Spellbreaker

I know you’re hopeful. I know you’re dedicated. But the Camdens aren’t coming back. It’s time to give up, lass. Nothing will change, and you’re costing us postage we can’t afford. I was happy to help you then. Now it’s time to leave things be and move on with your life.

Sincerely,

Henry Hall

Agatha’s husband.

Elsie stared at the letter, not quite comprehending its meaning. She read it again, slowly. Nothing will change. Those words stood out starkly against the cheap paper. Nothing will change. Nothing will change.

The Camdens aren’t coming back.

They wanted her to stop writing. Stop asking. Stop wasting their shillings. She crumpled the letter in her hand. Strode to the unlit fireplace and tossed it in. So what? Had she really expected anything else after all these years? She had friends, here in the stonemasonry shop, and she had the Cowls. Their work mattered. The part she played made a difference.

It was enough, wasn’t it?

Elsie found herself staring out the window for an inordinate amount of time. She struggled to come back to herself, but her thoughts were . . . not there. She was a blank canvas. But that was all right. Better than the dripping paint she’d been the night before.

She needed to busy herself, that was all. It wasn’t as if she lacked for things to do! She had to catch up on her missed work.

So she strode downstairs to the studio, leaving the novel reader forgotten on her bed.

It was only an hour’s ride to Seven Oaks in Kent, but that morning it felt like Elsie rode clear to Liverpool. She’d left at the crack of dawn, right after Ogden had departed for the squire’s home. He’d sounded hopeful about finishing the project soon, which meant Elsie had to sort out just how to balance this mess.

She had made the trip early because she needed a trinket to present to Emmeline tomorrow, for her eighteenth birthday. This was the only time she had to find one. Fortunately, Emmeline was easy to please. Unfortunately, much of Elsie’s funds were being squandered on cab fare.

The driver let her off at the market street, and she thanked him silently with a wave, having already paid his fee. She rubbed her lower back as she walked. The town was awake but only just; not yet crowded, no voices hawking wares. But there were people out and about, setting up and settling in. A few men nodded to her as she passed, and she returned the gesture twice before pinning her hat a little lower. With her luck, the Cowls would send her on another mission to Kent, and someone on the street would recognize her.

She found a little Romany cart down a side street. From them, she purchased a pin studded with polished quartz. Emmeline could wear it to church. Normally Elsie would be pleased with such a find, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel any pride today. Stowing the pin in her bag, she started toward Seven Oaks.

“Miss Camden?”

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice just as Mr. Bacchus Kelsey came strolling up beside her. His darker coloring and blue frock coat made him blend perfectly with the street lit with fresh dawn, like an artist had painted him there. An artist with a very good hand. His eyes looked spectacularly green, like endless rolling hills just before twilight set in.

Pinching herself to remain present, she nodded to him. “Good day, Mr. Kelsey.” He is only kind because you’re helping him. Because he’s forcing you to help him. Bah!

“You’re early.” He fell in step beside her. He held two old-looking books in his hands, but Elsie didn’t try to read the titles. Not today. With Emmeline taken care of, her mind turned elsewhere, sitting on some forgotten easel, waiting for the artist to remember her.

“I don’t believe we set a time,” she countered, watching the cobblestones pass underfoot.

He thought a moment. “I don’t believe we did.”

She nodded. It wasn’t a long walk to the duke’s estate, though she wouldn’t have minded a long walk. They were good for the body and the mind. A walk after a rainstorm, especially, but it hadn’t rained yesterday or last night.

“Are you well?”

She glanced up at him, and the cylinder of her thoughts spun a moment before firing. “I believe we’ve only been chatting for a few seconds, Mr. Kelsey. I doubt you’ve had enough time to gauge my health. But yes, I am well.”

“Hmm.” It was a sound of disbelief.