Now their situations were reversed.
“You’ll cast the spells,” he said. He swallowed and leaned against the wall, overwhelmed again by what he had lost. “That’s what you mean?”
She nodded.
“Bee,” her sister said, the syllable heavy with warning.
“That’s far too great a risk,” Miss Dane said, sounding, if anything, more upset than Lydia.
“The town needs us,” Beatrix said. “And—no, Rosemarie,listen,” she added, as Miss Dane made to interrupt, “we needthem. We do. Peter, did reporters call you about that obviously planted story of how ‘unhinged’ you are? I mean, anyone besides Rydell?”
He snorted, seeing where she was going with this. “Yes. Six or seven at least.”
“And did they write about it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I told them to ask anyone in town, even Mrs. Price, whether I showed signs of unhinged behavior.”
Beatrix raised her eyebrows at Miss Dane. “Washington is trying to damage our reputations because that’s what they think will win this war. We need a town full of people who will speak up for us, and I don’t think it’s very strategic to stop helping them in the middle of the fight. Not to mention that someone might eventually catch on if Peter never casts again, and you can justimaginethe headlines.”
“Every time you cast, Bee, you’re risking arrest,” her sister said. “There’s no use trying to help our reputations by doing something that could ruin them. Peter, you do agree with me, don’t you?”
He hesitated, seeing both sides of the argument, and Beatrix got in first.
“It’s not just our reputations I’m worried about,” she said. “The reason Peter came here was so he couldn’t easily be disappeared. We have no idea why the WA was so keen to get him in their clutches last month, but let’s not assume they’ve given up.”
Miss Dane threw up her arms. “They’re not going to kidnap a man every newspaper in the country is writing about! That would be lunacy.”
“If he’s not in constant contact with everyday people who can vouch for him,” Beatrix said, “then he’s far more vulnerable to efforts to make him look like he really is unhinged. And if reporters think he is, it won’t seem so odd if he disappears. ‘That’s what unhinged people do,’ etc. etc.”
She didn’t add “and now Peter is completely helpless so he can’t defend himself from kidnapping,” but she didn’t need to. It was obvious. He slumped into a chair, gaze fixed on the floor.
The silence stretched out.
“Peter?” Lydia, her voice hesitant. “Do you think that could be true?”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “But this is a solution that could be as dangerous as the problem.”
He didn’t want Beatrix—or any of them—to end up in prison. He didn’t want to pretend to do what he no longer was capable of, either.
He made himself look up. Lydia seemed irresolute, Miss Dane was clearly still skeptical and Beatrix looked as determined as he’d seen her since?—
He turned away. Since she proposed a wild idea that he vehemently disagreed with, then went behind his back to execute an even wilder version. Since Plan B.
What he’d told her at dinner the night before was true. He’d forgiven her. But that wasn’t the same as implicitly trusting her judgment.
“Suppose I say no. What then, Beatrix?” he asked. “Will you make the brews yourself and hand them out while I’m otherwise engaged?”
As she dropped to her knees beside him, face stricken, he regretted what he’d said. Not the question, but how baldly he’d put it.
“No,no.” She laid her hand on his. “This would be with your agreement or not at all, on my honor. I … I realize I have very little honor left on this score.”
He helped her up and murmured, “I’m sorry. I believe you—I do.”
Miss Dane gave a heavy sigh. “If you’re confident you can take precautions to minimize the risks of this idea, I won’t stand in the way.”
