Antebellum Awakening (The Network Series #2)(33)

“I didn’t know you were part of the Resistance,” I said, eager to bleed information from her. Perhaps she knew something about Miss Mabel.

“Indeed,” Stella said. “Mildred and I were best friends before she overthrew Evelyn. We started working together in our early twenties, a couple of years after I graduated from Miss Mabel’s.”

My jaw dropped. “You went to Miss Mabel’s?”

“Yes, but that was when the elder Mabel ran it, not the Miss Mabel you’ve been unfortunate to know.”

All my terrible memories of Miss Mabel ran through my mind in a blur. I suspected that her grandmother Mabel, the woman who started the school, couldn’t have been much less frightening.

“What was Mabel like?” I asked.

“She was very proper and put together,” Stella said in a distant tone. “Her dresses were always new, and her hair perfect. Pleasing her was a futile task. She expected perfection from all her students and was a surly old girl, really.” Stella laughed quietly to herself. “It was a difficult three years to say the least. Mabel made extraordinary demands of her pupils, but she got the best of us.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Yes,” she agreed, matching my wry tone with another little laugh. “Very familiar. Miss Mabel is a lot like Mabel in more ways than one.” She tapped her chin in thought. “In fact, I think I have something that you may be interested in. It's not a book I've ever lent out. You may be one of the only witches I trust to read and keep the secrets therein safe. Follow me.”

She led me to a bookshelf on the other side of the room, ran her fingers along the edge and finally pulled a book away.

“Here it is!” she cried, brushing the dust from it. “Goodness. All this dust. The maids aren’t very thorough, are they?”

I accepted it from her. It was heavy and broad, with thick pages and a neat, slanted writing inside.

Mildred’s Resistance.

“It’s written by an anonymous historian and accurately details most of what went on between Mildred and Evelyn. They were, at one point, friends. All three of us were.”

“Friends? With Evelyn?”

I couldn’t picture a woman like Stella, so friendly and good, close with Evelyn, the tyrant who would have destroyed the Central Network if Mildred hadn’t taken over.

“A tremendously arrogant lot we were,” Stella said, laughing. “We worked together as assistants here at Chatham. A little like you, Camille, and Leda, only we were older. All of us set out to change the world.”

“And the world did change.”

“Mildred succeeded in changing it,” Stella said in a sad tone. “I guess you could say that Evelyn did as well, except not for the better. She didn’t start out as a monster, you know. She chose her path through a complicated twist of bad decisions. Despite what she became, I don’t think anyone really sets out to betray her friends or her Network. Mildred thinks differently, of course. I tend to believe better of people than she does.”

“Did Evelyn try to get you on her side?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said, her expression souring. “Very much so. But in the end I stayed with Mildred because I knew she had chosen the better path. Losing Evelyn was a terrible loss.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said, unsure of how to continue. She squeezed my arm with the sweet, gentle touch of a friend. A little wave of peace ran through me like a sigh of wind. I craved more of the kind touch, which made me realize how much I missed Mama’s frequent hugs. It amazed me how easily disoriented I got without Mama’s stability to cling to. Little moments, like a sympathetic gesture, suddenly meant so much more.

“You may be surprised what you find in that book,” Stella said, pulling me back out of my thoughts. “I believe your family is mentioned in there.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes!” she declared with a warm smile. “It wouldn’t be complete without mentioning them. They helped Mildred a great deal during the Resistance, and were loyal from the beginning. I know she still appreciates all they did to help her. I’d be pleased to hear your thoughts on the book when you finish.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll bring it back when I’m done. And thank you for telling me about my family.”

Stella put her hand around my shoulder as we strolled to the door.

“I had a son once, you know,” she said, her voice laced with a deep sadness. “Your fortitude and determination remind me of him a little.”

“Where is he now?”

“Gone,” she said with a melancholy tinge. “He died when he was very young, but I’d never seen such a stubborn child.”

I looked away, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. Any wind of grief triggered something dark and frightening inside of me.

“Oh, dear,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart and searching my face. “I’ve made you sad. I’m so sorry.”

“No!” I said, meeting her eyes with a sheepish smile. I didn’t want her to feel bad. “You didn’t.”

“Well, I’d never want to,” Stella said with a bolstering smile. “We are all mourning something, Bianca. All of us. Keep that in mind, for you are never alone in your grief. Anyway, thank you for your assistance. I hope the rest of your day fares well. I’m sure we’ll see each other around Chatham. At least, I certainly hope we will.”