Princess of Glass - Jessica Day George [44]
From her hiding place, Ellen could see that Roger was with Poppy, and she felt a stab of jealousy. They moved close to the stairs just below where Ellen stood, and she strained to listen.
“He’s already spoken to her, and she’s gone,” Poppy said.
“From the house?” Roger sounded alarmed.
“No, just from his study,” Poppy said. “But he won’t tell me what she said.”
“He’s deeply disturbed by all this.”
“I’ve been wondering,” Poppy said, but then stopped.
“Yes?” Roger moved closer to her, and Ellen gritted her teeth.
“I’ve been wondering about Lord Richard’s gambling.”
“But he doesn’t gamble,” Roger pointed out.
“He doesn’t anymore ,” Poppy said. “But he used to, and he always won. And then one day he just quit. Do you think, perhaps, that he made some deal with a magician or someone like that, so that he would always win?”
“It’s possible, I suppose,” Roger mused. “And it was when you said that Eleanora was always covered in soot that he turned pale. Perhaps he has an idea who Eleanora might have dealt with.”
“If that’s so, then it can’t have been someone very nice,” Poppy said. “I’ve never seen Lord Richard look so frightened.”
“But why isn’t Eleanora frightened, then?”
“Possibly because she’s too foolish to know better,” Poppy said. Ellen’s jaws were clenched so tightly together now that her teeth squeaked. “But possibly because she hasn’t seen the true face of what she’s dealing with yet. Black magic can appear harmless when it wants to.”
“Very true,” Roger said. Then he and Poppy moved toward the front door and she showed him out.
Ellen came out of her hiding place, straightened her cap where the curtain had knocked it askew, and marched down the steps as though she hadn’t just been cowering at the top of them, eavesdropping. As Poppy came back across the entrance hall, she caught Ellen’s eye but didn’t say anything. Ellen bobbed a curtsy at the princess, then went through the little door under the stairs that led to the servants’ quarters.
Perhaps her godmother was a little unfeeling about Ellen’s hurt feet, or her desire to be rid of her maid’s uniform for good. But why would she help Ellen at all if she didn’t want her goddaughter to make a brilliant marriage and live happily with a prince till the end of her days?
It wasn’t as if the Corley stood to benefit!
Magician
Why does magic always smell so awful?” Poppy lifted the lid of the pot and then dropped it back with a clatter. “This is making my eyes water!”
“Then stop lifting the lid!” Roger, in shirtsleeves, frowned at her. Or perhaps he was just frowning at the book propped open before him. He picked up a bundle of herbs, pulled off three leaves, and lifted the lid himself to throw them in.
Holding her nose when the steam wafted toward her, Poppy watched him with watering eyes. They were in the still-room at the Thwaites’ manor, using an ancient text Roger had picked up on his travels to concoct a potion that would release the drinker from the Corley’s spell.
Or so they hoped.
Roger’s grasp of Shijn, the language of the text, was fairly good, but he was by no means fluent. And there was no guarantee that this would work on the Corley’s specific enchantment. It was meant to be a cure for love sickness, which was the nearest thing they could find to the Ella obsession that their friends suffered from. Even now, Dickon was upstairs, writing sonnets to his new love, while back at Seadown House, Marianne was writing “Ella” on scraps of paper and then burning them.
Catching herself reaching for the lid again, Poppy retreated to