In her bedroom, Aurelie opened her wardrobe and deflated even further. She only had one dress that still fit her that could be considered appropriate for a formal dinner, and she had no idea if it was in fashion. It wasn’t Uncle Leo’s fault; he’d offered many times to have new dresses made for her. But she liked her school dresses. They were simple, unfussy, practical. All attributes Aurelie appreciated about herself.
The dress in question was a deep shade of green, with blackvelvet trim at the waist and hem. It reminded her of a mossy forest like the one she’d lived next to before her parents died. Her father often went into the forest to collect mushrooms, and he would sometimes take Aurelie with him. They had a large black dog named Raven who accompanied them on their outings, and she loved to sit amid the lichen-furred, gnarled roots of a large tree and watch her father work. They’d return home to find a berry pie cooling on the windowsill, or her mother weaving pine-and-orange garlands for Yule. Aurelie was self-reflective enough to know that inventing filled a hole left behind when her parents died. But she’d give it all up to have them back.
She tied a black velvet choker around her throat, touching the jet beads dangling from it and trying to remember how it had looked on her mother, before tying up half of her hair in a matching ribbon. “Courage, Aurelie,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dined with a family, other than the small, lopsided one she and Uncle Leo had formed.
Miles was waiting for her at the gate in a carriage, presumably his father’s. He wore a black dinner suit, and Aurelie had to admit—begrudgingly—that he was not an unattractive young man. He had a clear brow that was mostly obscured by a flop of dark hair, and his round spectacles perched atop a perfectly adequate nose. His eyes were a pleasant shade of hazel, and he didn’t have a noticeably offensive odor.
If only he weren’t so wretchedly dull.
“Good evening, Aurelie,” he said as she settled onto the bench across from him. “You’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Miles. And thank you for leaving the book for me.”
“It was the least I could do for your uncle. What did you make of it?”
She ignored the comment about her uncle and tried to focus on the fact that he was asking for her opinion. It was theoretically possible that Miles shared a hitherto unknown passion for discovery. There had to be at least one other person in Wisteria who believed that innovation, exploration, and creation were the greatest gifts humanity had to offer. Maybe her uncle was more insightful than she’d given him credit for.
“It’s fascinating,” she said, wishing she’d brought it with her. It was always prudent to have a book on hand. “Though I have to say, I was surprised that it came from you.”
His lips twisted in a bemused smile. “I do read, Aurelie.”
She blushed. “Of course. I only meant—”
“That history is dry, compared to, say, innovation?”
She searched his face as they rattled over a pothole. He sounded as though he were teasing, but she didn’t know him well enough to assume. “Dryisn’t the word I would use.”Dusty and decrepit, more like. “I think we must understand our history if we’re to progress.”
He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Progress through further innovation, I take it?”
Now Aurelie felt as though she’d been led into a trap. DidMileshave something to do with Everard’s proposal? Was the book a ploy, part of an elaborate scheme to catch her out?
No, she was being paranoid. Miles wanted Uncle Leo’s approval, even if he didn’t want hers. “I hardly see how a society can better itself without any change whatsoever.”
“You’re unsatisfied with the current state of our society, then.”
She sighed and looked out the window. While she didn’t give a fig what Miles thought of her, she understood that her behavior was a reflection on Uncle Leo, who would undoubtedly hear of how she performed this evening.
She turned back to Miles and attempted what she hoped was a gracious smile. “You can hardly blame a girl for wanting more.”
“Hardly,” Miles said. “Though as I understand it, life is far worse in other kingdoms, where progress leads to more time spent working, more disease brought in by outsiders, more competition for limited resources.”
“But without the demons—”
His brow furrowed in what looked like benevolent concern but felt rather like condescension. “Every time humanity has attempted to progress, there have been terrible consequences that have nothing to do with demons. War, famine, pollution. All horrendous. All the result of wanting more.” He leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes, as though he were about to impart some heavy wisdom. “There have always been demons, Aurelie. Some are just more obvious than others.”
She was saved from responding by the coach lurching to an abrupt stop, which caused Miles to sit back and steady himself. Her hands had grown clammy, and the air was much too close. She sucked in a deep breath as she dropped onto the sidewalk.
And proceeded to choke on it when she saw the size of the Applebaums’ mansion.
Miles leaned in as he offered her his arm. “That’s ours,” he said, nodding toward a brick monstrosity next door. She’d known Miles’s family was well-off, but this was wealth beyond her imagination.
A man greeted them, ushering Aurelie in with more familiaritythan formality. “Miss Blake, how delightful to meet you after all these years. Your uncle speaks so highly of you.”
Not a butler, then, but Mr. Applebaum. He was short, stout, and mustachioed, giving him the appearance of a kindly gopher. “Thank you for inviting me tonight,” she said. “It means so much to Uncle Leopold. And me, of course.”
“We’re thrilled to have you. My daughter, Lavender, is particularly excited to meet you. Three brothers, you know. She’s always complaining that she’s far too outnumbered.”
Just then, a girl stepped into the foyer with a smile lighting her face. She grasped Aurelie in an embrace before she had time to formulate a thought.