Which meant Quinn Raven was one of them. “Go on,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “Go on.”
“That’s it. It takes something and multiplies it indefinitely. Do you not understand the repercussions of a spell like that finding its way into the wrong hands? Indefinitely. Disease, blessings, curses, ideals—”
“Ideals?” Elsie repeated.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” The sharpness of his tone pierced the room.
Elsie hardly noticed. Her mind was spinning. Merton had been displaced from her family. Raised in a workhouse. Reduced to begging and coercion in order to improve her station and become a spellmaker.
She’d visited workhouses to offer blessings before all this. Quite the Christian, donating to peace efforts, Duchess Morris had said.
She’d railed against the rich, likening the differences in class to a war.
Raven was talking again, but Elsie wasn’t listening.
What if she and Merton both wanted the same thing?
“Can it force people to cooperate?” she asked. “To share their resources and get along?”
Raven growled. “I told you, you have to speak up—”
“The contagion spell,” Elsie said. “Can it spread peace, like a mass-blessing spell?” She thought of Ogden. “Or perhaps force obedience?”
Bacchus gave her a curious look.
Raven hesitated again. “Theoretically, yes.”
“What if your spell were used to disperse a spiritual spell capable of controlling others?” Bacchus murmured. “What then?” Before Raven could rail against him for speaking too softly, Elsie repeated the sentiment, louder.
Raven was quiet for nearly a minute. “That would be a terrible way to use it.”
Emmeline said, “Why? What’s so awful about forcing people to share and get along?”
He scoffed. “You English and your ideals. Why? Freedom. Can you imagine forced pacifism spreading like a plague across cities, countries, continents? Stripping people of their free will?”
“Guaranteeing equality no matter what the cost.” Elsie rubbed a chill from her arms. That might not be it, but based on what Merton had related to her over the years . . . it felt right. Yes, Merton could have been lying about her ideals, her aims, but there’d been such unity to the messages, and some of the earlier tasks she’d been given had indeed helped the less fortunate. Ultimately, it didn’t matter—it would be a disaster if a serial murderer in the possession of dozens of opuses got hold of a spell like that.
And only Raven knew it. He had absorbed it, hence the missing drops. It would be the only way for an aspector to know, definitely, that a spell was legitimate. If the drops didn’t absorb, the spell was fraudulent or the aspector wasn’t powerful enough to cast it. If they did . . .
“Meet with us.” Bacchus stepped up to the projection. “Talk with us. Help us find a way to stop her.”
“I think not.”
“Yes, you will,” Elsie pressed. “Because you have to. Because if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have been in hiding so long. You wouldn’t have sought me out. You wouldn’t be talking to us now. Because some day you will die, and you can’t allow your opus to be found by someone like Lily Merton.”
The colors of the projection shifted, and Elsie could almost feel Quinn Raven staring at her.
Then it winked out entirely.
Emmeline squeaked.
“He’ll be back.” Elsie hugged herself, staring at the corner where the American had been. “He has to come back.”
Because he was part of this, and even if Merton’s “death” had limited her in some ways, she wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. That was a truth Elsie understood without the aid of any spell.
CHAPTER 21
Ogden returned from Rochester on Thursday with a grim look on his face. As Elsie had expected, he’d found no leads on Merton. Every mind he’d pierced believed her to be dead.
Granted, updating him about Master Raven’s visit had instantly lifted his spirits. Which was a very good thing come Saturday, as he was giving Elsie away.
Today.
She was getting married today.
She leaned against the wall beside the door in Emmeline’s room, which had been restored to its original appearance. Rainer and John, Bacchus’s servants from Barbados, had already taken her belongings to their new London home. Her cream-colored dress draping her perfectly; her hair coifed, curled, and pinned; both hands pressed to her stomach as she struggled to breathe. And her corset wasn’t even that tight.
Emmeline stepped into the room, carrying a basket of flower petals that would be used for the aisle in the chapel. One look at Elsie had her mouth and eyes forming perfect O’s.
“Everything will be fine!” Emmeline assured her, rubbing a hand up and down Elsie’s arm.
Elsie shook her head. Everything would not be fine. She’d barely slept last night. She hadn’t been able to stomach breakfast. She couldn’t breathe.
A frown curved Emmeline’s lips. “Really, I think Master Kelsey will make a fine husband—”
“It’s not Master Kelsey.” Her response was airy. “Believe me, Em, I want to marry Bacchus with everything I am. But something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it in my bones. I won’t be allowed this happiness.”
Emmeline laughed. “You’re too young to feel it in your bones! And everything will be perfect. I’ve prayed for you every day this week.”
Elsie couldn’t help but smile at the kind sentiment. “Thank you.” She swallowed. “They’re not all gathering around the church, are they?” They were to have a very small wedding. Elsie wouldn’t have agreed to announce it in the paper if not for the need to make a show for Lord Harold Astley, the magistrate who had agreed to release Elsie from prison. She couldn’t regret that they’d done so, of course, for it had brought Reggie to her.
Emmeline looked away. “Well, they are curious. Oh, Elsie. Deep breaths.”
Elsie did as told. A few gulps of air later, she said, “Merton is still out there. Master Raven could decide to pop in at any time. Master Phillips has been released from his spell . . . Surely Merton has taken over a new lackey by now. And he or she will show up and murder us all.”
“Elsie—”
“He’s not going to be there,” she said, throat constricting. “I’m going to show up, and they’ll ring those church bells, and he won’t be at the end of the aisle. And the whole town will see, and I’ll be humiliated.”
Emmeline set down the basket and took both of Elsie’s hands in hers. Elsie’s fingers were ice; Emmeline’s were as warm as freshly baked bread. “You are a silly woman. The way he looks at you . . . There’s no way he won’t be there. I saw him leave for the church myself this morning.”
Elsie squeezed her friend’s hands. “There’s still time for him to change his mind.” It would wreck her if he did. She’d become a recluse. Never leave the house. Perhaps adopt a cat.
Her hopes had gotten so high, despite her best efforts to contain them. She wouldn’t survive the fall this time. Not with Bacchus.
Emmeline kissed Elsie’s cheek. “It will be a beautiful wedding. And short.”
Elsie filled her lungs to bursting and nodded. It would be brief. The customary dinner was to have taken place at Seven Oaks, but they’d cut it from the program given the uncertain situation with the duke and duchess.
“You look beautiful, and the dress is perfect,” Emmeline assured her.
A soft laugh escaped Elsie’s mouth. She pushed off the wall, standing of her own accord. “I suppose if something horrible does happen, staying in here isn’t going to stop it.”