The Glittering Court (8 page)

“Look at your hands,” exclaimed Tamsin's mother. “You'll never be able to do a load of clothes again.”

Tamsin beamed. The hands she considered inferior beside mine were smooth and delicate compared to her mother's, which were hard and rough from a lifetime of scalding water and scrubbing.

“I don't intend to,” Tamsin replied. “And once I'm married to the richest man in Adoria, you won't have to either.”

Her father let out a bellowing laugh, one that made everyone else at our blanket smile too. “My dreamer. Just get yourself over there first.”

“She's not wrong,” Jasper said, sidling up to us. I'd noticed him making the rounds to other families too. He crouched down. “Tamsin's known around here for her ambition—for her determination to accept no less than perfection. I was just talking to our music teacher the other day, and she couldn't stop raving about Tamsin's remarkable progress on the piano.”

Her mother turned to her in astonishment. “You can play the piano?”

It was perhaps the most tangible amazing thing Jasper could have picked. In the circles Tamsin had come from, they never even saw pianos. Playing one was like speaking a foreign language.

She flushed with pleasure. “I'm still learning—but I can do some basics. If my husband has a piano, I can keep practicing.”

Jasper winked at her. “And if he doesn't, I'm sure you can talk him into one.”

He turned to me, and I wondered what trivia he'd pull out. I sincerely doubted he'd spoken to our music instructor. I was guessing he'd gotten a crash course on each of our strong areas this morning from Mistress Masterson. In his previous visits, Jasper had simply done cursory checks of us and then talked business with her. The most personal comment I'd ever heard him give a girl was to tell Caroline to reduce the number of breakfast pastries she ate each morning.

“Adelaide here carries herself with such poise and elegance, it's like she's done this her whole life,” he said. I wasn't surprised he'd gone with something external. I was purposely hit or miss with my studies. “And with her beauty, we know we'll have men beating down our door over there.”

Rhonda nodded as she drank from another cup of rum punch, which I had no idea how she'd managed to get a hold of. “That's how it's always been with our lovely girl. Ever since she was a little one. Boys lining up in the streets. Boys at our door. Boys in our house. If Adelaide was around, you could be sure there was a boy with her.”

Uncomfortable silence fell, and I attempted a light laugh that sounded more like I was choking. Jasper mercifully turned toward Mira. Tamsin leaned over Merry and whispered to me, “I can see why you've never mentioned her.”

“And Mira . . .” Jasper was still smiling, but it was hard to gauge his true feelings. “Well, Mira continues to surprise us all. I'm sure she will in Adoria too.”

“You are Mister Thorn's father?” asked Pablo. “Mister Cedric Thorn? I thought he might be here.”

Mira might get a hard time about her accent, but it was nothing compared to his. It took me several moments to parse his words, and I could see Jasper doing the same.

“He's back in Osfro, finishing up his finals.” Jasper frowned. “How do you know my son?”

Pablo hesitated. “I met him when he came to get Mirabel. He seems like a good man.”

I expected some cutting remark from Jasper, but he never broke character. “He is. And I'm sure you never would have let Mira go with anyone less. If you'll excuse me now, I must speak with the others.”

He straightened up and moved on to the next group. I recalled his words to Mistress Masterson, about this all being a show to ensure we would go to Adoria with our family's blessings. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something underhanded going on.

Fernanda scoffed when he was gone. “We cannot
let
Mirabel do or not do anything. She makes her own way.”

I turned back to them and tried to shake off my worries. “You knew each other back in Sirminica?”

“While the factions were fighting each other, most ordinary people just wanted to stay out of the way. And when that wasn't possible, people began to flee,” explained Mira. She gestured to Pablo and Fernanda. “We fell in with the same group of refugees trying to make it to the border. The roads weren't safe—they still probably aren't. Sometimes there was safety in numbers. Sometimes. Even in a group, a lone girl wasn't always safe. I tried to protect others. I tried.”

Mira's expression darkened, and Fernanda squeezed her hand. “Mira did protect others. War brings out the monsters among humanity, and there's only so much anyone can do to—” Her eyes fell on the red-haired children, who were hanging on every word. “Well. As I said, Mira did plenty of protecting.”

Rhonda set her empty cup down. “You know, I have no problem with Sirminicans. I say, Osfrid is open to all. Anyone who wants to come and find a new life here is welcome to it. I have great respect for all peoples. And some of my dearest friends are Sirminican, you know. There's a gentlemen who runs a crepe shop over by the Overland fountain. He's my friend—more than a friend, if you catch my meaning. He makes some of the best crepes in the city. And he makes me—”

“I know the shop you're talking about,” said Tamsin's mother. “And he's not Sirminican. He's from Lorandy.”

“He most certainly isn't. I couldn't understand a word he said. And
his name ends in an
o
, just like the rest of you.” Rhonda accompanied that last part with a nod to Mira and her friends.

“His name's Jean Devereaux,” Tamsin's mother insisted. “I've washed his laundry. He speaks Lorandian.”

“And crepes are from Lorandy,” I added.

Rhonda shot me an affronted look. “You doubt me now, too? So much for blood being thicker than water. Well, it doesn't matter. Sirminican, Lorandian. They all sound alike, and really, the two of us didn't do much speaking anyway, if you know what I mean.”

I felt guilty when the family picnic ended a couple of hours later, mainly because I was so happy about it. The rest of my housemates were not, and Tamsin in particular took it hard. Everyone was making their goodbyes in the front hall as the carriages prepared to take the visitors back to the city. I saw Tamsin hand a huge bundle of paper to her mother, and I realized it was the culmination of those letters she was always writing. I'd noted she did it daily, but seeing the full sum of them was astonishing.

It was her expression that threw me, though. Where it had been so full of open joy earlier, she now looked devastated. I had never seen such emotions on her face. Such vulnerability. She gave her parents fierce hugs goodbye, and when she went to lift Merry, Tamsin looked as though she might start crying. I had to avert my eyes. It felt wrong to stare during that kind of moment.

Rhonda stood beside me. I'd lost track of how many cups of punch she'd consumed. “Well,” she said, putting an arm over my shoulders, “I hope you'll spare some time to come visit your old aunt Sally the next time you're in the capital. I know you'll be a grand lady and all by then, but don't you forget where you came from, girl. You hear me?”

Several people near us heard her. The more she drank, the more she had trouble regulating her volume. I couldn't decide if Cedric had done me a favor in hiring her or not.

A carriage driver called for the first group of passengers, which
included Tamsin's family. She watched them walk out, grief-stricken. As soon as they were gone, she turned on her heels and fled from the foyer. There was so much commotion and buzz from the other guests still waiting for their rides that no one but me noticed her departure. Even Mira was distracted, speaking with one of the workers. Snaking my way through the bystanders, I hurried off to find Tamsin, ignoring Rhonda's shouts that I'd better not forget to come visit her.

I found Tamsin in our room, crying on her bed. Her head shot up when I entered, and she furiously wiped at her eyes. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be telling your aunt goodbye?”

I sat down beside Tamsin. “She'll do just fine without me. I came because I was worried about you.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “I'm fine.”

“It's okay to be homesick,” I said gently. “You don't have to be ashamed about missing them.”

“I'm not ashamed . . . but I can't let them—the others—see me like this. I can't show weakness.”

“Loving your family isn't weakness.”

“No . . . but around here? I have to be strong. All the time. Always moving forward.” That familiar determined look gleamed in her eyes again. “I can't let anything stop me from getting what I want. What I need.” I didn't say anything. I just put my hand over hers, and after a moment, she squeezed it. “I know everyone thinks I'm cold and unfeeling. That I'm mean to people.”

“You've never treated me that way.”

She glanced up. “Well, of course not. How else am I going to learn that damned Belsian waltz if you don't practice with me? I have to keep you on my good side. But seriously . . .” She pulled away and clasped her hands in front of her. “You have to understand that I'm not doing all this because I'm just inherently a bitch. There's a reason I have to do this—keep pushing to be the best and get the best in
Adoria. If you only knew what I had—what I had on the line—” Her voice started to crack.

“Then tell me,” I pleaded. “Tell me, and maybe I can help you.”

“No.” Tamsin brushed away a few more rebellious tears. “If you knew, you'd never look at me the same.”

“You're my friend. Nothing's going to change how I feel about you.”

Yet, as I spoke, I wondered if I'd be so quick to believe those words if someone wanted to pry my secrets out of me. I was pretty sure neither Tamsin nor Mira would act the same if they knew they were sharing a room with one of the mighty Rupert's descendants.

“I can't,” she said. “I can't risk it.”

“Okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But I'm always here. You know I am.”

Her smile was weary but sincere. “I know.”

The door opened, and Mira rushed in. “There you are. Everyone's— Are you okay?”

Tamsin got to her feet. “Fine, fine. What's going on?”

Mira glanced at me for confirmation, and I gave her a small nod. She studied Tamsin a few more moments in concern before continuing.

“Everyone's gone—the families. Jasper's calling for all of us to assemble back in the ballroom.”

The last of Tamsin's emotional outburst vanished. She gave herself a cursory check in the mirror and then followed Mira. “I knew it. I knew something was happening.”

We hurried back downstairs and found everyone in the ballroom. Tamsin was by no means the only one suffering from her loved ones' departure, and I had to wonder if Jasper's plan would really have the outcome he'd hoped for.

Mistress Masterson brought us to attention as Jasper stepped forward to speak. “I hope you all enjoyed your day. It was a true delight for me to meet the wonderful people who helped raise you. But their visit isn't the only surprise you're getting today.”

He waited, building up the tension in the room. Although his disposition was sunny and reassuring, Mistress Masterson's strained expression told me all wasn't well. My sense of foreboding returned.

“I hope you're all excited about Adoria, because we're going there—two months earlier than planned.”

Chapter 7

No one spoke. Everyone was too stunned. It was Jasper's next proclamation that really elicited a reaction.

“As a result, you will also be taking your exams early. They'll start in one week.”

Beside me, Tamsin gasped and put a hand to her chest. Other girls, wide-eyed, turned to each other in alarm and began whispering. “Hush,” warned Mistress Masterson. “Mister Thorn isn't finished speaking.”

“I know this change in plans is unexpected,” Jasper continued. “But really, it's a reflection of your outstanding progress that we feel confident in bringing you to Adoria early. In just a couple of months, you'll be in a whole new world—adored and coveted like the jewels you are. I know my brother will be overcome when he sees this year's class.”

Charles Thorn, the Glittering Court's chief financial backer, alternated procurement with Jasper each year. He was in Adoria now and would sail back to Osfrid in the spring to recruit the next batch of girls while Jasper oversaw our progress in Adoria.

“I have no doubt you'll all perform excellently in your exams,” Jasper continued. “I'd love to stay but must check in on the other manors as well. Cedric, however, will be coming soon to supervise during your exams and offer moral support.”

I cleared my throat and stepped forward. “Isn't it dangerous?”

Jasper frowned. “Cedric offering moral support?”

“No. Making the crossing in late winter. Isn't that still storm season?”

“I like to think of it more as early spring. And I'd hardly make the journey myself if I thought we'd be in danger. Surely, Adelaide, you haven't gained some sort of nautical knowledge I don't know about, have you? Surpassing mine and that of the ship's captains who agreed to take us?”

It was a ridiculous question to answer, so I didn't. Of course I didn't have any seafaring expertise, but I had read the countless books on Adoria's history that were part of the curriculum here. And there'd been plenty of tales about early settlers learning the hard way that winter crossings weren't advised.

We were dismissed to our rooms, and Tamsin, as I expected, had a lot to say. She flounced down on her bed, uncaring of wrinkling her lawn dress.

“Can you believe this? They've moved up our exams! To
next week
.”

Mira also looked uneasy, and I remembered to appear appropriately concerned. We could've taken them today, and it would have made no difference to me.

“That's not a lot of time to study,” Mira said.

“I
know
!” wailed Tamsin. “But on our way out, I heard Mistress Masterson say that at this point, we either know it or we don't.”

“She's right,” I said, earning astonished looks from both of them. “Come on, you don't think we can all get passing grades in every subject? None of us are going to get cut.” A girl would have to fail in multiple subjects to get removed from the Glittering Court's trip to Adoria, and anyone doing that badly would have long since been asked to leave.

“I don't want to just get a passing grade,” said Tamsin. “I want the best grades. I want to be the diamond.”

“The what?” Mira and I asked in unison. I'd heard her talk about excelling many times, but I'd never heard mention of any diamond.

Tamsin leaned forward, her brown eyes alight. “It's this year's
theme. When they present us in Adoria, they always have some sort of theme. They tailor our wardrobes around it and assign each of us roles roughly equivalent to our scores. Last year it was flowers, and the top girl was an orchid. The next was a rose. Then a lily. I think the year before that, it was birds. This year, it's jewels.”

“And the top girl is a diamond,” I guessed.

“Yes. The top three girls across all manors get invited to the most parties in Adoria and get special introductions to the most eligible men. I mean, technically we're all exceptional, but Jasper and Charles build up a lot of mystique around those three. It creates demand—and increases the marriage fees. And that increases the surety money that we get to keep for ourselves.”

Again, it was of little concern to me. I'd make sure I placed in the middle of the scores, just as I always did. Tamsin unquestionably did the best in Blue Spring, and I couldn't believe there was any girl in the other manors who was more motivated.

As the exams loomed nearer, the next week became a flurry of activity. Our regular lessons were cancelled, so that we could each devote our time to studying in those areas that needed the most work. The instructors who rotated through all four manors stopped by more frequently, offering tutoring to those who requested it. The manor was in nonstop motion.

As for me, I had to contrive areas of study to make myself look busy. Tamsin became withdrawn, isolating herself with books, and I was surprised at how much I missed her frenetic energy. Mira didn't even really need me to drill her in language anymore. She slipped into her accent during casual conversation, but when prompted, her Osfridian was nearly indistinguishable from a native's. In fact, it was better than that of some of the other girls, who'd come in with atrocious lower-class dialects. Sometimes Mira even practiced the accents of other languages for fun.

I needed to look like I was doing something, so I spent my time rereading a book on what Mistress Masterson delicately referred to as
“Female Studies.” Along with the particulars of pregnancy and childbirth, it also included information on what led to those. “A pleasing wife is pleasing in the bedroom. Your warmth and affection will ensure a happy husband,” Mistress Masterson had said in our lessons, often in what was perhaps the least warm voice imaginable. It was pretty much the only area of study that hadn't been part of my previous life. Most of the girls had been mortified when we'd had those lectures, but I couldn't help but regard it with a guilty fascination.

“Isn't that the third time you've read that?” Mira teased on the day before exams. She was on her bed with language books while Tamsin, on a rare break, was writing another letter.

Flushing, I closed the book. “I just think it's more puzzling than almost everything else, that's all.”

Mira glanced back at her papers. “I don't know. I think it'll just work itself out when the time comes.”

“I suppose,” I said, wondering not for the first time if it was an area she already had firsthand experience with. Her cool countenance betrayed nothing.

“There's nothing to know,” Tamsin said, not even bothering to look up from her letter. “Except that we need to wait until our wedding nights and then let our husbands teach us what they want.”

Mira set her book aside and leaned back against the headboard. “I don't like that. The idea that it's all up to them. That they're in control. Shouldn't we have the right to figure out what we want too?”

This drew Tamsin's attention at last. “And how would you do that? I knew a girl back home who gave her virtue to a man who promised to marry her. And you know what? He didn't. He was promised to another and told her it had all been a misunderstanding. It ruined her. So
don't
get another crazy idea.”

“Another?” I asked.

“She was going on the other day about how she was going to pay her own marriage price,” said Tamsin.

“I didn't say I was going to for sure,” Mira corrected. “Just that it
was possible. The contracts don't state we have to get married—just that our fees have to be paid. If you got the money, you could buy yourself out and be free.”

“You want to go to one of the workhouses?” I exclaimed. I remembered that first day with Ada, when Cedric had explained how girls unwilling to fulfill their contracts would be sent off to other, less desirable employment.

“No, no.” Mira sighed. “But I mean if you could find some other way to raise the money while you were meeting suitors in Adoria, you could just pay it off on your own terms. That's all.”

“How would you raise that kind of money?” asked Tamsin. “The minimum price for any of us is one hundred gold. Sometimes higher.”

“I'm just saying it's possible, that's all.”

I smiled and returned to my scandalous book. Mira sometimes gave the impression that she could easily take or leave the Glittering Court. It wasn't surprising she'd come up with such an idea—though Tamsin was right: It would be difficult to implement.

When the first exam day came, we were all called down to a meeting in the great hall. Our entrance was much different than the initial shuffling of our early days. We descended the grand staircase one by one, moving at a sedate, graceful pace that allowed us to be admired by those gathered below. As I made my way, I spotted Cedric standing with our instructors, making me more self-conscious than I would have normally been.

Still, I completed the journey perfectly and lined up with the other girls, standing in an elegant pose long drilled into us. Mistress Masterson inspected us, and when she'd moved past, I glanced over and saw Cedric watching me. He met my eyes briefly and then shifted his gaze to Mira.

Mistress Masterson issued some instructions about how the day would proceed and then turned to Cedric. “Any inspiring words?”

He smiled his showy smile. “Nothing to say except ‘good luck'—not that I think any of you'll need it. I've seen you over the last eight months. You're all exceptional.” Unlike his father, Cedric was telling
the truth about keeping tabs on our progress. He'd always chatted with each girl on his visits, genuinely wanting to learn more.

As we dispersed for the exams, he caught my sleeve. “How was your visit with Aunt Sally?”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, was that the best you could dredge up? I think I would have been better off alone and pathetic.”

“Not true. You're too likeable for anyone to believe you don't have at least one friend who'd show up to support you. And I didn't have much notice to find someone. I only heard about the schedule change at the last minute.”

“Why
did
it change?”

“Along with you girls, Father transports all sorts of goods for trade to the colonies. If he can get there ahead of the other spring ships, he can turn a better profit. When he finally got a couple of ships willing to make the early crossing, he jumped on it,” Cedric explained. “And so, I had to find an actress for you.”

“Not just any actress. A great star of some of the biggest theatrical productions in Osfro. Or so I hear.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow at that. “Trust me, I did
not
find her starring in a big theatrical production. But it was better that people noticed your crazy relative than wondered how you had no one in the world.”

“I suppose that's true.” Grudgingly, I added, “Thank you.”

“I'm always at your service. But you'd better go before you're late. I hope you do well.”

“I won't. I'll do just good enough.”

And I held to that as the exams began. All the information we'd been drilled in over the last eight months was suddenly condensed into three days. Some of the exams were written. Some, like dance, had to be conducted in a more hands-on way. It was exhausting, even for me, particularly as I had to pick and choose which areas to succeed in and which to do poorly in. It was definitely a balancing act, but I was certain I'd place comfortably in the middle. I'd make good on my promise to Cedric to attract no unnecessary attention.

“Adelaide, dear,” Miss Hayworth said, halfway into my dance exam. “What are you doing?”

“The waltz?” I offered.

She shook her head, making a few notes in her papers. “I don't understand. You executed this perfectly last week and completely botched the new rigaudon. Today, it's reversed.”

I tried to keep my face blank. “Nerves will do that to you, ma'am.”

“Continue,” she said, waving us on and wearing the exasperated look I often brought out in her.

Nearby, I saw Clara smirk at my critique. In her time here, she'd come to excel in this area, so much so that Miss Hayworth had suggested she lead the opening dances in Adoria. She needed these scores to offset the abysmal ones she had in academic areas, and really, I didn't care what she thought anyway.

Tamsin's thoughts, however, were something I deeply cared about. Farther across the room, I saw her watching me with a puzzled look. She soon slipped back into the rhythm of the dance, but I could've kicked myself for my error. Alternately excelling and failing was easy enough to do around here. Keeping track of which areas I was allegedly deficient in was more difficult. This wasn't the first time I'd mixed something up—and this wasn't the first time Tamsin had noticed.

Written tests followed dance, something that made me much more comfortable. No one but the instructors knew if I mixed something up. But another slip followed on the second day, during our music exam. While we weren't expected to be experts on any one instrument, we were supposed to have a passing knowledge of each one. Rather than quiz us on all of them for our final, our instructor simply selected three and based our score on that. I hadn't anticipated that. The first two, the flute and harp, were ones I'd always purposely performed poorly on. I assumed the last instrument she'd produce would be a harpsichord or lute—which I always showed my true proficiency on. Instead, she chose the violin. It wasn't played much by women in Adoria, so I'd always regarded it as a safe choice to botch here. Now,
I realized, to pull a decent music score, I needed to excel in something. And so, to the amazement of her and my peers, I produced a perfectly executed melody on the violin.

“Well, look at that,” Mistress Bosworth said, beaming. “You've been practicing.”

“You have
not
been practicing,” whispered Tamsin later, once the exam was over and we were on break to go to dinner. “Where did you learn to do that?”