“Would she have left the estate?” he asked his mother.
“Where would she go?” she countered.
“Miss Ianthe was asking questions about Bocka Morrow yesterday, and what kind of shops it held, and about the residents,” the maid answered. “I told her some and said that one day you would likely take her.”
“Why would she wish to go into Bocka Morrow?” Damon asked. Though, she was female and those born of that gender did enjoy shopping, and given her age and the changes Ianthe was experiencing, perhaps she’d developed a desire for a new bonnet.
“Did you tell her of Brighid and the apothecary?” his mother asked.
“Yes,” the maid answered. “Should I not have?”
“No, it is alright, but I fear that is where Ianthe may have gone.” His mother let out a heavy sigh as she settled onto the settee.
“Why?” Damon demanded. He knew the shop was owned by a witch, but not why his niece would seek her out.
“Ianthe told me last night that she wanted to be rid of her powers.”
The drawto Nightshade Manor and curiosity about the family had not lessened in two days and Cordelia could not for the life of her understand why.
Perhaps it was because they were witches? However, that wasn’t an oddity in Bocka Morrow as there were at least five witches who resided in the village, and there had been witches in the area for her entire life. Yet Nightshade Manor called to her as if she needed to be there. A pull so great that it was nearly impossible to disregard.
But ignore it she would, which prompted Cordelia to take a walk into the village where she hoped that there were new novels inPennick’s Bookshop, but instead, she turned toward the apothecary –The Hourglass. Brighid, the woman who ran the shop, was also rumored to be a witch, but Cordelia had no proof, nor did it matter. The apothecary always had what she needed, whether it was a gentle soap, fragrant candle, or delicious tea.
Tea! Yes, she should inquire about a tea to calm her mind and settle her soul, then perhaps she might return to herself.
As she entered the little bell above the door tinkled and Brighid looked up from behind the counter and gifted her with a smile. On the other side was a girl who Cordelia recognized as having arrived at Nightshade Manor a few days earlier.
As Brighid was busy, Cordelia perused the items upon the various shelves until she could ask for a tea that would bring her relief.
“I should go,” the girl whispered.
“You may speak freely here,” Brighid said.
“What about her?” the girl asked.
Cordelia knew she spoke of her, and even though she tried not to eavesdrop, the apothecary wasn’t large enough for that to be possible.
“I assure you that Miss Cordelia will say nothing of your needs.”
“I can leave and come back,” Cordelia offered. She really didn’t wish to intrude on something that was private, yet the curiosity of the past few days had only grown stronger. What concerns could a girl have, and why seek out another witch?
“That is not necessary,” Brighid said, then introduced Miss Ianthe Norcott.
“Nightshade Manor borders Hollybrook Park, where I live,” Cordelia informed the girl.
“You know my family?” she asked.
“I know Norcotts from London.” She couldn’t let the child know that she knew her grandmother, or who Cordelia assumed was her grandmother because then Ianthe would know that they’d been spied on.
“My grandmother is the Marchioness of Chandos,” Miss Ianthe stated with pride.
“Ah, then you are related to the Ladies Maia, Larisa and Selene.”
The girl grinned. “They are my aunts. Are you friends?”
“Acquaintances,” Cordelia answered. “My younger sister, Adriana, is a good friend of Lady Larisa.”
When thinking of witches inhabiting Nightshade Manor, it never occurred to Cordelia that they were also of Society until Lady Chandos had arrived. Nor would she have ever guessed that the Norcott sisters were witches. Or, at least, she assumed they were.
