Prada and Prejudice

Chapter 31

I rush out of the courtyard, moving at lightning speed, though I can hardly feel the ground beneath my feet. I don't know whether to flee Harksbury altogether or run straight into the fray and try to explain myself.

It's over. It's all over. Alex will know everything. Emily, my first real friend in a year, will hate me. Victoria will know she was right to snub me.

I stop when I realize no one is looking at me.

If they knew I was an imposter...

What are they looking at?

They're crowding around the area where all the dancers had been.

"Is she all right?" someone asks.

"She just collapsed," someone else says.

I grab the guy nearest me by the shoulder and spin him around. "What's going on?"

"Her Grace has fallen."

"Her — Victoria?"

The man nods.

I shove past him, past three young ladies in sheer, clingy gowns, and push my way into the crowd, elbowing my way past guest after guest.

"Excuse me!" I have to push, hard, to get one of the guys to back up.

Alex is on his knees beside her, and all I can see are the hem of her gown and her toes. She's lying on her back.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. This is not good.

"What happened?"

I fall to the ground beside him and pick up her wrist, trying to find a pulse. There's nothing. No, no, no! Is she dead?

"She was dancing and then said she needed to sit down. She complained of chest pain. Before she could make it to the chairs, she collapsed."

I'm leaning over her, my ear near her lips, but I hear only silence. She's not breathing.

"Was she holding her arm or flexing her hand? Her left one?"

"What?"

"Was she or not?"

"I — yes. What are you doing?"

I've started chest compressions. What if they don't work through the corset? It's so hard to tell if I'm on the right part of the sternum or not. Oh God, I hope it works anyway. If it doesn't, if she doesn't come back...

"One-and-two-and-three-and—"

Alex shoves me, hard, off his mother, and I land on my butt, barely managing to catch myself before knocking my head onto the ballroom floor. My elbows slam into the ground, and pain shoots up my arms.

"You're killing her!" he growls.

I swallow, slowly. "She's not breathing, Alex," I say, knowing I'm not supposed to call him that in front of guests. "She's already dead. You have to let me do this. I can save her."

There's a wild look in his eyes as he hovers over her, as if he intends to protect her from an outward force while the life is slowly disappearing on the inside.

Every second matters. What is he doing? She's dying. She's lying there dying, and he's stopping me from doing the only thing that could help.

Agonizingly slowly, he leans back on his knees. I don't wait for him to give me permission; I just leap forward and pick up CPR again.

I press my lips to Victoria's, and the crowd around me bursts into a hum of conversation. They must think this looks totally crazy. When was CPR invented? I'm sure they've never seen it before.

They must think I'm a freak.

But I don't care. She can't die. Not like this. Not now.

I give her two breaths and resume the chest compressions. "One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five," I chant. I concentrate on the numbers, on the rhythm, and refuse to look at anyone in the room.

She can't die. I won't let her.

This is so unfair. Her whole life, she's gotten the shaft in everything. She had a husband who cheated on her, and when he finally realized she loved him, he died. And now she lives all alone with nothing but her precious etiquette.

She can't die like this.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

She's so pale. What if I'm doing this all wrong? I only learned it last year, and we used dummies.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

Alex is gripping his knees so hard his knuckles are turning white. The crowd seems to be pushing closer.

"Make them back up. She needs air!"

Alex is on his feet in less than a second, pushing the crowd backward.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

Did her eyelids just flutter?

No, that's the dancing candlelight. Just shadows.

Please God, don't let her die! This can't happen. She can't just disappear like this.

Two breaths.

Five more repetitions.

My lungs are screaming. I'm giving her all my breath. Or maybe I'm holding my breath. I'm getting dizzy, pushing on her chest.

"One-and-two-and—"

And then she moves. Her fingers flex and wiggle. She groans softly and I rock back and sit on my heels, watching as her eyes roll around underneath her eyelids.

And then they pop open. Her eyes are completely unfocused. She's staring upward, toward the chandeliers. She blinks a few times.

"Mother?" Alex's voice comes out garbled, like he's choking back the same lump in his throat that I feel in mine.

She's alive.

I saved her life.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel the tears slide down my cheeks and drip to the ground.

She's alive. Thank God, she's alive.

"What.. . ?" she says in a hoarse whisper.

"Shh..." Alex says, holding her hand. "You fell. I thought you were gone but... Rebecca saved your life."

Rebecca. Of course it was Rebecca. Why am I surprised and hurt every time I hear them call me that?

Victoria turns to look at me, and her eyes bore straight into me, slicing right through my heart. "Thank you," she whispers.

I nod as I climb to my feet, feeling the oddest mixture of elation and... nerves. Panic? It's all hitting me now, as I stare straight into her eyes.

I just brought her back to life. I did that.

I find myself backing away from them. The room is closing in on me. I need to get away, get some air.

I flee the ballroom and head toward my chambers.