Born Wicked
Page 50

“Itwasjust an accident,” I point out. “I know full well how dangerous it was. I would never have done that on purpose!”
“Elena thinks it’s very odd that your magic was so strong,” Maura says, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Well, Elena’s a meddling little—”
“I won’t hear you say anything bad about her, Cate. She’s my friend. And she’s an excellent teacher. I’ve already learned how to do healing spells. It’s a nice change, having someone who actually encourages me. She likes me.”
I roll my eyes. “I like you. You’re my sister, Maura, I love you.”
“It’s not the same! You don’t treat me like a person. You’re always so dismissive. Even now, you’re barely paying attention to me.” I stop fussing with the flowers and look at her. “When you do pay attention, it’s only to scold. You never want me to practice magic, even though you know I love it. You don’t even want me to join the Sisterhood. You’d rather have me marry some awful old man I didn’t love than be happy!”
I pull her down the hall, away from the kitchen and anyone who might overhear us. “That’s not true. Of course I want you to be happy.”
“Prove it then.” Maura’s blue eyes are calculating. “I don’t need your permission, but I’d like your blessing. Give me your blessing to join the Sisters.”
Did Elena put her up to this? I can’t give her my blessing. Not without knowing the full meaning of the prophecy. If the Sisterhood were our best option—if it were that simple—Mother would have told me so plainly. “Is that really what you want?”
Maura nods furiously. “It is. I’m not a child, Cate, I know my own mind. I want to study magic in New London.”
“But what about marriage? And children? Would you give all that up?”
She looks down and fiddles with the gold bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t want to get married.”
“It might be different, if it was a man you loved,” I point out, thinking of Finn. Not that that’s new—I’ve been thinking of him all day in scattered quiet moments: while Elena corrected my French, while I took out stitches in my embroidered pillowcases, while Mrs. O’Hare scolded me for my halfeaten breakfast. Somehow, in just a few weeks, he’s become the stuff of my daydreams.
“That’s not what I want,” Maura says flatly, running a hand along the curved wooden balustrade at the foot of the stairs.
“I didn’t think it was what I wanted, either. I’ve changed my mind.”
Maura frowns. “So you are going to marry Paul, then. Did you even consider joining the Sisters? You’re determined to keep the three of us together, but only if it’s the wayyouwant! You’d have me give up my dreams, without you sacrificing a thing!”
“I didn’t say I was—” I protest, but she’s already stomping upstairs, presumably to Elena’s room. I sit on the bottom stair and bury my head in my hands.
There’s a swish of skirts behind me. “Excuse me,” Elena says, squeezing past. “Did you and Maura have a row? She’s in her room slamming things about.”
I raise my head. Elena’s rearranging my roses.
“Why can’t you just leave things alone?” I snarl, stalking toward the kitchen. “We don’t need you. We were fine before you came!”
Mrs. Corbett is the first guest to arrive. Lily takes her cloak while I draw her into the sitting room. She settles her wide bulk on the cream-tufted sofa, and I fetch her a cup of tea and a few of Tess’s lemon poppy-seed cakes.
“How is our dear Elena working out?” Mrs. Corbett asks. “I do hope you’re making her feel at home.”
“Oh, she’s made herself indispensable. We couldn’t have managed any of this without her.” It’s true. Elena chose the gowns we’re wearing, decided on the menu, drilled us on proper etiquette, and instructed us at which houses to leave calling cards with our names and new at-home afternoon. I ought to be grateful. Instead, it only makes me resent her more.
“I knew she would be the perfect fit. Not as sophisticated as her previous pupils, I told her, but you needed her more. I can tell a difference in you girls already. You looked so smart at services—and just look how well turned out you are today,” Mrs. Corbett says, glancing up as the Winfields arrive. She acts as though we went around in trousers before Elena! “It’s marvelous, the changes she’s wrought in you. Give her a few more weeks and you’ll be almost unrecognizable.”
“Er—thank you.” The smile pasted on my face never wobbles. Where’s Maura? She’s the one who thinks Elena hung the moon in the sky; she ought to be the one stuck singing her praises. But no, she and Tess are pouring tea and lemonade for the other guests, leaving me trapped on the sofa with this old battle-ax.
“I’m glad to hear things are going smoothly. I would so hate to have to trouble your father with any unfavorable reports,” Mrs. Corbett hums.
Her threats set my teeth on edge. Shewouldwrite him and tattle; it’s just like her.
“Tess has been writing Father. I daresay he’ll be pleased with our progress. You were right, Mrs. Corbett. It’s high time Maura and I were out. Past time, truly. I don’t know what I was fretting over. Everyone’s been so kind. Particularly Mrs. Ishida. Maura and I were delighted to be invited to tea.” It’s prideful, but I can’t help myself. I’ve heard Mrs. Corbett is never invited to the Brothers’ wives’ functions.
“Ye—es.” Mrs. Corbett blinks slowly, like a lizard in the sun. “I noticed that you and Miss Ishida have become particular friends.”
“Sachi’s marvelous. I take her as a model of what a proper young lady ought to be.” I shoot a desperate glance toward the door, wishing Sachi would come and rescue me.
“Your father couldn’t ask you to keep better company. Miss Ishida is above reproach,” Mrs. Corbett agrees. But her eyes rove over me like tiny, suspicious brown spiders, as though she’s just praying to find something wrong.
Have I overdone it? Perhaps I ought to be less cloyingly agreeable.
Mrs. Corbett glances up at the family portraits above the fireplace. “Have you made any decisions about your intention? I saw you speaking with Paul McLeod at church. The McLeods are a good family. Respected.”
Paul. I’ve hardly thought of him all day. “I haven’t made any decisions yet,” I murmur.
“Cate!” Sachi swoops in. She’s wearing a diamond comb in her hair and a bright turquoise dress. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Corbett. You’re looking well. Excuse us, won’t you?”
She whirls me out into the hall and collapses into giggles. “The look on your face! Like someone was plucking out your eyelashes!”
I scowl, leaning against the banister of the staircase. “She’s an interfering old toad.”
Sachi casts a look over her shoulder. “Never liked her much myself. Wearing all that black like a big carrion bird. It’s carrying mourning a bit far, don’t you think? Her husband died four years ago. And always going on about Regina this, Regina that. Regina Corbett’s nothing but a—”