Page 53 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Didn’t it remind you, even then, of Cordelia after that dinner? The one where she says she was made obedient? Eyes like an animal in a trap?
Penelope Green had not been a frightened rabbit but a wily old fox, and yet… and yet…
Cordelia’s absolute calm reminded Hester of a rabbit, still—one in shock, who sits and watches the predator’s approach. It should have been heartbreaking, but Hester was forced to be glad of it. She could not handle wailing and tears right now. She was too close to the edge herself.
But if she was wailing and babbling about sorcery, you could just dismiss her out of hand. Tell her that she was overwrought. Instead you’re listening, even though you know it’s completely mad.
Evangeline, a sorceress?
It was too easy. It tied everything up so elegantly and put the blame on a hated villain, not on her dead friend. Hester was suspicious of easy answers.
Her first thought was to send for Richard and have Cordelia tell him her story. Get a second opinion, one that she knew would be rational and fair. But she dismissed it almost at once. He will be fair, and he’ll tell me that it’s absurd. Because it is absurd. Sorcerers don’t do things like that. You know that.
But if it is true…
On some level, she wanted it to be true. If it was true, then Penelope was still the woman that Hester had believed her to be, her friend who told ridiculous stories and made stirring speeches about the importance of style. She had not stabbed someone and then taken her own life. She had been a victim of a terrible spell and she had fought it, valiant to the end.
If it was true, then Hester’s sense of doom had a cause, not merely the panic of an old lady seeing her comfortable life slip away.
“Proof,” she muttered aloud. “I need proof. This is too much.” She gripped the head of her cane, anchoring herself in the smooth polish of the handle, the solidity of the wood.
Cordelia frowned. She was perched on the edge of the old gold velvet sofa, sitting up very straight. Her gown was a deep, exquisite sapphire that brought out the color of her faded blue eyes. Faded blue eyes, faded brown hair, a washed-out copy of her mother. “I don’t know how to prove something like that. The horse trader in town, he’ll remember, maybe? The way the ward went off when Falada walked through?”
“Which would only prove that there was a glamour on the horse,” said Hester, trying to assemble her thoughts. “Which is a far cry from this obedience.”
“If I knew anyone else who had been obedient, you could ask them,” said Cordelia slowly, “but…” She trailed off, suddenly thoughtful.
“What?”
“Mr. Parker,” she said slowly. “At the manor house in Little Haw. I don’t know what Mother did to him. Something like that, I think. She made him do it. If you talked to him…” She frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s anything left of him. She said she broke him.”
Hester seized on the suggestion like a lifeline. “Nor do I, but I know who can find out.” She leaned over and yanked on the bellpull. “We’ll send Richard.”
CHAPTER 19
It was a grim party that assembled for dinner. Cordelia almost didn’t attend, in case her mother was there, but then it struck her that if her mother had gone so far as to make someone obedient, she might do it to someone else, and perhaps Cordelia could spot the signs.
And what would you do if you did? You don’t know how to break the spell or you’d have done it for yourself already.
She didn’t have an answer, but she dressed for dinner anyway. Alice did up the tiny buttons at her sleeve and watched her with a faint, concerned frown, completely devoid of her usual chatter. Cordelia wanted to reassure her, but she had no real idea what to say. “It’s all right,” she said finally. “I’m all right.” And then, realizing that a servant probably wasn’t particularly worried about the person they were waiting on, except as it pertained to them, “Are you all right?”
Alice’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes,” she said. “Everything’s in a muddle, since what happened to poor Mrs. Green, and the gossip belowstairs would curl your hair, but it’s nothing that won’t pass.”
“I’m sorry it’s such a muddle,” said Cordelia, and went down to dinner, still clinging to her strange, hopeless calm.
Neither Evangeline nor Lord Evermore attended, and though the former’s absence was unremarkable under the circumstances, everyone seemed surprised by the latter.
“Saw him riding out at noon,” said Master Strauss. “On that big bay hunter with the white socks. Going hell for leath—”
“Jacob.”
Master Strauss flushed. “Begging your pardon,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to swear in front of ladies.”
Hester let out a long sigh. “And at this point, Penelope would say something bright and obscene to break the tension.” She took a gulp of wine. A gloomy silence fell over the table.
“Did Evermore say where he was going?” asked Lord Strauss, one big hand covering his wife’s.
Everyone looked at Hester, which didn’t seem to surprise her. “He had something urgent to attend to,” she said. “He promised he’d be back in a day or so.” She looked over at Lady Strauss. “I realize that this house party has become rather more dreadful than anyone expected. If you wish to return home, no one could blame you.”
