Sasha considered her, as if trying to figure out how much of a trick this was.
“The last of the biscuits. And bandages in case he’s hurt. And a clean frock for me in case I get dirty.”
Charlotte’s mouth tilted into a tired smile. “You do always manage that.”
Sasha did not dignify this with a reply. “And a blanket for when I sleep, and one of Uncle Arthur’s books, in case he’sscared.”
Charlotte’s chest tightened. “Please come inside, dearest. Perhaps in the morning—”
“You won’t do anything. He’s lost and you haven’t done anything at all!”
Charlotte was so tired. “Yes, I have. Of course I have. Come inside. Please.”
“You won’t even try to find him!” Sasha stomped her foot. Charlotte reached for her, but she pulled away. “You don’t even care!”
She burst out crying, angrily, and collapsed on the ground, sobbing into her pillowcase.
I do care,Charlotte wanted to say,I miss him, too, I’m scared, too,but she didn’t. Nothing short of searching for Arthur herself would convince Sasha she was just as desperate to have him back.
Elspeth McIntire’s voice echoed in her head.Both of us together, maybe we’d have a chance.
Maybe shecouldfind him. Maybe, in the wood, there was even a chance of curing the sickness. It was an eldritch disease, a magical disease. Surely any potential cure must be magical, too.
Of course, if Charlotte went, she might never return. She couldn’t risk orphaning her children.
But if she didn’t go, she feared it was a matter of time before Sasha successfully snuck off alone. Charlotte would be out, or incapacitated by pain and fatigue. One way or another, Sasha would manage it. Jonas would probably try to stop her, but Sasha never listened to them.
The forest rustled, feeling more alive than usual in the darkness. Charlotte gazed at it warily as she stroked the top of her daughter’s head. Unsettlingly, the forest seemed to gaze back.
Being silly, Charlotte thought, but she couldn’t shake it.
At last, Sasha cried herself out and sat hiccuping on the ground. Charlotte pulled her daughter to her feet and dried her eyes.
Sasha leaned against her, feeling fragile. Charlotte had never thought of her as fragile before. Then again, Sasha was too young to have experienced the losses the rest of the family had. Only Eileen had died since she’d been old enough to remember such a thing, and Eileen had been, to Sasha, mostly a weepy older woman who pinched her cheeks too much and was better avoided unless baking biscuits. She had not been precisely relieved by her grandmother’s death, but she hadn’t grieved the way Arthur and Charlotte had—though their grief had been complicated by their resentment.
“Let’s go to bed, dearest,” Charlotte said.
Sasha nodded. Charlotte kissed the top of her head, waited for her to collect her doll and pillowcase, and led her back toward the house. The moon threw their elongated shadows across the garden plots.
“He’ll come back, won’t he?” Sasha asked in a stuffy voice, and this time Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to hedge the way she had with Jonas.
“Of course, dearest.”
“Promise?”
The two of us could look for the Lord of the Wood together, Charlotte heard Elspeth McIntire saying.I’m leaving first thing Saturday, if you want to go.
She glanced at the dark maw of the forest, having a horrible feeling she would soon disappear inside it herself. Thinking how inevitable it was she should someday enter it, after the way it had shaped her whole life.
“I promise.”
xviii. In which Charlotte goes after her brother, because no one else will
“If I’m not back in two days,” Charlotte said, “Miss Tierney will take you to the convent. The sisters will take care of you.”
“I don’twantnuns to take care of me,” Sasha wailed. “I want to come with you.”
“You can’t, dearest. I need to know you’re safe.”
