Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(33)
Chapter 12
In Which I Become an Unwilling Co-conspirator
The fittings go without incident. I fidget all the way to the dressmaker’s and back, expecting at any moment the driver will pull the iron pony over and Miss Anderson and Mr. Redfern will slaughter us for what we know. But, despite the tension I sensed in Miss Preston’s office, they seem completely unconcerned with both the upcoming dinner party and with me and Katherine. That doesn’t ease my worry, though. They could just be playing the long game, biding their time, waiting to end me and Katherine until after I’ve relaxed my guard.
None of that makes any sense—if they somehow suspected we’d been there at the Spencers’, we’d likely know already—but that’s the way it is with panic. It takes you by the throat and doesn’t much listen to reason.
Days go by, and after turning the events of the previous week over in my head, I can’t decide how I feel about the mystery of Lily and the Spencers. The longer we go without word from them, the more disconcerting the lack of news; but then, the more days pass without any further panic or shambler sightings, the more likely it seems the Spencers simply did leave for another city, whether by choice or by force. It’s an unsettling conundrum, and I don’t like it one bit. It sure would set my mind at ease if Lily were to find a way to tell us what happened.
By the afternoon before the mayor’s dinner party, Katherine’s anxiety seems to have retreated into the background as well, and she is beside herself with excitement. She chatters about it to the other girls, and when they tire of listening to her she finds me and talks my ear off.
“What do you think Mrs. Carr will wear? I wish we could wear a corset, or even a bustle.” She flips the pages in her catalog and settles down next to me in the grass. I’m sitting under the big oak out back, what my momma used to call a hanging tree, the branches spread apart and thick and growing parallel to the ground, a tree perfect for climbing or stringing up a man. When I first got to Miss Preston’s I used to run off and hide in the branches of this tree, climbing as high as I could and hiding amongst the dense boughs. Eventually Miss Anderson discovered my hiding spot. She waited until I finally came down, taking the strap to me so bad that I couldn’t sit for a week. Maybe that’s why there ain’t no love lost between me and the woman. Even my earliest bad memories of the school are tied to her.
Katherine nudges me. “See, they’ve modified it so it collapses and you can sit down. Isn’t that just marvelous? And look at the silhouette.” She thrusts the fashion catalog at me so that I can see the bustle, which juts out of the rear of the woman’s hips and makes her look like a demented wasp.
I push the catalog away. “Where’d you get that?”
Katherine gives me a long look before sniffing indignantly. “Really, Jane, as though you’re the only one to smuggle in contraband. Everyone has a little something, you’re just the only one who gets caught.”
I cover my face with my hands and pray to the Lord above for strength. “Kate, has it occurred to you how odd it is that the mayor would invite us to a formal dinner, just like that? It’s been over two weeks since the lecture, and he didn’t seem to think much of our heroics until a week later. Not to mention the fact that he’s embroiled in some scandal involving the Spencers.”
She gives me a narrowed-eyed look and sighs, pulling back her catalog and flipping through the pages. “I don’t find it odd at all. He’s obviously a busy man. And his wife is known for the care and dedication she takes when planning the details of her soirees. Anyway, how do you know the mayor didn’t help the Spencers start a new life somewhere fine? All this panic is completely unnecessary. Besides, we’ll be there as Attendants, not as real guests. It’s not at all the same.” Her gaze gets all dreamy and faraway. “I wonder how many courses there will be. My mother went to a dinner once where they had seventeen courses. Seventeen! She said by the end she was so stuffed she could barely even taste the food. Can you imagine?”
I perk up at the mention of Katherine’s mom. She’s as much a mystery amongst the girls at Miss Preston’s as my own mother. “Is that so? Does your mother go to a lot of dinner parties?”
Katherine’s expression shutters and she bends back down to her magazine. “A few. What about your mother, Jane?” Her tone is mild, but it’s clear she’s avoiding my question.
“Oh, my momma’s been to a few.” None since the last dinner party held at Rose Hill Plantation, though. It was just after the major returned, battle weary and grim, talking about the end of the world and God’s judgment. Momma sat me next to her at the table during the dinner as she always did, stroking my hair like a favorite pet. The neighbors were used to this behavior, since they’d been to dinner at Rose Hill a number of times. It seemed normal to all of us, but the major’s expression grew stormy throughout the courses. When momma had me grab the Bible after dessert to read a few passages to the neighbors, the major’s simmering temper exploded.
“You taught a darkie to read? Have you lost your goddamn mind, Ophelia?” he screamed while the neighbors watched, bug-eyed. Momma sent me off to Auntie Aggie to get tucked into bed before she escorted the neighbors out, making excuses for the major, talking about the stress of war and the horror of watching half of your regiment get slaughtered only to rise up and start eating the other half.