Vow of Deception (The Ministry of Curiosities #9)(46)

"Why did we do it, Mr. Everheart?" Mrs. Everheart asked her husband. "Why did we take them in?"

"My brother and I…" Alice said again, her voice firmer. "We were adopted, weren't we?" Alice had told me about her little brother and how he'd died young. She'd adored him and his death had affected her deeply.

Mrs. Everheart reached a hand toward her husband. He caught it and patted it vigorously. "I feel faint," she muttered.

"The parlor," I said quickly, leading the way to the closest adjoining room. I directed Mr. and Mrs. Everheart to sit together on the sofa then drew close to Alice. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I feel as though I might finally get some answers." She sat on an armchair and addressed the couple sitting opposite. "Who are my real parents?"

Mr. Everheart looked to his wife and said something I couldn't hear.

"Pardon?" Alice pressed.

"We don't know," he said, louder. "You were found sitting on a pew at our church one morning. You were about three years old but could tell us nothing about yourself except that your name was Alice and that you were told you could not go home. We took you in while the authorities tried to locate your parents, but…" He shrugged. "No one came forward and there were no reports of missing children matching your description. The odd thing is, no one saw you arrive in the village. So we simply kept you."

"And did not think to tell me the truth?"

"It was better if you thought we were your real parents."

"Better for whom? Not for me, I assure you." Alice got to her feet and paced the room. "I have long suspected you were not my parents." She stopped abruptly. "What about Myron? Did you adopt him too?"

Mrs. Everheart dabbed the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. "My poor boy."

Mr. Everheart nodded. "He was found in the same way, in the church, but as a baby. He couldn't have been more than a few weeks old."

Alice suddenly plopped back down onto the chair. "Perhaps that was why he was never very strong…he was taken from his mother so young."

"We didn't take him." Mrs. Everheart's voice cracked and she dabbed her other eye.

"Alice didn't suggest we did." Her husband patted her hand again, but it was ineffectual in offering comfort. Mrs. Everheart's eyes continued to water.

"Have you received any communication about Alice or her brother?" I asked. "Either recently or in the past? Anything at all?"

Mr. Everheart shook his head then lowered it and slumped back in the sofa. He looked like a beaten man, as if he'd spent his entire life running only to stumble at the end of the race. He blinked dry eyes at Alice. "We'll never see you again, will we?"

"No," she said without hesitation.

Mrs. Everheart sniffed. Her husband passed her his handkerchief and she continued to dab the corner of her eyes.

"That has nothing to do you not being my true parents," Alice said, "and everything to do with how you have treated me since my dreams became real."

"You can hardly blame us for that," Mrs. Everheart said.

Alice rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps it's just as well that we part ways now considering…" Mrs. Everheart waved her hand to encompass the room, the house, and probably me.

Alice stood again and peered down her nose at the people she'd once called Mother and Father. "I think it's time you left."

Mr. Everheart assisted his wife to stand and placed her hand in the crook of his arm. After a hesitation, he gave Alice a nod. "Goodbye," he said simply.

Mrs. Everheart did not offer any parting words, but she did allow a tear to slip down her cheek as she walked out with her husband. I thought the tears meant she was sad to part with her adopted daughter, but her next words banished that notion.

"What will we tell Mr. Crossley?" she said to Mr. Everheart. "Will he insist on compensation?"

I walked them to the front door then rejoined Alice in the parlor. She stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around her body. She stared unblinking into the empty grate.

I touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Her chin quivered but she nodded. "I think so. I'm not too shocked, since I have long suspected, but to hear it from their own mouths…it's still unsettling."

"And for them to leave on such poor terms too." I glanced toward the door. "I'm sure they love you but are just frightened of you and your dreams."

She shook her head and returned to staring into the grate. "You're kind to say that, Charlie, but I don't think you're correct. They never quite accepted me as their own."

I hugged her. "I was adopted too, remember. I know my adopted mother loved me. My father, too, before he learned I was a necromancer."

"If he loved you, he would have overlooked that. He would have continued to love you anyway. I'm sorry if that hurts you, Charlie, but that's how I feel about my parents. If they truly loved me, they would help me, not abandon me."

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Anselm Holloway never did truly love me, but I was quite sure my adopted mother would never have treated me as cruelly as he did. I was blessed in her love. Perhaps it was time to visit her grave again and pay my respects.