Page 20 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
“Seventeen.”
“She seems so young for it.”
Doom’s glance was quick and cold. Hester smiled comfortably and adjusted her shawl. “Of course, I’m old enough that everyone looks young to me now. Twelve or twenty, I can hardly tell them apart any longer. And they have so much energy! Goodness. I’m sure I must have been the same, but it’s so hard to remember now. Did we really dance all night long back then?”
There you go, she thought, as Evangeline turned away to the sideboard. Ignore me. Keep thinking that I’m just a silly old woman. It will make it easier for me to do whatever I’m going to do to stop you.
I just wish I knew what the hell that was going to be.
CHAPTER 9
Dinner that night was horrible.
Hester had been slightly late to supper, and as she took her seat next to Cordelia, the girl turned to smile at her and dread had risen up and grabbed her in a now-familiar embrace.
Cordelia was different. Terribly, dreadfully different, as if fainting had allowed some stranger to sneak in and take over her body. She was smiling and warm and assured. She used the silverware as if she had done so all her life, instead of shooting nervous glances at Hester to make certain that she had picked up the proper spoon. And she prattled.
There was really no other word for it. She prattled to the Squire about horses and how beautiful her horse was and did the Squire have a favorite horse and weren’t they the most marvelous creatures and surely he had many exciting stories about jumps he had taken on horses and races he had seen? Which he did, of course, and was gratified to tell them all at garrulous length, while Cordelia watched with her lips slightly parted in delight.
Men! thought Hester, disgusted. If she were being honest, though, most of her disgust was for herself. She’d been taken in completely by the terrified-rabbit act, and here Doom’s daughter was, clearly cut from the same cloth as Doom herself. More the fool me, falling for such an act. No, the sooner the pair of them are gone, the better.
Evangeline made a few comments, but seemed rather quiet this evening. Her daughter was obviously making up for it. Hester ignored everyone else at the table resolutely and had a second glass of wine.
It was not until they had risen from the table and she was about to plead a headache and retire to her rooms that something caught her attention.
Evangeline was making her apologies to the Squire for not joining him for an after-dinner drink, but they were having dress-fitting tomorrow, and she should make an early night of it. She did look a bit weary, her face slightly more drawn than Hester would have expected.
That was not the odd thing. It was when Hester left the room, and found Cordelia standing outside the door. Her face was slack and her arms dangled loosely at her sides. But the eyes that met Hester’s were wild with panic, no longer a frightened rabbit, but one in a snare that, in a few more moments, would tighten and end its life.
“And now you’re upset with me,” said her mother, as Cordelia drew in a great shuddering breath and sat up on the bed. Her body felt like a stranger’s and her throat was dry and sore. Her mother had made her eat but had forgotten to have her drink anything. There was a little tea table on the opposite side of the bed that always contained a ewer of water and a glass. Were her legs strong enough to get to it? They were. She got to her feet, swaying, and made her way around the foot of the bed, holding on to the carved footboard for support.
“Really, Cordelia,” her mother said, sounding annoyed. “You might at least have made an effort. It’s not as if I enjoy doing that, but what else can I do when you sit there like a lump of wood?”
The water struck her throat feeling almost solid, and she choked a little as she swallowed. It hurt, but at least choking gave her an excuse not to answer right away. She’s in my room. She brought me here while Alice wasn’t here to keep her out, and now she’s in the room. Two doors didn’t stop her.
No amount of doors will ever stop her.
“And if I’m having to talk for you, I can’t say much of anything for myself, now can I? Why, the Squire even asked if I was feeling all right!” Evangeline folded her arms and pressed her lips together.
“Yes, Mother,” whispered Cordelia, taking another long drink of water.
“You are going to marry a rich man someday quite soon, and to do that, I expect you to be charming. Rich husbands are not exactly thick on the ground, you know, and there are plenty of far more beautiful girls who are going to be competing for the same ones.” Evangeline’s perfect lips twisted into a frown.
Cordelia’s head was pounding and her throat still burned. “We never practiced being charming in school,” she said hoarsely. If she phrased it like that, it sounded like she was blaming the school, not her mother. It was the safest way.
Evangeline’s frown grew to a scowl. “Worthless teachers,” she said. “What is the point of teaching you geometry and not conversation?”
It hadn’t been a finishing school. It had just been a little schoolhouse with two teachers, one for older children and one for younger. Cordelia knew that her mother was being unreasonable, because Ellen had told her all about her deportment tutor and how her sisters had been sent to a school for young ladies and how Ellen herself would attend one soon. Learning to be a young lady was a full-time class schedule, according to Ellen.
Oh god, thought Cordelia, staring into the empty water ewer. Oh god, let Ellen be alive. Let her have gone off riding or gone to the school for young ladies. Let her not be one of the five family members her father killed. Please, god. Let her even be injured, but let her recover.
Her mother might have kept going, but Alice slipped into the room and curtsied. “Apologies, miss,” she said. “I didn’t know you’d come up from dinner so soon. Will you be wanting a bath?”
Cordelia shook her head. She wanted to curl into a ball and shake, but she could not do that. She certainly could not ask Alice to stand up to her mother. It was much too dangerous for her and Cordelia both.
“I have a headache,” she said instead. “May I have headache powders, please? If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course, miss. And I’ll have Cook send up one of her teas. Miraculous, they are.”
