Page 20 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“I’m sorry, who?”

The man nods at the gravestone. “Cordelia.”

“What do you mean?” My eyes narrow suspiciously. For an insane moment, I wonder if this man is responsible for my mother’s death and he’s lured me here. Suddenly, Sam’s overprotective nature doesn’t seem so unnecessary.

But I have to say, I’m not getting evil witchy vibes from him. He looks more like a professor. A very well-dressed one. Surely, if he was intent on killing me, he wouldn’t be wearing such an expensive suit.

“The grave’s empty, you know.”

“What?” I blink in confusion as he comes to a stop next to me. I’m still not getting serial killer vibes from him. Lowering my shields just enough to read him, I find no malice at all, just a calm, quiet amusement. There’s something else there, but before I can figure out what it is, he nods to the grave again.

“Cordelia’s grave. Her body’s not in there. That’s why there’s no date of death.”

I look back at the headstone and realise he’s right.

“Why would she have a grave if there was no body?” I murmur, more to myself than the stranger beside me.

“The story goes that she disappeared one night. No one knows what became of her. But her brother loved her, despite…well, despite many things. He wanted to have a place to come to grieve, but more than that, he wanted a marker of her life. Something to show she’d existed.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about someone who died over a century and a half ago,” I say suspiciously.

He smiles, holding out his hand. I shake it out of politeness. “Wentworth Hadley,” he introduces himself, then reaches into his suit jacket and produces a business card.

Mr Wentworth Hadley, Hadley & Mason, 22-24 St James Row, Cheapside. Est. 1758.

“A solicitor?” I look up after reading the card. “Do you often trawl graveyards looking for business?”

He gives a small chuckle, and it’s a nice sound. “No.”

“Then what are you doing here?” I ask bluntly, studying his face. When no answer is forthcoming, I add, “I saw you at Vivienne’s funeral.”

He hums in contemplation. “Yes. I knew Vivienne very well. I was her solicitor, having first met her after her parents passed away. She was very young at the time, barely out of her teens. Hadley and Mason has been my family’s business for centuries. We have been the caretakers of the Crawshanks family for almost as long.”

“Caretakers? That’s a strange way for a solicitor to describe their dealings with a client.”

He hums again. “It is a rather complicated and special relationship.”

Mr Hadley doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate further on that special relationship, so I turn back to the grave.

If they never found a body, what the hell happened to Cordelia and her demon? My gaze tracks across to the grave beside hers, and I blink in surprise.

Cornelius Crawshanks.

“This whole section of the graveyard is dedicated to the Crawshanks family, from Elmer and his wife to all these who came after them. Husbands, children, siblings”—Mr Hadley walks past Cornelius’ grave to the one on the other side of it—“and those who were the most important to them.”

Curiosity tugs at me, and I move to stand beside him, looking down to read the name.

Ichabod.

The surname is obscured by vines of ivy, but an image from one of the many strange dreams I’ve had lately floats to the surface in my mind. A beautiful red-haired man on his knees in Cornelius’ study.

“Ichabod,” I mutter. “They were lovers.” The words are out before I can censor them, but Mr Hadley just nods, not questioning how I would know such a thing.

“In a time when it was forbidden and discovery could cost them everything, but they never left each other’s side.” He looks over to me and smiles. “They spent their entire lives loving each other against the dictates of an unforgiving society. Some love stories deserve to be remembered, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do,” I murmur quietly. When Mr Hadley starts walking again, I join him. “You said you knew Vivienne well?” He nods as we continue to walk. “What…” I hesitate, but the compulsion to know wins out. “What was she like?”

“Ah,” he sighs. “Vivienne was also a complicated woman, but not in the same way as Cordelia. Vivienne spent her whole life trying to run from her family’s past, and in the end, it caught up with her anyway.”