Page 67 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
She had spent enough time with him at that point that she could laugh. “It’s all right. I don’t want to marry you either.”
“Yes, but I am certain that some nice young man will be delighted to marry you someday.”
Cordelia shook her head, bemused. She had spent her life carried along by her mother’s plans that she would marry a rich man, but now that she was actually this close—even fictitiously—it seemed increasingly absurd. Not merely the rich man, but the whole concept. Meeting someone a few times, a few days apart, and then they would go to a church and after that they lived together? Forever?
No, it was ridiculous. Nevertheless, it was a lovely day to be outside. Grass rustled around them, dappled with bright coins of sunlight, and birds sang, none of which were willowy frog-warblers. The memory brought a lump to her throat.
Cordelia? Is that you?
Cordelia’s fingers tightened convulsively on Minnow’s reins. It was the same whisper that she’d heard a week ago, but much, much stronger.
Can you hear me?
She was losing her mind. She’d always wondered what that was like. She just had expected it to happen when she was obedient, not right this minute, riding in the sunlight, with the birds singing around her.
Another thought occurred to her then, somehow worse than the first. What if it was her mother?
Evangeline hated secrecy. Cordelia had no doubts that she would have reached into Cordelia’s head and laid her thoughts out like a row of Lady Strauss’s playing cards, if only she had the power.
What if she had finally learned how to do just that? What if she’d found the way to break open the last closed door, the one inside Cordelia’s skull?
The sound that burst out of her set Minnow snorting and sidestepping. Cordelia fumbled with the reins.
“Cordelia?” Evermore’s voice seemed to come from a long distance away.
Stop, stop! I didn’t mean to scare you! Am I hurting you? The words were loud and frantic and for some reason Cordelia smelled cinnamon, which made no sense at all.
Can you hear me at all?
Her mother would never have apologized. A wave of relief rushed over her. Perhaps she was simply possessed. Cordelia had no experience with demons, but she was certain that they could not be as bad as her mother.
Am I doing this right? Hello? And then, somehow muffled, as if the speaker was muttering to herself, Well, isn’t this just typical, you’re out of the public eye for five minutes and you can’t get anyone to listen to you…
“Cordelia? Is something wrong?” Lord Evermore reined in his mare and looked down at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not seen, Cordelia thought. Heard. She recognized the voice. She had sat beside it for hours, playing cards and working on embroidery.
Impossibly, improbably, Penelope Green was speaking to her from beyond the grave.
Somehow or other, Cordelia got back to the stable. She babbled something to Evermore about having been startled, apologized several times, then slid off Minnow and tossed the reins to a waiting groom.
“You’re dead!” Cordelia whispered, as soon as she was far enough away from Lord Evermore to be certain that she wasn’t being heard.
Yes, I’d gathered that.
It was almost like having a song stuck in your head. Words ran through, and they weren’t your words, but still, you couldn’t stop them happening. Cordelia gulped. “Are you a ghost?”
I suppose I must be. It’s not at all what I expected. I know that I was a lamentably frivolous person in life, but someone might have warned me that death was so complicated. The peppery smell of watercress engulfed her. Cordelia wiped at her nose, wondering whether this was something to do with Mrs. Green’s voice or if something else was going on as well. Please, let there not be something else. She didn’t think she could handle a third thing, not on top of her mother and a ghost.
At least as manifestations went, watercress seemed pretty benign. Cordelia had heard of ghosts slamming doors and throwing furniture.
I would never do anything so rude. Although I expect the poor things were just frustrated. Do you know that I’ve been trying to get someone to notice me for days?
Cordelia rushed back into the house and yanked open the first door she could see, which led to a cloakroom. She pulled the door shut and stood in near darkness, surrounded by shelves and hangers and a line of boots with dried mud congealed on the toes. “How are you a ghost?”
No idea. I don’t know how ghosts work. If an angel was supposed to show up and explain things to me, they’re awfully late. The smell of watercress increased and Cordelia wiped her nose.
“How are you talking to me?”
