Page 58 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
“A small service in a small chapel will be more than enough for me,” purred Evangeline, looking up at the Squire with a look that might have been adoring if not for the hardness of her eyes.
“My goodness,” said Hester. She pushed herself to her feet. Cordelia almost didn’t move out of the way in time, and Hester saw a line form between Doom’s eyebrows. “My goodness,” she said again. “We have so much planning to do. Why, the thought makes me quite faint! But a good faint, a good one, not a bad one, not like when I haven’t eaten breakfast, you understand…” She let her mouth witter on, hoping that her brain would come up with something brilliant in the interim. It declined to do so.
Imogene took one of her arms with a wry smile. I know what you’re doing, that smile said. “Let me help you upstairs,” she suggested. “And we’ll plan the guest list, shall we?”
“Not too many people, mind,” the Squire huffed. “I said a small wedding, and I meant it!”
“No, no, of course not. We shan’t invite any of the cousins, which is probably for the best, because we have so many cousins, you know, and I’ve always thought that Cousin Celia’s children were dreadfully ill-behaved, although maybe they’ve improved, it’s been years, and I do think that children are likely to improve, don’t you? Particularly when the problem was that they would jump on the furniture and filch pastries from the tea trays, and of course you don’t expect anyone to do that once they’re past thirty, do you?”
Samuel and Lord Strauss had a slightly glazed expression after this recitation. So did Doom, although Hester doubted that she was listening.
“I’ll help you upstairs, Auntie,” said Cordelia, clapping her hands. “May I call you Auntie now? Oh, do say yes! I would like it best of all things.”
How in the name of God did I not realize what was going on before? This doesn’t even sound like Cordelia. She talks like girls did when I was a child. Mostly girls we didn’t like. The sort of girl who runs to tattle to an adult at any opportunity.
Cordelia’s ice-cold fingers closed on her other arm like a vise. The girl’s mouth was still stretched in that terrible smile, showing all her little white teeth. If she had suddenly turned her head and sunk those teeth into Hester’s cheek, it would have been a shock, but not really a surprise. The rabbit in a trap again, biting anything that gets too close. And this has been going on her entire life? How has she not broken completely?
Perhaps she had. As Hester had learned from her engagement, long ago, sometimes it didn’t matter if you broke. You kept going. You weren’t given a choice.
“Well,” said Imogene, once they were out of the room and partway up the steps. “I told you, didn’t I?”
Shit. Doom could hear every word through Cordelia’s ears, couldn’t she? “I never would have thought it, at Samuel’s age,” Hester said hurriedly, giving her friend’s arm a warning squeeze.
Imogene gave her a puzzled look. Hester widened her eyes. Imogene’s gaze flicked suspiciously to Cordelia. I am going to have to explain later, Hester thought wearily, and then, How the hell do I explain this? I still don’t have proof.
Her lack of proof seemed increasingly trivial at this point. Surely anyone who so much as looked at Cordelia’s face would know that something was happening. Surely.
“Do you not approve?” the girl asked mournfully, her face rearranging into something that resembled a pout. Imogene’s eyebrows drew down sharply. And now she is thinking that Cordelia has been an extraordinary actress all this time, and trying to remember what she has said…
“Of course I approve,” said Hester, stomping up the steps. Cordelia was providing no physical support at all, which gave her an excuse to brush the frozen fingers from her sleeve. “Careful, my dear, that’s my cane arm. Let me lean on Imogene for a bit. Will you run up to my room and ask the maid to bespeak me a hot compress for my knee? It’s paining me something awful tonight.”
Cordelia’s face went briefly blank, then she dipped her head and hurried up the steps in front of them.
“What the hell is going on?” murmured Imogene in Hester’s ear.
“I’ll explain later. It’s very complicated.”
“It would almost have to be. Is the girl her mother’s creature, then?”
“No,” said Hester, sighing, “not the way you’re thinking. That’s the problem.” She paused on the landing and rubbed her temples. “I promise I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can.”
Her friend’s eyes were bright with curiosity, but Imogene was too good a card player to let it show. “I’ll look forward to that,” she said quietly, and helped Hester up the last flight of steps to her room.
Cordelia fell heavily across the bed and a moment later, the obedience lapsed. She lay like a discarded toy for a few minutes, getting her senses back together, then sat up, trying to shove the memory of the last few minutes aside.
God. The things she’d said. May I call you Auntie now? Her only comfort was that Hester must have known that she was obedient, because otherwise she would never have said she approved of the wedding.
She rubbed her temples. The pressure in her chest had been growing the entire time she was obedient, and she let it out in a sharp teakettle shriek, grateful that Alice was not around to hear. Her maid likely hadn’t expected her back so soon after dinner, and that was fine. Better than fine. God only knew how rude her mother would have been in Cordelia’s voice. She’d been imperious enough to the maid that she’d ordered the hot compress from.
She was exhausted. Being obedient left her feeling wrung out, muscles aching from stretching just the wrong way and holding positions just a moment too long. She went to the water closet, then shrugged out of her gown and hung it up. Not as neatly as Alice would have done, perhaps, but hopefully it wouldn’t wrinkle. Then she crawled under the blankets and pulled the curtains and gazed blankly into the darkness overhead.
Mother did it. She convinced the Squire to marry her. She won.
Does that mean we lost?
With Penelope Green dead, it was hard to feel otherwise. Evangeline would turn out Willard the butler and anyone else she didn’t like. Hester would have to move away. And once she had what she wanted, how long would the Squire live? What if she killed him, too, to get all his money?
She’s not married yet, Cordelia told herself. There’s still a little time. It was considered borderline dishonorable for a man to break an engagement without a compelling reason, but if they could find some proof that Evangeline was a sorcerer and a murderer, that would surely be sufficiently scandalous. After all, if women’s reputations could be compromised by spending ten minutes with the wrong man, surely spending ten minutes forcing someone off a balcony would be considered even worse.
