Creatures of Want and Ruin

  “Dorina Gray!” cried Evadne as she emerged from the stairwell. The two girls shrieked and fell apart. Juliana Lennox looked genuinely terrified; Dorina, after seeing it was Evadne who had rumbled her orgy, looked merely amused as her elder sister strode toward them to loom over them and deliver her scolding. Evadne so rarely felt tall—especially next to her longer-limbed sibling—but now she had the high ground.

  “What do you think you’re doing here!”

  “Don’t you know?” Dorina leered back at her. “Don’t tell me you really were fencing with Freddie all morning?”

  “Dorina!” Juliana at least seemed to understand the seriousness of their situation.

  “You think it’s funny?” Evadne snarled as she snatched the cigarette from her sister’s fingers. How she hated being laughed at! And Dorina was always doing so—poking fun at her lack of grace, her fencing, her piousness. She could not bear it, not today!

  “So you were fencing with Freddie?” Dorina smirked at her, and Evadne felt her face go red. “Too bad.”

  Her sister could not have known it was exactly the wrong thing to say. In that moment Evadne resolved that if she could not be happy, neither would Dorina. “Too bad for you,” said Evadne. “I’m going to tell Mother exactly what I found her daughter doing when she ought to be drinking tea with her family. I think she’ll be interested to hear you have no sense of responsibility—no judgment—none of the consideration for others a young woman should exhibit, especially given her ill-advised decision to send you off to London on your own. I wonder if she’ll ever let you out of her sight again!”

  “No!” Dorina’s nonchalance turned to panic. She obviously hadn’t anticipated this. “Don’t—”

  “Be quiet! It’s my duty to tell them.” Evadne was already descending the spiral stair.

  “Let’s talk about this!” cried Dorina as Evadne reached the bottom of the stairs and took off running for the house. But in running, Evadne had the advantage, in spite of being a decade older—her years of training had strengthened her legs and chest, and she quickly outpaced her younger sister.

  “Oh, we’ll talk about it,” she shouted over her shoulder. “With our mother!”

  “You wouldn’t!” cried Dorina, already falling behind. “Evadne!”

  Evadne quickened her pace. As it turned out, there were certain advantages to not being a picture of feminine grace.

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  About the Author

  Molly Tanzer is the author of Creatures of Will and Temper, Vermilion, and The Pleasure Merchant. She is also the coeditor of Mixed Up: Cocktail Recipes (and Flash Fiction) for the Discerning Drinker (and Reader).

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