xxxiii. In which Charlotte sees her father’s portrait #3
Charlotte flushed; she had immediately wondered what, exactly, Elspeth had been caught doing with the man’s wife.
Elspeth closed the stove door, adjusted the damper, and dropped into her armchair. “Why’re you telling me this now?”
Charlotte let out a breath. “Because . . . I think I should. Because you’ve been good to me—taken care of me, like you said.
The other day, when you said we were the same, I was afraid . . . No one knows this about me. I’ve never . . . I’ve been very
careful. So when you said we were the same . . . I was afraid of what you might say.”
It seemed foolish to have been scared, now. Of course she was afraid of what the villagers might say, but Elspeth was different. Elspeth had wanted to know what had happened. Elspeth had responded with her own story, or a piece of one.
“I know I hurt you,” Charlotte said, “responding how I did. And you’ve been kind to me anyway. So I . . . I wanted you to
know. You deserve the truth.”
Elspeth was silent for so long that Charlotte’s palms itched. She rubbed them against her apron. Maybe she’d made a mistake.
“Glad you trust me with it,” Elspeth said. “You didn’t have to, though, just because I been taking care of you.”
“Maybe not. But I wanted to.”
Elspeth dimpled. Charlotte’s heart stuttered.
Then Elspeth slouched in her chair, gazing into the stove.
“He ain’t back yet. Maybe he ain’t coming back.”
Charlotte didn’t ask who she meant. “It’s barely been a day. We can give it more time.”
Elspeth unbraided her wet hair and combed her fingers through it. Charlotte watched, strangely fascinated; she’d never seen
Elspeth without her braid.
“I don’t know what time I have. Feelin’ . . . Think the sickness is getting to me. Thought the acorn’d stop it spreading,
but today I’m so . . .”
Charlotte didn’t ask what she meant. Elspeth had looked achy and exhausted all day. She’d still managed her usual business,
taking care of the animals and whatnot, but Charlotte knew from experience that it was only a matter of time before her usual
business caught up to her.
“Let me see your scar.”
The black veins were minute, not as extensive as Gracie Buchanan’s had been, but Charlotte was almost certain they’d spread.
She touched Elspeth’s collarbone, worrying her lip with her teeth.
The acorn had slowed the symptoms, certainly; Elspeth wasn’t in such bad shape as those with wood sickness generally were this long after showing symptoms. But it hadn’t stopped them.
Charlotte would try the acorns anyway. They were all she had. If they didn’t work, she didn’t know what would.
“I been thinking.” Elspeth sat back in her chair, running a hand through her damp hair. “I could track him through the wood.
It can’t be that different than tracking any other beast.”
“And you’d know all about that, I suppose, city folks being well-known for being master trackers.”
Elspeth’s mouth twitched. She rebraided her hair in silence, perhaps considering how little tracking knowledge she (presumably)
had.
“How about this? You stay here in case he comes back. I know the journey’s been hard on you. You could keep resting up, less’n
you see him. You’ll have your—whatsit, that green thing, seems like it’s useful to you, gets you what you need and all that.
I’ll take the mule, no gig, just the mule, and I’ll look for him. Whichever one of us sees him first, we make him come to
the other one so’s we can both get answers.”
Charlotte’s stomach clenched. As if she meant to leave this minute, Elspeth staggered up from her chair. Reached for her cloak
on its peg.
Charlotte lurched toward her. At her distress, the plant creature dropped from the ceiling, swaying after her.
“You said you’d take care of me.”
Elspeth paused, a fist clenched in her cloak.
Charlotte swallowed. She couldn’t be alone in the forest. Not even here, where it seemed reasonably safe.
She couldn’t be here without Elspeth.
The plant creature swayed at her shoulder, reassuring. Maybe things would be all right, if Charlotte only said what she wanted.
“I know you want to find your sister, or find out what happened to her. I want that for you, too. But I . . .”
Elspeth’s gaze flickered over her. “What, Lottie?”
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding. “I lost my father in the wood, maybe I’ve lost my brother— You already have
the sickness, and it’s getting worse. If you go out there . . . I can’t lose you, too.”
Slowly, Elspeth’s fist unclenched from the folds of her cloak. Charlotte let out a breath.
“One day more.” The plant creature wrapped a gentle tendril around her arm. “Stay with me. One day more. Then, if you want,
if he’s not back yet—”
Elspeth stepped toward her. Charlotte gulped down air. She’d thought, for a moment, that Elspeth would really leave. That
she would vanish from Charlotte’s life as suddenly as she’d entered it—never to be seen again, for the forest would surely
disappear her for good.
Elspeth touched her cheek. Charlotte wanted to cry.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t go. Not yet.”
Elspeth nodded. “All right, Lottie. All right. One day more.”