Born Wicked

by Jessica Spotswood

Page 60

 

  “And if I’m as important as the Sisters say, they won’t want to risk calling attention to me with a broken intention. ” I turn to Finn, my eyes searching his. “Are you very sure?”

  Finn leans in, resting his forehead against mine. My entire field of vision is swallowed up by him. “Yes. ”

  I close my eyes for a minute, taking solace in his strength. Then I turn to his mother. “Marianne?”

  “All any parent wants is for their child to be happy. In fact—” She pulls the ruby ring from her finger. “Perhaps this ought to belong to you, now. It was my engagement ring from Richard. ”

  “I couldn’t—” I protest.

  But Finn takes it from her and weighs it in his palm. He holds my gaze, and the look in his eyes is a love letter in itself. When he speaks, his voice is rough. “Will you marry me, Cate?”

  I go still, the question hanging in the air. I have never felt more accepted—for the girl I am, not the girl I want to be—never more loved and respectedthan I am in this moment. It’s a choice, and it’s mine to make.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  Finn slides the simple gold band onto my ring finger. I tilt it, and the ruby sparkles, catching the sunlight. He leans down and brushes his lips against mine, sealing the promise. “I can’t wait to make you my wife. ”

  “Cate Belastra. ” I try it out, and despite the solemnity of the moment, despite knowing what this will cost him, I can’t help smiling. “Catherine Anna Belas—”

  I’m interrupted by a scream. It goes on and on, howling, until the hairs on the back of my arm rise.

  Finn rushes to the window and peers out at the street. When he turns back, his eyes look pained. “The guards are making another arrest,” he says.

  The woman shrieks again. This time it’s cut off abruptly with a sharp crack.

  Marianne goes pale. “Who is it?” she asks.

  Finn’s face furrows. Soon, he’ll be complicit in this. “Brenna Elliott. ”

  My heart sinks. “I have to see. ”

  Marianne throws open the front door and goes out. She stops on the front stoop, clutching the cast-iron railing with white-knuckled hands.

  Across the street, Brenna’s cowering on the cobblestones. Beneath her cloak, her sunny yellow hem is splattered with mud. A white handprint is stark on her red, tear-stained cheek. As I watch, two of the Brothers’ hulking guards advance toward her. She scrambles backward on her hands and knees and lands in the gutter.

  There’s a crowd gathering. “Witch! Witch!” Cries go up—some high and excited with the sport of it, some low and hateful. A boy throws a rock at her. His aim is true—it hits her on the forehead. Blood trickles down her face.

  One of the guards snatches her roughly by the arm. Brenna screams. Her mop of tangled brown hair falls into her bloody face. The guard slaps her again and she goes silent.

  The guards hold her up, one on each side. She’s shaking like a new tree in a thunderstorm.

  Brother Ishida steps forward. “This girl is mad. She will be taken back to Harwood Asylum straightaway. ”

  Brenna rocks, keening to herself like a wounded animal.

  “No!” Rory runs down the street, resplendent in a red dress. She didn’t even take time to throw on her cloak. “Brenna!”

  Sachi darts forward and yanks Rory back into the crowd.

  Brother Ishida turns to the group gathered on the street. “Miss Elliott believes that she can see into the future. What is that but presumption, for a weak woman to think she can do the work of the Lord? At her grandfather’s behest, we allowed her to come back to her family. We hoped she had been cured, but our leniency has not been rewarded. It is for the good of our community that we send the wretched soul back. ”

  I turn on my heel and go back into the shop. I can’t stand to see any more.

  Finn follows me and closes the door behind us. He pulls me behind the first row of bookshelves and then wraps his arms around me. I’m dry eyed but shaking with the horror of what’s just happened.

  “You’re safe,” he says, over and over, stroking my back. “You’re safe. I’ll never let them do that to you. ”

  I’m not certain which of us he means to comfort.

  It’s already well past two when I leave the bookshop. I’m going to be late for my appointment with Elena. I apologize to John for keeping him and the carriage waiting, and on the way home I go over the plan Marianne and I have worked out. I’ll explain about Brenna’s apprehension, how awful it was. It won’t be hard to show my distress. I’ll plead that I’m too upset to have a magic lesson today. No matter how loyal Elena is to the Sisterhood, she can’t want a frightened, unfocused witch wreaking havoc with her memory. I’ll promise her that tomorrow, after church, I’ll cooperate.

  By then I’ll have announced my engagement to Finn—the newest candidate for the Brothers—and it will be too late for her to force me into joining the Sisters.

  After I appease Elena, I’ll go to Maura and Tess. I’ll tell them about the prophecy, show them Mother’s diary and her letter. They’ll be furious with me for not telling them sooner, but faced with Mother’s warnings, they’ll understand. They have to. Maura might not believe me, but she’ll listen to Mother. She’ll see that the Sisters don’t have our best interests at heart—that we have to stay together, here in Chatham, and look out for one another.

  I’ll tell them about Finn last. I hope they’ll be happy for me.

  I feel a great swell of gladness as the carriage comes up the drive. The house is still there—white, gabled, surrounded by maples shedding their summer skins. Home. I want to grab up handfuls of dirt and kiss it. I won’t have to leave after all. Not far, anyway.

  I hurry into the rose garden, ready to make my excuses to Elena.

  Only she’s not there.

  Drat. I hurry inside. The sitting room is empty. Tess is reading in Father’s study. Upstairs, Elena’s room is empty. The one time I actually want the nuisance and she’s nowhere to be found.

  Annoyed, I throw open Maura’s door without knocking.

  “Maura, have you—?”

  I stop, stunned. Maura and Elena are sitting close together on the wooden window seat. Their skirts spill against each other, Elena’s peony-pink and Maura’s cream, a froth of lace and silk.

  Maura has her hand on the curve of Elena’s cheek. Her lips on Elena’s lips.

  Chapter 19

  “MAURA. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU,” I choke, stumbling back into the hall. I retreat to my room, trying to make sense of what I’ve just seen: my sister, kissing the governess. Kissing her with her eyes closed, tilting toward her like a starved sunflower. I never dreamed—but Elena is everything Maura wants to be: cultured and clever, pretty and powerful. She’s paid Maura attention, encouraged her, listened to her and made much of her when no one else would.

  When I put it that way, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

  I drop onto my settee, head in my hands. Oh, this is going to complicate things. And Maura—is her interest in kissing girls specific to Elena? Is this just a schoolgirl crush, or something more? I think back over all her protestations against marriage, and I feel very guilty. She’s right; she’s been trying to tell me something, and I haven’t been listening.