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Cordelia tried to imagine Belial putting a horde of demons through basic military exercises, and failed. “Lucie,” she said, and hesitated. “With your powers, we could… well, do you think it would be wise to… try to reach my father through you? To find out if he knows more?”
Lucie looked discomfited. “I don’t think we ought. I’ve summoned an unwilling ghost before, and it is… unpleasant. Like torturing them.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to do that to your father.”
“It may not have been your father who spoke to you at all,” Jesse said. “The words ‘they wake’ certainly indicate it was a spirit who knew who you were. But that spirit could have been impersonating your father.”
“I know,” Cordelia said. But I so much want it to have been my father. I was never able to bid him goodbye, not properly.
“If you could reach out, Lucie,” she said. “Not to draw him back, but just to see if he is a spirit, hovering somewhere in the world…”
“I have, Cordelia,” Lucie said. “I did look—and no, I didn’t sense anything. Your father didn’t seem to be anywhere I could… reach him.”
Cordelia felt startled, and a little as if she’d been slapped. Lucie’s tone was so cold—though no colder, she supposed, than her own when she’d snapped at Lucie in the ballroom. The boys, too, looked startled, but before anyone could speak, there was a sudden loud knock on the door—less a knock than a sound as if someone had bashed the door with a hammer. They all jumped, save James, who rolled his eyes.
“Bridget,” he called. “I’ve told you—”
“Your parents sent me to fetch you for supper,” Bridget snapped. “I see you’ve locked your door. Lord knows what you’re up to in there. And where’s your sister?”
“Lucie’s in here as well,” James called. “We are having a private conversation.”
“Humph,” said Bridget. “Have I ever sung you the song about the young prince who wouldn’t come to dinner when his parents requested it of him?”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Lucie. “Not a song.”
A bonny young man was young Edward the prince
In his finest always dressed.
But one dark day he would not come to dinner
Even at his parents’ request.
Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Is this a real ballad?”
James waved a hand. “You’ll get used to Bridget. She is… eccentric.”
Bridget continued to sing:
His father did weep, his mother did moan
But Edward he would not hear.
That night a highwayman did waylay him
And cut off both his ears.
Cordelia couldn’t help but laugh, even amid her fretting. James looked over at her and smiled, that real smile of his that melted her insides. Bother.
“I think you would look fine without your ears, James,” said Lucie as Bridget stomped off down the hallway. “You could just grow your hair long and cover up the holes.”
“Wonderful advice from my loving sister,” said James, springing off the trunk. “Cordelia, did you want to stay for supper?”
Cordelia shook her head; it would only be painful being around Will and Tessa. And there was the tension with Lucie, which would hardly be solved when they were surrounded by others. “I had better get back to my mother.”
James only nodded. “I’ll walk you out, then.”
“Good night,” said Lucie, not quite directly to Cordelia. “Jesse and I shall hold the fort in the dining room.”
After a careful look up and down the corridor, James ushered Cordelia down the stairs. But their covert escape was not to be: Will appeared suddenly on the landing, in the midst of fixing his cuff links, and beamed with delight to see Cordelia. “My dear,” he said. “A pleasure to see you. Have you come from Cornwall Gardens? How is your mother?”
