22. Sam A Proposition #2
She was so determined. So persistent in the face of such formidable obstacles. I then sent her all the admiration I would have pressed into her hand, had I been in the room to clasp it.
“Thank you,” she said, her smile softer now. “I’m glad someone else has seen it. I wish I knew what it meant.”
How could I convey the unfinished message? I offered her a sense of my dread. We had only two days. I could not imagine how to help her in time.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I see that. But what are the stones going to do?”
I could not answer her. How I wished that I could.
She took one more deep breath to prepare herself before she emerged from her room and joined Rosetta in the kitchen.
“I just can’t seem to put my thoughts together,” Rosie said anxiously. “My hands won’t do what they are supposed to.”
Carefully, Clem put her arms around her sister. She winced as Rosetta clasped her hands to her back. “It’s all right. We’re all right.” She pulled back. “Let’s have some food. We’ll feel better.”
Rosie nodded. “Yes. You’re right. But I just can’t believe…Those papers attacking you. And why—Clem, how could you suggest going to the realm? What will happen if you don’t return?”
Clem stared at her sister. “No, Rosie—I don’t actually mean to procure a thew. What would I do with a thew? Mother will be the thew I bring back.”
Rosetta’s eyes widened with understanding. “Oh…of course! That is simpler.”
I agreed with her. Much simpler. But still difficult to accomplish so soon.
Clem sighed. “Yes. Yes and no, because both of the things I need are still eluding me. I need Mother’s lead case, and I need a portal.
Vera is still looking for the case, but I have to find a portal, and my attempt to wrangle its location from the judge failed.
The days will fly by. I need time, not skills.
That’s the irony, Rosie. Neither of these things requires enchantment, and yet having them would convince Richardson that I’m a capable enchanter.
” As she spoke, she gathered bread and cheese, setting them out on the kitchen table.
So that was her purpose. Now I understood her visits to Throckmorton much more clearly.
She would take the case from him and carry it to the portal.
Unfortunately, the locations of both the case and the portal were highly guarded secrets.
The Cisneros Society had been keeping secrets for more than two hundred years.
How could Clem hope to discover them in mere days?
“It’s absurd,” Rosie agreed, seeming now much calmer. “If the judge had any sense, he would realize that you’re already more capable than most students at Commonwealth. You’ve read more, you’ve practiced more, you are much wiser than someone like Simeon—”
This pretty speech was interrupted by the bell ringing. “I’ll go,” said Rosetta.
“Let me,” Clem said. She was already up and heading to the stairs. I’m not sure what she expected, perhaps some ingrate from the courthouse, but on the front step she found nothing more sinister than a messenger boy with a cheerful expression and an envelope.
“Already paid, miss,” he said, handing it over.
“Thank you.”
The boy hurried off. Clem opened the envelope, which bore the stamp of Smythe’s office. She read the short note from Smythe and withdrew the enclosed, much longer letter as she climbed the stairs. “What is it?” Rosetta asked. As she read, Clem’s frowning expression turned thoughtful.
“This is very interesting,” she admitted. “Remember the awkward fellow outside Smythe’s office? Walter Ainsley?”
“Of course.”
“ ‘Dear Miss Quinn, the pleasure of seeing you and meeting your sister,’ and so on,” she read.
“Here is the important part: ‘I am hopeful of undertaking a more direct course: that is, to pass along the name of an individual who would be able to assist you in your undertaking.’ ” Clem looked up from the letter to raise her eyebrows.
Rosetta’s eyes widened. “Read the whole thing!”
Clem continued. “ ‘I am well aware of the dismal impression I must have made this afternoon—incoherent, I fear, not to mention occasionally (albeit unintentionally) offensive, which are not the qualities most desirable in a passionate advocate for the rights of women. Before you laugh aloud or tear this paper in half, read a sentence further so that I may assure you that there are indeed men who believe in and argue for these rights (however ineffectually, in my case). I take no credit for my enlightened position, since I am aware that it springs entirely from my exposure to these ideas as articulated by three women more intellectually adept and articulate than myself: my sisters. My sister Georgina is an accomplished painter who must exhibit her work under a male pseudonym; Bernadette is a historian who must publish her writings under a similar nom de plume; and Iris has such a head for politics that she would, in a different world, manage our nation’s affairs of state. Growing up among them has taught me to observe the cruel (and absurd) hypocrisies of society. I do little enough that’s really meaningful to combat the prejudice of my fellow men, and I feel that in the present circumstances I might perhaps assist both in your admirable goal and in the larger goal more substantially.
Not that my assistance will be substantial, I understand, but it is usually so very meager that even a slight increase would be significant. ’ ”
Clem looked up. “I think I know where Walter Ainsley’s tendency to correct himself comes from.”
Rosetta smiled. “From his sisters?”
“I can see them asking, ‘Substantial assistance, is it?’ ”
Clem continued: “ ‘Through my sister Iris, I have learned of the existence of a female enchanter who, more than thirty years ago now, made the only known attempt by a woman to enter the spirit realm. Her name is largely forgotten, but perhaps you have heard of her—Wister Amsel, of Keel House. She was, of course, incarcerated briefly, though eventually it was found that she had violated no laws in the attempt. Nevertheless, she never fully recovered her place in polite society afterward. She had been the last heir of the Croix family, which made its fortune in fur trading in the last century. Though her fortune is undiminished, she now keeps very different company, which I would beg you not to hold against her. Iris knows her well through what might be called women’s charity projects. She assures me that Miss Amsel, while eccentric, is morally unimpeachable. More to the point, she is extremely competent as an enchanter. Although she does not practice (not being permitted to, of course) and has allowed her name to vanish into obscurity, she is doubtlessly knowledgeable. Iris believes she could be persuaded to serve as a tutor, of sorts, as you prepare to venture into the spirit realm. And, vitally, she might share the location of the portal that she utilized.’ ”
Rosetta gasped. “Of course! She will know a portal. What do you think, Clem?”
Clem smiled, clearly elated. “I think she is just what we need. Wister Amsel,” she said, as if practicing the unusual name. She glanced down at the letter. “Of Keel House. I am very keen to meet her.”