Page 42 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
The sun was warm on their faces. They meandered across the field, inventing increasingly outrageous names for birds that probably didn’t deserve them. Minnow grabbed mouthfuls of grass and Cordelia was absolutely at a loss for how to stop her—did she haul on the reins? really? she’d never even considered doing that with Falada—but Penelope didn’t seem troubled by it at all.
“Not much of a ride, was it?” asked the stablemaster, when Dancer and Minnow strolled back into the stableyard an hour later.
“It was exactly the sort I prefer,” said Penelope firmly. “A lovely day on a very peaceful horse. And Cordelia’s good company.” She grinned over at Cordelia. “Let me know if you’d like to amble around another day.”
Cordelia must have said something appropriate, but what she was thinking, in pure amazement, was Good company? Me?
No one had ever said such a thing before. It was such a small bit of praise, but it stood in splendid isolation inside her skull. Good company.
Another person wanted to be around her. She was not imposing on someone’s time. It was staggering. Her friends at school had been temporary alliances, and even then she was on the outside looking in. Ellen had ridden with her out of courtesy and habit and… well, probably pity, if she was being honest. Hester was a kind hostess and a generally good-natured person.
Cordelia was aware of how pathetic it was to be so warmed by such a minor statement, and yet it wrapped around her anyway, a bit of praise that she had won for herself, by herself.
“I hate her,” Evangeline growled again, wrenching Cordelia’s attention back to the present. “I’ve got to get her out of here. The Squire likes her entirely too much, God knows why, and he’s known her for years. Nostalgia for their lost youth is like an aphrodisiac for middle-aged men.” She scowled, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the mantel and spent a moment smoothing out the lines in her face. “Cordelia!”
Cordelia jerked, startled. “Yes, Mother?”
“You’ve spent time with her. Has she let anything useful drop?”
“Useful?” All she could think was good company, and surely that was of no use to anyone else.
“Something I can use against her, stupid girl! Something damning!”
Cordelia didn’t have the faintest idea what such a thing would look like. “I… I don’t know… like what?”
Evangeline hurled herself into a chair. “Something scandalous. Something that paints her in a bad light. Gambling debts or affairs with married men or secret Catholicism. Something.”
Cordelia tried to think of anything that might count, then realized that if she did know anything, she would never tell her mother. I have to tell her something, though. She could make me obedient and send me to spy on Hester and Penelope and Imogene if she doesn’t think I’d do a good enough job. “I think she uses a lemon-water rinse on her hair?” she said cautiously.
“Not enough. Other women might care, but the Squire certainly wouldn’t.” She raked her nails down the arm of the chair. “I will not be outdone by a mere dabbler!”
“Dabbler…?”
Evangeline’s laugh held no humor. “You didn’t notice? No, of course not. She’s a sorcerer. Oh, not a trained one.” She laughed again, probably at Cordelia’s expression. “Wouldn’t make even half a hedge-witch. I doubt she knows she’s doing anything. Why do you think all these fools adore her?”
Because she’s funny and kind to people? But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe it was magic after all.
But no, good company had been real. And they really had made up silly bird names together. Maybe the sorcery made people more inclined to like Mrs. Green, or maybe that was why she seemed taller, but she was… well… nice. And Evangeline had a lot more sorcery, and no one thought she was nice, unless the Squire did.
Cordelia licked her lips nervously. “I’ll keep listening for something useful,” she promised. “I really haven’t talked to her that much, but I’ll keep listening.”
“Do that,” said Evangeline broodingly. “Otherwise I might have to take desperate measures.”
Cordelia shuddered at the thought.
When Cordelia arrived in the solar, Lady Strauss and Mrs. Green were already there. She thought of leaving again, but Mrs. Green immediately patted the divan beside herself. “Come, sit, my dear Cordelia! You must save me.”
Cordelia sat. She tried to study Mrs. Green covertly, wondering if she could feel some kind of sorcery radiating off her skin. “Save you?”
“Yes. Imogene is trying to persuade me to play cards. If you join in, she’ll at least be reasonable and play for sugar lumps instead of trying to wring my life savings from my poor tender flesh.”
Lady Strauss rolled her eyes. “Oh, very well. If you insist.” She began to deal the cards out. The pack was worn, the edges showing little nicks of white. They matched the teapot on the tray, which had faint white marks around the rim where the painted design had begun to wear away.
“I don’t know how to play,” Cordelia protested.
“Oh, we’re for it now,” said Mrs. Green. “Look at the unholy light in her eyes! Imogene, be gentle. She is young and I am poor.”
“You are not poor,” said Lady Strauss. “I refuse to believe it. No one who wears gowns like yours could be poor.”
