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Chapter 2
Charlotte and Louisa awaited Margorie in silence. Charlotte shifted in her chair and watched as Louisa sipped her tea contemplatively, seeming to gaze into nothingness. The man who’d greeted them entered to light a fire in the fireplace. Briefly, he glanced at Charlotte with what seemed to be curiosity. Immediately after, he dropped his eyes and muttered to himself, before disappearing into the darkness.
After an appropriate amount of time, the door to Florentia’s private room opened once more. Margorie’s now-familiar wails greeted the air. Charlotte and Louisa burst up and hustled towards her. Louisa wrapped her arms around her sister as Margorie shook.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Louisa cried.
Margorie sniffed. Tears poured down her cheeks and joined the edges of her lips.
Charlotte glowered at the mystic. “What did you tell her?”
Florentia set her lips straight. “I’ve told her only what lurks in her future. It seems as though she’s not brave enough to face it.”
“What sort of madness is this,” Charlotte yelled.
“It’s all right, Charlotte,” Louisa returned. “It’s fair what she’s done. We all must face our honest truths. Margorie, come now, don’t lean so completely upon me …”
Louisa hustled forward, essentially dragging Margorie towards the gloomy outdoors. Charlotte remained blinking at the mystic.
“Whatever did you tell her?” Charlotte demanded. “Did you dream up another death?”
“Nothing like that,” the mystic returned. “But I suppose I’d need a bit of extra wealth for me to explain someone else’s future to you.”
Charlotte realized that they hadn’t yet paid the woman. She gripped her coin purse angrily and tugged it open to reveal the glowing trinkets within. With a jolt of her hand, she passed the coins the woman had “earned” in the previous hour, then spun on her heels towards the door. As she stepped into the rain, she resolved never to involve herself with such madness again. She felt as though she’d just been robbed.
When Charlotte arrived at the carriage outside, both Margorie and Louisa had tucked themselves off to one side. Margorie had her head pressed hard against Louisa’s chest, her eyes peering into nothingness.
“Tell me what she said, darling,” Louisa breathed. “It’s impossible for us to assist you if you won’t tell us.”
Margorie bit so hard on her lower lip that blood pooled in the space between her lips and her chin. Hurriedly, Charlotte gripped her handkerchief and dabbed it against the gash. The stable hand appeared in the still-gaping hole of the carriage door, grunted to himself, then closed the door. He clambered onto the top of the carriage in the rain and called, “Is all well? Shall we return to the estate?”
After a pause, only Charlotte had the energy to affirm this decision. The carriage wheels sloshed beneath them, cutting through the mud. Margorie lifted her head and peered out the window. Louisa, seemingly uninterested now that her sister’s gash had stopped its reckless bleeding, turned her eyes in another direction.
Charlotte detested the tension between them. Both Margorie and Florentia’s words echoed through her: she was difficult, frequently hard on people.
She loved Louisa enough to try to be better.
“So.” Charlotte wrapped her palms together and blinked at her dear friend, the girl she’d known since the age of six. “Would you like to tell me what happened in there? We can compare notes.”
Louisa’s face brightened. After a long swallow, she said, “You’re sure you won’t tease me for it?”
“I won’t tease you,” Charlotte said. “In fact, I found that to be far more illuminating than I’d initially suspected.”
“Really? You had a pleasant time?” Louisa asked.
Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. She gave a half-shrug, then demanded, “Tell me! What did she say to you?” It was better to allow others to speak about themselves, Charlotte had found. It allowed her to stay out of trouble.
Louisa brimmed with excitement. “She knew it the moment she saw me. She could feel the weight of it. How much I wish to find the one. The man to whom I can give everything.”
Charlotte struggled to keep her face stoic. She so yearned to say,Of course she guessed this, Louisa. You’re a woman of twenty-three years of age. Unmarried, without children—in a society that very much demands that sort of thing.
Instead, she said, “Wow. She just understood this? Immediately?”
“Yes!” Louisa affirmed. “She articulated just what I’ve felt the past few years. That so many dear friends and family members have moved forward in their lives. That I’ve felt left behind. She more-or-less described the incident at the party a few months ago, you remember? The party where I met Charles.”
The events that had transpired in the wake of Louisa’s introduction to Charles had been dreadful for all involved. For a long while, Louisa had considered herself just as broken-hearted as her sister, Margorie—something that had generally enraged Margorie. “How dare you insinuate that your short little romance has anything at all to do with my marriage that went under.”
“Isn’t that remarkable?” Louisa asked then, as the carriage drew them further from the horrendous shadows of that mystic’s space.
