The Chocolatier's Wife (56 page)

“Where is our
dear mamma?”
Bonny
asked pleasantly.

“She is off visiting.
She should be back
tonight, if you wish to see her?”

“That
gorgon?
Why
should
I?
I
just
wondered
if
we
would
be
free
to speak.”
Bonny moved
so
that
she
and
Tasmin
were
seated
closer
together, and
took
the
other
woman’s
hand.
“Where
you
come
from,
you’re
considered
a
bit of a
hag,
yes?”

“I
am
a
trained herb-mage, yes ...
hag is not completely accurate...
”

“But
you
work
magic?
You
might
be
willing
to
help
me?”
Bonny’s eyes
looked de
s
perate, and
Tasmin
felt uncomfortable.

“Certainly—if I
can.
What
is it?”

“I
need
a
baby, most
desperately.
Do
you
have
any
spells
that
might help? Make me more
fertile?”

“Bonny,”
she
said
gently.
“Women
always
assume
immediately
that
it
is their
fault
if
a
baby
doesn’t
come,
but
it
could
as
easily
be
his
fault
as
yours, and
if
I
try
and
find
a
spell
for
you,
then
you
are
being
put
at
risk
when
he might be the cause.”

“It’
s
me,”
’
sh
e
said
,
flatly
.
“S
o
yo
u
onl
y
hav
e
t
o
worr
y
abou
t
curin
g
me.
”

She
thought
to
ask
how
Bonny
could
possibly
know
that,
but
let
it pass. “I
will
consider
on
it,
sister,
but
I
must
warn
you.
There
are
no
easy solutions
to
your
tro
u
bles.
Perhaps
none
at
all, for no one
wants
to
tempt fate too much.”

“Being an
Almsley,” Bonny
said,
“is all about tempting fate.”

Tasmin
did
not
hear.
She
was
looking
out
the
window.
The
main
parlor was
sit
u
ated
with
windows
that
looked
out
into
the
back
garden, and coming
up
the
path,
hurrying, was
a
young
man
holding
a
ball
of
familiar white cloth.

Chapter
1
7

Naverro 28
th
,
Sclt.
Mn.
Qtr. 1789

Tasmin

The
weather
charm
has
already
proved its worth. We
hit an unnatural storm that
set us aback.
The
waves
almost rolled us over,
but with some handy
work on
the
part of
the
mates we
were able
to sail her
back
upright, then
get
into the
heart
of
the
storm, where
it was not quite so terrible. We
sailed in her
heart
until
she
blew
herself
out, a
feat
I
b
e
lieve
could not have
been
achieved without the
present you
recently
made for me.

We
have
not seen
the
Pandora,
but we
have
heard
much
of
her,
and
seen
the
wrec
k
age
she
leaves
in her
wake.
In
three
weeks
’
time we will finally
reach land, and will be able to proceed up the
coast
to the
port where
we
make
the
most important and expe
n
sive
delivery of
the
voyage.
My
heart
will rest easier when
I
no
longer
have
the
valuables
in my
care.
Until then,
I
shall
pass this letter to a
courier ship heading
homeward,
and
hope
this letter finds
you safe and sound.

Yours,

William

The
dress
had
been
lying
at
the
bottom
of the garden, jammed under the marble bench,
tangled
in
the
bush
that
made
a
sort
of
wall
behind
it.
William
brought
it
out
himself,
mindful
of
the
branches
that
would
make the
tears
worse,
though
when
he
lay
the dress
out
on
the
bench
any
such
fears
seemed
a
cruel
joke.
It
wasn’t
stained, aside from
dirt and
some grass,
but someone had taken
a
sharp blade to it, rending
it
in
tatters.
One
of
the
servants,
the
young
footman
who
had
found it,
was
waiting
nearby.
“Put
it
in
a
box,
if
you
would.
And
quickly.
I
do
not wish her to see it,
I
think.
Not yet.”

The
man nodded
and
folded
it
up,
bunching
it
against
his
chest
as
he went to the house.

William
sighed
and
knelt
down,
picking
up
pearls.
The
worst
of
the
work must have
been done
here, away from
the room
and
discovery.
It
took
him a
long
time, but
he
worked
patiently
from one
end
of
the
area
to
another. They were tiny,
but it felt impo
r
tant.

“Looking
for
clues?”
Her
voice
was
dry,
though
slightly
pained.
Her
hair was
down, and
the
wind
(un-augmented
by
sprites
for
once)
blew
the
soft tangled
coils
of
it.
Her
hands
were
folded
over
her
waist,
and
she
looked
sad but serene in
her sorrow.

“Well, not
really.”
H
e
gave
her
a
half
smile
and
held
up
a
hand
full
of tiny
seed
pearls.
Many
were
already
in his
pocket.
She
knelt
near
him,
and looked down at the grass.
He watched her hands fold themselves neatly on her lap,
every move
delicate and
in
control.

“Don’
t
worry,
”
sh
e
sai
d
ruefully
,
a
s
i
f
mistakin
g
hi
s
starin
g
fo
r
concern. “N
o
hyste
r
ics
.
I
go
t
thos
e
ove
r
wit
h
thi
s
morning
. I
apologiz
e
fo
r
bein
g
s
o
upse
t
an
d
angry
.
I
t
is
,
afte
r
all
,
jus
t
a
dress
,
I
suppose
.
Th
e
on
e
befor
e
i
t
was burne
d
i
n
a
castl
e
f
ire
,
durin
g
a
terribl
e
battl
e
betwee
n
f
ir
e
an
d
ic
e
mages.
”