Ever since she was injured in a terrible accident, Cordelia Williams has felt adrift. The accident claimed more than her limb; it ruined her reputation and destroyed her dream of becoming a famous painter.
Worried that her disability makes her a dis...
Cluttered tables lined the room. An assortment of quills lay next to empty inkpots, weighing down scribbled notes and smudged drawings. Ancient maps stretched across the walls, and the air smelled like old parchment and fresh woodsmoke.
"Did you bring Grandfather's book?" Benny asked.
Cordelia nodded, opening her leather satchel. The tattered book dated back to 1768, logging the average wind speed, atmospheric pressure, and rainfall associated with every major storm.
Unfortunately, most of the 50-year record was utterly useless. Grandfather's handwriting resembled a starved chicken scratching for corn feed. Even after assisting him these past nine years, Cordelia had little success trying to read his slanted scrawl.
"Remember the time you convinced Grandfather to let us spend the night here?" Benny asked, fiddling with a quill. "It was near the end of summer, on one of those evenings when the sky was clear and the leaves had just started to change colors. We laid our bedrolls beneath the ancient oak tree." He pouted. "Grandfather always liked you more."
Cordelia laughed. "Grandfather doesn't pick favorites. Besides, you're his aspiring astronomer. He spent most of that night telling you stories about the stars. Remember all the constellations he pointed out?"
Benny set the quill aside. "I liked Andromeda the most. Her myth reminded me of you." He frowned, tilting his head. "Except for the part where a man on a flying horse rescued her. You aren't courting any gentlemen with flying horses, are you?"
"You don't have to worry about any suitors sweeping me away, flying horses or not," Cordelia teased.
"I'm sorry," Benny said, sensing the direction of her thoughts. "It's because of the accident, isn't it? It's my fault you were injured. If I hadn't run in front of that carriage, maybe you'd still have your-"
A crack of thunder split the sky.
Cordelia startled, whirling to peer out the window. The clouds had crept closer, blotting out the afternoon sun.
"We need to record Grandfather's measurements," she reminded him. "Why don't you check that the rain gauge is empty? I'll measure the air pressure, and we can calculate the wind speed when you return."
Benny nodded, scampering out the door.
Cordelia watched him leave, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Benny was right, although she'd never tell him that.
She sighed, flipping through Grandfather's logbook. She could already see how her life would unfold, the years stretching through time like a dull, gray ribbon.
She'd stay at the country manor until whispers of the accident faded, keeping Grandfather company and helping him with his weather measurements. None of her former friends would visit, and she'd have to make herself scarce if any gentlemen came to call on Ophelia. Perhaps she'd use the extra time to work on her paintings or start a new embroidery project. Maybe she'd finally sew something worthy of her mother's approval.
Cordelia frowned. If her embroidery skills reached that level of distinction, Mother would probably enlist her help in sewing samplers for Ophelia. Perhaps it was better to take up a new hobby. Flower arrangement seemed safe.
Safe, Cordelia grumbled, and boring. Her family couldn't expect her to hide at the manor and arrange flowers forever. She wanted to make real friends and help children discover a passion for painting. Surely, her parents wouldn't deny her dreams for the sake of their reputation.
Cordelia stopped at a blank page in the logbook. She twirled a quill between her fingers, signing the date in looping, elegant script. Grandfather didn't trust Benny or any of the servants to record the weather entries, which meant that job fell to Cordelia whenever he was away.
She checked the barometer, logging the number as Grandfather had taught her. He'd once explained that barometers measured air pressure using mercury's height up a glass tube. Cordelia wasn't entirely sure how that worked-her mother had forbidden science lessons from her and Ophelia's education-but it sounded important. Maybe Grandfather could-
Lightning flashed across the sky. Cordelia flinched, spilling ink across the logbook entry. Her groan was answered by a crash of thunder. It shook the cottage walls and rattled the glass windows. Her hand started to tremble, and Cordelia tried to focus on other things.
Her conversation with Ophelia seemed like a good distraction. It'd gone surprisingly well. Neither of them had resorted to siblicide, and everyone's shoes stayed on their respective feet. The last time Cordelia tried to talk with her sister, she'd had a slipper thrown at her head.
A second rumble echoed through the countryside. Cordelia closed her eyes, trying to tamp down her panic. These types of storms were always the hardest. The thunder sounded like clashing carriage wheels, and the wind shrieked like high-pitched screams.
She shuddered. The lightning was even worse. It made her remember...
Well, it was hard to pinpoint exactly what she remembered from the accident. Her memories melded with her nightmares until it became difficult to distinguish between the two. Sometimes, she flashed to the terror in Benny's eyes as she pressed him into the cobblestone street, shielding him from the runaway carriage. Other times, she pictured snapping bones and a river of blood.
In the end, it didn't matter which scene her mind focused on. The pain was always there. Even with two years to soften the memories, the pain lingered like a phantom limb. Cordelia could never escape it, could never-
A bright burst of laughter pierced her thoughts. Cordelia looked up.
The scene outside had changed. Benny raced across the clearing, his hands outstretched to catch the first raindrops. His green eyes sparkled beneath his wavy hair, and a smile stretched across his face. He threw back his head and laughed at the sky.
Something shifted in Cordelia's chest. Benny was here-he was alive-because of her. The accident had been horrific, but she'd lose her arm all over again if it meant keeping her brother safe.
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