Spellmaker

Elsie went through the interrogation she’d rehearsed that morning, questions she thought would sound official and scholarly, pertinent to a spellbreaker. She started with simple ones, about the spiritual discipline and its effects, then went personal. Why had Duchess Morris chosen that discipline? How had magic affected her life? And then brought it back around—when had Duchess Morris needed a spellbreaker, and how efficient were they?

“I don’t often hire them. I’m essentially retired from magic. A lady of my stature doesn’t work.” She twisted a dark curl around her index finger and released it. Bacchus had once said Duchess Morris had burned out, which meant she’d reached the peak of her learnable spells and could no longer progress, but Elsie knew better than to mention it. “But on occasion a hired hand will make a mistake. The usual.”

Or you need to change the shape of your nose, she thought. Feeling the duchess at ease, Elsie tried, “If you’ll excuse the interjection, Duchess Morris, something about you is very familiar. You’re not the kind of woman who can be mistaken for anyone else.”

She seemed pleased by the assertion. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” She glanced to Bacchus. “Is it . . . Are you chummy with Master Merton, by chance?”

Her face lit up. “I am! How did you know?”

Bacchus said, “Master Merton has dined with the Duke and Duchess of Kent on numerous occasions.”

Duchess Morris rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m not surprised. She’s all about recruitment, especially for women, for whatever reason. She’ll go just about anywhere. She doesn’t have an estate or family of her own to attend to, so she has the time.”

Elsie squeezed Bacchus’s arm, as if to say, I know, she’s ridiculous. Just wait it out a little longer.

Picking through the duchess’s words, Elsie grabbed on to what felt most useful. “No estate? Has she not been in her mastership for some time?”

“Oh, yes. Shortly before I earned mine.” Duchess Morris again toyed with her hair. “But she has no natural inheritance. She’s not even English, you know.”

Elsie started. “She’s not?” She looked English, sounded English.

“Oh yes.” She waved a bored hand, as though the conversation had lost her interest now that the focus had drifted from her. “Fled Russia with her parents during that war. They died off somehow, and she wound up in a workhouse somewhere around here. She mentioned it once a long time ago, in school.”

Elsie’s mind was racing enough to kick up dust. Russia? Did Duchess Morris mean the Crimean War? Merton was certainly old enough; she had to be nearing sixty. She would have been . . . what, Emmeline’s age when that happened?

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Bacchus said, covering for Elsie’s silent stupor.

“Oh, yes.” Elsie nodded. “That is tragic.”

Duchess Morris shrugged. “It was a long time ago. She never talks of it anymore. You know how some people are, bringing up their sad stories over and over again for attention. Not Lily.”

Pressing her luck, Elsie asked, “Do you remember how she made it to the atheneum? Workhouses . . . are hard to leave behind.” She knew from experience. And spellmaking was expensive, besides.

The duchess sighed. “The only way poor riffraff can, Miss Camden. She made the sponsorship lottery.”

Bacchus said, “And you took her under your wing. How very kind of you, to reach out to someone so below your station.”

A surprising shock of sadness flashed across Duchess Morris’s face. “Oh, of course. There was a time when . . .” She sat up straighter in her chair. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Do you have any more questions for me?”

“Oh please, Duchess Morris.” Elsie clamped her hands together in the folds of her skirt. “I would love to hear your tale of charity.” Tell us everything you can, please.

The duchess pursed her lips and studied Elsie. For a moment, Elsie worried she had gone too far. But the kind words must have had the intended effect, for Duchess Morris’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “It was so long ago. Let’s just say my fool father took it into his head to humble the entirety of his family.” She sniffed. “So I suppose Lily and I took each other under wing, until I made my match.” She gestured weakly to the portrait of the duke on the wall. “Lily is a good person. Quite the Christian, donating to peace efforts and, I don’t know, feeding the poor or some nonsense. Always was dedicated to her sponsor more than anyone else. She even supported him financially, in his old age. Very distraught when he passed on. I haven’t seen Lily since . . .”

Duchess Morris tapped her chin. If she was thinking back, she might be considering the hat shop and the incident there—

Elsie tapped Bacchus’s shoe with her own.