A Darkness Strange and Lovely (Something Strange and Deadly #2)(2)

Regards, Jie

Squeezed below Jie’s letter, in Daniel’s loping, slanted scrawl, it said:

Empress, Stay out of trouble. I can’t rescue you from across an ocean.

Daniel

My fingers tightened around the paper, and tears stung my eyes. Daniel might’ve broken my heart, but he was still one charming scalawag. A scalawag I missed . . . and wished could be—

I shook my head. “Stop. Don’t think of him, Eleanor.”

But it was too late. The regret trampled over me, aching in my throat. He had told me he didn’t love me months ago; and yet at every note he added to Jie’s letters, I inevitably turned into a pathetic ninny. Why was it that no matter how many times I scolded myself for caring, none of my stupid feelings would fade? Although . . .

I glanced at the letter again. Suits and a book on manners? What did that mean?

“Eleanor Fitt!” a girl’s voice squealed. “Is that you?”

I stiffened. I knew that shrill voice—just as I knew the huskier one that followed.

“I daresay, it has been ages since we last saw you!”

Wincing, I stuffed the letter into my pocket and hid my bandaged wrist in the folds of my skirts.

Then I turned to face Mercy and Patience Cook—or the Virtue Sisters, as I preferred to call them.

Squat Mercy bustled over to me, beaming in her lavender gown, while lanky Patience, pucker-lipped and pink clad, ambled behind.

“How are you?” Mercy asked, grabbing my arm. “We have missed you at all the parties!”

I very much doubted this, but I merely bowed my head and said, “My mother is . . . unwell. As such, we have not been getting out much.”

“Oh yes!” Patience said. “We had heard that.” Her nostrils fluttered as if she smelled a particularly good piece of gossip, and I knew immediately what question would come next. “Is she still at

Kirkbride’s? Is she still . . . unstable?”

My chest tightened painfully, and a thousand nasty retorts flew through my mind. Yes, my mother was at Kirkbride’s Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane because yes, her mind had cracked. Mama’s health was the only reason I hadn’t chased after the Spirit-Hunters the minute my wrist had healed enough to travel. Kirkbride’s was lovely, what with its progressive ideas on mental health and its beautifully flowered grounds; but it was also expensive.

Yet these weren’t emotions I liked to dwell on, and damn Patience for forcing me to.

Fortunately, Mercy clapped her hands just as I opened my mouth to sputter something utterly inappropriate. “Oh, we were just in Mrs. Binder’s, Eleanor, and we saw the most wonderful pistachio muslin! Didn’t we, Patience?” She poked her sister.

“We did,” Patience simpered, “and it will look lovely with Mercy’s skin.” She turned a smug smirk on me. “Mother has the latest Harper’s Bazaar , you see, and it shows all the newest walking gowns for fall. We are going to have them made.”

I grunted, unable to conjure any other response. As far as I could tell, there was absolutely nothing wrong with their current gowns. I was in the same gray walking gown I’d worn every day since June, and it was still perfectly functional.

My eyes raked over Patience’s pink silk— I could get fifty dollars for that dress at Mr. Rickard’s .

And Mercy’s lavender grenadine was easily worth seventy-five. After selling all of my own dresses to pay for Mama’s hospital bills, I’d become quite adept at estimating what a dress would fetch at Mr.

Rickard’s Pawn Shop. I was also quite good at haggling for the best price.

However, I was not particularly adept at controlling my facial expressions.

“Eleanor,” Mercy said, alarmed, “are you ill?”

I quickly schooled my face into a smile, but as my lips parted to reply, Patience cut in.

“Have you seen Allison Wilcox lately?” She lifted her eyebrows. “We have called and called, yet she is always away—that, or she is avoiding our company. Perhaps you have had better luck in your own calls upon the Wilcox home?”

Now I gaped at her and did not bother to hide my emotions. How dare she ask about Allison

Wilcox when she knew perfectly well what had passed between our families.

Mercy seemed as horrified by her sister’s question as I, for she reached for Patience’s elbow.

“Hush.”

But Patience wouldn’t be silenced. “Oh, but of course you wouldn’t have seen Allison,” she cooed.

“Not after your . . . ah . . . how to phrase it delicately? Scandals with the Spirit-Hunters.”

“Patience, stop that!” Mercy hissed.

“But it is true, is it not?” Patience batted her eyes innocently. “The Fitt family and the Wilcox family are no longer on friendly terms? I daresay, the fact that you were seeing both Clarence and the man who murdered Clarence would not reflect well—”

“Enough!” Mercy dug her fingers in Patience’s arm and yanked her away. She flashed me an apologetic grimace. “I’m so sorry, Eleanor. I hope your mother gets better.” Then, without another word, she hauled her sister into the busy street and disappeared from view.

I was rendered speechless. I couldn’t even breathe. Tears I had fought every second of every day now rose in my eyes like a tidal wave.