Runaway slaves walked these steps, Eliza thought excitedly. They touched these walls. Of course, the runaway slaves probably didn’t have Petit Peu barking nonstop behind them, his high-pitched yap echoing off the walls. Genevieve and Marilyn had finally agreed to meet the boys, while Clarissa had stayed behind, listlessly promising to tell Helen that the others had gone to bed.
“Theresa Billings, if this tunnel doesn’t end soon, I’m going to go right back to Headmistress Almay and have her telephone your father,” Viola said, her voice tremulous. She gripped Eliza’s arm tightly.
“She can telephone all she wants. My father’s currently on a steamer bound for Portugal,” Theresa said, holding her lantern aloft.
“But didn’t you say that if we got into trouble, you’d phone him?” Lavender asked. She had insisted on bringing up the rear so she could keep an eye on everyone.
“I say a lot of things,” Theresa replied under her breath.
Suddenly Eliza heard a scrabbling sound, as if claws were scraping against the stone floor. She froze.
“Turn back,” a voice whispered in her ear, so close that a shiver raced down her spine.
“We can’t turn back now, Viola,” Eliza said. “I’m sure we’re almost there.”
“Huh?” Viola said with a confused look. “Why are you telling me?”
“You just said ‘Turn back,’” Eliza replied.
“No, I didn’t,” Viola said.
“Yes, you did. You whispered it right in my ear.”
Viola’s face paled. “I didn’t say anything. Did you say anything?” she asked her sister.
“No,” Bia whimpered.
Suddenly everyone was whispering in a panic. “It’s a ghost. A slave ghost,” Viola said, grasping her sister even tighter as her eyes rolled around wildly, looking for the ghoul. “Oh, Bia. We have to get out of here.”
“Yes. Let’s turn back,” Genevieve said. “I did not come all this way from Paris to be murdered by a ghost.”
“There are no ghosts down here!” Theresa blurted in frustration, waving her lantern around. “Look what you’ve started, Eliza!”
“But I’m sure I heard something,” Eliza replied, her pulse racing. “Somebody said ‘Turn back.’”
Theresa clucked her tongue impatiently. “You just want to be the center of attention. Just like the mighty May.”
Eliza felt as if she’d been slapped. She had just opened her mouth to defend herself when Catherine stepped forward and took the lantern from Theresa.
“Girls, we’re almost there,” she said firmly. “Follow me.”
To Eliza’s shock, the girls fell almost entirely silent and did as they were told.
After several long minutes, Catherine paused. “I’ve found a door!”
She held the lantern up. Sure enough, it illuminated the grainy wood surface of a slated door set into the stone wall just ahead.
“Welcome to Gwendolyn Hall, ladies,” Theresa said.
Alice let out a squeal and rushed forward, shoving a few girls aside in order to be the first through the door. Theresa, however, had other ideas. She blocked Alice’s forward motion with one arm, then reached past Catherine to open the door herself. Instantly, warm light and the sound of deep voices filled the tunnel. Despite herself, Eliza’s heart took a few extra spins as she recalled their true reason for being here. She couldn’t help but hope to see the blond-haired boy from the great lawn.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Theresa said. “Do you have room for a few more?”
Whoops filled the air. Alice, Theresa, and Catherine stepped inside. Viola lifted her skirts up a good foot from the ground to keep them clean, dragging her sister and Eliza inside with her.
They emerged in the basement of Gwendolyn Hall, a wide, lowceilinged room that was nevertheless spotlessly clean and bright. Its walls were made of white plaster, its floor of dark gray cement. The boys had lit several lanterns and candles, all of which were set on a high shelf that ran clear around the room, their flames flickering jovially. Most of the boys were still in their formal day attire, but a few had tossed their jackets aside and undone their collars, taking on a far more casual appearance.
One of these was the boy from that morning.