Becky of Becky's Bookshelves

“For all Miss Corvus's progressive views, for all her insistence on looking to the future, this was a chamber firmly enshrouded in the past. A veiled room, all stale darkness and decay.
Miss Corvus had been similarly veiled the first time Effie had seen her that fateful day eighteen years ago in the London slum of St. Giles.
But Miss Corvus wasn't veiled now.
She sat in a green damask-upholstered armchair by the window, her uncovered face as white as wax. She was clad in stark black, just as Effie was-a plain, but impeccably tailored, silk dress worn over an abundance of petticoats and a formidable wire crinoline. A jet brooch gleamed at her throat, and an embroidered lace handkerchief was clutched in her pale hand.”
― Mimi Matthews, Rules for Ruin

“Effie's brow lifted. Miss Corvus never received any of the girls in her private rooms. Not even the teachers. At least, she hadn't during Effie's tenure. Miss Corvus's rooms had always been sealed off, as impenetrable as a tomb, behind an impassable set of tall, iron-banded wooden doors. Not even the canniest members of the Academy had dared attempt entry.”
― Mimi Matthews, Rules for Ruin

“She was no stranger to the game of flirtation. During her time in Paris, many men had attempted to woo her with sweet words and kisses. But this was different. Mr. Royce was no courtly French gentleman. His touch wasn’t sweet. It was incendiary.”
― Mimi Matthews, Rules for Ruin

“Effie felt no great urgency to fill it. There was power in saying nothing. It generally prompted one's opponent to stumble into the conversational breach, saying too much. Revealing too much.”
― Mimi Matthews, Rules for Ruin