her behavior is more than thoughtless, Thomas. In my opinion, it borders on malice.”

Malice. I stared at my aunt. If she knew Sophia as well as she thought she did, she'd have a better idea of the difference between malice and thoughtlessness.

”She is clearly jealous of her cousin Sophia,” Aunt went on. ”Why else would she destroy her things and upset her brother? Poor, blameless Sophia, struck down in her youth and beauty by a cruel accident. How can anyone be jealous of a dead girl?”

”I am not jealous of Sophia,” I said. ”She-”