She didn’t answer, merely looked past him, willing her spine to hold her straight. She remained there, unmoving, while he bowed with a sickening little smirk, while he stepped into the hallway, while she heard Liza handing him his hat and coat, while his steps sounded lightly out the front door, and, finally, while the door clicked softly shut behind him.

She’d never be rid of them. Alain was dead, but there he was, in his brother’s face and in his darkness, in the color of her hat and in the gossip that had followed her across an ocean, in the dwindling funds of her bank account. In the way her stomach clenched at the smell of lavender. In how she could only look at Sam Moore’s face for a few seconds at a time, for fear of a crack in the wall keeping all this at bay, but here it was, cracking anyway, cracking, cracking, cracking, and the memories were coming through and now the only thing to do was get to her bedroom, to the cool darkness and the heavy wooden door—

There. The door closed behind her and she was alone. She sank against it, sliding to the floor, and let it come.

She could smell her mother’s thick, spicy perfume—no silly florals for a woman like Edna Rensselaer—and feel the strong hand clasped painfully around her wrist as she was bundled unceremoniously into the carriage. She’d landed heavily against the seat, the thick upholstery scraping against her face as she righted herself.

“You’ll mind your manners tonight, girl,” Edna said, settling her skirts around her. Alva’s father climbed in last, not looking at either of them. “I don’t want any of your attitude.”

“Of course, Mother,” Alva said.

“‘Of course, Mother,’” Edna mimicked, her voice high and cruel. “You’d better stay that way, you understand? You’re lucky he offered for you at all. Thank god you’ll be married soon, and I won’t have to look at you anymore.”

Her seventeenth birthday had been three days prior, and they were on their way to her engagement party. She knew why her mother was angry—it made her stomach tight and painful to think about. But truly she wouldn’t do anything to mess up the engagement. Alain was everything she’d ever wanted. He’d kept her guessing for months, all attention at one party, ignoring her completely at the next. She’d been desperate for him to notice her, to really see her, and finally, on her birthday, he had. Now she knew for sure he loved her, and passionately. She wasn’t going to do anything to change his mind.

“There will be talk,” her father said to her mother. He hadn’t spoken to Alva since that night. “Happening so fast.”