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.Owen’s excitement sticks out all over him.“So you took my place in the show?” I ask, sinking gratefully into the closest chair.Jacques snorts.“Hardly.”Hurt passes over Owens face before it clears and I frown at Jacques.“Well, no one can take your place,” Owen says.“I just filled in.”“You did a wonderful job,” my mother says, smiling at me.“Simply wonderful.”The mistress of games is letting me know how easily I can be replaced.She’s trying to make me jealous.It works.But I’ll be damned if I let her see that.I turn to Owen and give him a smile so bright, he blinks.“Did you enjoy it?”“It was amazing! The people, the lights, the applause.I’ve never felt anything like it.”“Don’t get too used to it.The show needs Anna’s talents,” Jacques says firmly.Surprised, I throw Jacques an appreciative glance while my mother’s smile becomes fixed.She busies herself by grabbing a throw and tucking it in around my legs.“Yes, of course, but it’s nice to know we have a replacement.Just in case it’s ever needed.”Her dark eyes bore into mine, giving lie to the smile still curving her mouth.She looks so different from the mother who brushed my hair this morning that I look away, my heart aching.Before she can move, I tentatively brush her hand with my fingers.My mother’s emotions have always been easy to read, but I learned early on to ignore them whenever possible.A child only wants to know so much about her mother’s resentment toward her.Today her emotions are so mixed that I have trouble separating them out.I’m gratified to find love among the usual mix of resentment, impatience, and single-minded desire, but I’m also picking up fear.Trying to figure out what my mother is afraid of is like trying to read a set of tarot cards.I know it’s connected to me, but is she afraid for me or of me?I can’t tell.But one thing is certain.She wants me out of the show.Twenty-oneI punch my pillow for the hundredth time.If it were a person it would be dead by now.How dare she? I’ve been more of a mother than she has.I’ve done the shopping, made the travel arrangements, found us employment, and cheated people—all in my mother’s service.I punch the pillow again, thinking of all the snooping I’ve done, looking for information on clients she wanted to shill.The menial jobs I’ve taken so we could eat.And all I’ve asked for in return is the opportunity to perform my magic.Now she wants to take that away from me.But why? What does she have to gain? And what would I do if I couldn’t do the show anymore?I feel tears and furiously wipe them away.Why am I so surprised? I have been afraid of this forever.It’s my darkest fear come to life.No.I take a deep breath.My darkest fear was that my mother would abandon me in some cheap hotel room.At least she didn’t do that.I’m angry and scared and mixed up.The story of my relationship with my mother.When I think of how much worrying I have done the past few weeks, the lengths I’ve gone to make sure she was safe.I shut my eyes, but they pop open again, reminding me that I slept most of the day.Sighing, I lean over and turn on the light, then feel under my mattress until I locate the notebook I keep hidden there.Pulling it out, I flip to the rough sketches I made about a year ago.It’s an illusion I was designing.I follow the simple lines with my finger and then, inspired, I walk to my desk and grab a pencil.I’m a year older now—a year more experienced—and I’ve got some ideas to make the design better, sharper, easier to follow.As long as everything is done exactly as I have it drawn, it should work beautifully.Last year, I had no way to make the design a reality.Now, thanks to Mr.Darby, I do.I smile, thinking of Mr.Darby’s shop.My mother wants me out of the show? Fine.But it’s going to be one hell of a send-off.I wake up the next morning exhausted and thankful it’s Sunday.I need the day of rest.Though I assure my mother that I’ll be fine, she isn’t convinced.“Are you sure? Do you think we should call a doctor?” Her brows knit together, and for a moment I sense her worry.I’m not impressed.I know she loves me.She just loves her career more.It’s a lesson I should have learned from her a long time ago.Take care of yourself first.“I’m fine.Just tired.I think I’m going to run down and visit Mr.Darby.I’m sure he’s been worried about me.”Mother waves her hand, and as soon as she’s out of sight, I grab my coat and pull out the letter still tucked in the pocket.I turn it over in my hand, fighting temptation.It’s written in the same loopy handwriting as the letter on Mr.Darby’s desk, and the postscript says London.I glance at the return address, but it’s just a post-office box number.It’s still sealed, which makes me think Cole must have just grabbed it on his way out of the house the morning I slipped it out of his pocket.I really, really want to open it.It is, after all, from someone in the Society Cole trusts.And judging by the beautiful penmanship, that someone is a girl.I hesitate.Maybe this could shed a light on his meeting with Mrs.Lindsay.Of all the things I know about Cole, that is the most baffling.What could he be doing with someone I know is out to hurt me? And exactly what are his ties with the Society for Psychical Research? Is it as bad as Dr.Bennett said it was? Is that what Cole doesn’t want to tell me?Taking a deep breath, I shove the envelope back into my pocket without opening it.After we finish our lesson, I’ll give it to him and beg his forgiveness.And I’ll ask him about Mrs.Lindsay, too [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]