Spellbreaker

Biting the back of her tongue, Elsie slipped inside the post office. One of the post dogs whined in the back, and Martha Morgan shuffled around a few letters in the cubbies against the wall behind the desk.

“Good afternoon, Martha,” Elsie said.

Martha peeked over her shoulder. “Oh, Miss Camden! One moment, if you would.” She finished organizing the small stack of envelopes in her hand before giving Elsie her full attention. “How can I help you?”

“I need to send a telegram to Brixton, addressed to Mr. Allen Baker.” She unfolded the note in her hands where she’d written Ogden’s instructions. “The piece will be ready tomorrow.” Elsie fished out the appropriate coin and laid it on the desk.

Martha scrawled the message down. “I’ll send it straightaway.”

“Thank you.” Elsie folded the paper and turned for the door.

“Miss Camden.” The voice came from Mr. Green, the postmaster, as he strode in from the house connected to the post office. “Good timing. I’ve just received a telegram for you.”

Martha smiled and lifted her eyebrows, as if to comment on the timing, before heading to the back room.

“For Mr. Ogden?” Elsie clarified.

“For you.” He handed her the envelope.

Elsie did not like opening her private post in public, but curiosity got the better of her. Hoping it might be from Bacchus, she opened the brief message.

Her heart skipped. Not Bacchus. Juniper Down.

Elsie. We were wrong. Someone is looking for you. Come as soon as you can.

The message was only that, and yet it was everything.

She must have blanched, for Mr. Green asked, “Is everything all right?”

Elsie nodded dumbly. “It’s . . . perfect. Thank you.”

And then she ran from the post office as though on the wings of a storm.

“Ogden!” Elsie screamed the moment she rushed into the house. “Mr. Ogden!” She turned around the corner and nearly ran into Emmeline. It was a short distance from the post office to the studio, but Elsie wheezed like she’d run miles. “Where is he?”

“S-Studio.” Emmeline gawked. “What’s happened?”

But Elsie couldn’t bear to delay. She hurried to the studio, Emmeline on her heels. Ogden was standing, his painter’s smock half-untied.

Fear blanched his face. “What’s wrong?”

Elsie practically leapt at him, grabbing his upper arms in her hands. “I got a message from Juniper Down! Someone is looking for me! Ogden, it must be my family!”

He gaped at her and let out a long breath. “You’re sure?”

Emmeline squealed.

Elsie smiled. “Who else would go to that out-of-the-way place and ask for me by name? Please, I’ll do anything, but let me go. I must leave immediately. I’ll take the train, make it as far as Reading—”

He worked his mouth. “You just heard of this?”

Fishing out the telegram, Elsie handed it to him. He read it, and as he considered, Elsie passed it to Emmeline.

“This is incredible.” Emmeline grinned. “Oh, Elsie, you’ve waited so long!”

“I’ll pay for temporary help,” she said to Ogden. “Whatever you need—”

Ogden, somewhat baffled, shook his head. A small smile played on his lips. “That won’t be necessary. If you leave now, you can be on a train before nightfall.”

Elsie laughed and kissed Ogden on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, thank you. Goodness, I need to pack.”

Emmeline chirped, “I’ll get your laundry off the line,” and ran from the studio.

Elsie darted to the stairs, taking them two at a time up to her room. Pulling her valise from beneath her bed, she laid it open on the mattress and rummaged through her wardrobe. She liked to take care with how she packed for a trip—especially a trip of an undetermined amount of time—but all she could think of was getting to Juniper Down.

They’d wait for her. Surely they’d wait for her! We’ve waited this long, what is another day? And she could do it in a day if she slept on the train and in the cab. Only a day between herself and her family! Who was it? Her mother? A brother? She dared not hope it would be all of them.

Emmeline came up shortly with Elsie’s laundry, which was mainly underthings. Thanking her, Elsie folded what she thought she’d need and crammed it into the valise. Just as the valise was getting full, Emmeline returned with a cloth-wrapped parcel.

“So you don’t get peckish.” She set it in Elsie’s hands.

“Oh, Emmeline, thank you.” She straightened. “I’ll need my savings passbook.” Money for the train ticket, the travel . . . and she had no idea who had come for her. What if they were destitute and needed help? “Ogden!”

“He just stepped out! To the post office, I think, to inquire about replacing you for the week.”

“Of course.” She barely registered the remark. God help her, she had so many questions and no time to think them.

“I’ll get you some more cheese.” Emmeline hurried back down the stairs, her footsteps eager. Elsie followed after her as far as Ogden’s bedroom, which she entered unabashedly. She used to clean it, after all.