“It wasn’t who she had been or who she was. It wasn’t what she taught me. It was how she loved.”
Severine loved Sister Mary Chastity because Sister Mary Chastity had loved Severine as deeply and truly as any mother loved any child. Severine had never felt loved until Sister Mary Chastity, and Sister Mary Chastity had loved her hard enough to last Severine a lifetime.
“What is it that you like to do, Mr. Thorne?” Lisette asked him and then glanced pointedly at Severine.
“Me?” He laughed a little awkwardly. “Oh, I suppose the normal things. I like to read, you know. A good game of billiards. Dinner with friends. Sailing. Rowing. Music. Perhaps, a good cigar and coffee with friends.”
“That’s so many things,” Lisette said as pointedly as before. Then, because apparently Mr. Thorne had received Lisette’s approval, she said, “Severine is struggling now that she’s returned from that other life of hers.”
“Are you?” He grinned at her. “Perhaps a notebook. Make a list. Try things that weren’t possibilities as a child or at the convent.”
Severine nodded.
“Don’t let it bother you,” he comforted. “I’ve felt a bit outside of my skin a few times. When I went away to school the first time, when I came home, coming here. It settles down.”
Severine sipped her coffee in answer and then lifted her hand to block the sun. The wind was building and there were dark clouds in the distance. A storm seemed in the offing, and she wondered if the way her hair stood on end was because of a natural or preternatural ruckus that seemed sure to break over them soon.
Chapter Seven
“Are you ready then?” Severine asked.
Their trunks had been sent up with Mr. Brand a few hours earlier than they were going to arrive. They had a basket stuffed with food from Lisette’s mother: Crab po-boys, lobster rolls, apples to see them through the journey. Along with the dogs and their leads, and a few other incidentals, the Rolls-Royce was a bit stuffed.
Severine was wearing a simple black skirt, a white collared blouse, a black tie around her neck, and a black cardigan over the top. She felt if her hair were in braids rather than floating around her shoulders, she could be a schoolgirl once again. Lisette, on the other hand, wore a pink and green day dress that screamed spring.
Severine focused on what she’d packed into the car to avoid the feeling of her heart in her throat. It was good that she hadn’t learned to drive well enough yet to be behind the wheel. She’d put the shiny new thing in a ditch with her thoughts wandering.
“I can’t believe I’m driving this,” Lisette squealed, glancing at Severine and then letting her hands run over the wheel again.
Given it was difficult to handle, Severine said, “Better you than me.”
Lisette snorted and the engine roared to life. The drive out of New Orleans and towards the house in the country would take two or three hours, and they were starting late. The skies were gray in the distance and her dogs were restless in the back of the car. Severine leaned her back against the seat, her mind encompassed with the last few days.
After the Spirit Society evening, Clive had visited every morning and it had been impossible to rid herself of him. He had been with her when everyone in the city who had known her parents had dropped by to convey their welcome, their belated condolences, and to leave with gossip for the coming days.
She had met business partners, relatives who’d never written, supposed friends, and was reacquainted with cousins she could barely remember.
Lisette glanced at Severine and then back to the road. Her dark cheeks were flushed with joy and Severine left her to the driving.
She had made a list of everyone who had visited and another of everyone who were members of the Spirit Society. While she’d been comparing those, Mr. Brand had bribed the police and received a copy of the file that had been kept on her parents’ murder. Included was a list of those who had been invited to the party, those who were in attendance the night of her parents’ death, and those who had been interviewed.
Severine had compared them all and the list was huge. Through her lashes, she read name after name. Very few did she have any memory of at all. Some, however, she remembered, like ‘Uncle’ Brantley who had been her father’s partner. He kept a tin of hot cinnamon candy in his coat and whenever he saw her, he’d offer her a piece.
“Careful now,” he’d say, “it’s hot as Hades.” He never got tired of the joke and he never got tired of thinking it quite funny that Severine would calmly take a piece, place it in the center of her tongue, and be unbothered by the heat.
When he’d visited her, he’d shaken his head at the sight of her and said, “Your father is in you, Severine. It’s like he’s come back to stare me down once again with those eyes of yours.”
She hadn’t known what to say to that, so she’d mentioned his son and watched his scowl grow deeper. Either way, it had changed the subject and she’d watched him as he paced around the drawing room as he had when she’d been the silent waif in the corner and her father had been the one to whom he had been speaking.
Severine looked up when the first drop of water hit the windshield. They were at least an hour, if not more, from the house, and when she looked behind them, she saw the worried eyes of Anubis and the shaking girls. The rain was dark and heavy in the distance, and there was a clear line of demarcation between the dark clouds behind them and the slightly gray clouds over their heads.
“I think we’re in for it, Lisette.”
Lisette’s answer
