19. Clem September 9, 1888
Dearest Mother,
I knew that they would act against me somehow, but I hadn’t imagined it would be like this. I am called to court. Commonwealth accuses me of fraud.
And to pour salt in the wound, the Trenches came today—Norbert and Simeon. I would not admit to them—nor to Rosetta—that the outcome could be dire. If Commonwealth is awarded financial damages, they may be significant, and then what would we do?
I am determined that some good must come of this.
Something must emerge from the wreckage of this last week that will carry our plan forward.
I don’t know what it is, but perhaps an advantage might be wrested from the court case—a morsel of knowledge, a bit of leverage.
Things cannot get worse, so they must get better, no?
No help will come from the Trenches. No, all the contrary.
I could feel Rosetta’s tokens straining with Simeon’s presence.
I hadn’t known this about tokens. I’ve never read it; I’ve never heard of it.
Could it be that I am peculiar, and it only happens to me?
Whenever he sat very near to Rosetta, I felt the force of his ill will, and I felt the tokens I made for her pushing back, as if we were engaging in a test of strength.
He is a devil. I never told you of the time he locked me in the conservatory on a visit to Clover Hall.
Rosie must have been about four. He led us both there, and then he told me to look at a pot of soil, for it was enchanted and would soon begin sprouting.
I stared stupidly at the pot of soil, and he took Rosie away.
When I finally looked up, I was locked in and Rosie was gone.
That wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was that Mariah came after a while and told me that Simeon had pushed Rosie into the pond and that she was gone.
For several minutes, I think I knew real despair.
And then I had the strangest idea; I thought, in that confused way of a child, that I would bring her back to life.
I could picture her, pulled from the pond by the strength of my will, eyes opened, alive once more.
I was so fervent in my anguish and delusion that I convinced myself it was true.
And then I saw her, through the glass of the conservatory, running along the lawn back toward you and Father and the Trenches.
For the longest time, Mother, I thought I had really brought her back to life.
It took me some years to realize that it was only Simeon and Mariah’s cruelty, and that they had never pushed her into the pond but only said so to torment me. I was their victim, not Rosie.
Now I am wiser. I know better Simeon’s villainy, and I know better my own ability to thwart it. He will not get to her, Mother. I promise.
There is one bit of good news. I’ve found a way to search for the lead case.
It is due to an unexpected generosity, or perhaps it is one kindness in return for another.
On Monday, you will be visited by a young lady in a maid’s uniform.
Her name is Vera. She will deliver my letters, and you may give her letters for me.
It’s likely that Throckmorton will turn her away at first, jealous as he is of that mountain of books and armor, but she is very charming.
She will offer to bring meals and clean the office, and if the cleaning holds no allure, I know from what you’ve told me that the meals surely will.
And she will find the case. Once we have that, we will only need the location of the Boston portal.
If I am found liable for fraud, so be it. We will at least have you back.
Your loving,
Clementine