Chapter 24

C HAPTER 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."

"It's just… it all sounds so absurd."

"It sounds dangerous." Imogene looked up from the cards, clearly frustrated. "And you expected Richard to protect you from that woman?"

Hester bristled. "You think he wouldn't?"

"I think Evangeline'll run rings around him," said Imogene frankly. "He's decent and honorable and you're dealing with a woman with the morals of a rabid fox."

Hester's lips thinned as she considered this. "You're not wrong," she admitted. "But she's a sorcerer. None of us can fight that. I haven't found anything that can help us, and believe me, I've been looking." She'd been through Divers Remarkable Sorceryes twice and had learned a great deal about the author's pet theory that sorcerers were descendants of the Nephilim, "got by Fallen Angels upon the Brides of Humankind," but nothing at all about how to keep a sorcerer from controlling your body.

The almanac, meanwhile, had a good dozen suggestions on how to tell if livestock had been "glamoried," none of which applied to humans, and suggested rosemary as a charm against sorcery. Hester, in the spirit of experimentation, had ordered a rosemary-encrusted lamb dish for dinner, then watched glumly as Evangeline put away her plateful and pronounced it a culinary triumph.

"It's got less to do with sorcery and more to do with ruthlessness, if you ask me." Imogene swept her cards up again. "Do you really think that she wouldn't have murdered Penelope if she couldn't use magic?"

Hester opened her mouth, blinked, and closed it again.

"Mm-hmm. Oh, perhaps she'd have found a way to send Penelope home in disgrace, though I doubt it. Penelope was never very good at being disgraced. I suspect we'd have had much the same scene in the end, with Evangeline screaming her head off and Penelope over the balcony with a knife in her hand. Perhaps less dramatic, and poor Ruth might have been left out of it, but something similar." When Hester continued to stare at her, Imogene rolled her eyes. "Come now, surely you see the genius of it? It takes out her rival and makes her the victim all at once. Every overprotective male bone in Samuel's body is roused to protect her. She weeps, she clings, oh my dear Sam, I only feel safe in your arms…" Imogene pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and swooned dramatically across the couch.

"I had seen that much," said Hester dryly. "I just hadn't considered that she might try it without magic, that's all."

"She is a ruthless social climber willing to commit murder. Magic is simply expanding what she's capable of, that's all." Imogene tapped the cards together to line the sides up. "I have no doubt that I've played cards with more than one sorcerer in my day. The difference is that none of the others were cheats."

"You really think sorcerers are that common?"

Imogene raised her eyebrows. "What did that book of yours say—that the powerful ones kill off the average ones and leave the weak ones so people hold them in contempt?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Then I think that if I were a sorcerer, I would make sure no one ever found out about it. The best that could happen is that I'd be shunned from polite society. The worst is that a stranger would casually murder me. And if I had kids, and it got passed down? I'd make sure they knew it, too."

Hester let out a low whistle. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Neither will Richard. I love you both like family, but you're not sufficiently devious."

"All right," said Hester. "You've convinced me. What do you propose we do differently, then?"

Imogene pulled the end table away from the doorknob. "Keep planning the wedding and acting the fool. I'm going to go talk to Richard about ways to foil a ruthless social climber."

They gathered in the parlor that night after dinner. Imogene had been more than usually wry at dinner and had a gleam in her eyes that Hester knew all too well, although she usually saw it across the card table.

"Evangeline," Imogene purred, sitting down across from Doom, "you simply must tell me all about your honeymoon! Hester's been so busy with making certain that the wedding breakfast goes off without a hitch that she hasn't told me simply a thing about it."

Half expecting a snub, Hester was surprised when Doom broke into an enthusiastic description of their plans to spend three weeks on the the north coast. "It's been years since I was there," she said wistfully, "and I would like to see it again. I know that they say you should never try to go home again, but the sea and the sky can't really change, can they?"

I believe she might actually be sincere. How very odd.

Richard had been standing by the fireplace, listening, and suddenly clapped his hands together. "I have just had the most splendid idea!" he said. "It is a long drive to the harbor, is it not?"

The Squire made the sort of manly mumble that a certain type of gentleman makes when the answer is most definitely yes, but admitting it would require that they also admit to feeling physical discomfort. Richard waved this off. "I know it doesn't bother you, Samuel, but your lady wife would doubtless prefer not to arrive at the ship feeling like she's been dragged through a hedge. Why don't we all go to my estate? It's far closer to the harbor, and you can stay the night there and leave fresh in the morning." He smiled politely at Cordelia. "And Miss Cordelia can see the great pile that she shall be mistress of, and I shall hope that it does not terrify her into crying off."

Cordelia looked startled, which was fine, because Cordelia always looked startled. Hester was more interested in Doom's response. The woman's eyes had narrowed when Richard mentioned crying off, but they smoothed out and gained a flash of avarice. And Imogene… Imogene looked like a cat that had placed an order for canary au gratin. So this is her idea, then?

"That's a fine idea," Hester said. "Oh no, I don't mean Cordelia crying off, of course, certainly not!" She did her best hen-witted chuckle, and was gratified to see poorly hidden contempt cross Doom's features. "But now the servants can go ahead to the town house and pull the dust covers off so that we are not coming home to a house that looks positively abandoned. " She leaned out and tapped Cordelia's wrist. "You must know, my dear, that a house that stands empty for any length of time gets the most dreadful air to it. Why, you positively feel like a ghost there to haunt the place!"

Richard watched this performance with a polite expression, but his eyes danced. He is going to tease me unmercifully the next chance he gets… and truth be told, I think I might be looking forward to it. As dire as the circumstances were, Hester felt more alive than she had in years. We have taken control of the situation. We have a plan.

And you have Richard beside you again.

Shut up, she told herself.

Cordelia had gone rather pale, possibly at the mention of ghosts, but took a deep breath and said, in a voice that almost didn't squeak, "I should like that very much, Lord Evermore," and then shrank back into her chair as if the effort had exhausted her. Hester wondered how much of that was performance and how much was simply the difficulty of keeping up an act in front of her mother.

The Squire glanced at his new bride-to-be, who smiled. "That is a very kind offer, Lord Evermore," she said.

"Then it's settled," said Richard. "I'll send my man back to make the arrangements."

"Good of you," said the Squire, clapping him on the shoulder. "Fine thought. Haven't been out to the Evermore estate in years, have I? Is Old Bernard still in the stable?"

"He claims he's retired, but everyone knows better."

"Wonderful, wonderful. I remember when we went out for grouse…" He coughed, his mustache twitching. "Not that we'll have time for hunting, of course, not just overnight. Though they do have some marvelous hunts up north, as I recall. Just the territory for elk. Might look into one or two while Eva's shopping."

Doom laughed. "I shall try not to spend all my time at the shops, dearest."

"No, no. Mustn't skip them on my account." He patted her arm. "I know how you girls can get."

Hester judged the distance to her brother's ankle and regrettably decided that she couldn't quite ding him in the shins with her cane.

"I'm sure that in three weeks you'll have time for at least one hunt," said Doom caressingly.

And let's just hope that three weeks is also enough time for us to find a way to stop a sorcerer.