Aether Spirit by Cecilia Dominic Read Free Book Online Page A

you can’t say anything to Claire. You heard she went to Europe for treatment?”
    “Yes, and my mother said Cousin Claire didn’t even know her daddy was dead, and her mind still can’t handle it.”
    “Come with me, and I’ll explain.”
    Chapter Five
    Fort Daniels, 23 February 1871
    Mrs. Soper looked Claire up and down. And up and down again.
    “Don’t they feed you skinny girls up north?” she asked. “You been ill or something?”
    Major Longchamp didn’t say anything. He emanated amusement and a sort of curiosity. Claire got it—this was a test. Strangely, she didn’t get any kind of emotion from Mrs. Soper, and that disturbed her more than anything. Was the woman so war-weary that she’d given up on feelings? Or was she so used to dealing with Major Longchamp that she’d learned to not make her emotions evident?
    “Yes, ma’am,” Claire said, deciding that honesty was always the best policy. “I was, but I’m better now, and it wasn’t anything catching.”
    “Good, then. I like a girl who tells the truth.” Mrs. Soper nodded once, the downward stroke of her chin a stamp of approval.
    Longchamp’s curiosity turned to relief. “I knew you’d like her. She’s one of us.”
    “I can tell that, Dennis, you fool. Now let me show her where she’s sleeping and give her lunch. The poor darlin’s nerves are all strung out from this morning.”
    “Thank you,” Claire said. One of us? She looked quizzically at Longchamp, who patted her arm.
    “We can talk more later. I have to put in some orders before the mail cart goes out. Mrs. Soper will take good care of you. Once she feeds you, find O’Connell to help you move your things.”
    “I don’t have much. I can handle them.”
    “Best you show the others you’ve got a brawny man looking after you. As much as I respect the boys, I fear the girls here.”
    “Thank you,” Claire said. “I appreciate your understanding.”
    “You’re very welcome, my dear. Those of us who take care of others need to stick together.”
    She recognized there was more to his words, but she didn’t ask further. After the medical world of the neuroticists in Europe and the focus on empiricism to the exclusion of everything else she’d encountered in Philadelphia, the acknowledgment and acceptance of what she could do felt like being dropped into a pot of warm honey—comforting and sweet, but also disorienting.
    “We’ll put you in the general’s daughter’s bedroom,” Mrs. Soper said. “Follow me, and I’ll show you and give you the key.”
    “Won’t she need it?” Claire asked, thinking of the current general. She thought she’d been briefed that he wasn’t married, but he could have been widowed. She followed Mrs. Soper up the main stairs and to a hallway with two bedrooms on each side.
    “Lord, no, child, she’s dead. Killed with the wave of consumption that went through in ’63. But don’t worry—she wasn’t here, so the room is clean. Other people have stayed in there without catching a thing.”
    “Oh, how tragic! Where was she?”
    “She was with her mama in California.” The housemistress lowered her voice. “The general sent his family as far away from the fighting—and other things—as he could, and they thought the California air would be good for her. But she’s buried here in the family plot out back.”
    She opened the door and led Claire into a large room with yellow flower-patterned wallpaper, a four-poster bed with white curtains, and white-painted furniture. It resembled Claire’s bedroom at home—bright, virginal, and innocent. She put a hand to her heart, which gave a dull thud. She felt like she knew the girl, that she could have shared a similar fate, a young death, had it not been for the doctors in Boston and Paris.
    “Are there pictures of her?” she asked.
    “Somewhere. The general don’t like to be reminded of what he lost.”
    “And the mother?”
    “Died soon after the daughter, of a broken heart,