“Or…if you don’t mind waiting until after the New Year for a visit, Jennie? Right now’s the height of the season. Simple as we’re keeping things, what with our boys away, we’ve got so many fittings and invitations. It’s been such a flurry,” Flora reminds.

Debutante season I’d forgotten. Of course, I am not coming out. Nor shall I assume the enviable role of the newly affianced, with all of its attendant teas, dinners, and parties. I am trapped at that house until such a day as Aunt sees fit to cast me off. My future is at the mercy of Aunt’s whim, and there’s not a soul in Brookline who doesn’t know it.

As tedious as it is to be pitied, it is positively frightening to be shunned. Worst of all, though, is to be forgotten. I must find a way to rescue myself. If there is only one thing I am certain of, it’s that.

7.

The Christmas rain lulls my scrambled mind to sleep. It is still sluicing when I’m jolted awake, gagging, panicked, unable to breathe.

The thin chain of my necklace is wound like whipcord around my throat. I clutch at it and hear a whisper fast in my ear. A rush of words just outside my reach.

“Stop it! Stop!”

I kick and thrash, struggling against the stranglehold, but it’s as if invisible hands clamp a vice round my neck. The whispering intensifies. The words seem purposefully distorted. I can’t make any sense of them. All I know is I need to get out of this room at once. Coughing, fighting to breathe, pulling up from the bed, unable even to see my own hands in front of my face, I stumble to the door, yanking it open, and I run into darkness.