That manikin, decorated with a button from one of his uniforms and a tiny, precious lock of his beard, she had tucked into his coffin, to be safely buried with him. He was dead, and the manikin with him.
The dream was always the same, Alexander’s eyes on hers as he breathed his last, his grip on her hand weakening, little by little, until she held only his lifeless fingers. Always, at the end, when she felt his life slip away, she woke. Always there were tears on her face, and a pain deep in her chest that took a long time to ease.
This time, in a strange bed, in a strange country, she woke with a clenching in her stomach. Something was terribly wrong, something that had nothing to do with her nightmare.
She reached for the amulet resting on the bedside table and held it up in the darkness. It caught the starlight, glittering faintly, but only in reflection. She pressed it to her heart and whispered into the darkness, “What is it? What’s happened?”
There was no answer, but of course it must be Annis. It could only be Annis.
Annis had summoned her. Annis, who knew so little, who had only begun to learn who and what she was, had summoned Harriet in a stunning demonstration of nascent ability. Under less frightening circumstances, Harriet would have been thrilled.
She threw back her covers and began unbuttoning her nightdress. She didn’t bother lighting the lamp, but hastily pulled on her shirtwaist and skirt and her jacket. She thrust her feet into her walking boots, tying them as quickly as she could in the darkness. She caught up her basket and laid the wooden box inside, along with a package of herbs and scissors, matches, and candle. At the last moment she hung her amulet around her neck, gathering courage from the weight of the jewel against her breast.
The inn was silent around her as she crept down the stairs, clinging to the banister so as not to miss a step in the dark. She slipped out the front door, closing it softly behind her. No one was on the street. No lights showed in any of the houses. Clouds had gathered, and only a shrouded half moon lit her way. She set out with urgent steps, worry driving her.
Her mind burned with questions. What could have happened? Annis had seemed fine when she left. Surely Frances wouldn’t harm her physically. Had the electuary made her ill? Had she lost her way in the woods?
Harriet walked as fast as she dared in the darkness, reciting her cantrip just for Annis:
Mothers and grandmothers, guard her way
Every night and every day.
Let no danger her befall,
Nor evil catch her in its thrall.
28
Frances
Frances thought the great Sarah Bernhardt could not have given a better performance than the one she herself gave that evening. She had quelled her simmering temper, despite seeing Annis tumbling in for dinner at the last possible moment, her hair barely pinned up and a great crease in her dinner gown. Lady Eleanor, clearly aware that her son had offered for Annis and been refused, barely spoke to Frances when she came into the dining room. It was hardly the cut direct, but it was a decided snub.
Frances sought out the Hyde-Smiths for conversation. She forced herself to be charming, to make bright conversation, to be quick to laugh, outwardly merry while white-hot fury raged inside. She drank a full glass of champagne straight down, hoping to cool the fire within her.
Annis hadn’t appeared until they were all trooping into the dining room. It didn’t help Frances’s mood to reflect that only a young girl could look that well when she had made no effort. She had come flying down the stairs like a hoyden with no breeding. Her cheeks were pink, and the disordered state of her hair made her look girlish and appealing.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
Fighting her fury, Frances played the role of vivacious American. She pretended to be unperturbed by the coolness of her hostess and the distraction of her host, though the Whitmores looked puzzled and the Hyde-Smiths and Derbyshires seemed taken aback by Lady Eleanor’s grim demeanor. They made a heroic effort to join in Frances’s gaiety. They barely managed to keep a conversation going through the multiple courses of the meal and the coffee hour. Frances forced herself to wait until one of the elderly couples proposed going up to