“Catherine!” Theresa said, hand to her heart. “You just made me scribble all over this note!”
Eliza tilted her head toward the door, silently beckoning Catherine to follow her. She walked out past Helen Jennings, who was stationed near the door, and endeavored to ignore the girl’s steady stare. From the foyer, Eliza glanced back inside, hoping Catherine had understood her.
Catherine hesitated, then spoke. “I’m sorry, Theresa. I must have
dozed off for a moment there.” She got up to gather the books. “I think I’ll go upstairs for a bit and lie down.”
“And I suppose I’ll just start this all over again,” Theresa groused, crumbling up her letter.
Catherine hastened out of the room to join Eliza. She took her roommate’s arm and tugged her toward the front door of Crenshaw House, as far away from the parlor as they could get.
“What is going on?” Catherine asked. “You scared me half to death!”
Eliza felt a chill at Catherine’s mention of death, but shoved it out of her mind. It had been only a dream.
“I’m sorry, it’s just . . . this is sheer torture,” Eliza replied, leaning back against the thick door.
Catherine took a deep breath and hugged her books to her chest. “What is?”
“It’s Harrison,” Eliza whispered, glancing back toward the parlor. “I’ve never felt this way before, Catherine. It’s as if my heart is trying to tear my chest open and run off to him.”
Catherine stuck out her tongue. “That’s disgusting.”
Eliza walked to the staircase and slumped against the banister in a way that would earn her a slap on the wrist if Miss Almay were to see her. “What do I do? I have to see him soon, or I’m going to go mad.”
Suddenly, Catherine’s blue eyes brightened. “Oh! We could try scrying for him.”
“What’s scrying?” Eliza asked, standing up straight.
“Basically, it’s a magical way to find out where any person is at a given moment,” Catherine replied.
“So I could know where Harrison is right now?” Eliza said.
“Exactly,” Catherine confirmed, grasping Eliza’s hand excitedly. “I think I have everything upstairs in our room.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Eliza and Catherine raced upstairs hand in hand. Once the door of their room was closed safely behind them, Catherine crouched on her knees next to her bed. She tugged out the long, flat box with the gold clasp that Eliza had seen her hide there on her first day.
“What’s in there?” Eliza asked, her curiosity piqued.
“A few things I brought from home,” Catherine replied. She laid the box on her bed and undid the clasp. “Can you fill the wash basin?”
Eliza used the pitcher full of cold water to fill up the ceramic bowl. Catherine, meanwhile, opened the case and began to carefully pick over its contents. Eliza was startled to see that the box was full of items mentioned in their books on witchcraft. There were several jars full of spices and herbs, a couple of white candles, a few crystals, some velvet pouches full of substances Eliza couldn’t see, and a few colorful sticks, which appeared to be made of crystal.
“What is all this?” Eliza asked.
“Some things I picked up on travels with my mother,” Catherine replied. “It’s all quite basic stuff, but you need a specific crystal for scrying.”
“Is it this one?” Eliza asked, lifting one of the sticks. It was bright
yellow in color, with uneven edges, as if made by hundreds of tiny jagged rocks fused together.
“No. That’s sulfur,” Catherine replied. “You’re supposed to be able to make a spark by holding it and reciting a simple spell, but I’ve never gotten it to work.”
“That could come in handy on our midnight jaunts,” Eliza joked. “No candles needed.”
Catherine laughed. “If only we could get it to do what it’s supposed to do.”
She gently took the sulfur stick from Eliza’s hand and replaced it in the box. “Ah. Here it is.” She turned and grinned at Eliza, holding a black ribbon attached to a long, multifaceted purple crystal. “Let’s scry for your beau.”
Eliza reached up to finger her gold locket, her heart pounding with excitement at the idea of Harrison as her beau. But then a picture of Theresa appeared in her mind’s eye, and her chest flooded with guilt. She was consumed by the awful, sour, heavy sensation she felt whenever she allowed herself to recall that Theresa and Harrison were engaged—even if they’d become so under dubious circumstances. For a moment she thought to stop Catherine, even reaching for her arm. But then she remembered Catherine’s belief that Theresa did not love him, and the moment passed.
Catherine grabbed a jar full of what looked like tiny blue pebbles and approached the filled wash basin.
“Do you have anything of Harrison’s?” Catherine asked.
Eliza shook her head, feeling a twist of longing in her gut. “No.”
Catherine’s lips twisted up in thought. “What about something he’s touched?”
Eliza immediately thought of the book Harrison had gifted her, but she’d lied to Catherine about its sender. She shoved aside another pang of guilt.
“My glove!” Eliza said, remembering. She turned and yanked open the top drawer of her bureau, then took out the left glove she had worn the night of the dance. “He held my hand when I was wearing this.”
Her skin tingled at the recollection, and she ran her thumb over the palm of the glove.
“Perfect,” Catherine said, snatching it out of her hand. She tied the crystal’s black ribbon around one of the fingers of the glove, then laid the whole thing aside on their dressing table. “Now, you’ll need to dump the pebbles into the water. Concentrate on an image of Harrison as you do so.”
“All right.”
Eliza took the jar of pebbles and removed the lid. Holding the jar over the washbasin, she closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind’s eye she saw Harrison just as he was on that first day, playing out on the quad with his friends. Then she saw him in the basement of Gwendolyn Hall—his open, frank, interested expression as she spoke to him about
The Jungle
. Then at the dance in his formal wear, his hair combed back from his handsome face, his whisper in her ear . . . She felt a thrill go through her, and she overturned the jar. The tiny pebbles raced into the water with several tiny
plop
s.
“What now?” Eliza asked breathlessly, opening her eyes.
“Hold the crystal over the water,” Catherine said, handing the small bundle—ribbon, glove, and pendant—to Eliza.
Letting the crystal drop from her palm, Eliza dangled it above the basin. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and suddenly felt very silly. Here she was, nearly a grown woman, hoping some trinkets and a bowl of water and rocks would lead her to her true love. Catherine, however, wore a look of serious concentration and determination, so Eliza wiped the smile off her face.
“Repeat after me,” Catherine said. “Spirits from the other side, let your wisdom be my guide, show me the place where this person hides.”
Eliza reached out and took Catherine’s hand in her own.
“Say it with me,” she said. “I know it will work better if you do.”
“Okay,” Catherine replied with a smile, as if flattered.
The two girls held hands, closed their eyes, and recited the incantation.
“Spirits from the other side, let your wisdom be my guide, show me the place where this person hides.”
A light breeze blew Eliza’s hair from her face, and her breath caught. She felt suddenly dizzy, and she wrenched her eyes open in an attempt to steady herself. As she watched, the crystal began to spin above the bowl of its own accord. Eliza clung to Catherine to get her bearings. After a moment, she was able to focus on the miraculous things happening before her.
The crystal spun in a wider and wider circle, and the water in the bowl began to ripple.
“Are they . . . are the pebbles moving?” Eliza gasped, leaning closer as the blue stones at the bottom of the bowl began to jiggle and jerk.
Catherine nodded, her lips pressed together giddily as she held tightly to Eliza’s hand. “It’s really working!”
Then, ever so suddenly, the pebbles arranged themselves at the base of the bowl, the water stopped rippling, and the crystal hung straight. Its tip pointed down at the water like an arrow. Eliza’s heart was in her throat. She could scarcely believe what she’d just seen.
“I don’t understand,” Catherine said. “What does this mean?”
Eliza bent closer to the water, narrowing her eyes as she began to detect a shape among the pebbles. An image came to her: three thick, winding limbs attached close to the base of a trunk—heavy branches, laden with leaves, hanging almost to the ground. “Is that . . . ? Yes! It is! It looks just like the old elm!”
Catherine grabbed the sides of the bowl with both hands and stared. “You’re right!”
“Do you think Harrison’s out there right now?” Eliza asked, barely able to believe what she was saying.
Catherine snatched the crystal from Eliza’s hand and tossed it in the long box, then threw the whole thing back under her bed. The two girls clasped hands and ran down the hallway, nearly flattening Lavender, who was on her way to her room. They laughed as they tripped down the stairs and out the front door, then raced around the back of Crenshaw House to the garden that had been the site of one of their first punishments. Eliza sprinted to the tree, expecting to see Harrison’s blond hair gleaming in the sunlight.
But he wasn’t there.
“I suppose it was too good to be true,” Eliza said, her shoulders slumping.
“The spirits would not have led us to the wrong place.” Catherine strode forward, ducking beneath one of the lower-hanging branches. Eliza watched her, amused. Did she think she was going to find Harrison hanging from the limbs?
“Eliza!” Catherine said, her word but a gasp. “Come quickly!”
Startled, Eliza rushed forward and ducked down. Catherine was holding a piece of white parchment in her shaking hand. “I found this tucked into one of the knots in the trunk.”
“Well?” Eliza prompted. “Open it!”
“But it’s for you.” Catherine held the paper out to Eliza.
Holding her breath, Eliza took the parchment. Inside she found a short note, written in familiar, masculine handwriting. She read it out loud to Catherine.
Eliza,
Would you do me the honor of meeting me this evening in the woods just south of Billings Chapel? I’ll be waiting for you at midnight.
Yours,
Harrison Knox
The word
yours
brought a warm blush to Eliza’s cheeks.
“Thank you, Catherine. I never would have found this without
you.” She stepped toward her friend. “There’s something I should tell you. That book? The one I received our second day here? It wasn’t from my father. It was from Harrison. I’m sorry I lied.”
“I understand,” Catherine replied. “How could you have known to trust me back then?” She reached for Eliza’s hand and squeezed it. “But I hope you know you can trust me now.”
Eliza grinned. “I trust you above anyone, Catherine White.”
She was just about to fold the note and tuck it away in the pocket of her skirt when she caught a glimpse through the thick leaves of someone rapidly approaching. She froze.
“Miss Eliza?”
Eliza’s heart dropped. “Helen? Is that you?”
Helen ducked under the low branches and stood next to Eliza, her hands folded in front of her skirt. She glanced at Catherine, then at the piece of parchment trembling in Eliza’s hand. Her face went ashen, and she took a step back.
“Mr. Harrison Knox sent word through one of the Easton servants that he had left something for you at the tree,” Helen said. “I was to give you the message. How did you know it was—”
She stopped abruptly as Eliza and Catherine exchanged a look.
“Oh. I see,” she said, her tone shifting completely.
Eliza felt as if she had been kicked in the chest. What, exactly, did Helen see?
“Aren’t Harrison Knox and Theresa Billings betrothed?” Helen asked.
Eliza’s skin burned. She opened her mouth to speak, but Catherine
stepped up and touched her arm, stopping her. “Our affairs are none of your concern, Helen,” she said. “You’ve delivered your message. Kindly leave us.”
Helen’s face hardened as she dipped into a quick curtsy. “Yes, Miss White.”
Then she ducked under the branches and was gone.
Suddenly Eliza’s breath was coming at an alarming rate. She looked at the ground and fought to calm it, pressing one hand against the comforting strength of a thick tree limb.
“Are you all right, Eliza?” Catherine asked.
“You needn’t have spoken to her that way,” Eliza replied, bringing Harrison’s note to her chest. “I think you’ve upset her.”
“Well, as much as I like the girl, she has no right to judge you,” Catherine replied, supporting Eliza with an arm around her back. “No one does.”
Eliza took a deep breath in through her nose and blew it out through her mouth. “You don’t think she’ll tell Theresa, do you?” Eliza asked, looking off in the direction in which Helen had disappeared.
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell on us before, but who knows if her discretion or her loyalty to the Billings family will win out?”
Eliza nodded and rolled her shoulders back, trying to appear collected, but that look in Helen’s eyes had unnerved her. She had a feeling that Helen Jennings was not a good person to have as an enemy. And she hoped the young maid hadn’t just become one.
Eliza’s hands fidgeted with the folds of the skirt on her favorite navy blue dress, the one with the buttons all up the side of the sleeves and the wide boatneck collar that showed off her gold locket perfectly. Harrison was going to love it. If he ever got a chance to see her in it.
“Here’s a good one!” Theresa announced from behind the podium at the center of the temple. “The Genius Spell.”
It was Theresa who had called this last-minute meeting of the coven, then announced to the others that they were going to go through the book of spells, page by page, and make a list of the next ten spells they would try. The other members of the coven were all gathered around in a circle, seated in rickety wooden chairs they had lugged down from the storage closet. Marilyn yawned, which caused Genevieve to yawn as well. Jane, Bia, and Viola were focused on Theresa, but Clarissa looked bored as she gazed up at the ceiling, and
Lavender and Catherine were both working on literature homework at Eliza’s side.