Page 61 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Cordelia stared into her empty teacup, thinking of all the ways that Hester and Lord Evermore could die at her mother’s hands. She could make Hester obedient and make her run down the stairs without her cane. It would look like an ordinary fall. Or she could make Lord Evermore strangle her, or something equally horrific. “If she finds out, it will be very bad.”
Evermore looked to Hester. “Do you have something else in mind, then?”
“I do,” said Hester slowly, “but it means I must beg a very great favor of you.”
“Anything,” he said. Looking at him, Cordelia was struck by the thought that he truly meant it.
“I require you to make an offer of marriage.”
Evermore blinked at her a few times, and then his face went oddly gentle. He reached out and took Hester’s hand with a tenderness that Cordelia felt embarrassed to witness, as if she had looked on something private.
“The offer has always been open,” he said. “Always.”
It was Hester’s turn to be startled. “No,” she said, dropping his hand. “No, I didn’t mean—oh hang it all, Dick, I need you to marry my young friend here.”
There was a brief silence. Something flashed across Lord Evermore’s face before he turned to look at Cordelia. Cordelia gulped. He seemed nice enough, and he believed that Evangeline was a sorceress, which were all good points, but he was so old.
Marry him? Really? His hair wasn’t completely white, it was true, but also he currently had an expression very much like a man who has been hit with a board, although whether that was due to his advanced years or the conversation, it was hard to know.
The hit-with-a-board look smoothed out and was replaced with a questioning smile. “Hester,” said Richard, “I am certain that your young friend has many redeeming qualities, but I have not yet stooped to robbing the nursery.”
“I don’t mean you really marry her,” snapped Hester. “Obviously. You just have to offer for her. And… err…” She leaned on her cane. “Well, possibly you might actually have to walk down the aisle together. It depends on the timing, you understand. But we can get it annulled later. It will be fine.”
Richard looked from Hester to Cordelia. His eyes crinkled up as he smiled at her. “I see that we are both entrapped in one of Hester’s schemes. Do you know what is going on?”
She shook her head.
“Oh good. I hate to be the only one in the dark. Very well, Hester, explain to us why you require me to offer for Miss Cordelia here.”
Hester folded her hands together. “All right. Let’s start at the beginning. Cordelia, what has been your mother’s goal this entire time?”
“To have me marry a rich man,” said Cordelia promptly. “She’s been talking about it as long as I can remember.”
Hester leveled a finger at her. “Precisely. And you said that she chose to marry my brother in order to accomplish that goal.”
Cordelia nodded. Richard cleared his throat. “Forgive me,” he said, when both women looked at him, “but I didn’t quite follow that. How does marrying Samuel get her closer?”
Hester tilted her head to one side. “Richard, for a very smart man, you can be surprisingly ignorant. To marry a rich man requires funds. You must bring your prospective bride to the attention of your quarry. In most cases, that will mean a season in town, with all the balls and assemblies and parties and so forth. And for that, you must have gowns and hats and day-dresses and tickets to the theater and all of those things require money.”
“Ah.”
She folded her arms. “The problem with being rich is that you simply have no idea how expensive it is to be poor.”
“Yes, Hester,” said Richard meekly.
“Selling Mr. Parker’s carriage let us pay for the dresses, I think,” said Cordelia. “At least a few.”
“But you’d still need a place to stay, and someone to introduce you to the assemblies and so forth.” Hester waved her hand. “In that sense, Doo—Evangeline has been extremely clever. My brother and I were perfectly placed to accomplish her goals.”
“I don’t know,” said Richard. “If she were truly that clever, she wouldn’t have gone up against you in the first place.”
Hester poked him in the shin with her cane. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Practice flattering Cordelia instead. You’re supposed to make this convincing.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Ah… Cordelia, that’s a very charming frock.”
“Thank you?” She tried to remember how to respond to compliments, but none of her mother’s haphazard lectures came to mind. All she could think of was Penelope Green, who had deflected insults and compliments with such self-deprecating grace. “I—ah—it was all the dressmaker. I just stood there and held my arms up.”
Hester laughed. “Good answer.” Cordelia smiled with relief, though she suspected that her mother wouldn’t have liked it much.
