The conservatory was heated by steam and was as warm in this late-fall day as the warmest summer in Chicago - which was quite warm indeed. The conservatory was quite an affair of glass, wood, and wrought-iron, with graveled paths to walk on and wrought-iron benches placed at intervals for seating. In the main greenhouse, the largest one, was the expected tropical paradise, this one complete with two fountains, a waterfall, and towering palm trees.
There was another aspect of this delightful place she had missed in the dark, however-the birds. There were dozens of tiny, brightly-colored birds about the size of a wren flitting among the trees and bushes, bathing in the shallow pools and basins, and helping themselves to half-hidden feeders full of seeds and fruit. She recognized canaries both brown and yellow, but the others were new and entirely baffling. Their twittering blended pleasantly with the falling water, and by placing the benches in open spaces, away from overhanging branches, the unpleasant but inevitable droppings at least were not lurking on the seats.
There were four greenhouses attached to the main one. One held vegetables, one was clearly a forcing- house for flowers, and one for more tropical plants, both to decorate the mansion and to replace others in the conservatory. But the fourth one held herbs-and most of those herbs she didn't recognize.
More of Cameron's obsession with magic? Perhaps; many of the books she had been reading specified odd plants and herbs as components of spell-casting and ritual.
Or he could simply have a very sophisticated cook.
She took her book back to the conservatory and settled onto a bench to read.
In part because the book itself was so well-written, and in part because the concepts were not altogether foreign to her, she finished it quickly and closed the book on the last page just as the sun began to set. She remained with the book closed in her lap, thinking.
If one simply began with the assumption that there is some power that can be tapped with these cantrips and incantations ... there is a logic about all this that is difficult to dismiss out of hand.
It had not been all that long ago that the mysterious force of electricity had been as arcane as any of this magic. Claims of what it could do-besides providing light and heat-were still being made for it that were similar to those made for spells.
Was she being logical, or close-minded? Until now, she would have opted for the former without hesitation. Her understanding of the world was firm-until she read this book that was as reasoned as any of those modern books on science back there in the library.
The sun set, the birds settled into to groups to sleep for the night, some of them packing themselves five and six at a time into round basket-nests made of gourds. The fountains and waterfall continued to play, filling the usual silence of the house with welcome music.
And that, in itself, set off another train of thought. Usual silence ... I have become so accustomed to it, that I haven't thought about it. But there are no sounds of people, ever, anywhere in this place. No sounds of cooking in the kitchen, not even a whisper or a footfall. Yet this place is kept clean, meals are prepared, the animals tended- and the only human I have ever seen within these four walls is Paul du Mond.
She might have said, jestingly, that it was all done by magic. But what if that was no jest, but a fact?
I feel very much as if I have been sleep-walking and have awakened to find myself in a foreign land! She had been lured by the isolation of this place, and by the fact that she wanted that isolation, into ignoring the fact that she did not want the company of others about her. She did not want anyone to know that she was nothing more than a glorified servant in someone else's home, especially not other servants. As long as she could remain in her beautiful, luxurious suite without anyone seeing her here, she could pretend she was not Cameron's paid hireling, but a guest.
So she had willfully put the inconsistency of a huge, well-run establishment without any sign of a menial about completely out of her mind. She had purposefully closed her eyes to things that should have been screaming at her.
Or was I 'encouraged' to ignore these things?
The book had also hinted that the power of magic-or rather, 'Magick'-could be used to influence the thoughts and even actions of others. Had Cameron been playing with her mind?
A chill ran down the back of her neck, and spread over her entire body. If that was the case, what else could he have been doing to her? Could he be-
Her vision of the world and her common sense warred with what she had observed in this place, and now she was no longer certain of what was true and what was false.
There could be an even more sinister, yet completely mundane explanation. Cameron might be drugging her food, keeping her sleeping so soundly that the noise of staff working in the morning didn't disturb her. Then, once she was awake, he banished the staff to somewhere else on the estate so that she would not come into contact with them. Why he would do something like that, she had no idea-but a man who engineered a plot like that one was hardly sane.
But the situation as it stood was no longer tenable. 'I have to talk with him,' she said aloud. 'I have to
