Page 68 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
Damned if I know. It’s very dark here, but there are all these blobs of light. You’re one of the blobs, but you… I don’t know… you’re a little clearer. You stick out more. So I took hold of the blob and sort of focused, and then I could hear you, a little.
Cordelia looked around, half expecting to see the ghostly form of Penelope Green hovering behind her. All she saw was more shelves, some with oilcloth raincoats on them. “What do I do? Do you want to be laid to rest? Because I think you already were…”
How long has it been? Did they do something with my body?
“Nearly two weeks.”
…!!
The door opened. One of the kitchen boys froze with his mouth open, staring at her. Cordelia stared back. “Um,” she said.
“Uh… uh… Milady?” He made a clumsy bow, still clutching the doorknob. “Err, does milady… err…” He looked at the door, clearly unsure whether or not to close it and let her go back to what she was doing or to offer to help her out of the closet.
“I’m sorry,” said Cordelia. The inside of her head was silent again, except for her own thoughts. “I—uh—was looking for something. It’s not here.”
He nodded as if this was a perfectly reasonable explanation and stepped back. “My Da says it’s always in the last place you look,” he offered.
“That is very wise,” said Cordelia, and swept past him, hoping that she didn’t look as big a fool as she felt.
CHAPTER 24
She decided not to tell Hester. On some level, she knew that she probably should, but a coldly practical part pointed out that Hester and Evermore were acting almost entirely on her word that Evangeline was a sorcerer. Yes, poor Mr. Parker had helped, but according to Evermore, he was completely emotionally broken. Layering “By the way, a dead woman has been talking to me” would be asking rather a lot, as if she had told a lie and now had to tell another, even bigger one to top it, like some of the younger children at school.
Sorcery was real. Nobody denied that it existed. Ghosts, on the other hand, were things that had maybe haunted a house at some point in the very distant past, or that someone’s brother’s cousin’s friend had possibly seen, except that it had been dark and he’d been drinking and maybe it had actually been a coatrack. Many people didn’t believe in them at all. If someone came in and said, “By the way, I’m hearing a voice in my head,” ghosts were not the first thing that leapt to mind.
Maybe it isn’t a ghost. Maybe it’s another sorcerer. A very clever one who’s figured out how to talk in your head.
Cordelia stared into the distance, fork suspended in midair over her dining tray. She could have done without having that thought.
It definitely wasn’t her mother, though. She was certain of that. Her mother wouldn’t have bothered with anything so bizarre, and she would never have impersonated Penelope Green, even if she could have. It’s too twisty. Mother’s never twisty. She just makes people do what she wants them to do. Getting the Squire to notice her breasts is as subtle as she gets.
She couldn’t actually think of a good reason why a sorcerer would want to impersonate Penelope Green. It didn’t make any sense.
That she’d finally cracked under the guilt… that, unfortunately, made sense. Rather too much sense, in fact.
She finished her meal in a pensive mood, and went to bed early, before her mother could find her and scold her for having broken off the ride with Lord Evermore so quickly.
“Right,” said Imogene Strauss, pushing open the door to Hester’s solar. “No one else here? Good.” She locked the door and then shoved an end table under the knob for good measure.
“Are we planning something criminal?” asked Hester, setting down her embroidery. “I think I can drive the horses if we need a fast getaway, but don’t ask me to run.”
“Very funny. I could have left ages ago when my husband and Jacob went home, but instead I have been as patient as a… a damned patient thing for days. I didn’t strangle Richard when he announced that he wanted to marry that poor child, because you obviously knew about it in advance. I have been following your lead, which means I haven’t dumped a bottle of red wine over that frighteningly smug woman, and I haven’t grabbed Samuel by the collar and demanded to know what the hell he’s thinking.” She folded her arms and glared down her nose. “And now you’re going to tell me why I haven’t done any of those things.”
“Incredible restraint, clearly.”
Imogene made a warning sound in her throat, rather like a goose seeing a stranger get too close to her nest. Hester gave up. It would be a relief to finally tell Imogene. She just wished that she’d had more proof to back her up.
Lady Strauss could conceal her emotions far better than Richard. Hester relayed her tale, wishing that she had some idea what the other woman was thinking. Do you believe me? Do you think the laudanum has finally caught up with me? Do you think I’m deluded or lying or telling the exact truth?
When she’d finished, Imogene said, “Huh.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m still thinking. It’s a lot to take in.” She broke out the ubiquitous deck of cards and shuffled savagely, cut the cards several times, flipped one over—the seven of spades—then shuffled them all back together again.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“You damn well should have.”
