“I’m sure they’ll come,” Eliza said, lifting her chin. She reached up to rub the gold locket between her finger and thumb. “How could anyone not be intrigued by a midnight meeting at a chapel?”
“Intrigued? I’d be terrified,” Alice replied. “I still am. I’ll wager only half of them come here.”
“Yes, but which half?” Catherine joked.
Just then, the ceiling above them creaked and moaned. Alice grabbed Eliza’s arm, tense with fear. Whispered voices wafted down from above.
“They’re here,” Eliza whispered.
“This is where it all begins,” Catherine added, her skin glowing with excitement as she looked up at the ceiling.
The girls stood, holding their breath and clutching hands, waiting for the first of their friends to appear. Before long, Lavender arrived at the bottom of the stairs. She had a look of pure suspicion on her brow, until she caught sight of Eliza and Catherine. Then her usual just-plain-serious look returned to her face. She stepped into the room, the scalloped hem of her white nightgown grazing her ankles, and was quickly followed by Marilyn and Genevieve—Eliza was pleased to see that Marilyn had left Petit Peu behind, but Genevieve had her ever-present bag full of sweets—and Viola and Bia, who were clutching each other’s arms with both hands, as if afraid the other might blow away. Jane was right behind them, her brown hair hanging loose down her back. The moment she saw Theresa, she rushed forward and kissed her. Then each of the girls soundlessly joined the circle, as if they realized that was where they were meant to be. Viola and Bia looked around fretfully, but the others simply seemed excited. Eliza could tell that Jane was biting down on her tongue to keep from asking questions. Only Clarissa had yet to arrive.
The moments ticked by, and Eliza’s heartbeat slowed to a dull, disappointed thud. Clarissa was not coming. And without Clarissa, they would not have eleven members.
This thought had just flitted through her mind when another set of footsteps sounded hurriedly through the office above. Moments later, Clarissa alighted on the basement floor, breathless. She wore a high-necked gown, and her golden blond hair was tied back in two girlish braids, as always. Giving the room a cursory, appraising glance, she clucked her tongue and looked at Theresa.
“This does not look like a proper setting for a literary society,” she announced, breaking the silence.
“Why are we all wearing our white nightgowns, Theresa?” Jane blurted, as if Clarissa’s declaration had released her from some vow of silence.
“If it was five degrees cooler outside, we could have caught our deaths,” Lavender pointed out. “Look at Bia. She’s practically blue.”
“And I’ve torn the hem on mine,” Viola whined, tugging the skirt of her white cotton gown.
“And we have all risked expulsion again,” Marilyn pointed out. “I do not wish to be sent back to France so soon, and neither does Genevieve.”
“Ladies, ladies, please. Everything is going to be fine,” Theresa said, stepping forward. “We are not here to form a literary society.”
The seven new girls glanced around the circle in confusion. “But that’s what the invitation says,” Clarissa pointed out, removing the card from the pocket of her nightgown and holding it out helpfully.
“We know,” Eliza said patiently. “But that was just a ruse, in case any of the teachers found them.”
“Then why are we here?” Lavender asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Eliza glanced around at Catherine, Theresa, and Alice for courage. “We’re going to form a coven,” she said simply.
Clarissa laughed through her nose. A few of the other girls gasped.
“You’re joking,” Marilyn said, reaching for Genevieve’s hand. “You are making a joke.”
“No. This is not a joke,” Eliza said firmly.
Instantly the smile fell from Clarissa’s face, and she began to chew on her hair. Both Viola’s and Bia’s faces turned ashen. Marilyn frowned thoughtfully as Genevieve plucked a chocolate from her bag and popped it into her mouth.
“You wish to make us . . . witches?” Genevieve asked, her mouth full.
“We wish to try,” Eliza said. A few of the girls glanced toward the door. Clearly they were all going to need some convincing—the quicker, the better. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Really? Then why does Alice look about ready to burst into tears?” Clarissa pointed out, removing her braid from her lips for the moment.
Eliza glanced at Theresa, but for once the girl was mute. Why was she suddenly so unwilling to speak up? Eliza took a deep brea
th and rounded her shoulders, stepping into the center of the room.
“We—Catherine, Theresa, Alice, and I—found this stack of old books down here the other night, and there are all these spells and potions and enchantments in them,” she said in a rush, gesturing at the trunk. She looked each girl in the eye as she talked, feeling as though it might reassure them. “It might be a lot of bunk, but we thought it could be fun to try. To see if it’s really real.”
“Why didn’t you just do it yourselves?” Clarissa asked, moving toward the trunk and peeking at the books inside. “Why make all of us traipse out here in the dead of night?”