Chapter 23

C HAPTER 23

The wedding of Squire Samuel Chatham and Lady Evangeline was to take place in the village chapel, two and a half weeks hence. Hester arranged the date and calmed the priest, who was beside himself with delight. "The Squire, marrying!" he said, at least five times. "And he wants me to perform the ceremony? Me?"

"He'll have no one else," said Hester, with more tact than truth. "And nowhere else would fit half so well." She wasn't sure if the priest really looked about fifteen, or if she had just reached a point where everyone under thirty looked that way. Certainly he seemed too young to have taken holy orders. Nevertheless, she sent him on his way in a haze of gratified astonishment, then sagged back into her chair in the parlor and wondered if ten in the morning was too early to take a nap.

Her next visitor, however, shocked her completely awake. Evangeline opened the door, saw her, and made a beeline for the settee across from her, her lips curving in a smile.

Hester's nerves screamed. She sat up in her chair and said, "Oh, good morning! I was just speaking to the priest who will be performing the ceremony."

"It is the ceremony that I wanted to talk to you about," said Doom, sitting down. Her smile was charming and open and her eyes were the cloudy blue of a snake about to shed its skin.

It occurred to Hester that there was no one else in the room and that she might be in terrible danger. I'm a fool. An utter fool. What's to stop her from taking control of me the way she did Penelope? She could make me throw myself down the stairs and it would look like an accident and who would ever know?

She reached for her teacup to hide the tremor in her hands. It would be foolish of Doom to do something like that. Samuel would have to go into formal mourning and it would look very strange if he married so soon afterward. Hester was nearly sure that he wouldn't do that.

There was a great deal more space in that nearly than she liked.

"I meant what I said earlier." Doom leaned forward. "I want a very small, quiet ceremony. You understand, don't you? You know how people gossip, and what with… everything…"

She trailed off delicately. Hester was impressed that she managed to pack a sorcerous double murder into a single word. "Oh yes. Of course."

"It wouldn't bother me, " Doom said. "I'm in love with Samuel, and I don't care who knows it." She hitched herself to the edge of the seat and gave Hester a firm, friendly look. Her expression and tone were perfect. Hester wondered how often it worked on people. Surely some of them could see those snake-scale eyes?

"It's Cordelia I worry about."

"Cordelia?" Hester's puzzlement was genuine. "What about her?"

"Gossip," said Doom. "She's such a sensitive girl. If she were to overhear people talking cruelly about us, I fear it would quite crush her."

Hester thought of Cordelia's eyes when she had been made obedient, and took refuge in babbling. "She is very sensitive, it's true. But such a clever girl. Why, she's learning embroidery as fast as I can teach her! And so sweet. Why, I was saying to Imogene just the other day that if I had a daughter, I would be simply delighted if she were like Cordelia."

Doom broke into the flow of words. "You understand, then, that I want to protect her. So a small wedding. No second cousins a dozen times removed. Why, I should be very happy to have only our friends here attend. I feel quite as close to Lady Strauss as if we had known each other for years, and I am certain that she feels the same."

If you were on fire, Imogene would send for brandy to pour over you. "Oh, I'm sure you're right. Dear Lady Strauss! We were at school together, you know."

"Yes, she's mentioned it. I wish that some of my school friends could come, but I fear we all fell quite out of touch." Doom's lips turned down and a line of sorrow formed between her eyebrows. Hester found herself grudgingly admiring the craftsmanship involved in the expression. "I sometimes think that I should have sent Cordelia to a girls' school, but she is so sensitive, and you know how cruel girls can be when they sense weakness."

It pained Hester to agree with Doom, but she nodded. "You're not wrong there."

Cordelia's mother flung an arm across the back of the settee and turned her head aside. "It is part of why I accepted Lord Evermore's offer for her," she said. "I was so afraid of Cordelia's season in town. Her beauty does not always shine in social settings. His offer seemed a godsend."

"She can still have a little bit of a season. I promised Samuel I'd take her around a bit, just to acquire a little bit of polish. But there's none better than Evermore."

"Will he be good to her? He seems so kind, but you know him so much better than I do."

"He's as good a man as I've ever known," said Hester stoutly. "And I'm not just saying that because he's a friend of the family."

"It seems a wonder he never married before."

Hester shrugged uncomfortably. Does she know? Samuel might have told her that we were involved once. Is she twisting the knife deliberately, or genuinely seeking information? "You know how men are. They get to enjoy being bachelors and put things off and suddenly they're pushing fifty and don't have an heir. I've been nagging Evermore to get married for years now. He could have had his pick of young ladies for the past decade, too." She leaned forward herself, feeling a sudden mischief take her, since it was obvious that Doom didn't plan to kill her just this instant. "You'll have to prepare yourself, too. Every marriage-minded mama in the city will be wishing you to the devil for having landed Evermore for your daughter."

Evangeline pushed her hair back and laughed. Hester suspected that it was the first genuine laugh that she'd ever heard from the woman. She would have preferred if it had been a witchy cackle or a rising howl, instead of a perfectly normal, rather earthy laugh. "I look forward to it," she said, and Hester knew that for once, Doom was speaking the exact truth.

For Cordelia, the days leading up to the wedding were mostly peaceful. Her mother had what she wanted and was focused entirely on the Squire. The only difficult stretches were when Evangeline remembered that her daughter existed and was engaged to Lord Evermore, whereupon she would sweep in and insist that the couple spend time together, carefully supervised by Evangeline herself.

This morning, she had decided that Cordelia needed to go out riding with Evermore. Cordelia bowed to the inevitable and put on her riding habit.

"That creature again?" Evangeline said, raising an eyebrow as Minnow was led to the mounting block. "You should take Falada."

"I like Minnow," Cordelia said quietly. "She's very sweet."

Her mother's lips thinned, but Evermore emerged from the stable at that moment, so she turned to him with a laugh and said, "I trust that when she is in your care, you shall see her better mounted, my lord!"

Evermore smiled warmly. "The best horse is one that pleases the rider," he said. "My master of horse shall certainly endeavor to find her one that pleases her as well."

It had taken a week of such comments, but Cordelia had come to admire Evermore's technique. His statements were agreeable, correct, and sounded as if they were promising a great deal more than they were. She wasn't entirely certain if her mother was taken in by them, or if she simply didn't want to argue and risk the engagement. "For there is nothing that puts a prospective husband off like a designing mother-in-law," Evangeline had informed her daughter shortly after the engagement was announced. "So you shall tell him that I am easygoing and would not dream of interfering in his business. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mother."

("Well," Hester had said later, when Cordelia reported this, "no one would accuse her of having a sense of irony, anyway.")

Evermore and Cordelia rode out together, and yes, it probably looked absurd that she was on the short little pony and he was on a tall, elegant mare. Certainly it made conversation difficult, unless she wanted to crane her neck. She didn't mind that much. She still did not quite know what to say to Evermore, unless they were discussing Evangeline's sorcery, and that would hardly be wise in front of the groom.

"Holding up well?" Evermore asked, leaning down. "I know I've had to travel back to my estate regularly, but it seems like your mother can't decide whether to throw us together or keep us as far apart as possible."

"It's because she expects me to say something to ruin the engagement," Cordelia explained. "If you talk to me too much, you'll probably realize that you don't want to marry me."

Evermore started to say something, stopped, started again, and then gave her a wry look. "I am caught between gallantry and reality."

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?"

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.