“For your purposes, perhaps, but I needed to ensure he doesn’t come sniffing for other reasons.”
Olive tilted her head. “What other reasons?”
Madame patted her hand just like Mrs. Godfrey did. “Never you mind. Shall we use the crystal ball while we wait?”
“Oh no. Thank you. But I don’t really…”
“Tarot, then.” Madame sprang to her feet and lifted a stack of cards from her cabinet. “Oh, please. Let me give you a reading. I haven’t had this much fun in such a long time.”
“Won’t Mr. Anderson be back shortly?”
The medium waved a dismissive hand in the air. “He’ll need a few more minutes to sort through all the things I left out.”
“All right,” she said weakly.
Madame Celestia sank into her seat, a colorful deck of cards flowing between her hands as she shuffled them.
“Do you have any questions about the future?”
“All I have are questions.”
“Then I’ll give you one of my own special readings. I learned this from a spiritualist in upstate New York last summer. She spent the summer in Paris, studying under a man who reads for French royalty. And he learned from an Egyptian fellow who spent a decade traveling the world and mastering the art.” She paused and looked up with a brilliant smile. “Meaning everything I say today is straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Olive gripped her hands tightly in her lap. “If you say so.”
The spiritualist fell silent, her attention returning to her deck. She shuffled the cards slowly, lovingly, nodding occasionally or giving a slight shake of her head. At last, she stopped.
“Now, Miss Becket, these cards are a doorway to a realm of understanding beyond man’s knowledge. They will reveal a message the future wishes you to know.”
Olive straightened and nodded mutely.
Madame flipped over the first card. “The chariot. A powerful card. Some think the chariot indicates a physical journey, but it can also be a journey of the spirit. But more than that, it represents achievement, a pinnacle, a climax of sorts. The journey might not be painless, but the real danger lies in remaining still. In maintaining tradition. The good news is that you will overcome these hardships. The future tells us so.”
Olive’s heart pounded. She wasn’t sure she believed any of it, but wasn’t she already experiencing hardship in her life? Wasn’t it nice to imagine she might one day overcome it all?
Madame flipped the second card. “Oh,” she breathed. “I adore the Queen of Cups. The cups, Miss Becket, involve the emotions. Our intuitive nature. The queen has mastered them all. She is love. Compassion. Kindness. Creativity.” She looked up. “She is you.”
“Me? Oh no. Surely not. I haven’t mastered a thing.”
“Not yet, perhaps, but you will. The card reminds you to believe in yourself.” Madame didn’t wait for an answer, but flipped the third card. Her brows rose to her hairline. “My, my. The Knight of Swords.”
“Who is he?” Olive asked eagerly, completely bound in Madame’s spell.
“The swords involve action, power, and courage. This is a reminder that though you are led by your heart and your intuition, it is sometimes good—sometimes even necessary—to use a sword to defeat your enemies.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “And our dear, dear knight. He is persistent. Determined. He can influence the Queen’s actions. He is also protective. He uses his sword to protect his Queen on her journey.” She glanced up, a small smile on her lips. “I believe the Knight is Mr. Anderson.”
Olive’s gasp filled the small room. “What? But I—no, no that couldn’t—he doesn’t even like me—could he?”
Madame lifted a shoulder. “Who are we to doubt the cards? There’s another interpretation, if you care to hear. It’s slightly more…base.”
Olive squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to know, did she? Oh God, she did want to know. She opened her eyes. “Tell me.”
“The cups are a vessel waiting to be filled. And the sword? Well, it has been likened to a man’s…tool, shall we say. This could be a sign that the queen will have a physical relationship with her knight.”
Olive’s lips parted. It was insanity. It was dangerous to believe she could have such a future. That any man, let alone Emil Anderson, would fight for her. That he would want her in a role other than assistant. She would be foolish to believe it, let alone want it even one teeny tiny iota. So why did the fantasy set her pulse aflutter? Make her skin flush and her muscles quake?
Just then, the door opened, and Emil came pushing through. He gave her a curious look, then lowered his gaze to the table. “Tarot? Interesting. What’s the knight for?—”
“Nothing,” she blurted. “Nothing at all.” She stood up hastily and rushed to the coat rack. Shoving her arms through her coat sleeves, she said, “Thank you, Madame. I believe that’s all the information I need.”
