Chapter 18 #2
“Well, my Auntie Aurora always told me it was best for one to hope for the Green Mother’s will, as the Green Mother’s will is sure to come to pass and always for the best of Her children.”
“Very pious, I’m sure,” Countess d’Ackerley acknowledged without malice. “Though I should like to know that the Green Mother’s will for me included Lord Bruxley.”
“But what if Lord Bruxley were to prove . . . not a nice sort of husband?”
The countess narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”
“What if, as good of a horseman as he is, he’s terrible in . . . other departments?”
“Impossible. One can always measure the merit of a man by how he treats his horse.” Countess d’Ackerley’s angular face softened, becoming momentarily almost pretty. “He keeps sugar in his pocket for his favorite hunter.”
Even Luna had to admit that sounded promising.
“Here,” she said, reaching out to take the lady’s teacup. “I may not be a flower witch, but my aunties taught me a thing or two about tea. Would you like to have your fortune read?”
The countess straightened in her seat, interested.
“Remember,” Luna added, “I can only tell you what I see. If it’s not to your liking, that cannot be helped.”
The countess considered. Then: “Very well. If it might shed some light on the Green Mother’s will, I am ready to learn it.”
Luna nodded and, with grave solemnity, peered into the leaves.
She’d only partially strained the tea when she poured, suspecting a foretelling might be in order.
There weren’t a great many leaves at the bottom of the cup, but enough to form a bit of a picture.
Auntie Apolonia would make a better job of such an obscure reading, but though it was a bit blurry to Luna’s Sight, she definitely saw . . . something.
“You must be cautious,” she said, taking care to infuse her voice with an appropriate level of mysticism, for affect. “Do not give your heart away too easily. It is a precious thing, worthy of a good man who will treasure it.”
The countess sat forward in the cane chair, large hands clasped nervously. “Is that what the leaves are telling you?”
Luna didn’t answer directly. She looked up into the countess’s searching eyes. “You will be happy. You will be surrounded by those who love you.”
“Horses?”
“Yes.” Luna smiled. “And children too. But”—she raised a warning finger even as she gazed back into the cup—“you must not rush the Green Mother’s will. All good things will come, but only in good time. And time is not of our making.”
Countess d’Ackerley nodded, her long face strained with deep thought. Then she quavered, “And Lord Bruxley?”
“Ah!” Luna set the cup back into its saucer with a clatter. “The vision is passed. You must take what you are given, lady countess, and be grateful. Attend chantry services this Sunday and say a prayer of thanksgiving.”
This last bit sounded a bit too much like something Auntie Aurora might say, but it seemed to have the desired influence on the countess.
She rose, her dignity recovered, and wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks.
“Thank you, tea witch,” she said earnestly. “Your kindness will not be forgotten.”
“Would you like to purchase a bunch of daisies to take home with you?” Luna asked brightly.
Countess d’Ackerley agreed. Mr. Grimm completed the transaction, his own face a mask of pure surprise and mild alarm.
When the countess vacated the premises at last, he did not immediately turn the CLOSED sign to OPEN, but stood at the door, his hand resting on the knob.
After a moment, he turned to look back at Luna, who was clearing the tea things from behind the nook.
“Did you actually see anything in those leaves?” he asked.
Luna looked up with a little smile. “I saw the good countess married to a plump little man with a red, smiling face, surrounded by half-a-dozen children.”
“Why didn’t you tell her that?”
“Because I have no idea what Lord Bruxley looks like! If he doesn’t happen to be plump and red and smiling, she would not take the reading well.
One must learn to read the drinker as well as the leaves, or so Auntie Apolonia always said.
In this case, I delivered a true message, one which may, I hope, benefit her.
The specifics of the vision she will discover for herself in time.
” Luna sighed and looked down at the cup and saucer in her hands.
“It is a tricky business, though, I’ll be the first to admit.
One little glob can throw off an entire reading! ”
She shook her head then, dark curls bouncing against her cheeks.
“Why, I remember the first reading I ever had. This was soon after I’d come to live in Tealeaf Cottage, and Extremely Great Aunt Amelia was still alive.
She called me to her chair by the hearth, thrust a cup of bitter taerel into my hands, and told me to drink up!
I’d not yet developed a taste for it, but I was so terrified of her, sitting there like a bag of bones in her black taffeta gown, rocking back and forth.
So I gulped it down, and she took the cup, and immediately began laughing at what she saw. ”
“And did she share with you?” Mr. Grimm asked, curiously.
“She did indeed. When she was quite through cackling, she said, ‘My, my! For such a scrawny, ill-favored little creature, you’ve got quite the romance in store for you. I see ballgowns and carriages, moonlit gardens, and a daring man risking all to save you from certain doom.’ Then she turned the cup around and tilted her head to one side.
‘That, or you’re destined to join the circus as a rhinoceros trainer. My Sight isn’t what it once was.’”
Luna laughed merrily at the memory and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before slipping out from behind the counter.
“I used to dream about my future with the circus,” she said over her shoulder as she carried the tea things back to the kitchen.
“But sadly, all these years later, not a single rhinoceros has crossed my horizon. No daring men or ballgowns either, for that matter!”