by Fine, Clara
“Take me home,” she told him. “Please take me home.” She gulped back her tears and promised herself that she wouldn’t cry again until she was alone in her room. Her body was weak enough; she didn’t need to make herself even more vulnerable by losing her mind. “Please?” She asked Brent again when he wavered, torn between taking her where she wanted to go and getting her to the closest warm house. She wished that she could explain to him why it was important that she went home, so he’d know she wasn’t just being difficult.
“Fine,” he agreed eventually, giving in to the desperate fear in her eyes. There was a concerned frown on his face as he stared at her drenched gown. “I’d give my jacket,” he told her, “but everything I own is soaked through as well, from when I pulled you out of the water.”
“I’m sorry,”
“I’m not.” He said as he carried her back into the forest, and away from the creek that had nearly claimed her life.
It was a twenty minute walk to her home, and Cam was chilled to the bone and terrified for all of it.
At first they walked in silence, but as they drew nearer to Cypress Hall, Cam could hear panicked voices.
“Cam!” That was her grandmother’s faint cry.
“Cammie!” Helen.
“Cam!” Caro’s voice was the most powerful, and Cam could hear her easily even at a distance.
“Camilla!” Aunt Beth.
“I still don’t understand why we’re looking for her; she’s come home late before!” That was her father, naturally.
“Cam!” The last voice was so wild and frightened that Cam almost didn’t recognize it. She realized, finally, that she had never heard Diana scream like that before.
“We’re almost there,” Brent told her reassuringly, but his arms tightened around her as though he didn’t want to let her go.
Mary found them first, though she was the only one who Cam hadn’t heard calling. She appeared suddenly in front of them on the path, and in an instant was by Brent’s side, touching Cam’s face.
The warmth of her palm was a welcome relief. Cam felt as though there was ice in her veins instead of blood, and she reached up to clutch Mary’s hand where it lay against her cheek, hoping to steal more of its warmth.
“Cam,” Mary’s voice was a guilty whisper. “I didn’t see it. I don’t why but I didn’t see it.”
“It’s alright. I’m fine.” Cam mumbled. She didn’t want explanations; she just wanted Mary’s second hand on the other side of her face.
“She’s not fine.” Brent said, and Cam was surprised at the fury in his voice. He hadn’t sounded angry earlier. “She’s not fine at all. She nearly died . . . gathering herbs. What kind of fool sends a young woman alone into a forest to gather herbs?”
“No one sent me,” Cam said, but she could barely manage above a whisper, and she wasn’t certain that he heard her.
“Even if you didn’t expect her to drown— I wouldn’t have in a creek that shallow— the woods are still full of animals and crawling with vagrants. She could have had her throat slit. She could have been bitten by a snake.” He was only getting angrier and angrier, and Cam realized faintly that the silence she had mistaken for calm had actually been him seething. “There wasn’t anyone who could have gone with her?”
“Cam!” The shout was her Grandmother’s, and it was close by.
“She’s here!” Mary cried piercingly.
There was a great clamor in the darkness, as a number of people called out at once. Cam could see a light nearby, perhaps from a lantern, and several deafening barks split the night as her father’s hound joined the excitement.
“I have her!” Brent finally called out over the din.
Silence fell, except for the sound of the hound growling as he edged closer to Brent.
“Mr. Anderson? Is that you?” Aunt Beth finally asked as Helen called off the dog.
“It’s him,” Mary called. “He has Cam.”
“He has my daughter?” Cam’s father sounded outraged. “Mr. Anderson, what are you doing with my daughter?”
Oh no. He was probably worried that this was a situation like Diana’s. Cam tried to explain, but Brent talked over her, explaining how he had discovered her as they crossed the lawn.
“Thank you,” Cam’s father said finally. He sounded shaken, and Cam could hear him hurrying ahead of them. “I’m going to send for the Doctor. Carry her up to the house.”
“Oh, I’ll carry her to the house. I’m going carry her right to the house, and then we’re going to have words, you careless fool.” Brent muttered, a little too loudly for Cam’s comfort.
“My father didn’t know,” she said, and this time he did hear her. “He doesn’t command me.”
“Perhaps he should.” Brent said tightly.
That was quite enough to pull Cam from her stupor, at least for a moment. “Perhaps you should put me down right now,” she said warningly, and she was reassured by how much like her old self she sounded.
Obviously Brent was also encouraged, because she caught the flash of his teeth in the moonlight as he smiled down at her.
He didn’t put her down.
Cam’s family met them at the door to Cypress Hall, and just as Brent was stepping over the threshold Cam lifted her head to whisper into his ear, “don’t argue with them. They didn’t know I was going out.”
He looked ready to argue, but the fact that she sounded so weak probably helped her case. “Very well,” Brent murmured back, his gaze caressing her face.
“Camilla!” Aunt Beth said loudly. She looked shocked. At first Cam thought it had something to do with the indecency of being in Brent’s arms, but her Aunt didn’t even seem to notice Brent. She was staring at her niece’s face. “My God,” she said, blinking rapidly. “My lord you look ill.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed her hands to her mouth.
“Put her down here,” Grandma said, leading Brent into the drawing room and gesturing to the sofa. The rest of the family followed them, and Aunt Beth trailed behind, visibly upset.
Helen, Diana and Mary pushed the sofa closer to the hearth, and, almost reluctantly, Brent set Cam down. His hand lingered a moment in hers, before he finally cleared his throat and stepped back.
Grandma took charge. “Mr. Anderson, we can’t thank you enough, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait in the sitting room. We need to get Cam into some warm clothes.”
“Of course,” Brent said, and excused himself. Aunt Beth followed him out of the room to fetch Cam some dry clothes. It a sign of how shaken she was that she went herself rather than sending Caro or Mary for the clothes.
“What happened?” Grandma asked as soon as they were gone. She unfolded a blanket and wrapped it around Cam’s shoulders.
Cam filled them in quickly while she warmed herself by the hearth, feeling the heat of the flames on her face and wondering how long it would take her entire body to warm up.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said again. “I didn’t sense the conjure until it was too late.”
“No one is all-seeing, Mary,” Cam said, and Caro nodded her agreement.
“Your gift is extraordinary, Mary, but you are human. It is not your fault. Daphne and I should have seen this coming.”
“And Cam should have been wearing one of the charm bags that she is always foisting on other people,” Diana said, and her voice was dead, drained of all emotion and feeling. She sounded numb.
“Why would someone try to kill Cam?” Helen couldn’t quite seem to move past the fact that someone had intentionally hurt her sister. Her eyes were wide with horror. “She doesn’t have any enemies. Well, apart from Marianne,” she admitted. She glanced at Cam, but Cam shook her head.
“While I agree that Marianne is capable of murder, I suspect she would choose a more traditional method.” Cam said.
“It’s not funny,” Diana snapped. “None of this is funny.” She lowered her voice as there were footsteps outside of the drawing room door.
Aunt Beth bustled
in. She appeared to have regained her composure a little while she was fetching the clothes, and she quickly began giving orders.
Cam didn’t have a chance to speak to Brent again. He left just as the doctor was arriving, and with all of the people in the drawing room she barely caught a glimpse of him as he let himself out.
The physician concluded that Cam was to be kept warm and dry, and that she should rest for at least a week. “You were very lucky,” he told her. “The average layperson doesn’t know what to do for a drowning person.”
“What do you mean?” Cam asked.
“There’s a method used to breathe into the mouth of a drowned person,” the doctor explained. “It’s also been used with babies who are born not breathing.”
Grandma nodded knowingly, and Beth looked characteristically horrified at the thought of Brent and Cam’s lips touching.
If she only knew… Cam thought as her father carried her upstairs.
She was in warm and dry clothes by then, but the horrible chill remained, and she was shaking worse than ever.
“How do you feel?” Aunt Beth asked as Cam’s father left, leaving her in her bedroom with her grandmother and aunt. It was late by then, and Helen and Diana were likely already in bed.
Cam tried for an enthusiastic lie, but she didn’t have the energy. “I’ve been better,” she said finally.
“It’s the shock,” Aunt Beth said knowingly to Grandma, before leaving and closing the door behind her.
“It’s the shock,” Grandma mimicked as Aunt Beth’s footsteps echoed down the hall. “It’s the damn conjure, that’s what it is. Is that woman a fool? No matter how complex the problem, she always accepts the simplest explanation.”
“It’s not her fault,” Cam said, smoothing her blankets with shaking hands. God, she felt ill. She had been sick before, but nothing compared to the frightening weakness that had settled over her.
“No, it’s Brent Anderson’s fault, that’s whose fault it is,” Grandma said, setting a tea tray on the bed.
“Grandmamma, I’m sure that he has nothing to do with it,” Cam said, with surprising conviction, given that she really wasn’t sure at all.
“That’s your heart talking. I don’t care what your heart says; it’s a deceptive organ that will get you killed if you let it. What does your mind tell you? What are the facts?”
Cam leaned back and adjusted her pillows so that she could sit up without feeling the headboard.
“You have a head for a reason, child,” her grandmother said. “Use it.”
“I do sense conjure at his house,” Cam admitted. “Nasty work. I think that’s what’s making Hattie and their Great-Aunt ill. But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Brent or his brother make their own family members ill?”
“And he has been asking questions,” her grandmother said, patting Cam’s hand. “Too many questions, you said so yourself.”
“But not the right ones,” Cam said quickly. “And I still don’t think that he’s behind the conjure that I sensed at their manor. I don’t think he knew anything about conjure before I visited Mattie Devereux in the woods that day.”
Grandma leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “I don’t know, child. He and the bad conjure arrived at the same time. It’s centered on his house. He’s asking questions about Kat Varennes. He was in the woods tonight when you were nearly killed. It all sounds damning to me.”
“But Grandmamma, he dragged me out of the water. Why would he do that if he was the one who tried to kill me in the first place?”
“To make you trust him? To make you tell him what he wants to know?”
“If he’d planned it all, why not come sooner?” Cam persisted. “It was almost too late. If he’d come just a minute or so later I wouldn’t be here right now. Why would he take the risk of almost killing me, if all he wanted was my trust and information?” She sat up straight, nearly upsetting the tea tray in her lap. She was almost frantic. She couldn’t deny that there had been a moment, a terrifying, heart stopping moment after he’d dragged her from the water when she had suspected him. Then that moment had faded, and now she couldn’t bear to think that he wanted her dead. She’d prefer to suspect almost anyone else.
“Cam. Cam!” Her grandmother’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she realized that her grandmother had stood and was rubbing her back soothingly. “Be still. You’re probably right. He probably wasn’t the one who tried to kill you tonight.”
“You’re only agreeing because you’re worried about me,” Cam said, laughing nervously, but she felt a little better, and ventured to take a sip of her tea.
“I am worried about you,” Grandma said, brushing Cam’s hair from her eyes, “but I’m not just agreeing to agree. It doesn’t quite make sense. If he wanted to kill you, why rescue you? If he only wanted to scare you, why wait until it was almost too late?”
“Exactly,” Cam said, taking a deep breath and then another sip of tea. It was a little cold, but very sweet. She wished she had drunk it while it was still hot. She was still chilled, so cold that she felt she’d never be warm again.
“But Cam,” her grandmother continued, once Cam had finished her tea and set the tray aside, “he is involved somehow. He is not an innocent.”
“He could be, you don’t know,” Cam argued, but her grandmother just looked at her, until Cam finally bowed her head in defeat. “Yes. He is involved, somehow.”
“And even if he wasn’t behind the attack on you tonight, he could still mean you harm.”
“Grandma-”
“Have you ever felt threatened while in his presence?” Her grandmother asked. “Have you ever seen him with anything used for rootwork? Has he ever tried to separate you from your protective charms?”
“No,” Cam said. “I’ve never felt threatened, and . . .” She broke off, frowning. There had been that day in the forest. That kiss that still brought heat flooding to her cheeks. Then her coin had vanished. He had returned it when she asked, but he hadn’t attempted to give it back before then.
“Cam?” Her grandmother was watching her closely, a knowing expression in the dark eyes that were almost identical to Cam’s, and Cam turned away before her grandmother could see her tears fall.
“I still don’t think that he means to hurt me,” Cam said, turning her face into her pillow and hating how weak her voice sounded. Tomorrow I’ll feel better, she told herself. Tomorrow she would pick up her mask and continue dancing through the masquerade ball that was her life. Tonight she wanted to clutch someone and cry until sleep claimed her. Earlier she had clung to Brent and sobbed into his chest and he had been more comforting than anyone Cam could remember. She shifted, rubbed her wet face. “He wouldn’t do it. I know he wouldn’t.”
“You have no idea what that man would do, sister.” Cam flinched, the surprise of hearing her sister’s voice nearly snapping her already frayed nerves.
Diana stood in the doorway. She had undressed for bed, and her shining black hair fell over one shoulder almost to her waist. She had always been paler than Cam, but tonight she was whiter than usual, and her eyes looked too big and too dark for her face. Cam hadn’t even heard her open the door.
“Brent is not like Edgar,” she told her sister defiantly, wiping the last of her tears from her face. Diana wasn’t someone you cried in front of.
“No man is like Edgar,” Diana said, “until, suddenly, he is.” Unexpectedly, she stepped forward and took a seat at the end of Cam’s bed. She looked younger for some reason, like a beautiful, black haired child. “I am not a fool, Cam. I would not have allowed things to go so far with Edgar if I didn’t trust him entirely.”
“Diana-” Cam broke in uneasily. Diana rarely mentioned her ill-fated affair with Edgar, and never discussed it. It was unsettling to Cam to see her sister so humbled and vulnerable, and she wondered what had come over Diana.
“Hush,” her sister commanded her, and Cam obeyed. “I would have trusted him with my life, so it
didn’t seem a gamble to trust him with my heart. But it was a gamble, and I lost. I’ve since recovered my heart, but we both know that my reputation can’t be repaired.” Diana paused, walking her hand up and down Cam’s blanket, lost in her own thoughts. After a moment she stirred, fixing Cam with her piercing gaze. “I will never make the same mistake again, but now here is my little sister, ready to make a gamble of her own.”
“I am not—” Cam began, but Diana shook her head.
“You are, Cam. You’re risking your life. If you are wrong about him, and it is so easy to be deceived, you will die.” Diana’s expression was calm, but her voice trembled.
Suddenly, Cam remembered her sister’s expression when Brent had carried her to the door. How very white Diana had been and how terrified. If Cam hadn’t been half-drowned at the time, she would have been shocked to see so much feeling on the face of her stony older sister.
“I won’t die,” she told her sister softly, suddenly aching with guilt. Had she remembered to embrace Diana when she had clung to each of her family members in turn? When she had been drowning in the creek, she had worried about her grandmother, Helen, even her father and Aunt Beth. It hadn’t even occurred to her what her death would do to Diana, who of the three of them missed their mother the most.
“No.” Diana told her, equally softly. “You won’t. Because I will cut out that man’s heart myself before I will let him take you from us.”
Cam shook her head, “he’s not going to take me from you.”
“You nearly drowned tonight, Cam!”
“No,” Cam said, fixing her sister with a level gaze. “I did drown tonight, Diana. I’m not a child. I’m not about to take my own life lightly after what I just experienced. But I have to trust my own judgment.”
“If you have any,” Diana snapped, some of her old fire sparking back to life.
“That’s enough,” Grandma interrupted. “We will discuss this again in the morning.”
“But-” Diana protested.
“Enough,” Grandma said. “I don’t want to make Cam ill. In addition to drowning she was also the victim of very black magic, which is even worse.”