Today in the vespers, I see a physician with winding cloths walking to the pastor's house.
Today in the vespers, I'm blind. I taste blood in my mouth, and I know not whose it is.
The smoke smelled no sweeter when it was premonitions burned. The paper turned to white ash before collapsing into the flames. Page after page, I destroyed, and I could well imagine the one Lizzy burned first:
Today in the vespers, I see my brothers wife, weeping tears and milk for the stillborn babe they put in the ground.
Kestrels Baltimore, Maryland Summer 1889
Eleven
SHOULD YOU WISH to continue classes throughout the summer," Miss Burnside said, sweeping down the rows between our desks. "Please ask that your parents engage me before the last of the month to guarantee placement."
In spite of the kind offer, I felt quite certain that Zora and I would be spending our days in teas and callings instead of lessons. Summer broke over the city in the most pleasing way.
The harbor, for the moment, settled the heat to a suggestion. It gave us a season warm enough to go about without a wrapper, wearing light chinoise gowns instead of heavy brocade. It gave us a barbecue season to parade in the park and make eyes at any who pleased us.
Miss Burnside moved through the room as a barge through the harbor. She touched students to promote them to their next grade. Out of spite, she started at the last chair and worked her way forward.
"Give way," Zora mouthed to me.
Sitting as I did between her and Thomas, I had to tip back so they could exchange looks. It had become so regular that I was once tempted to fail an exam, just to let Thomas win my seat. My pride overwhelmed temptation, however, so I spent a good deal of time trailing my ribbons on the desk behind me so they could moon.
"Thank You, Miss Harrison; I shall see you again to begin sixth-form lessons," Miss Burnside sang behind me.
"Has your mother talked to Mrs. Castillo?" Thomas asked.
Zora leaned into the aisle to whisper back, "She sent a letter with Papa, and he'll return tomorrow with the answer, I expect. But she's never said no before now—like as not, she'll agree this time, too."
With a smile, I pointed out between them, "She only had to take three of you before. You've got an extra this year."
"Three, four, what's the difference?" Zora asked, and we all corrected our posture when Miss Burnside cracked her stick on a desk behind us.
"I'm sorry to say you'll need to repeat your fourth term," Miss Burnside told little Joey Dobbs.
When Miss Burnside drifted to the other side of the room, I craned back again.
Arms curled on the desk, Zora told Thomas, "In any case, it shouldn't matter. If we must, Sarah and Mattie could stay with Sarah's aunt. We'll prevail upon Mrs. Castillo's good nature to take the two of us."
"Where will you stay?" I asked, then colored for my shamelessness. Of the myriad of things not meant for young ladies to contemplate, a bachelor's sleeping arrangements was chief among them.
And, alas, it was not so much that I cared to know Thomas' particulars, but that I hoped he would divulge Nathaniel's in the telling.
"I thought to ride back that night," Thomas said, though that sounded entirely unlikely to me.
To Zora as well, for she hummed a note that called him a liar. Then, as if her trickery would go unnoticed, she asked, "Did Dr. Rea buy another horse of late?"
"He didn't," Thomas said, rising in his seat, bemused. "I planned to borrow one."
"And ride it hard on, thirty miles in the morning, then thirty more after the ball?" Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Zora sighed. "Poor borrowed beast."
Reaching across to my desk, Thomas tapped his finger on the edge of it. "Mind yourself, and let me save your country friend from herself."
"Oh, noble Mr. Rea," Zora teased, then jerked upright when Miss Burnside rapped her across the shoulders.
The willow stick was not thick enough to wreak damage, but it hurt. Not that any would know it from Zora's reaction. She bit her lips, swallowing laughter as desperately as ginger water on a hot day.
"I'm happy," Miss Burnside said, her teeth gritted in such a way that we could hardly believe her happy at all, "to graduate you, Miss Stewart. I wish you all the best at the new girls' High School next year."
Zora took to her feet and dipped low in an exquisite court bow. As we had no royalty in Baltimore, Zora's audacity astounded me, truly. "I am ever humbly in your debt, good lady Burnside."
Miss Burnside's expression never changed. But, oh, there was so much motion in that nothing. In a frosted silence, she waited for Zora to walk away before passing my desk. Everyone knew my half season of school was the end of my schooling entirely.
It would be quite rude to say outright that I should hurry off now to find a respectable man to keep me—ruder still for Miss Burnside to point out that she thought that as likely as my learning to fly. But she had to graduate me in some way, so she lit her fingers on my shoulder and said, "Good luck to you in all your endeavors, Miss van den Broek."
"Thank you," I murmured, and slipped away without further incident.
***
Of all the souls I thought might run down the street at us, I never expected Mattie Corey.
Yet there she came, skirts in one hand, her bonnet pressed flat with the other. Her lips parted and closed, and it looked like she called to us, though no sound came out. The running, it seemed, was the full extent of her ability to be ill-mannered.
"What's the matter?" Zora asked, very nearly pulled down when Mattie tipped and lost her balance before her.
Thomas held out hands to catch them, tipping them both aright with a single, subtle push.
And then he stood a little straighter—perhaps pride for his gallantry, but more likely to prove his propriety. No one would claim he was prissy, but he clung, with weary determination, to etiquette when we let him.
"Amelia's vision," Mattie said breathlessly, slapping at her mint batiste suit. She hurried to smooth herself. "It's true—it came true! You saved her, Amelia."
"How do you mean?" I asked, stunned once that she claimed it true—stunned twice that there was any saving to be had.
Mattie slipped her arm into mine, pulling me down the street. "This morning at practice, one of Sarah's arrows exploded as she drew!"
Coming around to Mattie's other elbow, Zora exclaimed, "Exploded?"
"Right as I'm standing here," Mattie said, nodding. Stopping abruptly in the street, she leaned back, lifting her chin as if she carried a bow. "She nocked it, and just at full draw, we heard an awful crack. Awful! I screamed!"
A crack of knuckles could make Mattie scream, so that hardly set the scene. But a quivering ran beneath my skin as I squeezed her arm. "And it broke?"
"Exploded! Sarah threw her hands up at the last moment—look!" From her pocket, Mattie produced several wicked shards, one with a tattered bit of feather still clinging to it.
Reaching to take one, I raised it to my face. Between blinks, I saw the golden specter of my vision again. I felt the agony across my face, the steaming splash of blood...
Shaking my head to clear it, I asked Mattie, "And no harm came to her?"
"You saved her," Mattie said, warm with reverence.
I should have been awed, or humbled, or afraid. A tragedy had been avoided, by whatever means! I should've bowed my head to give thanks or fallen to my knees in joy that our cousin was well—and I was happy! But coloring it all was my own awful sense of accomplishment.
They'd begged me to draw forth a vision—and I had.
***
On our first day free after classes, Zora and I headed into town proper. Smoke curled its fingers across a pure blue sky, but the wind kindly took the scent of a hot day out to the Chesapeake.
"Have care," Zora said, as she backed away at the print shop. "I'm peeking in next door."
I waved her off, for what did it matter if we stood together waiting for my calling cards or if I stood
on my own? A string of bells jangled overhead as I went inside after my own errand.
"Order for Amelia van den Broek?" I asked the wiry man at the counter.
"Hold there, miss." He ducked into the back.
I occupied myself browsing, for the engraver kept samples of his work everywhere. Every so often, I flicked a look at the door, not entirely anxious to be alone, but wishing Zora would hurry at least. Firmly, I chastened myself, for truthfully, she'd gone on my errand.
One of Zora's New York aunts had sent a recent issue of The Delineator, full of lovely swirled and curled hairstyles to imitate. We found a Grecian sweep of curls, doublebound with ribbon, which we decided would suit Zora especially well.
"Silver," I hoped, to twinkle against the chestnut waves of her hair. She'd probably come back with lapis or sapphire. Zora had her favorites, and no one could sway her once she'd fixed an idea in her mind. The door swung open again, and I turned to tease her about more useless blue ribbon. But it wasn't Zora—in came Nathaniel, with a sure and certain gaze.
"Miss van den Broek," he said, dipping his head to acknowledge me.
Not once, never once, had I seen even the first hint that our chance encounters surprised him. Nor did his smooth face betray any effervescence in his veins. My blood turned to champagne whenever he came near.
"Mr. Witherspoon," I replied, and pressed myself to the counter.
Though now he stood behind me, I could make out his shape as keenly as if I saw it. Each step he took vibrated through me. Though he stopped at a charitable distance, his murmurs slipped into my ear, intimate as if he pressed his lips to my skin. "I hear glorious things about you."
My breath fled, and it took more than one attempt to find a reply. "I hear nothing about you at all."
"What would you wish to?" he asked.
Heat trailed from his flesh to mine, as he came to stand at the other end of the counter. Catching glimpses of him from the edge of my eye, the champagne in me spilled over. "Good news, if you have it."
"I think you shall see something glorious in the vespers," he said, tugging the fingertips of his glove to effect a slow, wicked appearance of his bare flesh. "Beneath Apollo's banner, a lady's gaze turned toward mine."
Gripping the edge of the counter, I whispered, "What are you on about?"
"Miss Holbrook's remarkable salvation, of course." He folded his gloves and turned toward me. "You really do see the future."
"You asked for my secret." I twisted my fingers together, trying not to drift into his gaze, but I did all the same.
Oh, terrible wonders, Nathaniel reached out, and I thought for a moment—I wantonly wished—that he meant to touch my face with his bare hand. Instead, he slipped his glove into my pocket. "Yes, I did, didn't I?"
His footsteps receded, his shadow left the edge of my gaze, but I heard no opening of the door. I thought about dashing after him, to see if I could catch him melting into the crowd. Suddenly, the bells above the door clamored as Zora returned in triumph.
"Two yards each silver and blue," she crowed.
I could only nod my approval as I slipped my hand into Nathaniel's glove.
***
We carried ourselves into the house in a whispering swirl of skirts and bonnets half-removed, apologizing gaily to the downstairs girl who came to meet us. We very nearly knocked her over, and I had to settle her with a pet on the shoulder.
"Yes, Molly?" Zora asked.
The downstairs girl offered up a box and a slightly pained expression. "Your callers, Miss Stewart, Miss van den Broek."
"Good God," Zora cursed in wonderment.
I took the box, shaking it and reaching inside to pull out not Thomas' single card, to which we had grown accustomed, but a handful. Exchanging a befuddled look with Zora, I asked, "Are these all new?"
"Did nothing but answer the door this morning," Molly said, her annoyance barely disguised.
Pushing herself from between us, she stalked back to the kitchen, her shoulders drawn nearly to her ears. I shouldn't have laughed at her ire, but I did keep it low and just for Zora's consumption at least.
"Let's see, then," Zora said, crowding against my shoulder.
I thumbed through the cards one by one. "That's yours," I said, handing off Thomas' card, then shuffled through the next several in quick succession. We had one from Mattie and Sarah each, several from school friends just to tell us they would be leaving for the summer—which we already knew from speaking to them at school, but nevertheless.
Most intriguing were the cards marked p.p.—pour pré senter. We were two girls of no particularly wide circle, sought by none unfamiliar to us. What could have happened that suddenly we had six cards begging to meet us? Giddy and exhilarated, we took turns reading the names to each other.
"Oh, I know her," Zora said, stopping at a gaudy card of strawberry pink. It even had a color impression of strawberries at the top. This hideous delight stood out among the rest of the proper cards, all white or ecru, and Zora laughed as she held it up. "Of her, I mean. She's above us, not that you'd know it. Their fortune's in sugar, of all things."
"But what does she want?" I wondered aloud.
"To make our acquaintance," Zora said, stating the obvious. She shook the box to make sure there were no more cards in it, then waltzed away toward the kitchen. "Tomorrow we shall go calling to find out!"
But we had no need to wait. Just at the time for informal tea, Mattie and Sarah presented themselves at our doorstep—with a friend.
Twelve
I KNEW YOU WOULDN'T MIND," Sarah told us, one hand on her guest's back and the other out to squeeze mine. Turning to Zora, she imposed, warming her with a brash smile and, finally, an introduction. "This is Miss Nella Mfana; Nella, may I present Miss Zora Stewart and Miss Amelia van den Broek?"
"A pleasure," we murmured by turns, and I caught fluttering Mattie by the fingers, tugging her closer with a wink.
"And to what do we owe it?" Zora asked, pleasant but pointed. Of course, we should invite them in for tea, and no doubt we would, but it was strange providence, indeed, for anyone to arrive uninvited, much less without having left a card at the very least.
Sweeping us into the parlor, for Sarah had that commanding sort of presence, she spread out her hands imploringly. "Miss Mfana, if you would plead your case?"
"Oh, do hear her out," Mattie whispered to me, squeezing my hand.
Of course, I would, but I couldn't contain my concern at such intrigue. I could, no better than anyone, solve a case—and perhaps so much worse! Zora, at least, knew this city and its families—I didn't know anyone but her friends.
Though Nella was strongly built, her voice turned wispy as she admitted, almost shamefully, "There's a shade over my house, Miss van den Broek. My mother passed on two years gone, but though Papa and I have come out of mourning, it seems ... I feel as though she's angry with us."
A chill teased the back of my neck, for I knew well that sensation. When the fever took my parents, I thought I should never be happy again ... and I was ashamed at first when I found I could be. I felt like a callous wretch the day I packed my mourning clothes and uncovered the mirrors.
"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Miss Mfana," I said, taking her hands. "Would that I could ease your suffering, most assuredly I would."
Tears welled in Nella's eyes. "Mama's best cup fell from the mantel and shattered last night. Her wedding spoons have gone missing. A little drawing she kept over the stove burned right up! I'm afraid. I'm afraid of my own mother. Can you tell her she still means everything to me?"
Taken aback, I stiffened. I'd only caught future glimpses—it seemed another gift entirely to speak to the beyond. Beside me, Mattie whispered, something calming or encouraging—I wasn't sure which.
Oh, and how my heart ached, as I admitted, "That's no talent I possess, Miss Mfana. Sometimes I see things, but I have no spirit guides to carry my words."
"Does she come for me, then?" Nella asked plaintively. "Wi
ll she take me to the grave with her?"
Even Sarah gasped softly at such a horrid thought. But it was fair of Nella to beg it—it was a question my ability should be able to answer, if I could summon it.
Doubt etched at me. My sendings came unbidden. Zora hadn't asked, and Mattie's plea brought me a glimpse of Sarah's fate instead. And yet a streak of pride rose like flame. Yes, my gift was undisciplined and uncontrolled, but I had seen beyond. I didn't know what I might accomplish if I tried.
"Come with me to the window," I said, gesturing her that way. "I can't promise you anything, but I can try. Zora, could you have the salts ready, if I need them?"
The parlor reverberated like a plucked string, some of us in motion, some of us still, but something like excitement stirring through us all.
Inwardly, I recounted how the first visions had come on—clearing myself of all thoughts because the noise had been so great, the direct flash of sunset in my eyes.
Brushing the curtain back, I squinted at the reddening streaks crossing the sky, then turned to Nella once more. "Think, very clearly, on your mother's face for me."
Nella's eyes darted away, then back at me. Conscious of being watched, she seemed to hesitate, but finally dropped her lashes. I put my hands in hers, then leaned my head against the window.
Though Lady Privalovna had proved to be a fraud, I still took from her the act of drawing in deeply, of exhaling. I felt it opened me in a way, unlidding me so I could be filled with gold.
As the sun sank, my thoughts drifted, as if I might fall asleep. But then a certain cut of light streaked before me. It ran through the streets like a river, filling the whole of the city with liquid amber, washing all away but the flickering, glimmering dance of stardust.
As the sparks flew up, the tableau before me changed. I stood in an unfamiliar chamber—a parlor much like the Stewarts', but unlike it all the same. Books lined one wall, and a pianoforte occupied the corner, a lace runner draped across its length.
The Vespertine Page 9
