Read Page 78

"Because you don't notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right."

"What do you propose to call that?" Cecily's tone drips disdain.Advertisement

" The Choke," I blurt out, surprising myself.

Miss Moore nods. "The fruit of knowledge. Most interesting, indeed."

"Do you mean as in Eve's apple? As in the Garden of Eden?" Elizabeth asks. She's diligently trying to add sepia shadows to her painting now, and it's making her fruit look bruised and ugly. But I'm not going to tell her that.

"Let's ask the artist. Is that what you intended, Miss Doyle?"

I have no idea what I meant, really. I fumble to make sense of it. "I suppose it's any choice to know more, to see beyond what's there."

Felicity throws me a conspiratorial glance.

Cecily shakes her head. "Well, it's not a very accurate name. Eve didn't choose to eat the apple. She was tempted by the serpent."

"Yes," I argue, thoughts coming out half-formed. "But she didn't have to take a bite. She chose to."

"And she lost paradise in the bargain. Not for me, thank you. I'd stay right there in the garden," Cecily says.

-- Advertisement --

pqdm.comads300x250--

"That, too, is a choice," Miss Moore points out.

"A much safer one," Cecily argues.

"There are no safe choices, Miss Temple. Only other choices."

"Mama says that women were not meant to have too many choices. It overwhelms them." Pippa repeats this as if it's a lesson well taught. "That's why we're supposed to defer to our husbands."

"Every choice has consequences," Miss Moore says, sounding far away. Felicity picks the apple from the bowl and finds her bite mark. The sweet white meat has browned in the air. She sinks her teeth in and makes a clean new mark.

"Delicious," she says, her mouth juicy full.

Miss Moore comes back to us with a laugh. "I see Felicity doesn't complicate the matter with too much deliberation. She's a hawk, diving in."

"Eat or be eaten!" Felicity takes another mouthful.

I'm thinking of Sarah and Mary, wondering what horrible choice they made. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to shatter the Order. And that leads me to the choice I made the day I ran from my mother in the marketplace. The choice that seems to have put everything in motion.

"What happens if your choice is misguided?" I ask, softly.

Miss Moore takes a pear from the bowl and offers us the grapes to devour. "You must try to correct it."

"But what if it's too late? What if you can't?"

There's a sad sympathy in Miss Moore's catlike eyes as she regards my painting again. She paints the thinnest sliver of shadow along the bottom of the apple, bringing it fully to life.

"Then you must find a way to live with it."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The afternoon is a fine one, and the grounds and gardens of Spence are blooming with girlson bicycles, playing pantomimes, strolling, gossiping. The four of us have taken up a game of lawn tennis. We're playing doubles, Felicity and Pippa against Ann and me. Each time my racquet touches the ball, I fear I'm in danger of decapitating someone. I think it is safe to say that I may add tennis to the long list of skills I shall not acquire. By sheer luck, I manage to hit the ball to my opponents. It sails past Pippa, who watches it go by with all the enthusiasm of a cook watching water come to a boil.

Felicity throws back her head in exasperation. "Pippa!"

"It isn't my fault. That was a dreadful serve!"

"You should have reached for it," Felicity says, twirling her racquet.

"It was clearly out of reach!"

"But so much is within our reach now," Felicity says, cryptically.

The girls watching us play may not know what she means, but I do. Pippa is having none of it, however.

"This is dull, and my arm aches," she complains.

Felicity rolls her eyes. "Fine, then. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

We bequeath our racquets to an eager, pink-cheeked foursome. Our game ended, we link arms and roam through the tall trees, past a group of younger girls who are playing Robin Hood. The trouble is that they all want to be Maid Marian and no one wants to be Friar Tuck.

"Will you take us into the realms again tonight?" Ann asks, when their voices have faded to a hum behind us.

"You couldn't keep me away." I smile. "There's someone I want you to meet." pqdm.com