A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle #1)(17)

“We’d best go see Mrs. Nightwing.” Miss Moore takes Ann by the hand to see her executioner. What I should do is go back to the fire and read my book. Every bit of reason in me says I should keep quiet, blend in, side with the winning team. Some days my reason is no match for my temper.

“Ann, darling,” I say, copying Pippa’s chummy tone from earlier. Everyone seems surprised to hear me speak, no one more surprised than I am at the moment. “Don’t be modest. Tell Miss Moore the truth.”

Ann’s huge eyes search mine for meaning. “The t-t-truth?”

“Yes,” I say, hoping I can make this up as I go along. “The truth—that Miss Worthington lost her ring tonight during vespers. You found it and put it in your knitting basket for safekeeping.”

“Why didn’t she return it right away, then?” Felicity steps forward, challenging me, her gray eyes inches from mine.

Tricky, tricky. Make this good, Gem. “She didn’t want to embarrass you in front of everyone and make it obvious that you’d been careless with something so valuable, a gift from your father. So she was waiting for a private moment. You know how kindhearted Ann is.” A little Perils of Lucy. A little smacking Felicity with her own petulant story about dear old Father. All in all, not bad.

Miss Moore appraises me. There’s no telling whether she believes me or not. “Miss Bradshaw, is this true?”

Come on, Ann. Play along. Fight back.

Ann swallows hard, raises her chin to Miss Moore. “Y-y-yes. It is.”

Good girl.

I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself until I lock eyes with Felicity, who is glaring at me with a mix of admiration and hatred. I’ve won this round, but I know that with girls like Felicity and Pippa there will always be a next time.

“I’m glad that’s settled, Miss . . . ?” Miss Moore stares at me.

“Doyle. Gemma Doyle.”

“Well, Miss Gemma Doyle, it would seem that we are in your debt. I’m sure Miss Worthington would like to thank you both for retrieving her lost ring, wouldn’t you?”

For the second time tonight, Miss Moore surprises me, and I’m almost certain I see a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of her proper British mouth.

“She could have come forward sooner and not frightened us all so,” Felicity says by way of thank-you.

“Grace, charm, and beauty, Miss Worthington,” Miss Moore admonishes, waving a finger disapprovingly.

Felicity looks like a girl whose lollipop has just landed in the dirt. But then she’s all smiles again, the bitterness gone, pushed down deep.

“It would seem that I am in your debt, Gemma,” Felicity says. She’s goading me by being so informal with my name when I haven’t given her leave to do so.

“Not at all, Felicity,” I volley back.

“This ring was a gift from my father, Admiral Worthington. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Half the English-speaking world has heard of Admiral Worthington—a naval hero, decorated by Queen Victoria herself. “No, I can’t say that I have,” I lie.

“He’s very famous. He sends me all sorts of things from his travels. My mother runs a salon in Paris, and when Pippa and I are graduated, we’re going to Paris, where Mama will have us outfitted by the finest couturiers in France. Perhaps we’ll take you along as well.”

It’s not an invitation. It’s a challenge. They want to know if I have the means to keep up with them. “Perhaps,” I say. They don’t invite Ann.

“It’s going to be a wonderful season, though Pippa will probably get the lion’s share of attention.” Pippa beams at this. She’s so lovely that scores of young men will prod their relatives to introduce them. “You and I will simply have to be good sports about it.”

“And Ann,” I say.

“Yes, and Ann, of course. Dear Ann.” Felicity laughs, giving Ann a quick kiss on the cheek, which makes her blush again. It’s as if all is forgotten.

The clock strikes ten and Mrs. Nightwing makes an appearance at the doors. “Time for bed, ladies. I bid you all good night.”

Girls shuffle out in twos and threes, arms linked, voices and spirits high. The excitement of the evening lives on in a contagion of whispers that trickle from girl to girl. We’re going round and round in a maypole dance of stairs and more stairs, inching toward the maze of doors where our rooms lie.

I’m finally unable to hold back my irritation with Ann. “You’re welcome, I’m sure.”

“Why did you do it?” she asks. Is no one here capable of saying a simple “thank you”?

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

She shrugs. “What’s the point? There’s no winning against them.”

“There you are, Ann, darling.” Pippa comes up and takes Ann by the arm, slowing her down so that Felicity can slip in beside me. Her voice in my ear is confession-quiet.

“I shall have to think of a way to repay you for finding my ring tonight. We have a bit of a private club, Pippa, Cecily, Elizabeth, and I, but there might be room for you.”

“Aren’t I the lucky one? I’ll rush right out and buy a new bonnet for the occasion.”

Felicity’s eyes narrow, but her mouth never loses its smile. “There are girls who would give their eyeteeth to be in your position.”