Peter cleared his throat. “Could I do something for you, Miss Knight, or are you here for Miss Harper?”
“I was hoping to look through a spellcasting primer, actually.” Ella’s smile seemed a bit forced. “I’ll read quietly—you won’t even know I’m here.”
Peter went to the brewing room with its wall-to-ceiling bookcases and returned with several texts.
“Perfect.” Ella took them to the receiving room.
Beatrix suspected her friend was at least as interested in observation, but Ella had to know this was a clear case of the scientist affecting the experiment. If she actually had been giving into temptation with Peter, she certainly wouldn’t show any evidence of that while Ella was watching.
“I’ll be upstairs,” Peter said, and left them to themselves.
Beatrix picked out a tome on runic characteristics and settled in the remaining chair. Half an hour or so passed. Then the telephone rang. She got it—Peter usually couldn’t hear the phone from his lab—and extracted herself from theconversation with the man on the other end of the line after only a minute, which had to be a record.
“Mr. Freelow for you on the phone,” she said, poking her head into the lab.
Peter closed his eyes. “Lord give me strength.”
“He’s a sweet man.”
He laughed. “Yes, very. But please manufacture an emergency if I’m not off the call in an hour.”
She’d just sat down when another knock on the door interrupted.
“Good grief,” Ella said.
Beatrix stuffed the books into a desk drawer, looked through the peephole and relaxed at the sight of the petite woman outside. She murmured the counter to the protection spell, so quietly even she could barely hear it, and unbolted the lock.
“Mrs. Clark,” she said, ushering her in and shutting the door as quickly as she could without attracting note. “How is Anna? No more earaches, I hope?”
“No—she’s much improved. I’m very grateful.”
Sue Clark, on the other hand, looked wan, face pinched with either pain or exhaustion. She glanced at her hands, apparently hesitant to explain why she’d come.
“Would you like to speak privately with the omnimancer?” Beatrix gestured toward the receiving room. “He’s on the telephone but should be available soon, if you’d care to wait. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“No, I … think I’d rather speak with you.”
Ella was pulling on her coat as they stepped into the room. “Go ahead, I’ll let myself out.”
Mrs. Clark sat, still focusing on her hands, now tucked in her lap. She’d been four years behind Beatrix in school, a quiet child blossoming into beauty. Now she looked—not exactly old, but older than she ought.
“I’m expecting,” she blurted.
“Oh!” Beatrix said. She was about to add the customary “congratulations,” but she feared that was not the right sentiment in this case. “Ah—how are you feeling?”
This opened the floodgates.“Terrible. Even worse than the other times—stomach, back, feet—I can’t sleep—I’m so, so ...” She struggled for words and ended up sobbing.
Beatrix put her arms awkwardly around the woman, hoping the gesture would not be unwelcome. “We can help. We’ve got anti-nausea medicine already brewed—I can send you home with a bottle. And the sleeping draft is safe in moderation for expectant mothers. Um—when are you due?”
“The end of January.” Mrs. Clark’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. We can’t make ends meet as it is. Daniel tries, he really does, but—four children, heaven above.Four.We thought we’d have one.”
Beatrix felt utterly unequal to this task. What could she say, except unhelpful platitudes?
“I tried to be so careful this time.” Tears leaked from Mrs. Clark’s eyes. “Charting my rhythms. Taking my temperature. Having Daniel—” She blushed. “But you can’t keep asking that of a man. You can’t go on a trip and thenturn around and leave just before you get where you’re going. What was I supposed to do? What?”
Beatrix braced herself against Peter’s desk. “Other than black-market rubbers? I don’t know.”
“I don’t want to break the law.” Mrs. Clark’s sobs gave way to a frantic laugh. “Besides, I haven’t the slightest idea where to get them.”
