virtue for the power she has no right to wield!” Miss Pendennis waved a fist in the air, spoke the words in a declamatory voice, as if she were up on a podium making a speech. Then she regarded Emily closely.
“You’re blushing,” Miss Pendennis said. “I’m sure you’re a nice, decent girl. But don’t ever forget this—there is not one Warlock in the world who will give you credit for being anything better than a brazen hussy.”
Emily’s eyes flashed up rebelliously. That wasn’t true! Certainly Stanton didn’t think …
… but then Emily’s cheeks burned even hotter. Why on earth wouldn’t he? What reason had she ever given him to think otherwise? How about the time he’d seen her dancing naked under an oak tree, trying to bewitch a man into marrying her so that she could get her hands on his money? She pressed her hands to her face, suddenly wishing she could sink through the floor.
“To summarize the sad state of the world,” Miss Pendennis said, lifting a finger. “Ladies: respected and revered. Skycladdische: despised and discarded. And that’s why the Witches’ Friendly Society exists. Of Witches, by Witches, for Witches! Simple enough?”
Emily said nothing.
“So, we transform you into the very picture of propriety and respectability. At least until Mirabilis’ Grand Symposium is finished.”
“If you say so,” Emily said softly.
“All right then,” Miss Pendennis barked, like a drillmaster. “Down to your chemise!”
“The thing to remember is that clothes are like armor.” Miss Pendennis pulled out a steel-boned corset and held it up, eyeing Emily’s waist critically. “You don’t normally wear corsets, I presume?”
“I always found it hard to climb mountains in them,” Emily said.
“Women who don’t wear corsets are called loose. Yet another euphemism for whore.” Miss Pendennis fastened the obnoxious garment around Emily’s waist, pulling the laces to an extreme tightness.
“The more clothes you wear, the more protected you are.” Miss Pendennis continued her previous lecture as she pulled and tugged, grunting. “Clothes deflect reproach.” She didn’t stop tugging until the laces had been drawn so tight that Emily despaired of her ability to draw enough breath to walk across the room. Miss Pendennis nodded fiercely. “With practice you could go as small as any lady of fashion, but that’s enough to fit into the dress.”
“How do the ladies of fashion manage?” Emily panted.
“They manage because they have to,” Miss Pendennis said, tying the corset. “Now, I’m an advocate of dress reform myself. I despise the thought of what this barbaric truss is doing to your innards. But we must choose our battles and that’s one I’m sure I won’t win for a long time, if ever.”
The purple silk ballgown from Worth had been laid carefully across a chair to wait for the Grand Symposium. For daytime wear, Miss Pendennis pulled out a fawn-colored cashmere embroidered in black floss and declared it just the thing.
“Warm and soft, delicate and vulnerable.” Miss Pendennis pulled the dress down over Emily’s head, her fingers flying up Emily’s back to fasten the multitude of little pearl buttons. “Fuzzy, too. The symbolism just gets cruder from there.”
“But I thought I was supposed to be armored,” Emily said.
“That’s the paradoxical thing about a woman’s armor,” Miss Pendennis said as she fluffed the dress in a few places. “The softer it is, the better it serves.”
“You’re not making any sense! I thought the idea was to keep men from getting ideas. Men get ideas about soft, fuzzy, vulnerable girls!”
“Of course they do,” Miss Pendennis said. “But they feel guilty about them.”
The woman stood back at arm’s length, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger critically. She seized a little black hat and perched it atop Emily’s head, cocking her head to scrutinize the effect. As she was pinning it on, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Right on schedule,” Miss Pendennis murmured. “That’ll be Ben, coming with some plan to distract us. Mirabilis will have arranged it, because it won’t do to have us sitting up here thinking all day. He’ll have a lecture for us to go to or something … somewhere we can’t really talk. Which is exactly why I put you into this lovely walking outfit. Follow my lead.”
There was another knock, gentle but insistent.
“Enter!” Miss Pendennis barked, angling Emily’s hat attractively.
Ben appeared in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.
“Excuse me, Miss Pendennis, Miss Edwards … but since the symposium will not commence until later this evening, Sophos Mirabilis thought you might enjoy attending a presentation by one of