Page 14 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Perhaps being reminded that she was a guest in a great house changed her mother’s plans. She could not very well destroy a maid on her first morning there, when they were staying on the Squire’s charity, particularly not if she had her sights set on marrying the man. Let her go away, Cordelia prayed. Let her rewrite it in her head so that it’s all her own idea. Please don’t let her do something terrible to Alice.
She still had her doubts about the existence of God, but apparently someone heard her prayer. Evangeline said, “In a quarter of an hour, then,” and Alice murmured an acknowledgment and closed the door.
“Phew,” she said, turning back to Cordelia. “I don’t know if that’s what you wanted, but…”
“You sent her away,” said Cordelia, in pure awe. “You made her leave. You… how…?”
“Ah,” said Alice. She could not have been more than a year or two older than Cordelia, but she looked suddenly weary and mature beyond her years. “I thought that might be the way of it. When you heard her voice, you looked as if the hounds of hell were at your door.” She paused, then added, somewhat belatedly, “Begging your pardon, miss. I don’t mean to speak out of turn.”
“I’ve never been able to get her to leave,” said Cordelia. Belatedly she realized that she should perhaps have lied, that Alice might talk to someone who could talk to the Squire and fox the whole business of marriage, but she was not a quick thinker and she had never dreamed of anything so incredible as her mother backing down from a lady’s maid.
“Some things are easier to have another person do for you.” Alice smiled. “Like your hair. Here, let me finish these braids and we’ll send you down directly. I suspect she wouldn’t take kindly to people being late.”
Her dress, Cordelia knew, was a sad shambles, but Alice draped a lovely shawl across her shoulders and she dared to hope that everyone would be too distracted by the shawl to notice. “One of the Squire’s sister’s,” the maid said, “and she won’t miss it, and wouldn’t begrudge you the loan if she did.” Cordelia looked at herself in the mirror, expecting to see the same colorless girl that she always saw, but the shawl was a deep sea green that brought out red highlights in mouse-colored hair and made her faded gray eyes seem to have a shimmer of turquoise.
“Oh!” she said, startled. “Thank you. I look… so much better.”
“Ah,” said Alice. She gave a little curtsy. “Keep me in mind, miss, when you marry and move to a grand house,” she said, winking. “Always had an ambition to be a lady’s maid, you know.”
Cordelia was fairly certain that you weren’t supposed to hug the servants—if they didn’t like it, they wouldn’t be able to run away, after all—so she waved her hands helplessly. “Thank you. So much.”
“I’ll be here this evening to help you take it down, miss,” said Alice, “and to help with your bath.” She patted Cordelia’s shoulder again, a groom sending the nervous horse out of the stable, and then turned and busied herself with tidying.
A footman kindly saw her to the Blue Drawing Room and ushered her in. Cordelia knew that she was early, but her mother would likely be feeling thwarted, so it was best not to do anything to attract her ire. Perhaps she could find a way to deflect it.
The room looked empty at first. It was very grand and full of furniture, including two chairs pulled up close by the fire, and after a moment, Cordelia noticed that someone was sitting in one of those chairs. “Mother?” she asked.
“Probably not,” said the woman in the chair. “It seems unlikely, at any rate. I’m old enough, but I do think I’d have remembered.”
“Oh! I’m sorry—I was expecting—”
“Someone else,” said the woman in the chair cheerfully. “Indeed. I’m Hester, the Squire’s sister.” She pushed herself to her feet, grabbing for a cane that leaned against the chair. She was middle-aged and round, with heavy hips, and her hair was shot with gray, but her smile was as young as Alice’s. “You must be Cordelia. We met last night, but you were so tired, I’ve no doubt you don’t recall.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cordelia remembered her manners and curtsied deeply.
“And wearing one of my shawls, too,” said Hester, amused. Cordelia turned red and started to pull it off, stammering. “No, no, my dear! I make you a gift of it. It looks far better on you than it ever did on me.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. “When you reach a certain age, everyone gives you shawls as a gift. I have closets full of the things. It looks very fine on you. You must always wear that color, I think.”
Cordelia swallowed. “You’re so kind,” she whispered. “Everyone here… you’ve all been so kind…” And they were being kind to a viper and her offspring, she knew, and did not dare say to anyone.
“Ah, well.” Hester stumped across the room on her cane. “We’re bored silly, that’s all, and desperate for new faces. I shall leave you to your meeting with your mother. Do come and see me later, if you like. I don’t get out as often as I would wish, and it’s more fun to do embroidery with someone else to talk to. Or even to read aloud, if you would wish to.”
“I… yes, I’d be happy to…” Cordelia was growing annoyed with herself for stammering so often. I may not be clever or brave or beautiful, but is it too much to ask that I can form a complete sentence?
“I’ll see you then,” Hester said, waving over her shoulder as she left.
“There you are,” her mother said five minutes later, walking into the room as if she already was the mistress of it. She looked Cordelia over appraisingly. “Where did that shawl come from?”
“Lady Hester gave it to me,” murmured Cordelia, wondering if it would be taken away from her, or if her mother would approve. There was no telling for something so far outside her experience.
“Good,” said her mother. “She may take a liking to you, and that’s useful. The old spinsters are the worst. They don’t want to see their brothers married off and you can’t distract them with a kiss or a fondle.” She tapped her foot. “Yes. Good. See if you can’t amuse her.”
Cordelia nodded. She had no idea how she was supposed to do that, but Lady Hester had already suggested embroidery. Granted, she had no more idea how to embroider than how to fly. She did say I could read to her. I do know how to read.
Her mother was idly stroking the arm of one of the chairs, rubbing the nap of the velvet first one way, then the other. “This is a good house,” she said. “Just wealthy enough to be worthwhile, and not so rich that anyone has snapped the old man up already. And he seems an easy enough nut to crack. He wants a mistress, not a wife, but I’ll have a ring on my finger in a fortnight.”
Cordelia swallowed. It sounded so cold-blooded when she said it. Does that surprise you? She is cold-blooded.
“You’re… you’re not going to…” She couldn’t find the words and finally settled on “… do anything to them, are you?”
