Page 76 of A Sorceress Comes to Call
They stared at each other for a moment over the broken cup; then Alice curtsied—how can she do that so well when she’s carrying a dustpan? I must get her to teach me—and left, shutting the door behind her.
Alone again? Good. What were you doing, just now? When I yelled?
“Having a drink of water?”
Do it again, if you would.
Puzzled, Cordelia scooped up a palmful of water and sipped.
There! Yes! It happened again!
“What happened?”
The water. When you drank it, it rang, like it did in the church. Not as loud, but a little bit. And I could see it.
Do you have any salt?
“There’s probably a saltcellar in the breakfast room.” Cordelia wasn’t looking forward to sneaking down there, past Alice, to try and find one, and wine, of course, was out of the question. “Wait, though. You should know that we’re leaving tomorrow. Going to Lord Evermore’s estate.”
You are? A mournful drift of cinnamon filled the room. That’s so far away.
“Are you still going to be able to talk to me?”
I don’t know. It gets very dark when I get too far from living people. Like a night with no stars and no moon. I’ve gone to the edge of the estate a few times, but I’m afraid that if I go too far, I’ll get turned around and never find my way back.
“Don’t do that! I’m sure I’ll be back here… err… eventually. When we find out how to stop my mother. Maybe we can find a way then.”
Maybe. Although ghosts are supposed to haunt the place they died, aren’t they? Maybe I can’t leave here at all.
“I’m sorry.”
She sensed a gathering, a determined cheer. Don’t fret about me. What’s the worst that can happen? I’m already dead.
“I won’t forget you’re here,” Cordelia promised.
Of course you won’t. I am… I was… Penelope Green. Some people may have hated me, but nobody ever forgot me.
CHAPTER 27
It took three coaches to travel to Lord Evermore’s estate. Privately Hester thought that they could have done with two, but the Squire insisted on packing up multiple guns, in case of hunting, and Doom had an entire trousseau that half filled the baggage coach by itself.
Hester rode in the first coach with Imogene and Cordelia. “For you cannot possibly restore the town house without me,” said Imogene, in Doom’s hearing. “I won’t hear of it.”
“I wouldn’t think of trying,” Hester assured her. She was prepared to defend this, if the Squire asked, but he didn’t. Possibly he was pleased at the propriety of another chaperone for his new daughter-in-law. More likely he simply didn’t think of it at all.
Hester had been dreading the long ride in close quarters with Doom, but the woman chose to ride alongside Richard and the Squire, on the tall white horse with its pale green eyes. Hester hadn’t been this close to the creature before, but looking into its pale eyes, she could readily believe that it wasn’t entirely canny.
Still, it was a long, bruising ride, even so. The coach was old and not as well sprung as it could be. Her knee ached and she stretched it out as best she could, but there were limits to what she could do without kicking one of her companions. I shouldn’t complain. Poor Mary is riding in the servants’ coach, and that’s a regular bone-rattler. She’ll need a hot poultice more than I will, by the time we get in. Imogene tucked her chin against her chest and fell asleep with an ease that Hester envied. Cordelia simply stared out the window, watching the landscape pass. She had a distracted look, as if there was something on her mind.
Hester snorted at her own thoughts. Yes, what could she possibly have on her mind, other than a fake engagement, a murder, and a sorceress for a mother?
Eventually the coach halted. Hester looked out the window but saw only dense trees.
“Ladies,” said Richard, as the driver opened the door, “you’ll want to ride for this last bit. The carriage lane is full of potholes, and we can’t repair it until it dries out for the summer. Your luggage will be carried up by wagon.”
Hester was relieved to see that the horses brought up included several patient-looking ponies. Mounting with her knee was always unpleasant, and the taller the beast the worse it got.
Richard helped her up and then did the same for Cordelia, on a similar pony. Doom looked slightly irked by his choice, but she had the sense not to complain.
