A Dreadful Splendor (54)

We paused before the winter roses, and I told him that while it wasn’t a particularly beautiful bloom, it was a hardy plant that only flowered in the coldest months. He proclaimed that it was the most beautiful flower he had ever seen. Then he shifted his stance and our hands brushed against each other, almost as if by accident—but his fingers curled and briefly caught mine before letting go.

There can be no surer sign that he loves me. When I returned to the manor, my feet did not touch the pathway for I was gliding on air. I shall always remember falling in love over the Helleborus orientalis.





Chapter Thirty-Four




After the disastrous moment in the library, I sought asylum and requested to have supper brought to my room. When Flora arrived with the tray, I was grateful for the distraction of her company. The dregs of my conversation with Mr. Pemberton, and the memories of Maman it had brought to the surface, were horrible and exhausting. My only grace was that he hadn’t dismissed me from the house. Yet.

I sat at the small table and tucked into my meat and gravy. Oddly enough, my appetite was unaffected.

Flora kept herself busy. “I heard the invitations for Lady Audra’s party were sent out today,” she said. “The kitchen is right busy with all the prep and such.”

“I can imagine,” I said, using my bread to sop up the extra sauce.

“Do you need to do any exercises to prepare for the séance? Or maybe practise on someone?”

Flora was as subtle as a thunder shower at a picnic. She wanted another conjuring, and I was glad to appease her. There was something comfortable about routine, about doing the one thing I was good at.

I dabbed my mouth with the soft napkin and laid it over my empty plate. “There’s a peculiar quality in the air tonight,” I said. “When there is a lot of activity in the other dimension, I can feel it. It’s subtle, almost like butterfly wings.”

Flora stared at my forehead, eyebrows together in concentration.

“I see a potent presence around you,” I told her. “It’s not always there, but tonight you are being shadowed.”

“Shadowed? That sounds bad.” She looked over her shoulder. Flora was what Maman would call “the perfect customer.”

“No,” I assured her. “It’s lovely, actually. Shadowing means the spirit is close because you have called them to your side.”

“What? You mean, like you do?”

“Not quite.” I motioned to the other chair, inviting her to sit with me. “When we think of a loved one, it calls through the fabric between our worlds and they’re able to pass through—if only for a moment.”

Flora smiled. “Someone I’ve been thinking about is with me now?”

“Yes,” I said, wiggling my foot out of my boot. “Close your eyes and concentrate on their name. It will help keep them here.” She did as I asked. Taking advantage of the distraction, I moved my dishes to the floor and slipped the dinner knife under one table leg.

“I’m confused,” she said, clutching her apron, now looking at me again. “The person I’ve been thinking about most of today is still alive. At least he was this morning when I gave him an apple pie.”

Joseph’s kind smile came to mind.

“The shadowing doesn’t lie,” I told her. “Someone is with you now. Would you like to know who?” She nodded. I reached across the table and asked for her to hold my hands. “I want you to relax and remember that nothing can hurt you.”

She nodded again.

“Is there anyone here who wishes to speak to us?” I asked. Three knocks sounded under the table.

Flora gasped. Her eyes were wider than the supper plate. I waited, then brought my knee up, making the small table wobble.

I said, “I’m seeing the letter ‘M.’”

“Maisie,” Flora whispered.

I nodded. “She is telling me something.” I paused for two breaths. “She knows your love is close by.”

Gripping my hand tighter, Flora said, “Ask her if he’s tellin’ me the truth. I needs to know if I can trust him or not.”

I wondered what Joseph could be telling her.

“She said he is telling you mostly the truth,” I answered carefully. Her expression was hard to read with her eyes so intently searching mine, but I was certain I detected a pout. “However,” I added, “I don’t always get direct words. Sometimes the message comes as a feeling. I believe she is trying to say that the thing you are wondering about is the thing he might be lying to you about.”

“Oh.” The crushed tone in her voice was enough proof I had disappointed her.

Maman would not approve. We do not lecture, ma petite chérie. We tell them what they want to hear. We tell them enough so that their heart fills in the rest.

The heart sees.

I tried again. “But she says he’s lying for a good reason and he wants to make you happy.”

Flora’s grip loosened. I sensed I had satisfied her.

“She’s fading,” I said.

A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. “If you don’t mind me saying,” Flora began, “it’s been nice having someone close to me own age to talk with again. I don’t mean you should have servants as friends. I miss Maisie something awful, but when I’m with you, I don’t miss her as much.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t use my words as fancy as you.”