Mama’s lips twitched with satisfaction, and she resumed her pacing. “Now, about Mr. Wilcox. Tomorrow when you play croquet with him, you must do your best to hold his attention.” She droned on, but I stopped listening. I traced my fingers on the worn fabric of my linens. I was hot, and thirst raged in my throat. Mama could prattle all she liked about marriage, money, and men, but it would stay far from my mind.
The necromancer and his pawns were still intact, a spirit wanted to kill me, and all I knew was that there was something special at the Exhibition—something the necromancer and the spirit had not yet found.
“Are you listening?” Mama stomped to my side. “I said you are lucky to have Clarence’s affection.”
“I don’t have his affection.”
“You most certainly do, and stop mumbling. You are luckier than you can imagine. A handsome man like that could have any woman he desires, and you are hardly the sort of woman for whom most men pine.”
I stopped tracing the sheet and glowered up at her. “I don’t have his affection, Mama.”
She slapped my hands. It was a stinging reminder of who ruled this house. “Enough of this, Eleanor. He has clearly shown an interest in you. And if you continue to enchant him, an engagement—”
“Engagement?” I asked. “Mama, I’m only sixteen!”
“And we are out of money, Eleanor.” She hunched over me, an urgency in the hard lines of her face. “He may not be interested in you forever, and our fortune has shrunk to the point of poverty. Soon there will be nothing left. We will be on the streets! Everything depends on you— including me.”
I shrank back, frightened by the intensity on her face and in her words. She was desperate.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I-I’ll try.”
The wrinkles on her face relaxed. “Good,” she crooned. “For now, you need your beauty rest. I’ll take this”—she bent and lifted a frilly white parasol—“and dispose of it.”
My jaw dropped. “What’s that?”
“That man grabbed someone else’s, I daresay.”
“No,” I murmured, my eyes fixed on the parasol’s white lace.
She snorted. “Yes. This parasol is certainly not yours. It is cheap.”
“Give it to me.” I lurched forward and ripped it from Mama’s hands. Her eyebrows flew up, and I swallowed. “Er, I-I’ll just see if there’s a name inside. Perhaps I can return it and get mine back.”
She peered at me, disbelief clear in her eyes. “All right.” She gave me one final glare and then strode from the room.
Once I heard the bedroom door shut, I eagerly examined the parasol. I was certain it was meant for me. I stroked the white lace and flounce. It was not something I would select, and Mama was right that the quality of it was lower than what she would ever buy.
But I didn’t care. It was lovely, and I popped it open. A slip of paper fluttered out from the folds of lace.
Sorry you lost yours.
Daniel
A thrill of pleasure ran down my body, and I couldn’t stop the grin dancing on my lips. For all that Daniel hated me, maybe he liked me a little too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Despite the leafy richness of East Fairmount Park, its flower-lined paths and sunny slopes, I could not cheer up. I simply did not want to be here playing croquet.
Allison, Clarence, and I were with the mustached McClure twins and the Virtue Sisters. The twins showed little interest in anything but flirting with Allison. Meanwhile, the Virtue Sisters showed no mercy to poor Clarence, and they were clearly trying his patience with their incessant chatter. The end result was that I was left to myself. I didn’t mind in the least, for my humor was, to put it politely, foul.
Despite my white lawn dress—which was supposedly meant for outdoor play— the sun roasted me. I couldn’t enjoy the beautiful blue sky or the gentle breeze. We were on a wide, flat yard surrounded by woods. The whole park covered miles and miles, but this was one of the few lawns suitable for croquet. As such, the area was crowded.
Barely even a mile north of us was Laurel Hill Cemetery, yet here the people played, oblivious and carefree.
Nearby, a restaurant sent a salty perfume on the breeze that made my stomach growl—it did not improve my mood to be hungry.
Mama forbade me to attend the Exhibition after an overheating spell, yet she insisted I gallivant in the park in the midafternoon sun. I almost wanted to pass out again just to spite her.
I smacked at my ball and watched as it rolled across the grass and passed by the nearest wicket.
“Damn!” I cried. It was the fourth time I’d missed.
Clarence sputtered a laugh, and I pivoted toward him. His dapper white suit and straw boat hat were at odds with his exhaustion.
I gulped and scanned everyone’s faces. Their eyebrows were collectively high and their jaws collectively low.
“Pardon me.” I coughed weakly. “There must be something stuck in my throat. If you’ll excuse me.” I stomped off the course, all the while continuing my cough and enhancing its severity for dramatic effect. I was determined to cough up blood if it would wipe the startled expressions off everyone’s faces.
I would have to be more careful. It was all fine if I wanted to cuss in front of the Spirit-Hunters, but not here.
It was Allison’s turn, and I kicked past her, stoutly avoiding her eyes. But she clutched at my arm. “What’s wrong?”