Born of Deception (14 page)

Jacques and I embrace awkwardly. We’ve spent most of our relationship suspicious of one another. Now I’m suspicious that he may be too good for my mother. Neither state of affairs is conducive to me being very comfortable around him.

“It’s too early for lunch,” I tell them.

“We’re going shopping,” Mother says climbing into the car that Jacques has procured for their stay in London. “Jacques promised we would go to Harrods, as well as the shops on Bond Street, no matter what the weather is like. Should we let Cole know where to meet us at Harrods?”

I nod. “That’s a good idea. If we stop at my hotel, I can write a note and have it sent over to his house.”

While at the hotel I change into dry clothes, careful to look fashionable enough for my mother. I hesitate over my hats, wondering if I should go conservative and opt for my black cloche or go fancy with my colorful knockabout. Grinning, I snatch up the knockabout and settle it on my head. If mother doesn’t like my color choices, she can live with it. Back in the car, my lips curl as I watch my mother leaning forward in her seat, her entire being absorbed in the enjoyment to come. Shopping has never held as much appeal for me as it does for her. Food and housing insecurities made me frugal and now I have a hard time buying anything other than necessities. Once in a while I’ll splurge, like I did for my hat, but seldom.

Thinking about my hat reminds me of Calypso. Why hadn’t I felt anything when I touched her hand at the séance? Usually she’s crackling with emotions, but the other night I got nothing. Perhaps like me, gaining control over her abilities also means gaining more control over her emotions and thoughts? I puzzle over that until we arrive at our first destination and I get to see Mother-with-money in action.

I think Harrods completely shatters her preconceived notions, and she claps when she realizes just how immense it is. “We won’t be able to go anywhere else today,” she tells Jacques. “Bond Street can wait. I bet I can completely furnish our pied-à-terre without ever going anyplace else.”

Jacques smiles at her indulgently. “Don’t go overboard,
chérie
. We have to ship everything over to France and you will find plenty of shops in Paris. And keep in mind that we haven’t even signed for the apartment yet.”

She looks crestfallen for a moment, then brightens. “We’ll be signing for the apartment as soon as we get to France and at any rate, I can make a good start. There are things the English just do better than the French. No offense, darling.”

“None taken, my love.” They put their heads together in a nuzzling fashion as if I weren’t there.

I avert my eyes and give a small cough.

Just as if it were a hotel instead of a department store, someone rushes out in the rain to open the car door and escorts us under an umbrella through the front door.

For the next two hours I watch as my mother shops as excitedly as a child. Observing her makes me appreciate just how hard she must have trained herself to prepare for this kind of life. It couldn’t have been easy to keep faith, shuffling from city to city, a young daughter in tow, going from bad manager to bad lover. She had to have wondered at times if she hadn’t squandered all her chances.

Gently autocratic, she carefully judges the merits of one kind of china over another, compares linens, and considers different types of furniture. Her knowledge of the finer things in life far surpasses anything I could have ever imagined. I know she couldn’t have learned this in the small Hungarian town where she was raised, nor as a magician’s assistant. Where had she gleaned this kind of knowledge?

It’s one of those mysterious things about my mother that I will probably never know because she hates answering questions about herself. By the time we enter the elegant restaurant on the fourth floor, she has reached a point of contented satisfaction.

Like everything else in England, the interior of the Georgian Restaurant, with its towering pillars, stiff linens, and ornate plasterwork, makes me feel just slightly inferior. My mother, on the other hand, sails through the room as if she were born to it. Other patrons watch her progress with a combination of envy and approval. Mother always has known how to make an entrance.

I’m surprised Cole isn’t here yet and inform the waiter that we are expecting a fourth.

“Who is the handsome man who escorted you to the theater this morning?”

I freeze and glance at my mother, who’s wearing a smug smile. I decide the best defense is nonchalance. “A friend. He’s actually in the troupe.” I smile at the waiter pouring our tea before continuing. “He’s a cowboy who does rope tricks. He shoots as well, but of course, not in this show. Imagine shooting inside some of those fancy theaters!”

“How close of friends are you?” she asks, her voice carefully casual.

I ignore the innuendo. “Quite. He actually worked for the same circus we did—he knows Swineguard!”

This stops the subject cold as she never,
ever
talks about our time in the circus. Especially not in front of her new husband. The conversation quickly moves on to Mother and Jacques’s business and stage gossip. Surreptitiously, I keep checking my watch, wondering where Cole is.

“Should we go ahead and order?” Mother asks, her voice petulant.

I nod reluctantly, worry tightening my stomach. Cole is usually so punctual. It’s not like him to miss an appointment.

Excusing myself, I make my way to the foyer. “Pardon me. Do you have a message for Anna Van Housen?”

The maître d’ looks down his nose at me. “If we had received a message, we would have done our best to deliver it. We’re not in the habit of sitting on messages to our patrons.”

“Of course,” I assure him, feeling small.

I make my way back to our table and sit, my mind racing. Cole has been so worried about me that it never occurred to me to worry about him. I swallow. Surely Leandra or Harrison would contact me if something were wrong, wouldn’t they?

Or maybe he just couldn’t face the thought of a meal with my mother. But then, I suffered through a meal with his grandmother. Surely, he owes me one.

The waiter brings our lunch and I wish I could tell Mother and Jacques to hurry. All I want to do is get back to the hotel. Maybe he left me a message there.

“Is your lunch not to your liking? Or is something else worrying you? Your young man perhaps?”

I catch a wicked glint in my mother’s eyes before she lowers them. I thought she liked Cole. She certainly seemed to in New York. Perhaps it really is because she doesn’t want me to get serious about anyone yet, or maybe it’s because he’s immune to her charm. She doesn’t know of his natural reticence or his shyness around women. I smile back at her. “I was just thinking of how well my performance went over in Budapest. You missed out.”

Her smile becomes fixed. So she
does
miss performing.

“Well, I’ll get to see it when you perform in Paris. What theater did you say you were going to be at?”

I stare at my plate. “Le Petit Théâtre.”

“Pardon?”

“Le Petit Théâtre!”

“That’s a little out of the way, isn’t it?” Jacques asks, clueless that that was exactly my mother’s point.

I shrug, wondering how long I have to sit here before I can politely make an excuse to go back to the hotel. I’m pushing my food around on my plate when I sense Cole’s presence. I glance up, my heart leaping when I see him standing in the arched doorway. But moments later my stomach clenches as I feel his discomfort. Something is wrong.

Then I see a small figure standing next to him. She comes up to his shoulder and is wearing a knockabout so similar to the one I bought that I almost reach up to make sure mine is still there.

Jealous pain ricochets around my chest like a bullet when I recognize who it is.

Calypso.

Thirteen

U
nshed tears sting my eyes and I carefully breathe in and out, trying to hold them back.

Why would he bring Calypso to have lunch with my mother? I can see her finding out his destination and pressing to come, but he couldn’t tell her no?

Apparently not.

I glance at Mother, but she’s oblivious and chatting with Jacques. I put my head down and stare at my plate so I don’t have to watch them approaching the table.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Cole’s voice has a pleading note that I know is meant just for me.

I lift my head and give him a wide smile. Not for nothing had I been raised by the finest actress never to be in a play. “I’m just happy you made it,” I lie. I turn to Calypso and tilt my head. There is something different about her, but I can’t put my finger on it. “How lovely to see you again. Are you joining us?” I kiss her cheek, but my words let her know that she is intruding.

“As soon as Cole said he was coming to see you, I invited myself along.”

I frown. She seems agitated and I know there’s more to her being here than that. Then it dawns on me what’s different about her. “You cut your hair!”

She turns her head this way and that, showing off her stylishly angled bob. “Do you like it? I was getting headaches carrying that load of hair around. And it’s so much more fashionable, don’t you think?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to my mother. “You must be Anna’s mother. I can see where she gets her beauty. And you must be Jacques? So nice to meet you.”

My mother’s eyes shoot over to me, no doubt taking in my determinedly cheery smile. For a fraction of a second, she looks unnerved, but regains her composure so quickly that no one but me would even detect that she had been momentarily at a loss.

“Aren’t you a dear to compliment me so?” Mother extends her hand as if expecting Calypso to kiss it. Calypso stares blankly for a moment and then gives it a little shake. “And look at you two! Aren’t you just like twins with your lovely hats. Did you get them together?”

I shake my head. “No, I actually splurged on mine while Calypso and I were out shopping. You must have gone back and gotten one later?”

Cole sits next to me as the disgruntled waiter brings another chair for Calypso. After she sits, she gives me a smile. “I loved the hat so much I had to go back and get it. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

I bare my teeth in a smile. “Why would I mind? After all, it’s just a hat. And it goes so well with your new haircut.”

Calypso hesitates only for a moment. “Thank you.”

My stomach hurts. Is Calypso playing a game with me? She genuinely seems to like me, but she also seems to have a special fondness for Cole. Is she just using me to get to him or using him to get to me? Or am I being absurd?

I glance sideways at Cole and find him regarding me steadily. I feel his discomfort, but detect no regret. More is going on here than meets the eye. I know I should reserve judgment until I know more, but the jealousy swirling in my stomach is hard to combat.

The waiter takes Cole’s and Calypso’s orders and we’re left to make awkward conversation as we try to finish our meals and they wait for theirs. I shift in my seat, the plush padding suddenly uncomfortable. I wish I could just leave. Then I wonder what Cole would do if I did. Would he follow me?

It takes Mother’s keen intelligence only moments to grasp the situation. I know how her mind works. The only person ever allowed to belittle or otherwise threaten me in any way is her. Everyone else is mincemeat.

With a gleaming glance at me, she turns her formidable attention to Calypso. “I love your name, darling. Calypso. It’s so exotic and Gypsylike. I use to know of a pack of Gypsies in the old country. They were so . . . rustic. I wonder if any of them survived the war,” she muses.

Calypso’s friendly smile falters. “My mother is Spanish, though she was born in Trinidad. My father is English. No Gypsy blood here.”

“Really? You have the look of a wild Gypsy girl. And Trinidad? How . . .
peculiar
.”

The waiter serves Cole’s and Calypso’s lunches. I look at my own plate, wondering how long it will take them to finish so I can make my escape.

Having made her point, Mother turns to Cole. Surreptitiously, I make a fist with my thumb between the middle fingers—the signal we used for
no
back when we were performing together.

She ignores it.

“Anna’s last letter told me she was going to meet your mother and grandmother. Did you have a good time?” Mother is letting Calypso know of my special status in Cole’s life.

My cheeks heat and I cringe.

Cole glances at me and I know Mother saw and interpreted the look. “We had a very nice time. My grandmother is a bit old-fashioned, but I think she liked Anna very much.”

I nearly snort at that, but don’t. My mother is intuitive enough as it is. She already knows, even without being told, that the meeting wasn’t a complete success.

“Wonderful. So you still live at home, then? What about when you go to the university?”

I’ve had enough. “What is this, Mother, twenty questions? Let Cole eat.” I keep my voice light, but my mother hears the warning.

“It’s all right, Anna, I don’t mind answering your mother’s questions. Yes, I live at home and will continue to do so throughout university. There’s no reason for me to move as the school is so close and I’m all that my mother and my grandmother have.”

My mother levels a look at him that on the surface seems to say
Aren’t you the sweet boy,
but underneath she means How can you be man enough for my daughter living with mummy and grandmummy?

“And you, Calypso, do you live with your parents?”

Calypso, intent on her plate, startles. Did she think my mother was done with her?

“Oh. No.”

She doesn’t offer any more information and my mother raises an eyebrow. “You’re awfully young to be living on your own . . .” My mother’s tone is leading.

“I’m not much younger than Anna, and like her, I’m very independent. I live in a boardinghouse,” Calypso finally says, realizing my mother isn’t going to leave her alone. “My father lives outside town and I moved to London to be close to him.”

I frown at her and her cheeks redden. She’d told me she and her father were estranged. “It didn’t work out the way I thought it would.”

My mother gives her an evil grin. “Things rarely do, do they?”

Calypso pushes her plate away and looks at Cole and me. “Are we ready to go?”

I stand, startling Cole, who’s just finished his meal. My mother makes no move to leave. “You young people go ahead. I think Jacques and I will linger over our tea a bit. Cole, it was lovely to see you, as always. Perhaps you can find time between your mother and your studies to visit Jacques and me in Paris. Calypso, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. I adore meeting outlandish young people. It keeps life interesting, don’t you think?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to me. “Give me a kiss, darling. I’ll see you in the morning.” When I bend down, she whispers. “Be careful with that one. She has a knife aimed right for your back.”

“She’s my friend,” I whisper back.

“Whatever you say, darling. Women can’t be friends.”

“Cynthia is my friend,” I shoot back.

“Cynthia is an anomaly.”

She has a point.

We walk out to the lobby and retrieve our belongings from the coat check. Cole helps me into my coat and makes a point to take my arm. Worry and concern come off him in pulses. I reach for Calypso’s emotions and sense envy before I feel the strange nothingness that I had felt before.

Interesting. She not only learned how to block, she knows that she needs to. How? Who told her that I can read emotions?

We walk out onto the street; and after the downpour of this morning, I’m surprised to see the sun shining brightly.

“Let’s walk,” Cole orders. I glance at him in surprise. He returns the look. “I’m parked a couple of blocks away. I didn’t want anyone to know where Calypso and I were going.”

I’m still confused and tell him so.

He looks at Calypso and I get a sense of genuine worry and concern from both of them.

“I was attacked today,” Calypso says. “Just before I met Cole. He told me your suspicions that there’s someone within the Society working with whoever killed Pratik and possibly Jonathon.”

I shoot a questioning glance at Cole. I thought we had agreed with Harrison and Leandra that we wouldn’t share our theories with anyone.

Cole jumps in. “I thought it best to share this with Calypso so she wouldn’t disclose her attack to anyone else. I wanted to discuss it with Harrison first. So I brought her to lunch. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

He’s apologizing for bringing her, letting me know that he really didn’t have a choice.

I look from one to the other, confused. Just moments before, I’d been hurt and angry. I’m having trouble switching gears.

As if sensing my feelings, Calypso pulls up the sleeve of her coat and shows me her wrists. “Look. They’re already bruising.” There’s no mistaking the vividly blue bruises, or the tears softening her eyes into dark fathomless pools.

I take a deep breath, sympathy and uncertainty warring in my stomach. Sympathy wins. It’s not her fault she pushes my insecurity buttons. So what if she’s attractive and bought my hat? I give her a quick hug, ignoring the prickly residue of resentment. “You can move in with the other Sensitives.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” she exclaims, shaking her head.

We reach Cole’s motorcar and he opens the door for us.

“Why not?” I ask once we’re settled. “We don’t want you in danger.”

“I’m perfectly safe at the boardinghouse. The landlady went on high alert after Pratik was found and she hired a brawny kitchen boy just in case something else happens. I just don’t want to walk by myself to the Society and back. Mr. Casperson is doing some really important work with me. I don’t want to leave the study hanging. If I could get a ride to and from the Society, I am sure I would be perfectly safe.”

“I’m sure someone can drive you to and fro. If not, you can always take a cab,” I tell her.

Calypso shakes her head, her face miserable. “I don’t have any friends there.” She whispers so that only I can hear.

I can feel an agonizing pain coming off her in waves and my throat chokes up. I know what that kind of loneliness feels like. I think about how many people I have in my life now that love me and believe in me. Cole. Cynthia. Mr. Darby. Jacques. Even my mother. Calypso has no one. Her mother lives in the States and she came to London in part to be with her father and now they aren’t even speaking. Yes, she can be dramatic and annoying, but maybe that’s because she’s trying too hard. “Why don’t you stay the night with me?” I say impulsively. “Just for tonight. You can decide whether you want to stay at the boardinghouse tomorrow.”

She opens her mouth, flabbergasted. “Do you mean it?”

I nod.

“I thought we were going to the Wrights’,” Cole says. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, but then, he’s never been good with spur-of-the moment things.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Calypso says quickly. “I already horned in on your lunch.”

“It’s fine. Cole can tell the Wrights what happened. Just pick up your things and we’ll go back to my hotel for the night.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she gives me a smile and gratitude crosses her pretty features. “Thank you, Anna. You’re a real friend.”

Shame heats my face and I glance away. Why do I always think the worst of people? Why am I so suspicious? Calypso isn’t perfect—I’m fairly certain she has a bit of a crush on Cole—but no one is perfect, and I should be confident in Cole’s feelings for me.

But I’m not.

The thought depresses me a bit, but I’m determined to be cheerful, even when we park in front of the old house where we found Pratik’s body.

“You stay here,” Calypso says quickly, seeing the look on my face. “It will only take me a moment.”

Cole offers to accompany her but she shakes her head. “The landlady and the cook are both there. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you all right?” Cole asks after she leaves.

I nod, though I’m not really. I try not to think about Pratik’s staring eyes. Cole takes my hand and I can feel his love for me. I look up into his face, wishing he would just say the words.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied here,” he says, his voice contrite. “There are just so many more obligations here than in New York. You’re busy and I am busy and this whole thing with the Society and then Pratik . . .” His voice trails off and he stares into the distance a moment before looking down into my eyes. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to New York when it was just you and me.”

He twines his fingers around mine and a lump rises in my throat. “And my mother and Jacques and Mr. Darby, not to mention Owen and Dr. Boyle.”

He sighs. “I guess it was every bit as chaotic there, wasn’t it? Sometimes I just feel so overwhelmed.” Self-doubt emanates from him. Cole has always been confident and assured—he rarely shows this uncertain side of himself. I wish he’d let me see it more often. It makes me feel like he needs me.

I squeeze his hand, but before I can comfort him, Calypso is back with a small overnight bag. My heart dips. If we could only spend some time alone, it would be so much better.

I try not to remember that the last few times we’d been alone, we had either been arguing or talking about the Society or Pratik’s death. Cole pulls in front of my hotel, and surprisingly Calypso gives us another moment alone. I want him to say something personal again but he doesn’t. He just gives me a warm, brief kiss and says he’ll see me for dinner tomorrow night.

I sigh and join Calypso in the lobby. As she chatters nonstop up the stairs, I let her words wash over me.

Setting her bag on the floor she whirls around and grabs my arm. Pulling me to the mirror, she smiles at our reflections. “We could be almost sisters with our matching hats and dark hair. I’ve always wanted a sister.”

“You don’t have any siblings?”

She shakes her head. “Well, sort of. I have a half sister who lives in America.”