Page 23 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Hester rubbed her forehead. No wonder Alice had skipped over the usual chain of command. The housekeeper could hardly do anything about Evangeline, and Alice probably knew better than Hester did how quickly gossip spread through the house.
“Have you told anyone else about this?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.” Alice shook her head. “It ain’t their business and it ain’t a thing they need to be talking about.” Her lips twisted up. “And it ain’t a thing they can fix, either. Nor me. But maybe you can, ma’am.”
Hester let out a long sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think you’re wrong but I don’t know what to do yet. I can’t just snatch a child away from her mother, even if her mother is… ah…”
Alice snorted. “Her mother’s a fair piece of work, if you’ll forgive me speaking so bold, ma’am.”
“If anyone asks, I had very harsh words with you about speaking so of your betters and so forth.” Hester waved her hand.
“I was quaking in my boots, ma’am.”
“Yes, quite. Lord, that woman is dreadful, isn’t she? Has she done anything to the staff that I should know about?”
“Given them the rough side of her tongue, but no more that I know of, ma’am. But there’s something about the way she looks at you that nobody much likes. Like you’re a bit of furniture and she’s already deciding whether she’ll throw you out.”
Hester massaged her temples, thinking that was probably very true. “If you do hear of anything, please come and tell me, Alice. I won’t stand for her making trouble with the household. And we won’t be letting anyone go on her say-so, in case anyone belowstairs is afraid to speak up because of it.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You did right telling me. I knew that something was wrong, but not how bad it was.”
“I think she tries to put a good face on it, ma’am. Afraid to make trouble, maybe, or just afraid that her mother’ll hear of it.” She scowled. “My little cousin did that too.”
“That neighbor was dealt with, I trust?”
Alice nodded solemnly. “Fell down a well. Terrible unlucky, it was.”
“Well, accidents do happen.” Hester stabbed the cloth with her embroidery needle. “We’ll see what we can do for Miss Cordelia. Perhaps there’s some useful abandoned wells in the neighborhood. Meanwhile… well, she’s young and I don’t think she’s had many friends. I can hardly order you to befriend her, and I know it’s awkward because of your position, but if she happens to confide in you…”
Alice nodded. “I’ll do my best, ma’am. She’s no trouble to work for, except that it’s hard to get an order out of her sometimes.”
Hester nodded. People, regardless of their social class, generally preferred clear directions, she’d found, so that everybody knew where they stood and what was expected of them. It was when people were left to flounder on their own that things started to fall apart.
After Alice had left, she found herself staring out the window again. It was the sort of damp, gray day enjoyed by ducks and frogs and very few humans. Occasionally the fog would solidify into rain, but it would quickly lose interest and go back to being fog again.
“And what the devil am I supposed to do now?” she murmured to the windowpane. “Hiding in the closet, is she?” Hester abandoned the notion that Doom’s daughter was a willing co-conspirator, no matter how she’d acted at dinner. That had been a performance, and judging by Alice’s report, not one she’d given particularly happily. The more impressive bit is that she was able to give it at all. I would never have thought she had that in her.
“I must send for Richard,” muttered Hester to herself. “I must.” Not that Richard would necessarily know what to do, but at least she would have an ally in the house.
If she was being honest, more than an ally. She felt steadier when Richard was around, more competent, more herself. Maybe she should have married him, dammit. Well, right or wrong, the chance had passed her by. He had moved on, even if he hadn’t yet wed. Not that I expected him to be celibate for the last decade, even so.
Still, he was her dearest friend. He was also the only one who, if she told him that she had had a premonition of doom, would take her seriously.
And you can do worse for an ally than a lord of the realm. You just have to move before Doom manages to snare the Squire once and for all.
“Be polite,” Cordelia’s mother ordered, as they approached the dress shop. “Your dressmaker can destroy you with a seam. She can make you look utterly ridiculous and you won’t know it until you’re at a ball. You will do what she asks and you will not sulk or argue, do I make myself clear?”
I hardly ever argue. And I wasn’t sulking at dinner, I just didn’t know how I was supposed to make conversation. But she could not say these things, so she only murmured agreement and stuffed the resentment down where it wouldn’t color her tone.
Instead she asked, “Do you think the man at the carriageyard will tell people about the magic?”
Evangeline made a scoffing sound. “Assuming he cared, and assuming he found someone who would listen, the very worst they could say was that Falada’s got a glamour on him. Which I shan’t deny, and shall claim that it was a gift from a friend. No one will care.”
“Oh.” There were too many people on the sidewalks and Cordelia kept stepping aside, trying not to run into anyone. She found herself falling behind her mother, who walked as if people should get out of her way.
“Do keep up, Cordelia,” her mother said, pausing to wait for her. “And don’t fret yourself so. No one will suspect a thing. No one suspected anything back home, now did they?” She smiled suddenly, showing a sharp edge of tooth. “And even if they did decide to burn me as a witch, they’d get no joy of it, I assure you.”
