Very Superstitious

by Delany, Shannon

  Ra grabs her face in his hands, falling to the floor with her. His sharp beak presses to her ear. “Look,” he hisses. “Look what you’ve done.”

  “Why?” Kaitlin sobs. “She didn’t do anything to you!”

  “An insult by one member is an insult by an entire family. I do not take insults lightly.”

  Kaitlin’s jaw muscles spasm and her lips contort, making speech nearly impossible. Her breathing is labored, desperate. Grief overwhelms her already taxed system. Her failing vision takes in flashes her brain can’t fully process.

  Her favorite dress, torn and bloody.

  Her crushed throat.

  Her bruised and battered body.

  Her meticulous hair, tousled. The frozen look of terror on her sweet face.

  “Remember, you did this,” Ra whispers. “Keep it forever.”

  Kaitlin’s vision fades to black as she slumps to the floor, the final image of her Gram’s lifeless body burned into eternity.

  Amelia insisted on going first, and Mary Louise let her, even though she wasn’t certain the poor girl could walk backwards up a flight of stairs without breaking her neck. Amelia often tripped over her own skirts and had yet to master the waltz.

  “You have to turn in a circle three times,” Lenora called in a loud whisper.

  “Don’t distract her,” Mary Louise murmured. She didn’t want one of her houseguests falling down the stairs. It would wake the servants, and they’d all be scolded. Her father might even cancel tomorrow’s picnic by the lake.

  Amelia turned in a circle and stepped backwards another step, almost catching her heel on the hem of her nightdress. “I believe in the spirit of the mirror,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the hand mirror she held in front of her. In her other hand, a candle flickered.

  “This is a strange ritual for a good Methodist house,” Marianne remarked in her lilting Caribbean accent. “Summoning spirits in the middle of the night. Some people would call this witchcraft.”

  Mary Louise turned to her cousin and smiled sweetly. “Some people think you practice witchcraft in Jamaica with your beads and candles and graven images.”

  Lenora gasped at Mary Louise’s boldness, but Marianne only laughed. “We don’t call it witchcraft in Jamaica.”

  “What do you call it?” Lenora whispered in horror.

  “Being Catholic,” said Marianne.

  Lenora shrieked in laughter, and Marianne joined in good-naturedly. Mary Louise hushed them both and turned back to Amelia, who’d somehow made it to the top of the stairs without mishap. Perhaps she’d even turned three times. No one had been counting.

  “I believe in the spirit of the mirror,” Amelia whispered. “I believe in the spirit of the mirror. Show me the face of my future husband.”

  The three girls at the bottom of the stairs watched Amelia silently. Mary Louise was the only one who glanced at the other girl among them: Marianne’s maid, seated at the back of the hall and apparently embroidering in complete darkness.

  “I see him!” Amelia bounced on her toes. “It’s Will Jameson.”

  “Will Jameson?” Mary Louise repeated.

  “Her eyesight is as poor as her balance,” Lenora muttered.

  “Will!” exclaimed Amelia, beaming with joy.

  “Come down and let your sister have a turn,” Mary Louise called.

  “Oh, who cares about Lenora?” Amelia descended the stairs with a heavy tread. “I want to know who Marianne will see.”

  Marianne accepted the mirror and leaped onto the steps, nimble as a cat. “You need the light,” Amelia said, offering the half-consumed candle.

  “Of course.” When Marianne took the candle in her hand, it flared, and then she blew on it. Mary Louise blinked, certain she’d seen events in the wrong order. First one blew; then a candle flared. She frowned at her cousin and looked around. The other girls didn’t seem to have noticed, but in the back of the hall, a pair of eyes glinted. For a moment, Mary Louise held the gaze of Corine, Marianne’s maid, before the Jamaican girl dropped her eyes.

  Meanwhile, Marianne mounted the stairs backwards, her feet dancing as she turned three times without stopping. “I believe in the spirit of the mirror,” she chanted, laughing. “I believe in the spirit of the mirror. I believe in the spirit of the mirror.” She came to a halt on the landing, her dark ringlets bouncing around her shoulders. “Show me the face of my one true love.” Her eyes grew wide. “I see someone!”

  “Who?” Amelia asked.

  “I don’t know him.” Marianne held the mirror at arm’s length.

  “What does he look like?” Lenora prompted.

  Marianne couldn’t tear her eyes from the mirror. “Hair as red as the setting sun,” she said, “curled like a lamb all over his head.”

  The other girls fell quiet. Lenora and Amelia looked at Mary Louise, who stood at the foot of the staircase, hands clenched.

  “Eyes like a summer sky,” Marianne finished. Then she gasped. “He’s gone!” She lifted her head and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the cold silence below.

  “She’s teasing you,” Lenora said to Mary Louise under her breath, “in payment for the jest you made about her home.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she is,” Mary Louise whispered back as Marianne bounded down the steps.

  Of course Marianne was teasing her.

  Except that Cousin Marianne, newly arrived from her father’s plantation in Jamaica, had never met Mary Louise’s sweetheart, Alec Bradley, even though she’d just described him perfectly.

  ***

  Rain in the morning threatened to spoil their day, but Mary Louise’s father predicted the sun would win out and sent the servants ahead as planned with the food and the pavilion tents. By the time Mary Louise and her friends arrived at the lake on the edge of her family’s property, the sky had brightened, proving her father correct.

  Amelia peered near-sightedly at the guests from town, no doubt hoping to see Will Jameson, and Lenora eyed all the young men with speculation, selecting her next conquest. Marianne, however, dashed off to consult with Corine over the contents of the picnic baskets.

  Mary Louise had already observed that her cousin seemed more attached to her maid than was proper. Allowances could be made for homesickness, and everyone knew Marianne was worried about her father facing financial ruin on his plantation. She’d arrived last week without warning, looking like a refugee with her baggage and her maid and no indication of how long she’d be staying.

  Mary Louise had also noticed, when Marianne and Corine put their heads together, that the coloring and curl of their hair was identical. If it hadn’t been for Corine’s caramel skin and honey-colored eyes, they might have been mistaken for sisters.

  If rumors regarding Mary Louise’s uncle and his wild ways were correct, it was quite possible Marianne and Corine were sisters.

  How embarrassing—to be related to the help!

  “’Twas overcast all morning,” said a familiar voice, “but Miss Worth has arrived and brought the sun with her. It’ll be blue skies now, while the heavens try in vain to match her beauty!”

  Mary Louise turned with a smile. Alec Bradley bent his curly ginger head over the hand she extended, brushing his lips against the backs of her fingers and lingering longer than necessary. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t mind Lenora and Amelia seeing. They knew about Alec. But her father was another matter entirely.

  Alec winked at her before turning to her companions. “I don’t wish to slight the delightful Dempsey sisters.” He kissed each of their hands in turn, although not with such blatant affection.

  “We all know you’re a hopeless flatterer, Alec Bradley,” Lenora chastised him. “No one believes a word you say.”

  “You devastate me,” Alec said, putting a hand over his heart. “I invite Providence to strike me dead if I’m not in the company of the three most beautiful girls in the county.”

  Amelia blushed, but Lenora, who knew
Alec better, swatted him with her parasol. Then she said, “Only three? Are you slighting the other Miss Worth? That’s not a very kind way to welcome Mary Louise’s cousin to our country.”

  Mary Louise tried to squelch her friend with a look, but Alec had already turned around. “Is this your cousin?” Alec asked as Marianne approached them. “Why, she must be!” He bowed in greeting, and when Marianne saw him, she drew a breath of surprise before dropping into a curtsy.

  Mary Louise watched them with a tightening of her lips. “Alec Bradley, this is Marianne Worth. And why must she be my cousin?”

  “She looks just like you!” Alec exclaimed. Mary Louise frowned. Having already noticed the resemblance between Marianne and her maid, she didn’t like the implication.

  “Mr. Bradley,” Marianne protested. “We look nothing alike.”

  “Stand right here!” Alec took Marianne by the elbow and moved her next to Mary Louise. “Except for the hair, you are bookends—the same complexion, the same face, the same arch to your brows.” His hand traced a shape in the air. “I wish I had my sketch book. I’d draw the two of you together—one all golden sunshine and the other an elegant night sky!”

  Marianne smiled fetchingly. “Are you an artist, Mr. Bradley?”

  “A piddling one,” he murmured, still examining their faces with his eyes. His fingers twitched as if itching for charcoal.

  “Don’t believe him,” said Lenora. “Alec has a gift.”

  “How do you like our mountains, Miss Worth?” Alec asked. Mary Louise winced, surprised how much it hurt to hear him say her name while addressing someone else.

  “They’re lovely,” Marianne replied. “I adore your green hills and hidden lakes. But it’s colder than I’m used to, even though you call this summer.” She shivered, and her shawl slipped from her shoulder.

  Alec caught the cloth and tucked it back into place. “Let’s get you out of the shade.” He offered Marianne his arm and then, before Mary Louise could find fault with him, extended his other to her. “Miss Sunshine,” he prompted. “We can’t possibly make do without you.”

  ***

  Alec was always kind to Mary Louise’s friends. It was one of his most endearing traits. When Amelia fell into a bramble bush, Alec fetched her out. When Lenora discovered that her latest interest hadn’t come to the picnic, Alec found another young man to distract her.

  It was natural he’d extend the same kindness to Mary Louise’s cousin, but she still felt injured when he invited Marianne on an outing to the gravity railroad.

  “A coal chute,” Marianne repeated, her dark eyebrows turning down. “In a coal mine?”

  “No, in the open air,” Alec assured her. “They swap out the cars on Sunday, replacing the coal bins with passenger compartments. But they do send us down the mountain just like coal.”

  “Don’t do it, Marianne,” said Amelia. “It makes your stomach swoop.”

  “Oh, you must go!” Lenora exclaimed. “It’s like flying, isn’t it, Mary Louise?”

  Mary Louise opened her mouth, but Alec beat her to a response. “Miss Worth crushed my fingers during her first ride, but I think she enjoyed it.” He looked at her, and she melted. The gravity railroad had won him his first kiss. How else was she to reward him for his strong hand and comforting shoulder after a wild ride over a mountainside?

  “I think I’d like to try it,” Marianne said, but Alec was no longer listening to her. He was watching Mary Louise blush. The smile on his lips suggested he, too, remembered how that ride ended—which led to the memory of other things: letters passed through trusted servants and secret meetings at the boathouse. The Dempsey sisters, who knew everything, giggled, and Marianne looked puzzled.

  Later that afternoon, the guests raced boats in couples, with the young men rowing out and the ladies rowing back. It was meant to be humorous. The boys competed against each other, racing to the center of the lake, and the girls were supposed to make a muddle of things on the way back. Obligingly, Mary Louise took up the oars when it was her turn and steered their boat away from shore, behind an island of rocks and scraggy shrubs.

  Alec made no effort to intervene while she mired the boat in the shallows beside the island. “For shame, Miss Worth,” he said when they were good and stuck and out of everyone’s sight.

  “I’m hopeless at this,” she replied, batting her lashes at him.

  “Mary Louise, you can steer this boat better than I can.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he said, reaching for her. She had the presence of mind to drop the oars in the bottom of the boat before his lips met hers.

  ***

  “It wasn’t Alec.”

  Mary Louise glanced at her cousin as they packed the left-over food into the picnic basket. “I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

  “The face I saw in the mirror. It wasn’t Alec.”

  “I know it wasn’t Alec,” Mary Louise said. “How could it have been?”

  Marianne’s dark eyebrows rose, and she eyed her cousin with speculation. “Your mother didn’t tell me you had a serious suitor. Or doesn’t she know?” Mary Louise continued packing the basket and didn’t answer. “How many times have you seen Alec in the mirror, Cousin?”

  Mary Louise had been playing the mirror game ever since she was a child, but she had never seen anyone’s face in the glass except her own. Furthermore, Alec had never expressed his intentions toward her or asked her father’s permission to court her. As the son of one of Mr. Worth’s business associates, he was a welcome visitor at her house, but her parents had no idea he was anything more than that.

  Turning on Marianne now, she hissed, “There is no spirit in the mirror, Cousin. It’s not witchcraft—just a childish game in the dark.”

  “You’re right,” Marianne agreed, closing the lid on the picnic hamper. “It takes a lot more than a candle and a mirror to summon a real spirit.” She rose with the basket in her hand, and Mary Louise could have sworn the grass and flowers flattened before her passage as she walked briskly towards the house.

  ***

  Pain kept Mary Louise awake all night.

  It had been very foolish to eat the remaining sweets from the picnic before bed. Cook had warned them so before retreating to the servants’ quarters. But having crept downstairs in their nightdresses a second night in a row, the Dempsey sisters would not be denied. They prevailed on Corine to serve them, and they put away more marzipan and gingerbread and butter cakes than a crowd of schoolboys. Even Marianne joined in the gluttony, licking frosting off her fingers and encouraging Lenora to tell them more about Peter Ludwig, who’d partnered her in the boat race.

  “He was gallant and kind and as beautiful as Adonis.”

  “But he wasn’t the one you saw in the mirror last night,” Amelia mumbled over a mouthful of sugared strawberries.

  “It was dark.” Lenora waved her hand. “It might have been Peter. In fact, I’m certain it was.”

  Hours afterward, Mary Louise moaned, rolling over in bed and holding her stomach.

  The spirit in the mirror was nothing but a game. According to the rules, if a girl didn’t see her future husband in the mirror, she would die before marriage or become an old maid. During the last year, Mary Louise had always pretended to see Alec. Lenora changed her mind every time, and Amelia … Poor Amelia wasn’t capable of lying. She probably did think she’d seen Will Jameson.

  Pain stabbed Mary Louise through the abdomen. Marianne had been pretending, just like everyone else. Why then, if she’d wanted to reassure Mary Louise, had she claimed to see someone other than Alec, instead of admitting she’d seen no one at all?

  In the morning, the ache in her stomach had become so great, Mary Louise could barely tolerate her corset. “Are you all right, miss?” her maid Emma asked, pulling the strings taut.

  “Yes. Just be quick about it.” Mary Louise gripped the bedpost and stared straight ahead. Alec was bringing a carriage to the house to take t
hem all to the gravity railroad. The thought of plummeting down the mountainside made Mary Louise break out in a cold sweat, but she bit the inside of her cheek, fighting to maintain composure. As Emma helped her dress, she told herself that the other girls would be suffering from over-indulgence even more than she was.

  But they weren’t.

  Her friends and her cousin were chattering gaily in the hallway when Mary Louise left her room. Marianne’s voice rose in laughter. How high and piercing it was, Mary Louise thought. Once again, she felt cold and flushed at the same time.

  “Cousin,” Marianne exclaimed suddenly, causing Lenora and Amelia to turn around. “Are you ill? You look so pale.”

  Mary Louise wanted to deny it, but what came to her lips was not speech. She turned back to her room and lunged for the china wash basin, violently spewing yellow bile.

  Things spun out of her control very quickly after that. Retching consumed her, robbing her of any dignity or reason. At some point during this misery, her father’s face appeared in the doorway, and she thought she heard her mother’s voice in the hallway. But her father had an aversion to illness, and her mother was prone to fainting spells. It was the servants who bathed her forehead with cold compresses and brought hot water bottles for her stomach.

  Nothing lessened the pain. An infusion of spearmint came back up instantly and vigorously. Mary Louise shivered convulsively, though she was drenched in sweat. The room spun and grew dark, and she could barely lift her limbs. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Hutchins, advised Emma to tell Mr. Worth to fetch a doctor and be quick about it.

  Then a face of caramel complexion leaned over Mary Louise and smoothed hair away from her damp face. “Miss Worth,” Corine whispered. “You must drink this.”

  “I can’t,” Mary Louise whispered. Every morsel or sip she’d taken had made her worse.

  “You must,” the Jamaican girl insisted, pressing a cup of warm liquid against Mary Louise’s lips.