Mangan! All this time in the same house as him and I never suspected anything, never saw anything different in him beyond artistic eccentricity. And his visitor, who is he? And who else is a witch? Am I surrounded by people who secretly cast spells and summon the dead? Is Jane a witch, too? Is Gudrun? My God, how will I ever know? How will I ever be certain of anything again?

Chapter 17

17.

My bedroom resembles a shipwreck, with garments, shoes, stoles, and suchlike strewn over every surface. Iago is thoroughly put out by all the excitement and fuss and is sitting on a green velvet chair in a bad temper, his tail thrashing from side to side. He refuses to be persuaded to change his mood, and is all out of purrs. It would, no doubt, be chaotic enough if it were only I getting ready for the ball, but with Charlotte here, too, excitement and fluster have been raised to levels beyond the endurance of any self-respecting cat.

“Oh, Lilith.” Charlotte stands in front of the looking glass turning this way and that to better view the dress she is trying on, “I am not sure this is right. Is it right? Alice, what do you think? Is this the right dress? Oh, my goodness, the first ball in an absolute age, and I am incapable of choosing what to wear. Lilith, I blame you entirely. You look so divine in that gown, I shall pale beside you.” She slumps down on the bed. “I may as well go in that ghastly creation my mother found for me. It will make no difference. I shall be a wallflower the entire evening.”

Laughing, I throw a small cushion at her. “Really, Charlotte, you should know better than to fish for compliments here. Alice is far too busy to waste time flattering you, Iago can only growl at the moment, and I refuse to enter into the delusion that you will look anything other than exquisite, as you always do.”

“Oh? And do you suggest I wear Mama’s choice of gown?”

I stifle a giggle. “Very well, I admit there are some garments even you would struggle to shine in.” I cast about the muddle of silk, velvet, and chiffon. “Here.” I select a svelte golden dress with a pearl-encrusted bodice and lengths of sheer satin falling in rippling folds to the floor. “Put this one on. The color will be perfect with your hair. And you can wear your lovely ropes of pearls.”

“It is beautiful … but a little fussy, perhaps? All those seed pearls … No, it won’t do. Alice, help me, I shall try the raspberry velvet once more.”