“Marcus hasn’t been himself since he told you about Obadiah,” Matthew said, attributing his son’s anxiety to a different cause.
Obadiah’s violent end had been the subject of many whispered conversations between me, Agatha, and Sarah. Over the past few days, Marcus had returned to the events of 1776, adding new details, worrying if there was some way he could have avoided killing his father and still have protected his mother and sister.
“The threads that bind him to the world have changed in color, but they’re still tangled and twisted,” I admitted. “I’ve been wondering if a simple charm would help, one woven with the second knot. He’s all blue these days.”
“I don’t think he’s that depressed,” Matthew said with a frown.
“No, not that kind of blue!” I said. “Though maybe that’s where we get the expression. Everywhere Marcus rubs up against time, it seems to register in shades of blue: royal blue, pale blue, purple, lavender, indigo, even turquoise. I’d like to see more balance. Last week there was some red, white, and black in the mix. Not all of them are happy colors, but at least there was some variety.”
Matthew looked fascinated. He also looked concerned.
“Second-knot spells rebalance energy. They’re often used in love magic,” I said. “But that’s not their only purpose. In this case, I could weave a spell to help Marcus sort out the emotions that are tied to his past lives.”
“For a vampire, coming to terms with our past lives is the most important work we do,” Matthew said cautiously. “I don’t think magical assistance is a good idea, mon coeur.”
“But Marcus is trying to ignore his past, not face it,” I said. “I know how impossible that is.”
Past. Present. Future. As a historian, I was intrigued by the relationship between them. To examine one thread required that you study them all.
“He’ll realize that,” Matthew said, returning to his paper. “In time.”
* * *
—
MATTHEW AND I WERE TAKING the children for a walk when we spotted a convertible approaching the house. It turned in to the driveway and wended its way to the house at a crawl.
“Ysabeau,” Matthew said. “And Marcus, too.”
It was a bizarre procession. Alain was at the wheel of the car. Ysabeau de Clermont sat in the passenger seat, wearing dark glasses and a sleeveless dress in a pale primrose color. The ends of the Hermès scarf knotted around her head fluttered in the breeze. She looked like the star of a 1960s film about a European princess on summer holiday. Marcus ran alongside, asking if there was news from Paris.
“Jesus, Grand-mère,” Marcus said when they finally arrived in the courtyard and Alain switched off the ignition. “Why own a car with that much engine if you’re going to let Alain drive it at five miles per hour like a golf cart?”
“One never knows when one might have to make a getaway,” Ysabeau replied cagily.
The children clamored for Ysabeau’s attention. She ignored them, although she did sneak in a wink at Rebecca.
“How’s Phoebe?” Marcus was practically dancing in anticipation of the news.
Ysabeau didn’t answer her grandson’s question, but motioned toward the rear of the automobile. “I brought decent champagne. There is never enough of it in this house.”
“And Phoebe?” Marcus asked, renewing his calls for more information.
“Has Becca’s tooth come in yet?” Ysabeau inquired of Matthew, still ignoring Marcus. “Hello, Diana. You are looking well.”
“Good morning, Maman.” Matthew stooped to kiss his mother.
Sarah and Agatha joined us in the courtyard. Sarah was still in her pajamas and dressing gown, and Agatha was wearing a cocktail dress. They made an odd pair.
“It is afternoon, Matthew. Have you no clocks in the house?” Ysabeau looked around for her next target and found one in my aunt. “Sarah. What a strange frock. I hope you didn’t pay much for it.”
“Nice to see you, too, Ysabeau. Agatha made it for me. I’m sure she’d make one for you, too, if you asked nicely.” Sarah drew the vivid kimono around her.
Ysabeau looked askance at the garment, then sniffed.
“Are you having a problem with fleas? Why does everything reek of lavender?” Ysabeau asked.
“Why don’t we all go inside,” I said, shifting Becca to my other hip.
“I have been waiting for an invitation to do just that,” Ysabeau said, her annoyance at the delay evident. “I cannot just walk in, can I?”