I entered a spacious sitting room. The whole place had an open concept, including a kitchen with a large breakfastbar. Fae lounged on the leather sofas; a sound system was integrated into the wall. A small side table held a pile of vintage books and a flickering candle in a skull holder. Off by a considerable bay window sat a massive black piano covered in spider webs.
A cracked cauldron, spilling mist, adorned the breakfast bar, surrounded by various baked goods.
I found my family standing together, still taking in the social situation, and joined them. Lydia latched onto Kitty’s arm, her face going pale. “What aretheydoing here?”
She motioned towards Mr. and Mrs. Ravenswood, who sat front and center, dressed in black. Candles dotted the room around them, magic keeping them from becoming a hazard. The Ravenswoods ran a coffee shop in town and also dealt in fae medicinal remedies on the side. They’d often suggested several methods for curing father, though nothing they tried yet had worked.
They were also Isabella’s parents. My arms began to itch.
“Oh, Jane told me the Ravenswoods were coming over before the party to finalize the plans for the candlelight vigil they’re holding tomorrow for Isabella. It must haverun long and now people are giving their condolences,” Kitty said.
I glanced at Lydia. “Can’t they stay for the party?”
She straightened, scowling. “Of course they can, but don’t they care that they’re going to bring down the whole atmosphere of the evening?”
Mr. and Mrs Ravenswood sat on the couch, their eyes red rimmed, clutching each other as fae stood in a line to offer their sympathies.
“There’s Jane. Come, girls.” Mom, looking a little flushed in her costume, flapped her feathered arms, shooing us forward. “Mary, be a dear and convey our condolences to the couple, will you?”
“Me?” Although they’d offered remedies for Dad, I hadn’t ever interacted with the Ravenswoods. I hadn’t even recognized their daughter when she appeared before me as an apparition. If that had been real at all.
But Mom, Kitty, and Lydia were already walking away. I held my book tightly and moved to get in line.
A rich laugh drifted through the crowd, warming me. I glanced toward the back door and my heart rate picked up to see Frank Churchill standing there dressed in anelegant Regency-era costume with a sharp charcoal waistcoat. His matching tailcoat jacket highlighted his broad shoulders, and a pressed crisp white shirt with a neatly tied cravat adorned his neck. His fitted breeches ended right below the knee, paired with leather boots polished to a shine. Several women huddled close to him. He ran fingers through his styled brown hair, a violin clutched in his other hand. Frank always stood out at any party. Others gravitated toward his easy manner. Even now, he lingered among a small gathering of people.
As my mother and sisters walked by, his grin faded. His gaze turned in my direction and I averted my eyes so as not to be caught staring.
When I risked a glance back, Frank moved through the crowd, a frown planted on his lips. What about my family could manage to erase his smile so fast?
“Mrs. Ravenswood, my name is Jessica. I was a friend of Isabella’s,” a fae woman who wore a crow mask in front of me said, tears in her eyes. “I-I had this photo of your daughter and I in college when we played polo together. I thought… thought you might like it.”
She reached out to hand the picture over, and I stretched to see the image. I sucked in a sharp breath. The darkhair and mocking green eyes. My breaths came fast, and I struggled to silence the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. It perfectly matched the woman from the cemetery.
Mrs. Ravenswood clutched the photograph in her trembling hands as if it were a delicate piece of china. “My baby always loved playing polo.” She caressed the image, devastation shining in her eyes.
Then she broke down sobbing.
Mr. Ravenswood rubbed her back. “It would bring her some peace if our daughter’s killer were brought to justice.”
My heart twisted, and I automatically stepped back. I couldn’t do this. I’d never been good with tears and sorrow. It was horrible of me, but what comfort could my hollow words give to such grief? Calling on my fae power, I faded as I crept backward, holding my book close until I’d left the Ravenswoods and their anguish behind.
I proceeded through the kitchen and into a side hall. I eased open the first door on my right and gasped insurprise. A room filled with books held a beautiful window seat full of fluffy pillows. A black cat lay curled up in the setting sun.
It was as if the house knew exactly what I sought and had provided it for me. Given its magical nature, maybe it had. “Hey, kitty-cat, can I join you?”
Its fur shone oddly in the light, exhibiting an almost translucent quality. I rubbed my eyes. The cat gave me an affronted look and jumped from the window seat. As it walked imperiously from the room, I noticed it had a white spot on its hind left foot. Funny, the cat I’d searched for with Frank as children had the same marking.
I plopped onto the bench, enjoying the last rays of the day filtering through the window, the calming scent of old paper, and the comforting pillow at my back. I opened my book, determined to distract myself.
Mom’s piercing laugh came from the kitchen beyond the hallway, loud as sin. “Well, you know, my eldest and Charles Bingley have become quite the pair. Near inseparable. If things keep going as they are, I believe there will be wedding bells on the horizon.”
“Oh Charles Bingley, he is a real catch and rich, too. So kind, so handsome, yes, yes,” Ms. Bates, Mom’s long-time friend, said.
“Please, I beg you, Mom, not so loud,” Lizzy pleaded.
“Why should I? Let the entire world understand that these silly rumors of tainted blood are finished. For who would dare denigrate a family married to high fae?” Mom’s smug voice drifted through the door. “Don’t worry, Lizzy. After Jane’s good match, all my daughters will be sure to marry other rich and high-profile fae.”
Poor Lizzy. While my sister rarely seemed to care about what others thought, Mom had a way of getting under her skin more than anyone else. She should join me in hiding away from our family’s embarrassment. Better to get lost in a book than have to reign in our inappropriate family at a party.
