Clio inhaled as understanding bloomed in her amber eyes. ‘No.’
Cynthia leaned close and pressed a kiss against Clio’s cheek. ‘Then don’t make this any harder than it already is. Besides, I have important work to do. Mrs Higgins provided me with a rather extensive list of maids who were fired by Hubert. Women he doubtlessly abused. I am going to reach out to these women and offer what I can, though it hardly feels like enough.’
‘You can’t carry the blame of his sins,’ Clio said.
‘I’m not. But neither will I continue to ignore the harm he’s done. Not when I’m in a position to help. So, I am going to put my dowager house to good use. I am turning it into a home for women in need. I hope to offer education and training for those who wish to improve their circumstances. And for others, it will simply be a place of refuge until they can determine their next steps. Hubert’s crimes are unforgiveable, but they have opened my eyes to the plight of so many young women. I’m determined to offer these girls support.’
Clio held Cynthia’s gaze for a long moment. ‘I think that is a fabulous idea. You will need help, and what better excuse to come and visit you? You must send word as soon as you are ready, and we shall come.’ She threw her arms around Cynthia in a crushing hug.
‘Of course we will!’ Ellie joined the hug. They tangled in a messy embrace, three tearful witches, a ruffled raven, and a disgruntled ferret.
Sniffing, Ellie pulled away first.
‘When do you depart?’ Ellie wiped her pink cheek with the back of her hand.
‘The Duchess of Devon invited me to her annual summer ball.’ Cynthia tried to pull her wild emotions into some semblance of order. How could one feel so many things at the same time? Grief at leaving Helena. Hope that she might help women like Lily. Fear of the unknown. Excitement for a worthy cause. And now the joy of knowing she wouldn’t be separated from her dear friends forever. She pulled her thoughts back to the demands of the moment and the duchess’s quickly approaching ball. ‘Of course, the duchess would wait until the last minute to send invitations. She does love to watch the peerage scurry about.’ She had come by with her modiste to take some final measurements for Cynthia’s dress. Despite the duchess’s penchant for drama, she had been a friend to Cynthia and she would miss her.
The duchess was delighted by Cynthia’s plans to create a home for wayward ladies, though her enthusiasm was more inspired by the scandal the news would cause than anything else. Still, she pledged her unending support and promised to visit during the dreary winter months when London lost its appeal.
‘So you will attend the Duchess of Devon’s ball?’ Ellie’s eyes widened, and a dreamy haze brightened their colour to the heart of a sapphire.
‘By rights, I should remain in mourning for at least two years, and it’s barely been a month. It will cause quite a shock if I attend. Which is part of why she insists I join her.’ She couldn’t stop the wry smile that curled her lips. ‘That woman is addicted to drama. But she has been a friend for years. And part of me revels at the idea of flouting the beau monde’s rules.’
‘She’s hardly a good friend. I saw how she treated you when we were investigating Viscount Beachley’s murder.’ Clio adjusted her bowler hat, which had been knocked askew in their impromptu huddle.
Yes, the duchess was fickle in her favours. And yes, she wouldn’t hesitate to cut a lady direct if they did not follow her lead. No secret was safe with the duchess, nor any man she set her sights on. But she had also been a part of Cynthia’s life since she married Hubert. She had shown Cynthia a measure of companionship and comfort in difficult times, and a part of Cynthia recognised that the duchess was giving her an opportunity. To publicly renounce her role as a proper lady. It was an invitation she couldn’t refuse.
Attending this ball would be Cynthia’s final goodbye to a world she was ready to leave.
‘She hasn’t always been the kindest friend, but she has been constant. I owe her one final and spectacular departure.’
‘So, you aren’t leaving until after the ball?’ Clio exchanged a look with Ellie that had Cynthia wishing she could read their minds as easily as Hamlet’s.
‘I don’t see how I can refuse when she’s gone to so much trouble to ensure I have a gown that is, in her words, “divine retribution”.’
‘Oh dear. That sounds ominous.’ Ellie absently ran her hand along Ophelia’s sleek body as the ferret settled herself around Ellie’s neck.
Cynthia tipped her chin, letting a spark of her old spirit reignite. ‘If I know the duchess, it will hardly be something befitting a grieving widow. But then again, I’m not grieving. Hubert doesn’t deserve two more years of my life. He’s already had ten.’
‘Ten years is a long time to be unhappy.’ Clio spoke quietly.
‘I’ve been unhappy much longer than that. Since I was a child, society demanded my submission. But no more. I think it’s quite fitting to leave in a swirl of scandal, don’t you?’ It felt good to say the words, and even better to mean them. No matter what happened between Cynthia and Helena, she would always be grateful for the window Helena opened in Cynthia’s soul. A window to her true self.
She was a sapphist. A witch. And a powerful woman who would no longer be subject to the whims of others. Whatever choices she made moving forward would be hers alone. It was time to take control of her life, even if that meant sacrificing her heart to reclaim her soul.
‘Thomas and I shall be there to support you. I’m sure we only received an invitation because of our connection to you, but at least you shan’t be alone. And while others might scramble for a worthy gown, the duchess should know I always have a dress at the ready.’ Clio’s daring style flirted with masculine and feminine lines and never shied away from making an impression. Her dress today incorporated cleverly painted fabric squares that mimicked butterfly wings for her skirt, while her bodice was structured like a man’s dress shirt with a fuchsia waistcoat miraculously bringing both worlds together into a cohesive vision. The bowler hat she wore was of the same hue as her waistcoat and contrasted masterfully with her ink-black locks.
‘I wish I could attend. But I doubt I would fit in the company of such dashing lords and ladies.’ Ellie sighed wistfully.
Cynthia’s yearning for Helena had only increased since she fled Blair House, and she feared it would be worse once she left for the country. But leaving Clio and Ellie would be equally painful, though in a very different way. They had welcomed her into their hearts and their family with open arms. She knew she would see them again, but she was going to miss their companionship most terribly during the interim. ‘You are far too pure and true of heart to be around people who would never appreciate such a treasure in their midst.’
‘I wish you didn’t need to leave, Cyn.’ Ellie’s voice thickened with emotion as she pressed her hand against her lips and shook her head. ‘Such a silly watering pot! Come on. The least we can do is help you pack your room.’
Clio and Ellie stayed for another few hours. Once Cynthia’s trinkets had been wrapped and packed, the sister-witches spent the rest of their visit helping Cynthia practise her powers. She found she was quite adept at moving objects. With only a few mishaps, she could transport a vase from one side of the room to the other with no more than a flick of her eyebrow. Heavier objects were more difficult, but after several attempts and a stray burst of lightning in the summery sky, she was able to shift the massive oak armoire three full inches.
Clio believed Cynthia’s ability to transport objects was tied to her elemental power. She was an earthwitch, irrevocably linked to all the particles creating their world, which included the wood used to make tables and chairs, the clay and quartz comprising china, the heated sand that melted into glass. Every object in Cynthia’s house was taken from elements of the earth, therefore it was all connected to her power.
Focusing on her magic was a welcome distraction from thinking about Helena. While she was concentrating on the ribbon of energy running through her and learning to hone that into focused power, she had no space to imagine what Helena might be doing. Or wonder if she was thinking about Cynthia. Or hope Helena might be missing her just a little.
