The Struggle

"Here you are, Elena. One of our most nicely preserved pieces – and all authentic, too, even the ribbons. We believe this dress belonged to Honoria Fell."

"It’s beautiful," said Elena, as Mrs. Grimesby shook out the folds of thin white material. "What’s it made of?"

"Moravian muslin and silk gauze. Since it’s quite cold today you can wear that velvet jacket over it." The librarian indicated a dusty rose garment lying over a chair back.

Elena cast a surreptitious glance at Caroline as she began to change. Yes, there was the bag, at Caroline’s feet. She debated making a grab for it, but Mrs. Grimesby was still in the room.

The muslin dress was very simple, its flowing material belted high under the bosom with a pale rose.

"Did it really belong to Honoria Fell?" she asked, thinking of the marble image of that lady lying on her tomb in the ruined church.

"That’s the story, anyway," said Mrs. Grimesby. "She mentions a dress like it in her journal, so we’re pretty sure."

"She kept a journal?" Elena was startled.

"Oh, yes. I have it in a case in the living room; I’ll show it to you on the way out. Now for the jacket – oh, what’s that?"

Something violet fluttered to the ground as Elena picked the jacket up.

She could feel her expression freeze. She caught up the note before Mrs. Grimesby could bend over, and glanced at it.

One line. She remembered writing it in her diary on September 4, the first day of school. Except that after she had written it she had crossed it out. These words were not crossed out; they were bold and clear.

Something awful is going to happen today.

Elena could barely restrain herself from rounding on Caroline and shaking the note in her face. But that would ruin everything. She forced herself to stay calm as she crumpled up the little slip of paper and threw it into a wastebasket.

"It’s just a piece of trash," she said, and turned back to Mrs. Grimesby, her shoulders stiff. Caroline said nothing, but Elena could feel those triumphant green eyes on her.

Just you wait, she thought. Wait until I get that diary back. I’m going to burn it, and then you and I are going to have a talk.

To Mrs. Grimesby she said, "I’m ready."

"So am I," said Caroline in a demure voice. Elena put on a look of cool indifference as she eyed the other girl. Caroline’s pale green gown with long green and white sashes was not nearly as pretty as hers.

"Wonderful. You girls go ahead and wait for your rides. Oh, and Caroline, don’t forget your reticule."

"I won’t," Caroline said, smiling, and she reached for the drawstring bag at her feet.

It was fortunate that from that position she couldn’t see Elena’s face, for in that instant the cool indifference shattered completely. Elena stared, dumbfounded, as Caroline began to tie the bag at her waist.

Her astonishment didn’t escape Mrs. Grimesby. "That’s a reticule, the ancestor of our modern handbag," the older woman explained kindly. "Ladies used to keep their gloves and fans in them. Caroline came by.

"I’m sure it was," Elena managed in a strangled voice. She had to get out of here or something awful was going to happen right now. She was going to start screaming – or knock Caroline down – or explode. "I need some fresh air," she said. She bolted from the room and from the house, bursting outside.

Bonnie and Meredith were waiting in Meredith’s car. Elena’s heart thumped strangely as she walked to it and leaned in the window.

"She’s outsmarted us," she said quietly. "That bag is part of her costume, and she’s going to wear it all day."

Bonnie and Meredith stared, first at her and then at each other.

"But… then, what are we going to do?" Bonnie asked.

"I don’t know." With sick dismay this realization finally came home to Elena. "I don’t know!"

"We can still watch her. Maybe she’ll take the bag off at lunch or something…" But Meredith’s voice rang hollow. They all knew the truth, Elena thought, and the truth was that it was hopeless. They’d lost. Bonnie glanced in the rearview mirror, then twisted in her seat. "It’s your ride."

Elena looked. Two white horses were drawing a smartly renovated buggy down the street. Crepe paper was threaded through the buggy’s wheels, ferns decorated its seats, and a large banner on the side proclaimed,The Spirit of Fell’s Church.

Elena had time for only one desperate message. "Watch her," she said. "And if there’s ever a moment when she’s alone…" Then she had to go.

But all through that long, terrible morning, there was never a moment when Caroline was alone. She was surrounded by a crowd of spectators.

For Elena, the parade was pure torture. She sat in the buggy beside the mayor and his wife, trying to smile, trying to look normal. But the sick dread was like a crushing weight on her chest.

Somewhere in front of her, among the marching bands and drill teams and open convertibles, was Caroline. Elena had forgotten to find out which float she was on. The first schoolhouse float, perhaps; a lot of the younger children in costume would be on that.

It didn’t matter. Wherever Caroline was, she was in full view of half the town.

The luncheon that followed the parade was held in the high school cafeteria. Elena was trapped at a table with Mayor Dawley and his wife. Caroline was at a nearby table; Elena could see the shining back of her auburn head. And sitting beside her, often leaning possessively over her, was Tyler Smallwood. Elena was in a perfect position to view the little drama that occurred about halfway through lunch. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw Stefan, looking casual, stroll by Caroline’s table.

He spoke to Caroline. Elena watched, forgetting even to play with the untouched food on her plate. But what she saw next made her heart plummet. Caroline tossed her head and replied to him briefly, and then Stefan looked toward Elena as he left, and for a moment their eyes met in wordless communion.