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itÇ|á{xw Uç Uxv~ç [A Part I ~ Boston Chapter One Beacon Hill, 1845 “Look at the ice sculpture,” Michaela breathed. “Shh,” Marjorie scolded as she and Michaela, clothed in their nightgowns and bathrobes, made their way carefully along the carpet near the banister. They crept down the first few steps and looked at all the dancing below. All of Boston’s most eligible young men had come to attend Claudette’s cotillion. Michaela’s older sister was positively ravishing in her white ball gown, her beautiful red hair put up for the first time in a fountain of ringlets as she waltzed with David Lewis. Michaela thought she had never seen her sister look so stunning. Earlier that afternoon, when Michaela glanced at herself in Claudette’s long mirror while Martha and Elizabeth helped Claudette into her elaborate ball gown, she was only disappointed. Her hair was something in between, not red but not exactly brown either, and was straight as a pin. She had odd eyes that were two different colors that everyone felt the need to point out to her endlessly as if she didn‘t know, she was far too pale and thin, and her chest couldn’t be flatter. 1 All of her school friends had corsets. And her school friends were talking about getting their first monthly and having their first beau and doing all sorts of firsts Michaela had never experienced. Martha, her nanny who lived with them and whom Michaela was far closer to than she ever was Elizabeth, had hugged her once and told her she’d catch up and everything would work itself out, but Michaela had her doubts. Michaela found her gaze falling on David. His family lived a few blocks away and he was often her playmate when they were little, but he was seventeen now and had lost interest a long time ago in letting a little girl tag along with him. When she was eight he went off to his private secondary school, a boarding school where he stayed overnight even though it was only a few miles outside of Boston, and she really never saw much of him anymore. She was twelve now and she still missed his companionship. She was always fond of him. But tonight, for the first time, she noticed how tall he had become, how strong, and how handsome. She felt a little fluttering of her heart she had never felt before for him or anyone. “For my cotillion I’m going to have three ice sculptures,” Marjorie announced, always up to outdoing her sisters. “Three swans. What do you think of that?” The waltz finished and Claudette and David broke apart and clapped politely. Marjorie nudged her. “Michaela! Are you listening to me?” “Hmm?” Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Never mind.” “Look at David Lewis,” Michaela murmured. “Isn’t he tall?” “Hmm,” Marjorie said, unimpressed. “I like the one in uniform. That‘s Everett Haynes. He just came back from Texas. He’s a war hero. Fought at the Alamo. He‘s going to be a general someday.” “Boo,” a voice said softly. Marjorie nearly choked and Michaela felt like she jumped a foot in the air. They slowly turned around, guilt all across their faces. David smiled at them wryly as he crouched beside them. “I thought I saw two mice up here.” “Don’t tell our parents,” Michaela whispered. “I won’t. Do you want some punch?” He held out two glasses filled with the bright red treat. “No thank you,” Marjorie said haughtily. “I’m going back to bed. Michaela? Come.” Michaela hated the way her sister talked to her like she was a lap dog. “No, I want to watch the dancing a little more.” “If you don’t come I’m telling Father you snuck out.” “Go ahead and tell him. I’ll tell him it was all your idea. He always believes me.” 2 “Of course he does. You’re his favorite.” Marjorie left them quietly and disappeared down the hall. David chuckled softly and handed Michaela a glass. “Here” Michaela took a sip shyly, glancing at the dancers. She felt like she should say something. But David was so handsome this close she was tongue tied. “You, you like my sister?” she blurted at last. “What sister?” “Claudette. It’s her cotillion.” “Oh. Her. No, I don’t like her. I mean, she’s pretty and everything. But I’ve got a lot more important things to think about.” “Why did you come then?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose my parents expect me to go to things like this when I’m invited.” He gently touched her shoulder and pointed down at the dancers. “See there? That skinny boy over by the painting. That’s Charles Atkins. That’s who she fancies.” Michaela wrinkled her brow. “Really? How can you tell?” “Whenever he comes by to talk to her she starts drinking. He makes her throat dry.” She giggled softly and sure enough as Charles walked over to ask Claudette to dance again she started drinking down her punch. “She is. Look.” David laughed. Michaela sat back, gazing at him with interest. “What are the more important things?” “Hmm?” “You said you have more important things to think about.” “Oh. University, I mean. Then medical school.” She perked up. “You want to be a doctor?” “Of course I do. I always said I did, didn’t I?” “Well, I know you said so. But saying is one thing. Doing is another.” “I’ve been accepted to Yale. I start in the fall.” “Not Harvard?” “Oh, who needs Harvard? I want to go to Yale.” 3 “It’s awfully far.” Her face fell a little. She would have liked to visit David at the university. But her parents would never let her make a trip to New Haven by herself, not at her age. And she would die of embarrassment if she had to take along Martha or one of her sisters or heaven forbid her mother. “Father says they’re building a medical school, in Philadelphia. For girls.” He smiled at her softly. “Well, then, maybe you’ll go to medical school, too, someday.” “Not maybe. I am,” she said resolutely. “Father’s preparing me for it.” “Good. You should learn as much mathematics as you can. So you can pass the entrance exams. Algebra, trigonometry, calculus, too.” David was one of the few people who never laughed when she talked about medical school. Instead, he encouraged her. “All right, David. I will.” “Study hard. Maybe by the time you’re my age, Yale will allow women in, too.” He grasped her hand and gave it a little kiss. “I better get back to the party. I wish I could stay up here. Talking to you is much more fun.” He winked at her and then padded down the stairs. * * * “I wanted some filet minion,” Marjorie griped as she laid on Claudette’s down coverlet in the early morning sunshine. “Martha just gave us leftovers for dinner in the kitchen. They were cold.” “I thought it was fun to eat in the kitchen,” Michaela said as she climbed under the covers with Claudette, holding her bathrobe around herself against the chill. “You think the oddest things are fun!” Marjorie replied. “Who wants to eat with the servants?” “I do. I pretend I’m Cinderella slaving away waiting for the right slipper to fit,” Michaela said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Marjorie said. “Really, Michaela, you and your pretending,” Claudette added. “It’s not healthy. I keep telling Mother she ought to make you stop.” Michaela rested her head against her shoulder, ignoring their comments. “What else did you eat?” She held her hand. Claudette was never very demonstrative when Michaela was just the opposite, always wanting to hold hands or be in her father‘s lap or anyone who would indulge her, but Claudette let Michaela cuddle with her just this once. It was, after all, the morning after the most important night of Claudette’s life thus far. “Well, there was a cheese platter with dozens of different kinds of cheeses from Europe. And truffles. And champagne.” “Oh, did you have a sip? How was it?” Michaela asked curiously. “What was it like?” Marjorie added. “I don’t know. It tasted strange. Like a sweet bubble bath.” 4 “I suppose that’s why they call it bubbly,” Michaela said astutely. “And Charles?” Claudette blinked, surprised. “Charles?” “Charles Atkins. The one you like.” “How did you know that?” Claudette blurted. “I mean, why would you assume such a thing?” Michaela just smiled softly as she thought about David and how he had found her sister out. Claudette cleared her throat. “Well, we, we talked,” she admitted. “For awhile. A long while.” “Will he call on you again?” Marjorie asked. “I don’t know. I think he might. Perhaps.” “What did you talk about?” “Well, the weather. His father’s bank.” “The weather and banking?” Michaela blurted. “That’s what boys like to talk about?” “Just because you and David like to carry on all the time about medical school,” Marjorie said. “What a bore he is.” “That’s not all we talked about for your information,” Michaela retorted. “And he is not a bore!’ She rolled her eyes at Claudette. “She thinks David fancies her.” “I don’t think that,” Michaela said. “I just thought it might be nice. I mean, if he did.” Claudette laughed.