Chapter 16
Clio looked back at Thomas, her mouth going dry as her thoughts raced. His worried gaze communicated everything she felt. Carefully relaxing her features to be neutral, she turned back to the child.
‘Anna, when did your father tell you that?’
‘A few days ago. Mother told me not to listen. She said Father is full of lies, but he said a girl would come with a raven, and look. Here you are.’
Damnation. Can she see the dead?
Witches weren’t the only ones who had strange powers. Clio had heard of others, mages and mediums who could commune with the dead, but she’d never met one who wasn’t a cheap charlatan.
Perhaps it was because Anna was so young. Children lived closer to the veil separating life from death. If her father had reached across the void, maybe his connection to Anna, their shared love, created some kind of temporary avenue of communication. Whatever the reason, she needed to know.
‘Anna, your father is dead, dear.’
She quirked her brow at Clio as if she were the stupidest creature in the world.
‘Of course he is. I was there when it happened. Although Mother made me promise I wouldn’t leave my room.
I usually didn’t feel well enough, but I was having a good day.
Mother promised I would start feeling better and better, but I had to stay in my room.
She was having a very important discussion with Father and they couldn’t be interrupted.
Only I did sneak down to the kitchens. Cook makes the yummiest treacle cookies.
Do you like treacle cookies?’ Her stream of thought was too difficult to process so quickly.
‘Y-yes, of course,’ Clio answered, still scrambling to understand.
‘So do I. But I hadn’t wanted one in ages.
I was always so sick. But that day, I wanted one for the first time in forever and the nurse wasn’t in my room, so I thought I would just sneak down to the kitchen and see if Cook had any in the white jar on the little shelf by her office.
That’s where she always kept them. But on my way, I bumped into Uncle Berty.
Only I didn’t know he had come to visit.
No one tells me anything. Mother knows I hate him, so maybe that’s why.
He was so angry when I saw him in the kitchen talking to our housekeeper.
’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. Speaking through her fingers, her words were slightly garbled.
‘But I wasn’t supposed to say. He made me promise. They both did.’
Blundering Beelzebub.
Clio’s head was spinning. How much of what Anna said was true, and how much was this the fancy of a young, traumatised child?
Thomas shifted next to Clio, kneeling to be closer to Anna’s height. ‘What happened after that, Anna?’
‘He told me I had to go to bed and stay there. That I must promise not to come down again, or he would thrash me.’ Her eyes filled with tears again.
‘Mrs Coggins told me if I said anything to Mother or Father, she would make sure I stayed in my room forever. I ran upstairs and hid in my bed. I don’t remember anything else until Nanny Francine came and told me something terrible had happened.
’ A single tear tracked down her cheek. ‘They said I would never see Father again. That I might not see Mother either. Aunt Diana sent a carriage for me… but they were wrong. All of them.’
‘Why were they wrong, Anna?’ Clio wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
‘I see them all the time.’ The girl continued to pet Sir Robin’s head.
The nursery door opened with a loud creak.
A maid stood in the archway, her eyes widening to round saucers as she looked at Thomas, then Clio, then Sir Robin sitting on Anna’s lap.
Anna might not have screamed when she first saw Clio and Thomas, but the maid certainly did. Long and loud and frantic.
It had taken the better part of an hour to explain what Clio and Thomas had been doing in the nursery with Anna.
The nurse had run pell-mell down the stairs, found a burly footman exiting Lady Langley’s room, his uniform dishevelled and his hair a mess, and dragged him to the nursery where fisticuffs almost ensued between Thomas and the servant.
Lady Langley, hearing the commotion outside of her room, had raced upstairs in her satin negligee, not bothering with a robe, only to loudly forbid the men from fighting over her while her eyes sparkled with undisguised glee that they might do exactly that.
Cynthia, who had indeed been placed in a room adjoining Lady Langley, followed the sounds of commotion instead of going to breakfast as she had originally planned. When her gaze fell upon Thomas, it was clear she had questions. Many questions.
Clio, with quick thinking and admirable calm, was able to explain that they were only in the nursery to introduce Anna to Sir Robin based on Lady Langley’s invitation the day before.
Anna was immeasurably helpful as she stated the raven was her favourite pet in the whole wide world.
Sir Robin, confirming Thomas’ suspicion that he did not appreciate being called ‘pet’, hopped from Anna’s lap to Clio’s shoulder, much to the girl’s tearful disappointment.
Her emotional reaction prompted Lady Langley to usher the entire group downstairs for breakfast.
‘We’ll let the poor little lamb rest. Her nanny is ill today, but I’ll send Mary up to sit with her.’
This only resulted in louder cries from Anna, who claimed she wanted Nanny Francine.
‘We’ll come back with Sir Robin soon, Anna. I promise.’ Clio spoke over her shoulder as Lady Langley rushed them out of the door, claiming that Anna’s cries were bringing on a megrim and they must all leave immediately.
The remainder of the day was spent in a host of organised activities precluding any privacy for Clio and Thomas to discuss the information Anna had presented.
It wasn’t until they were given time to dress for dinner that Thomas saw his opportunity.
He dismissed the valet, and walked across the hall to Clio’s room, knocking loudly on the door.
The maid assigned to Clio opened the door, whereupon he demanded to see his cousin on a matter of grave importance.
Clio emerged from behind the maid in another shocking gown, this one with a bodice comprised entirely of black leather. The royal-blue skirt beneath was a waterfall of silk. Clio’s hair still hung loose in midnight waves around her shoulders. Thomas suddenly forgot how to breathe.
‘I haven’t dressed her ladyship’s hair yet.’ The maid looked worriedly from Clio to Thomas.
Clio waved the girl’s concerns away. ‘You’ve done a wonderful job helping me with this gown. I can manage my hair tonight. Thank you, Sarah.’
With no other choice, the maid bobbed a curtsy and left the room.
Sir Robin, who perched on the headboard, cawed loudly, but at least he refrained from calling Thomas a bastard. That felt like progress.
‘You are lucky we are family, or this little tête-à-tête would prove quite scandalous.’ Clio’s censure lacked heat. She was no doubt just as anxious to discuss their interview with Anna as Thomas. ‘Come, sit while I finish getting ready.’
Lady Langley spared no expense in the fittings of her guest rooms. Clio had a small sitting area complete with a couch, two wingback chairs, and a low table in front of a hearth glowing with a crackling fire.
To the left was a vanity with an oval mirror and a beautifully upholstered chair upon which a lady could sit and ready herself.
A scattering of bottles, pots, powders, and varying brushes, powder puffs, combs, and hairpins littered the tabletop.
She took a seat in front of the vanity and gestured for Thomas to shift a footstool closer.
‘Anna certainly had much to say.’ Thomas settled himself and watched with growing interest as Clio began twisting and clipping her hair into an intricate coiffure he couldn’t begin to recreate.
Clio had a hairpin clamped between her teeth. She spoke around it, drawing Thomas’ attention to her lips. ‘What is unclear is whether she reported fact or the fancy of a troubled child.’
‘How could any of it be true? She said she speaks to her parents. Her father is dead, and her mother is missing. How could Anna be talking to either of them?’
Clio set a rather winsome curl next to her crown and secured it in place with the clip from her mouth.
She paused in her activity to catch Thomas’ gaze in the mirror.
The air grew heavy as the fire popped and flared behind Thomas, warming his back.
She was considering something in that clever mind of hers.
Determining whether she would trust Thomas.
He held his breath, willing her to take the step and knowing anything he said could shatter the fragile spell weaving between them.
‘I can speak to the dead.’ Clio’s amber eyes glowed, and her lips trembled.
Thomas knew his response would either open a new door of connection between them or destroy every chance of knowing Clio better.
He refused to look away even as nerves thrummed through him.
He believed Clio. And that was the trouble.
Speaking to the dead was akin to the Devil’s work.
And yet, he didn’t know why that would be true.
Only that it was told to him since he was a child by his elders, his spiritual leaders, the lawmakers.
But if he reacted in fear, he would never understand.
And he desperately wanted to understand.
‘Is that part of your…’
‘Craft. Yes. My power is tied to fire, as all witches are connected to one of the earth’s elements, but it is also tied to the past. I can see memories and speak to those no longer here. If they wish it.’
Thomas furrowed his brow. ‘You can see memories of dead people?’
Clio pressed her lips together and nodded.
‘What about other people?’
She blinked and looked away. ‘My powers are centred on those who have already passed.’