Midnight Jewel
Page 8

   “Oh, hush, Clara,” Tamsin snapped. “You still sound so much like the butchers’ district, I can almost smell the pork rotting. If you haven’t shaken that by now, you’re never going to.”
   Clara’s eyes bugged, but her name was called before she could retort. I grinned, happy to see the return of the feisty Tamsin I knew, but it was short-lived. She grew introspective once more, her sharp mind still trying to puzzle out what was going on.
   Professor Brewer beamed when my turn came. I fretted constantly about my accent but knew I was one of his favorites. He’d told me on the first day that he liked new linguistic challenges. “You’re much more interesting than curing girls who overuse ‘bloody,’” he had said. “Not sure how much more of that I can take.”
   I sat down opposite him now and smiled back, still a little nervous after all these months. “You’re probably going to have a hard time narrowing down my worst problems,” I noted.
   He scoffed. “Hardly. You’re imagining you sound worse than you do. And don’t think for an instant that the Adorians—the ones born and raised there—don’t have atrocious accents of their own. Just because you’re being trained to act like nobility doesn’t mean your future husbands are. They sound like Flatlanders, only worse. They stress all the wrong syllables and do unbelievable things with their vowels. Did you know they say vayse instead of vahz?”
   “I still wish I sounded like a native.”
   “You know the grammatical and phonetic rules by heart—better than most of the girls here. It’s all practice now, correcting the sounds imprinted by your first language. Training your mouth to say sh and get those short vowels right. Keep up with that, over and over.” His wizened face turned thoughtful. He’d once been a professor at the university Cedric attended. “You know, one exercise I’ve seen that can help people improve their Osfridian is learning the accents of other languages from Evaria.”
   I appreciated that he always said “Evaria,” instead of “the continent,” like most Osfridians did. But I was skeptical of his suggestion. “How would that help?”
   “When you understand the differences and problems other speakers have, it gives you a greater sense of how your own language fits in. I’ll bring you a book on it when I’m back next week.” He gave me a wink. “I’m also just curious to see you do it. I think you’re better at languages than you realize. It sounds like you picked up Osfridian quickly. They teach you a smattering of Lorandian here, don’t they? It uses the same Ruvan roots as Sirminican. I’m sure you’ll have an easy time finishing that workbook.”
   “I already did,” I replied.
   He laughed and slapped his knee. “See? You’re a prodigy.”
   “More of a cheater. My father traveled in Lorandy when I was little and taught some to my brother and me.”
   “You should learn the whole language. I’ll bring you a Lorandian dictionary too.”
   “Thank you, sir, but I feel like I should just work on perfecting one language for now.”
   Professor Brewer’s expression turned kind. “You’ll do fine over there, Mira. Just fine. Something tells me you were made for a place like that.”
   Adelaide rejoined us at lunchtime, and more anticipation spread through my housemates as we speculated over our mystery guest. Mistress Masterson waited until we were seated at the dining table before finally revealing the news.
   “One of our former girls has sailed back to Osfrid for the summer and will be coming by today to share her experiences. I expect you to be on your best behavior. This is a great opportunity that isn’t always offered. I hope you appreciate it.”
   Jasper, barely able to contain his pride, arrived with our guest soon thereafter. The rest of us had been chattering excitedly but fell into silent awe as she entered the room and took a seat at the table.
   Her name was Florence, and she was a wonder, clothed in a wine-colored gown with pink rosettes around the neckline and sleeves. It made our day dresses look shabby, and they were finer than anything I’d ever owned. Her golden hair was arranged in perfect curls. Jewelry decked with brilliant red gems sparkled everywhere. If I had seen her on the street—which seemed improbable, even hypothetically—I would have thought she was Osfridian royalty, not an afternoon guest.
   “Florence was the top girl in her year,” Jasper told us. “Bid after bid came in. The man she chose had the highest offer. He’s one of Denham’s wealthiest shipping magnates.”
   Florence fluttered her lashes and gracefully lifted her teacup. A large diamond ring flashed in the sunlight. “Abner was impossible to resist,” she said, her speech almost as fine as Adelaide’s. “I couldn’t help but fall in love.”
   A few girls clasped their hands, dreamy-eyed. I wondered if Florence’s husband’s fortune had been equally loveable.
   “Achieving that took a lot of work,” said Jasper, prompting her to tell us all about how hard she’d applied herself at Swan Ridge Manor. Everyone listened avidly, but not nearly as avidly as when she began to describe the balls and wonders of Adoria. Seeing us so engaged, Jasper rose after finishing his meal and politely excused himself.
   “Mistress Masterson and I need to assess some files. But please—enjoy yourselves and ask Florence any questions you like.”
   Tamsin raised an eyebrow at the mention of our files, and I could only imagine the increase in her paranoia. The opportunity to learn more about Adoria was too strong a lure, however, and her attention shifted back to Florence.
   “Is it true we’ll get clothes even better than what we have now?” asked Clara, her eyes fixed covetously on the satin gown.
   Florence laughed prettily. “Oh, yes. Some like mine. Some even richer. All gorgeous and sparkling. They want us to be a fantasy—to bewitch everyone we meet. And you will—you’ll see.” Still smiling, she added in a low voice, “Sometimes, those dresses were a little uncomfortable to wear all night. But you can’t meet elite men if you don’t go to elite events.”