Star Cursed

“No, the kitchens and infirmary will all stay put in the old wing, see?” Paul traces a line along the first floor with one tanned forefinger.

“What’s that little room there?” I ask as his finger moves over an unmarked space next to the kitchen.

“Just a storage room,” he says, shrugging. “It’s where they keep medicines and the laudanum for the girls. The matron said they had trouble with some nurses sneaking the stuff for themselves, so now she keeps it locked up tight. And across here will be the covered walkway to the first floor of the addition, where the new laundry will be, and . . .”

He goes on, but I’ve stopped listening. I’d assumed the laudanum would be kept in the kitchens, where any number of cooks would be working, and it would be impossible to slip in unnoticed.

This changes everything.

My mind whirrs and clanks, and I’m half surprised smoke doesn’t come out my ears as I plot. I want to dash out into the snow right now; I’ve got to talk to Sister Sophia. But I spend another twenty minutes there, admiring the drawings for the splendid new house Jones is letting him take the lead on, sipping tea in the big leather chair, listening to Paul hold forth about the Harwood project. I try to hide my horror at the fact the Brothers are building an addition in the first place. How many more girls are they planning to lock up?

Those girls’ lives are more important than the success of Jones’s business, and the fact that Paul can’t or won’t see it has changed things between us. He is the same man he was a month ago when he kissed me—same blond hair and broad shoulders and toothy grin—but I can’t help looking at him differently.

I fell in love with Finn partly because he was suspicious of the Brothers, because he questioned their teachings even before he knew I was a witch. Perhaps it isn’t fair to compare them, when Finn grew up with a clever bluestocking for a mother and Paul’s was so deeply devout. But I do compare, and I know in my heart I could never have married a man who finds no fault in Harwood Asylum.

I feel less guilty about the mind-magic than I expected.

He is yammering on about construction deadlines when I narrow my eyes at him and compel him to forget we ever discussed Harwood or looked at the floor plans together. He hesitates, mid-sentence, and his tea spills a little when he sets it down on the blue saucer.

“I ought to be going. Thank you for seeing me,” I say, rising.

He leaps up to help me into my cloak. His eyes have lost some of their spark; his face doesn’t have the same bright, animated elasticity it did a minute ago. “Thank you for coming.”

Does he remember my apology?

“Good-bye.” Somehow I can’t meet his eyes.

“Good-bye, Cate,” Paul says, and there’s something in his voice, something resigned and final and sad, that makes me suspect he will remember that much, at least.

• • •

When I get back to the convent, I hurry to Sister Sophia’s classroom. She’s just finished her anatomy class, which I skipped in order to call on Paul. Mei is the only student left, rolling up a few diagrams of the human musculature and internal organs.

“There you are, Cate. Where were you this morning?” Sophia asks, pushing Bones the skeleton back into the wooden armoire.

“I’ve been downtown to see my friend Paul, who’s working on the Harwood addition. There’s something I need to tell you.” I explain Inez’s plan to Sophia.

“Why didn’t you come to me right away?” She abandons Bones, her red lips pursed.

“I suppose I felt guilty. I should have seen what she was up to sooner,” I confess.

“That’s not your fault.” Sophia plants her hands on her wide hips. “She knows how to exploit people’s weaknesses to get what she wants. It’s why so many of the teachers go along with her. Most of them are in her debt for one thing or another.”

“Are you?” I ask. If she is, I ought to know it now.

Sophia turns away. “Not anymore.”

Mei and I exchange mystified looks. “Well, now that you know, I’m hoping you’ll help us.” I explain what we mean to do at Harwood, and as I talk, I examine the little wooden cabinet hanging on the wall. There are two dozen clear glass bottles and tins filled with dried herbs and natural remedies of Sophia’s. She must have something. “Do you know what powdered opium looks like? I need herbs that could pass for it.”

“I presume you’d need quite a bit of them, if you mean to substitute them for the opium in the laudanum.” Sister Sophia crosses to her windowsill, where four potted herbs soak up the weak December sunlight. She fingers one leafy stalk thoughtfully, gazing out at the backyard and the conservatory’s fogged windows. “Rose petal powder would work. The texture wouldn’t be right, and the scent would be a dead giveaway, of course. But we’ve got dying roses in spades, and you’d cast a glamour over it anyway.”

I turn to Mei, noting the dark shadows under her brown eyes, the tired lines at her mouth. “Are you still planning to come to Harwood this afternoon?” I ask, and she nods, tucking the diagrams in the armoire beside Bones. “Good. I’ll need a lookout while I break into their storeroom.”

Mei gives me a sad smile. “Happy to help. If it had gone differently, Li and Hua might be in there.”

Sister Sophia stares at me. “You mean to do this today? The patients may be able to access their magic within a few days, but they’ll be in poor shape. Most of them are addicted to the opium; ridding their bodies of it completely will take weeks. They’ll be weak and sick in the meantime, and that doesn’t even take into account the psychological effects of—”

“We haven’t got weeks,” I interrupt. “We have to break them out by Wednesday night, or it will be too late.”

Striding over to the blackboard, Sophia snatches up a piece of chalk and writes in foot-high letters: BEGINNER HEALING CLASS CANCELED. “Come on, then. You, too, Mei. I’ve got an extra pair of gloves in the kitchen.”

After lunch, I draw Elena aside to explain the mechanics of the new plan. As we whisper, her dark head bent close to my blond one, I see Maura stop in the dining room doorway, shock playing over her pretty features. After a moment, she turns away, but I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she’s dismayed to see us looking so cozy. It’s no more than I predicted, of course, but I still feel a pang of guilt. I brief Elena as quickly as I can, thank her for obtaining promises of help from two governesses, and hurry upstairs to change into my Sisterly black.

A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the carriage with Sophia, Addie, and Mei as we wait for Pearl to join us.

“Scoot over. I’m coming with you,” Tess declares, clambering in the open door. She shoves me over so that I’m practically sitting in Mei’s lap. Mei barely notices, her lips moving silently in a mantra as she worries her mala beads.

“You are most certainly not!” I shout, half rising from my seat.

“Calm down, Cate,” Sophia says, and I flop back onto the leather seat. “I gave her permission. We’ll tell the nurses she’s a new student with an interest in nursing. They’ll be charmed.”

Tess flips her braids over her shoulder. “I am particularly adorable today.”