So Enchanting (4 page)
Chapter Three
Like her? Touched by magic? Francesca sank back in her chair, amazed.
For the next hour, she listened to Colonel Chase recount the facts of his daughter’s life. Motherless since she was a toddler, Amelie had been raised in India until a few years ago, when the colonel had retired from the military, returning to England so that Amelie might become “a proper lady.” Until recently their lives in England had been unremarkable. But this winter, around the time of Amelie’s eleventh birthday, strange events had begun to occur in her vicinity: pictures flew from the walls, vases tipped over, and cutlery slid from its place setting.
Unfortunately, many of these incidents had taken place in the public eye. Rumors had begun to spread. Invitations had dropped off. Far worse, a sect of religious fanatics had denounced Amelie as being possessed by a demon, saying her father had sold her soul to the devil for the fortune with which he’d returned from India.
Colonel Chase, the recipient of many medals for courage, had been shaken to his core by an anonymous letter exhorting him to rid his house of the witch inhabiting it. Other letters had followed, the threats in them escalating.
“The last said that it is a sin to suffer a witch to live,” he said.
“But you don’t really think your daughter is in danger?”
His answer was unnecessary. His broad hand shook as he reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. He returned it to its saucer before replying. “My dear, twenty years ago I would have said no. But that was before I witnessed firsthand what a mob is capable of when lashed into a frenzy of fear.”
His gaze focused on the view across the river. “There was a girl who some villagers suspected had put a curse on their cattle.” He shuddered. “She did not survive the mob.”
“But that was in India,” Fanny protested. “This is England. We are civilized here.”
He shook his head adamantly. “There is no civilized place. Some veneers are just thicker than others. But they are all veneers. Beneath them lurks a mob waiting for an excuse to erupt into savagery.
“London is run amok with rumors of witchcraft and devil worship, exacerbated by the Whitechapel murders and that monster that dubbed himself ‘the Ripper. ’ So, yes, I do think Amelie is in danger. I have gone to the police, but they either can or will do nothing.”
He stopped, his jaw bunching with ill-controlled emotion. “Well, I
can
do something. I refuse to take chances with her life. That’s why I’m sending her to Scotland as soon as possible.”
can
do something. I refuse to take chances with her life. That’s why I’m sending her to Scotland as soon as possible.”
He leaned forward. “I have a hunting lodge in the Highlands, in as remote a location as one could find, surrounded by mountains and bordered by a river. The only population nearby is a tiny hamlet so small and isolated, one would immediately recognize a stranger. It is my intention to live there until I am confident there is no threat to Amelie here.”
Fanny wasn’t certain how to reply. “But why should you wish to tell me your plans?”
His gaze lifted to meet hers. “I was hoping that you would come with us. I came to offer you a situation.”
He’d caught her completely off guard. “A situation? As what?”
“Well, officially as Amelie’s governess, I suppose.”
“But I—I haven’t any qualifications as a governess,” she stammered, nonplussed. She had no qualifications as anything, for that matter.
“Nonsense, Mrs. Brown,” the colonel said.
“I prefer Mrs. Walcott, please.” It was her mother’s maiden name, and as there was no one left on that side of the family to protest her use of it, and she refused to use Alphonse Brown’s, she’d adopted it as her own.
He nodded. “You are infinitely qualified, Mrs. Walcott. You have received a lady’s education, you clearly have a cool and unexcitable nature, and you have polish and address,” he said.
Cool and unexcitable. Yes. Of course, because she did not dare be anything else.
“Surely you ran your husband’s household?” he suggested.
She had, actually. Alphonse had claimed he was too spiritual to deal with the mundane matters of daily life and so left them to her. She had enjoyed it tremendously, not only the managing of the household, but dealing with the tradespeople, who, being less gullible than their gentrified counterparts, assumed she was a fraud and treated her accordingly, with a knowing wink and an admiring grin for “tuppin’ the toffs right smart.”
Those had been her happiest hours as Alphonse’s wife, because even though she knew the tradespeople thought she was a swindler, she was just a normal swindler. How wonderful it had been. Though she did wonder what
tup
meant. . . .
tup
meant. . . .
“Whatever else you need to know, I can teach you. I did have a garrison under my command, you know,” Colonel Chase was saying. He studied her approvingly. “I suspect you would have made a first-rate lieutenant.”
A lieutenant? The idea surprised a smile from her. Yes. She would have liked to be in a position of command, to have a say over the direction of her life. It would be a pleasant change.
“But most important, you are like Amelie.”
Her smile faded. “No, sir. You are wrong. I am not like your daughter, and if you hope I can teach her how to control what power it is you imagine she has, I cannot. Inanimate objects do not take flight in my vicinity.”
A trace of desperation flickered in the colonel’s eyes, and Francesca noted how tired he looked. Her heart went out to him. He truly loved his daughter.
“The poltergeist activity is currently the only manifestation, but she is barely twelve, Mrs. Walcott. I do not know what the future holds. I need someone who is familiar with such things, who will not be unnerved by them. Someone with a good heart.”
She looked away. It had been a long time since she’d examined the condition of her heart.
“I remember seeing you when you were a child,” he said softly. “You always seemed such a happy, high-spirited girl. It was a pity. Not only what happened to your brother but what it did to you. Amelie is like you were before . . . before. I don’t want her to change.
“I need someone who has insight into what my child might be experiencing, who can prepare her for the world before she is put into it.”
The phrasing struck Francesca as odd, but she was too intrigued by his proposition to question it. She was so tired of being alone. Even married to Alphonse, she’d been fundamentally different, separate.
Lonely
, an inner voice whispered. Colonel Chase was offering her much more than employment. Still, she had to be forthright.
Lonely
, an inner voice whispered. Colonel Chase was offering her much more than employment. Still, she had to be forthright.
“I doubt I am the example for which you are looking,” she said regretfully. “I have hardly made a smashing success of my own entrance into society.”
He was kind, a little pitying. “You haven’t been
in
society, my dear. You have been one of its many sideshows.”
in
society, my dear. You have been one of its many sideshows.”
Well, that was bluntly spoken.
He heard her involuntary inhalation and reached out to pat her hand. It had been years since someone had offered her the comfort of a simple touch. “I am a confoundedly plainspoken man. I am sorry, my dear.”
“Don’t be.” She met his eye. “I am sick to death of subtlety and equivocation.”
She meant it. The colonel’s candor was like a cleansing plunge in icy water. Every word Alphonse had uttered, both to his clients and to her, had been framed to suggest rather than affirm, to evade rather than illuminate.
“Allow me to return the favor,” she said. “I was a willing participant in that sideshow. I helped my husband deceive his . . .
our
clients.”
our
clients.”
For a long moment, the colonel did not reply. He stared down at the coffee in his china cup. Fanny did not interrupt his thoughts, reflecting on her past.
She’d come to terms with her part in Alphonse’s schemes. She’d been desperate to believe only good of the boyish-looking man who’d arrived at her family’s country estate while her family was in London for Jeanne’s debut. He’d claimed some nebulous family connection, and her elderly cousin hadn’t questioned him too closely, but neither had she.
He began wooing her almost at once. He’d heard of her through mutual acquaintances and been struck by their similarities. He himself had the power to speak to the spirit world. She wasn’t a freak; she was exceptional. She needn’t hide her affinity with God’s creatures; she must celebrate it. He would teach her how. Such abilities as they possessed were gifts to be used to serve mankind.
The idea seemed revelatory to Fanny. Here was someone who embraced his affliction, saw it as a boon rather than a curse. It never occurred to her that he was lying. How credulous she’d been at seventeen. Even though credulous, she hadn’t been a fool. She knew her parents would never agree to the match. So they eloped.
Despite his promises, it was quickly clear that Alphonse had had no better idea than she of how to control her affinity with animals. He was disappointed when he realized that it was only when her emotions were completely engaged that creatures answered her call. He bullied, pestered, begged, and cajoled her to find some way to make use of her “gift.” She owed it to him. She owed it to people “waiting for a sign of grace in this graceless world.”
When she had finally managed the briefest of voluntary connections, Alphonse had been overjoyed. Within weeks he’d figured out a way to put it to use, having her call creatures to the room while he was holding séances, then suggesting to their credulous clients that the sounds they heard had otherworldly origins. A brilliant bit of marketing.
She hadn’t protested when Alphonse had explained that they were simply aiding the faithless to believe what he knew for a certainty to be true: that angels surrounded the living. Why? Because she was a fool who had for four years pretended she believed him because she desperately wanted to think her life had value.
“There is no possible way anyone would willingly put an impressionable child in my care,” she murmured. Looking up to find Colonel Chase’s gaze on her, she added, “You should look elsewhere for your daughter ’s companion.”
He studied her intently for a few moments before his expression relaxed. “I think not,” he said. “I long ago discovered that experience is the best teacher. You have had experiences that can help guide my daughter. Imagine, Mrs. Walcott, if you had had the benefit of your current knowledge at Amelie’s age. What would you do differently?”
Never, ever allow anyone to know what I am
.
.
He saw her indecision. “You will be well compensated, I assure you. I am a very wealthy man, and when your term of employment is ended, you will have the wherewithal to do whatever you want with the rest of your life. Come now, Mrs. Walcott. You are still a very young woman. Barely a decade older than my daughter. Think of your future.”
She was, but she also was thinking of Amelie Chase’s future. “Colonel Chase, you cannot want your daughter’s prospects tainted through an association with me.”
“Bah.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Give London a new sensation and you will be forgotten. Why, in a few years no one will even recall your name. Time will have its way, Mrs. Walcott. I guarantee it. I’m counting on it. Come, my dear. Name your price.”
A few years? How dearly Fanny would like to have a reprieve from her past. Some time to figure out her options. Time to start again. She was still young. Barely twenty-one.
She hesitated. Colonel Chase’s proposal had planted a seed of hope in her heart.
If
he agreed to her price.
If
he agreed to her price.
“I tell you what,” he cajoled. “Give me your terms and I’ll consider them while we go meet Amelie. If, having met my daughter, you decide you won’t suit, then that’s the end of it. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Now, tell me what it is you want.” His eyes were kindly interested, but there was a resolute determination there, too. He would have his way. “Anything. You have but to name it.”
“A clean slate.”
He blinked, then grinned broadly. “My dear, as far as I’m concerned the past few years never happened.”
“No. I mean, a clean slate to present to the world. Should I agree, from this day on I am an unremarkable woman without a hint of anything unusual in my past. No one is to know to whom I was wed, my maiden name, or any part of my history other than that which I, and I alone, choose to disclose.” The waiter came over to replenish their coffee. She waited until he’d left before continuing.
“So that
if
I accept your offer, when the time comes for us to part, I shall have established an identity that begins today, as . . . ” She hesitated, making it up as she went along. “As the widow of one of your junior officers, Fanny Walcott. Francesca Burns, your neighbor ’s fey child, will be no more.”
if
I accept your offer, when the time comes for us to part, I shall have established an identity that begins today, as . . . ” She hesitated, making it up as she went along. “As the widow of one of your junior officers, Fanny Walcott. Francesca Burns, your neighbor ’s fey child, will be no more.”
“Done!” he agreed, slapping his palm against the table. “You’ll find Amelie a most discreet child.”
She shook her head, holding his gaze. “The list of those exempt from knowing my past includes your daughter.” She would not set herself up as some sort of mystical mentor, some Merlin in modern dress. If she were to have any chance for a normal existence, she must start now to re-create herself as a normal woman. She must
be
a normal woman.
be
a normal woman.
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