The corpse sat propped on a chair, eyes sewn open, head resting on Ursula’s shoulder.
There was a bright flash, and a man emerged from behind the curtain of a camera, frowning. “The light is not right. Stay there. I’ll talk to your father about finding another room.”
He disappeared, leaving Molly alone with the two sisters.
Ursula’s face was pinched into an agitated frown. “What are you doing here?” she said.
“I’m sorry.” Molly was already reaching for the door. “I didn’t know . . .”
“Get her off of me!” Ursula’s voice caught in her throat. “Please! I can’t take it anymore.”
Molly hesitated, and then went to her, repositioning Cady’s body gently back against the chair.
Cady’s plain features had been made up to look more lifelike, rouge smeared against gray flesh and painted over blue lips. The effect was garish.
“Ursula,” Molly whispered, Edgar momentarily forgotten. “I’m so sorry.”
Ursula had changed her gown. Now, in the midst of a sea of black mourning garb, the two sisters were dressed identically, in white dresses filled with pleats and ruffles made for young girls.
“They want me to take a picture with her.” Ursula’s voice had grown wild.
Molly had heard of such practices—taking a picture with a dead relative to look as though the individual were still alive—but this seemed monstrous.
“Sometimes, it’s better if you just pretend they’re somebody else,” Molly said. “Somebody you don’t know. It makes it easier.”
Ursula’s face hardened. “She’s my sister.”
“I know,” Molly said. “I only mean, while you’re taking the picture, just to get through it, it might help to think of this as just a body. Just . . .”
“Just a body,” Ursula whispered, looking at the corpse, its limbs as stiff as a doll’s. “Just a body.”
Molly nodded. “Yes.”
The photographer burst back into the room, clapping his hands. “Come! We must move quickly. Your father has found us a place in the library.” For the first time, he noticed Molly and frowned. “There are no friends or family allowed. You must leave.”
She nodded and stole gratefully away, Ursula’s haunted expression following her out the door.
“Where have you been?” Ava was waiting for her in the hall, anxious. “And what in the world were you thinking back there, causing a scene?”
She started to apologize but was stunned to feel her aunt’s hand slip into her own. More surprising still was the chilly touch of metal. Molly looked in her palm to see her knife returned.
Ava’s gaze did not waver. “It’s smart for a girl to have protection. But for a party like this, I’m afraid you’ve chosen the wrong kind. Next time, use your brain instead of a blade. Now let’s go. We aren’t wanted here.”
Molly tucked the knife away. They left, moving through the crowds who seemed to still as they passed, eyes bathing them in cold stares. She caught a final glimpse of Edgar, and then they were outside.
Molly felt the squeeze of Ava’s hand, empty this time. “I’m sorry. I should have left you at home.” She gave Molly a grim smile. “It’s only . . . it can be hard to walk into the lion’s den alone. It was selfish bringing you here.”
“Why did you come at all?”
Ava winced. “I liked Cady. She was one of the few girls who cared more about her deeds than her dresses.” Her expression hardened. “Besides, if I didn’t come today, it would give them an excuse to exclude me at the next important event.” She shook her head. “No one dared tell the emperor he didn’t have any clothes, and they damn well won’t tell me I can’t be a part of Philadelphia’s high society simply because of my work.”
“I thought they didn’t know what you did.”
“They don’t call me the Corpse Queen, if that’s what you mean. People like that don’t even know such a person exists. They only know of my association with the doctor. But on days like this, it’s enough. The rich don’t like to be reminded of their own mortality. Living forever is the one thing they can’t buy.”
Molly thought of poor Cady, face painted like a child’s toy.
She hardly dared to ask the next question. “Will we—”
“No.” Ava had cut her off sharply. She nodded across the park toward a large white mausoleum. “She’ll be kept in there. With the rest of her family. Safe, and resting in splendor.”
“Do we never take the rich, then?”
“They buy their privacy even in death.” Squeezing Molly’s hand a final time, Ava sighed. “We shall hope to buy ourselves that same luxury someday.”
Letting go, she raised her hand to hail Tom. He nodded and pulled the carriage around.
“Waste of a good body, though,” her aunt said, stepping into the cab. “Would have been good money cutting into a girl like that.”