Turned by Kessie Carroll Page B

yes?"
     
    Her mother waved a dismissive hand. "Love is
not necessary when both parties possess fortunes."
     
    Charlotte bowed her head and gazed into the
dark tea. It seemed to foretell her future--dark with loneliness
and devoid of sweetness. She added another sugar lump, but it did
no good.
     
    "Why must I wed him?" she burst out. "Surely
there is someone else!"
     
    "Your father and I have had our eye on
Bernard Preston for years," said her mother. "His aunt is one of my
friends. I'm frankly surprised you don't know him better."
     
    Charlotte sighed. How could she know him when
he attended an exclusive school, never visited neighbors or
attended balls? He was absent from her social circle. She did not
doubt his intelligence, but what sort of heart beat within his
pudgy frame? Until now, he was the sort of man she habitually
snubbed. Had she snubbed him at their meeting? She couldn't
recall.
     
    Still, there was the possibility of
happiness, even if it consisted only of material things. She had no
inclination to learn about alchemy--or werewolves. Such things were
beyond her ken. Besides, money could buy a consort, if she went
about it quietly.
     
    But she turned from that thought with a sigh.
What was the point of marriage if she was already destroying it in
her heart? She would try to love Bernard. And only if nothing came
of it would she consider alternatives.
     
    ***
     
    The wedding was a glorious affair of flowers,
silk and feasting. Yet afterward, Charlotte went to her quarters,
and Bernard went to his. There was no intimacy that night, or any
other night. Charlotte shed many bitter tears over it.
     
    Bernard seemed uncomfortable around her,
hardly daring the occasional clasp of her hand. He spent most of
his time in the cottage behind the house, where he worked long
hours on alchemical mysteries.
     
    The days became weeks, then months. Charlotte
gave up hopes of romance, and focused her energies on managing
their estates, and climbing the social ladder.
     
    It was not until shortly after their third
anniversary that everything changed.
     

Chapter 2: The Curse
     
    The matter came up one evening at supper.
They sat at opposite ends of a vast dining table, amid islands of
silver and glimmering candles. Bernard had acquired a habit of
reading while he ate, and was engrossed in a small tome as he
sipped his soup.
     
    "Bernard," said Charlotte. "I wish to ask you
something."
     
    He looked up in surprise, his glasses
slipping off the end of his nose. He caught them before they landed
in his soup. "Yes, my lady?"
     
    "What is it that you do all day in your
shop?"
     
    Her attention flattered him. However, three
years of his wife's presence, however distant, had taught him that
the only time she noticed anyone was when they'd prove useful. "I
am conducting various alchemical experiments."
     
    Charlotte frowned. "Are they of ... any
monetary significance?"
     
    "Perhaps," said Bernard. "I am not brewing
eternal youth potions, if that's what you mean. Some of us distrust
Allard's means of defending the city of Lyedyn ..."
     
    "Oh, magic," said Charlotte with a tinkling
laugh. "I'm trying to climb the ladder of society, and you're
brewing potions! You must create useful things if we are to attract
notice and add to our fortune."
     
    Bernard replaced his glasses and reopened his
book.
     
    "Well?" snapped Charlotte. "Didn't you hear a
word I said?"
     
    "Yes, my lady," said Bernard without looking
up. "I have no intention of 'adding to our fortune', as you put
it."
     
    Charlotte snorted.
     
    Bernard excused himself soon afterward. He
left the manor and strode across the grounds to a small cottage
near the stables. He'd turned it into a satisfactory laboratory the
year he'd married Charlotte. Producing a key, he let himself in,
and locked the door behind him.
     
    Tables filled the main room, loaded with
alchemical instruments, heated by a cunning iron furnace with many
pipes extending to each table. Bernard