Rosie took a few tentative steps forward. “He’s not very tall,” she whispered.
Erauso stiffened slightly.
“He doesn’t need to be.” Clem smiled. “He’s made of steel and lead, and he’ll withstand almost anything. And he can’t be easily stopped, for he’s made by enchantment.” She looked upon Erauso with some pride. “I think even the spirit thew Cassandra, with all her formidable powers, would have some trouble taking him apart.”
“Well.” Rosie considered the creation, walking around him in a slow circle. “If he’ll help to protect you from whoever was in the courthouse, then I’ll gladly accept him.” She paused. “Is he coming with us to Clover Hall?”
Clem debated the question in silence, and I understood her hesitation. On the one hand, Simeon would be there, and Simeon was dangerous. On the other hand, was Erauso the right defender for a confrontation with Simeon? Only if the situation became very dire. “I think he should,” Clem said. “But at a distance, Erauso. So that you can reach us if you need to.”
The armored creature placed his gauntlet on his breastplate and bowed.
The Trenches lived in Beverly Farms, on a parcel of nearly one hundred acres with a cliffside view of the ocean. If you’refortunate enough to know the area, you would recognize it as the chunk of coastline with the best view of Great Misery Island. I’m not overly familiar with Beverly Farms, but knowing the Trenches as I do, there does seem to be something especially apt about their vantage point, positioned in splendor with a view of a place named for someone else’s misery.
Norbert Trench had built Clover Hall twenty years earlier as a summer retreat, but now his family occupied the estate year-round and Mr. Trench kept a townhouse in the city for work. The property required no enchantment to preserve its sense of privacy and isolation. A long, graveled drive wound its way through chestnut trees to a great open field where the main house, the formal gardens, and the pavilion stood like a dainty tea set balanced on a grass-green tray. The design was a compromise between Norbert’s severity and Jane’s whimsy: Greek revival, with symmetrical windows and columns; but wisteria grew on the columns, softening their hard lines, and the gardens were dotted with stone cupids.
The sisters found the Trenches waiting for them in a drawing room that commanded the best ground-floor view of the ocean. “So delighted you’re here,” Jane said, smiling as she pressed Clementine’s hand. “It’s been too long.”
“Yes, indeed,” Norbert said sternly. “I’ve spoken to Rosetta and Clementine on this very point, and I’ve said it would benefit them greatly to visit us more frequently.” He offered the last with the authoritative tone of a doctor dispensing medical advice.
Clementine and Rosetta said nothing in response to Norbert’s prescription. Mariah leaned in to press her powdered cheek against Clem’s, but she didn’t connect, hovering instead some inches away with her cloud of ribbons and rose-scented perfume. “What a terrible time this has been for you,” Mariah said, pullingaway slightly and looking at Clem with sorrowful eyes. “I can see what a toll it’s taken.”
Clementine smiled. “You’re very kind.”
“Don’t worry, Mariah,” Simeon said, standing close to Rosetta, a hand cradling her elbow. He smiled, radiating benevolence. “They have been too much alone. But as Father has said, we’ll be seeing much more of Clem and Rosie.”
Simeon and Mariah both looked appreciatively at their father, who gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Indeed. What is family for, after all?” He cleared his throat with an evident sense of accomplishment.
Clementine looked away from him to the ocean. “Ah,” she said. “I had no idea you were building on the island!”
“That’s notourconstruction,” Jane exclaimed, horrified.
Norbert’s face darkened. “They are building some kind of commercial facility on Great Misery Island.”
“Oh, dear,” Clementine murmured.
“It’s awful,” Jane sighed. “Can you believe—ashippingfacility.” She put her fingertips to her temples, as if the very thought made her head hurt. “All of us, all the ladies of the neighborhood, are very disturbed at the prospect. Norbert is taking care of it, however, and I’m sure the construction will stop shortly.”
Norbert looked discomfited. “It’s not always possible to find a perfect compromise between the exigencies of industry and the predilections of good taste,” he observed, from which I concluded that he’d been unable to do anything about the imminent shipping facility.
“That’s true,” Jane allowed. “But in this case surely industry must yield to aesthetics. There are any number of locations that would do wonderfully for a new shipping facility, butwehave only one view!” She gave a tinkling laugh. “I’m so relievedNorbert is taking care of it, because the noise that such a place would occasion—the men shouting, the crates being tossed this way and that—it would carry right over the water. We should have to sell the house and move somewhere else, and that would really be too bad, for we do love Clover Hall.”
Norbert frowned at his shoes.
“Shall we head in to lunch?” Jane asked with a smile, gesturing at the double doors that led to the dining room.
It, too, had an ocean view. A long table that could have seated thirty was set at one end with pearl-colored porcelain. The walls were papered dark blue, and a collection of massive whaling spears hung above the fireplace. I suppose Jane was aiming for an elegant maritime atmosphere, but to me the room felt rather more ominous, conjuring images of trapped seamen battling one another to death on a doomed voyage. Perhaps Rosetta’s expression had inclined me, for she had a hunted look as Jane herded her toward the chair beside Simeon. Clementine sat down across from them, gazing speculatively at the whaling spears.
Jane had planned the conversation as carefully as the seating arrangement, and as soon as the soup arrived, she asked, “Did you attend the Grand Séance last month?”
“No, I’m afraid we didn’t,” Clem replied.
I wasn’t surprised that Jane attended the Grand Séance, held once a month at the Salem Lyceum. At the Grand Séance, accomplished enchanters summon the spirits of great personages, or attempt to, and are rewarded with communications trivial or, sometimes, momentous. You will recall that Professor Mead had mentioned (with no small amount of pride) the Grand Séance in which he and Cassandra summoned the spirit of George Washington. This is the kind of achievement to which ambitious enchanters aspire: drawing a spirit who is well-known and consequential.
It’s also one of the few acts of enchantment to which the public is invited. Women of society like Jane Trench make it an occasion every month, adding a dinner afterward for the proper discussion of the performance, and would not miss it for the world.
“Something very surprising occurred at the séance,” Jane said, smiling smugly to herself as she lifted her soup spoon. “Colonel Appleby attempted to summon—oh, who was it?”
“I believe it was Roger Sherman,” Norbert supplied.
