2
" But my parents who died in the fire, they...they were part of a noble family in England. The family has always owned the Rockford Manor in Oxfordshire, which is a mansion that includes acres of land, plus a local village where people live and farm---"
"Wait, noble? Do you mean like royalty?" Zoey interrupts, her eyes wide.
"No, no. But in England there's a system called the peerage---dukes and duchesses, earls and countesses---and they're ranked just below royalty. My dad was the younger son of the Duke of Wickersham, which made him a lord and my mom a lady."
Carole and Keith sit frozen, listening to me with a look of dread in their eyes.
"So what does that make you?" Zoey asks breathlessly.
"Well, when my parents were alive, it meant that I was treated a certain way just because I was part of this family of dukes and duchesses. But then after the fire, the line of succession changed---everything changed. My first cousin, Lucia, became next in line to inherit Rockford Manor and the title. So she would have been the Duchess of Wickersham." I swallow hard. "But she died in an accident last year---which I didn't even know about until today." My hands shake as I speak, and I can't look at Keith and Carole, unable to grasp how they could have kept this from me.
"That's awful! But what does it mean for you?" Zoey presses.
"Her death left me next in line after my grandfather. And he passed away last month---which I was also unaware of." This time I'm able to look at Carole and Keith, shooting them a withering glare.
Zoey's mouth hangs open.
"That means you're...you're a...?"
"Yeah. You're looking at the new Duchess of Wickersham and owner of Rockford Manor. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion
7
" For more than a century now, Lady Beatrice Rockford (1811-1850) has been known as "that wicked American" and her husband, the fifth Duke of Wickersham, the victim forced to send her to the gallows. But these roles are ludicrously reversed. The real ugly stain in my family history is my ancestor, the duke who murdered his wife simply because she was capable of something he had never seen. He feared what he didn't understand, and let his fear drive him to evil.
Is there anything inherently wrong in having a paranormal talent? More than likely, Lady Beatrice didn't wish for her gift, and with the exception of the burned garden, which she instantly restored, there are no accounts of her ever using her skill to cause any harm.
If we misconstrue that which we don't understand as frightening or criminal, then we are lost. But if we recognize differences in others as something beautiful or miraculous---even, or especially, differences as astounding as Lady Beatrice's---then we all win in the end. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion
13
" You won't miss me anyway," I tell Sebastian, my voice breaking on the last word. "You have each other."
I turn on my heels, leaving Carole and Keith to reason with a still-arguing Lucia. I keep my head down as I descend the hill toward Rockford Manor, not noticing that I'm being followed until I feel a hand on my shoulder.
"It's not true, what you said."
I turn around at Sebastian's voice, feeling a strange swooping in my stomach as I face him.
"What isn't true?"
"That I won't miss you. Because I will. I'll miss you every summer and every holiday if you don't come back," he says, looking at me earnestly. "I'll miss you every time I see a bellflower or anything else that reminds me of my friend Ginny Rockford."
Tears prick at the back of my eyelids as he speaks. He can't know how much his words mean to me; how they make everything simultaneously better and worse. But before I can answer, Sebastian bends down and brushes his lips against my cheek. I gasp, reaching up to touch my face in awe. Nothing should be able to make me feel happy after all I've just lost--- but this kiss, platonic though it may be, gives me a moment of pure joy.
"Goodbye, Ginny," he says softly. "Till we meet again."
"Goodbye," I echo, still touching my cheek as he walks back to rejoin Lucia. When he's no longer within earshot, I whisper, "I'll never forget you. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion
17
" Now, for your final lesson of the day, it's essential that you know why your title was created. Do you have any idea?"
I shake my head sheepishly.
"One of your ancestors, Randolph Henry Rockford, proved to be one of England's greatest military heroes at the turn of the eighteenth century. After he won a number of crucial battles for England, King George I expressed his gratitude by granting him a dukedom over the settlement of Wickersham, along with the massive funds to build a palace worthy of such a hero," Basil explains. "Of course, the papers scoffed that King George was cruel to choose Wickersham, for the land was notoriously barren, especially in comparison to Oxfordshire's other, far more verdant towns. But eventually the fifth Duchess of Wickersham, Lady Beatrice, changed all of that."
"What did she do?" I ask.
"I suppose you could say she was the ultimate green thumb. Within a year, ugly old Wickersham was transformed into one of the most beautiful, frequently painted landscapes in England."
This is the first moment of our lesson where I feel a flicker of interest.
"How did she do it?"
Basil hesitates.
"It's hard to separate truth from fiction on that account. I suppose we'll never know. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion
18
" Running my hands over the dirt, I suddenly feel an unfamiliar, electric charge buzzing through my fingertips. I jump back, hands trembling.
"Are you all right?" Sebastian asks, his green eyes glancing down at me with concern.
"Mm-hmm." I look away in embarrassment before returning to my task, gingerly spreading more dirt over the seeds. The buzzing shoots through my hands once again and my eyes squeeze shut in pain.
And then I hear Sebastian gasp. I open my eyes as Lucia shouts, "Where did her flower come from? Is this a trick?"
Bewildered, I glance in front of me---and stifle a scream.
A glorious Canterbury bell stands in full bloom, where moments ago there were only seeds. Its violet petals are damp from the water I just sprinkled over the dirt, and I gape at the impossible sight in disbelief. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion
20
" While Max inspects one of the plants, I make my way to the bed of roses at the center of the garden, encircled by the long brick bench Mum used to occupy. I sit down, my hands absently skimming the flowers as I let myself remember her. And then I freeze, my body seizing with terror, as the same vibrating energy from long ago fills my fingertips.
I cry out, springing off the bench in alarm. But I can't stop myself from glancing back at the flower bed, and what I see renders me speechless.
Little cracks are forming in the dirt where my hands just were, moving before my eyes and creating space in the flower bed. From the cracks a new rose suddenly bursts forth, more vivid and more frighteningly beautiful than all the others. "
― Alexandra Monir , Suspicion