Like a Charm Read Online Free PDF

the plantation? Who'll listen to my questions, who'll tell me anything?
    I finish by asking the Book something for myself. Will I ever be pretty, like Eliza? Will these dull and round features ever bloom into perfect conjunction? Will I grow a face that will take me to France, that will win me the love of a French gentleman? Or will I be stuck here for the rest of my life, my mother's harried assistant and perhaps her successor, running the plantation and the wine business and the many complex enterprises that make up the wealth of the Famille Duparc-Locoul? That's too many questions. Concentrate, Aimée. Will I be pretty when I grow up? Behold, thou art fair, my love, I murmur, as if to make it so; behold, thou art fair. But then something stops me from shaking my hand, making the key swing. Because what if the answer is no?
    I stoop over the trunk and take out the death mask, as I now know it's called. I hold it very carefully in my arms, and I lie down beside the trunk. I look into the perfect white oval of my cousin's face, and lay it beside mine. Eliza, Eliza. I whisper my apologies for disturbing her things, for borrowing her bracelet, with all its little gold trinkets. I tell her I only want to know the truth of how she died, so her spirit can be at rest. My cheek is against her cool cheek, my nose aligns itself with hers. The plaster smells of nothing. I set my dry lips to her smooth ones.
     
    'Millie,' I ask, when she's buttoning up my dress this morning, 'you remember my Cousine Eliza?'
    The girl makes a little humming sound that could mean yes, no or maybe. That's one of her irritating habits. 'You must,' I say. 'My beautiful cousin who went away to Paris. They say she died of a fever.'
    This time the sound she makes is more like hmph.
    I catch her eye, its milky roll. Excitement rises in my throat. 'Millie,' I say, too loud, 'have you ever heard anything about that?'
    'What would I hear, Mam'zelle Aimée?'
    'Oh, go on! I know you house nègres are always gossiping. Did you ever hear tell of anything strange about my cousin's death?'
    Millie's glance slides to the door. I step over and shut it. 'Go on. You can speak freely.'
    She shakes her head, very slow.
    'I know you know something,' I say, and it comes out too fierce. Governing the nègres is an art, and I don't have it; I'm too familiar, and then too cross. Today, watching Millie's purple mouth purse, I resort to a bribe. 'I tell you what, I might give you a present. What about one of these little charms?' Through my sleeve, I tug the gold bracelet down to my wrist. I make the little jewels shake and spin in front of Millie's eyes. 'What about the tiger, would you like that one?' I point him out, because how would she know what a tiger looks like? 'Or maybe these dance slippers. Or the golden cross, that Jesus died on?' I don't mention the key, because that's my own favourite.
    Millie looks hungry with delight. She's come closer; her fingers are inches away from the dancing trinkets.
    I tuck the bracelet back under my wrist ruffle. 'Tell me!'
    She crosses her arms and leans in close to my ear. She smells a little ripe, but not too bad. 'Your cousine?'
    'Yes.'
    'Your oncle and tante killed her.'
    I shove the girl away, the flat of my hand against her collarbone. 'How dare you?'
    She gives a luxurious shrug. 'All I say is what I hear.'
    'Hear from whom?' I demand. 'Your Pa Philippe, or your ma?' Millie's mother works the hoe-gang, she's strong as a man. 'What would they know of my family's affairs?'
    Millie is grinning as she shakes her head. 'From your tante.'
    'Tante Marcelite? She'd never say such a thing.'
    'No no. From your Tante Fanny.'
    I'm so staggered I have to sit down. 'Millie, you know it's the blackest of sins to lie,' I remind her. 'I think you must have made up this story. You're saying that my Tante Fanny told you – you – that she and Oncle Louis murdered Eliza?'
    Millie's looking sullen now. 'I don't make up nothing. I go in and out of that