Page 74 of The Alchemists

“Oh my god. It’s her.”

Cornelius Windermere had bought ninety acres for a vineyard from a local farmer, Jean Bevoire, father of Pierre, Marie, and Selene, the youngest of whom developed a “unique” relationship with Windermere and assisted him at the vineyard.

Fifteen minutes later they were in the cramped museum office, pestering the archivist and begging him to email them anything he could find on Selene Bevoire and her relationship with Windermere. He seemed endeared, more than anything, by their enthusiasm and promised to see what he could do. Their Windermere emails had been plenty of explanation, and Seb experienced that brief shock that he sometimes felt when the Magical and normal worlds collided, before he remembered that Windermere wasn’t a secret. In the mundane world it was just another fantastically expensive school that almost no one could afford to go to without old money, old connections, or both.

“Can you believe it?” Lily hopped along the street next to him, the wool sleeve of his jacket fisted in her hand. It almost certainly wasn’t good for the coat. “We found her. She was right here! Working with him! Do you think the whole family was magical?”

He just grinned at her. There wasn’t anything else to do.

“And he educated her. I wonder if that means he taught her to read, or magic⁠—”

“Or sexually,” Seb offered, boldly.

Lily punched him in the arm, then looked pensive. “I mean…he was definitely in love with her.”

Seb grimaced. “She was like, half his age, I think.”

“Who knows. Things were different then. I read that the average life expectancy for a man was thirty-eight. I wonder if there will be anything about her on the tour.” She turned to him. “I wish we had her letters. It’s so weird that all we have are his. Why did he have his own letters? Did she give them back?”

He’d assumed they were working toward a complement to the disc, but—“Maybe that’s what we’re going to find.”

LILY

She twisted in her seat as they bumped down the gravel drive, craning to look at the rows of vines carpeting the hills. A massive stone farm complex appeared among the rolling terrain, complete with silos and turrets and a covered walkway. Metal letters, stylishly patinated, welcomed them to the Fieldstone Winery. As Seb swung the car into the mostly empty lot, a young woman in catering blacks and an apron came out to greet them.

“Cornelius Windermere purchased the land for this winery in 1702 from a local farmer named Jean Bevoire. If the winery hadn’t undergone a period of stagnation following Windermere’s death, it would be the second-oldest continually operating winery in the country.” Along with two other couples, they followed the guide through the echoing halls, observing the giant steel fermentation tanks through humid glass. “Thankfully, the winery was purchased and resumed operations in 1754 by Jean van Bergen, the son of Windermere’s former assistant, Selene van Bergen.”

She exchanged a look with Seb. “Van Bergen,” he mouthed silently at her. So Selene Bevoire had become Selene van Bergen and had worked with, and possibly loved, Cornelius Windermere, a man nearly twice her age. Lily raised her hand.

“I was wondering if you could talk more about Windermere’s assistant, Selene? We’re up from the City, and we were just at the museum. They said that Windermere educated her? That seems very strange for a woman in her day and age.”

Seb cocked his head at her casual lie.

“Of course.” The guide smiled at her. “Not much is known about Ms. van Bergen or her relationship with Windermere, but what we do know is that Windermere was impressed by her tenacity and cleverness while he negotiated the sale of the land with her father.

“The Huguenot community at that time was very small, and Selene’s marriage prospects were slim. Windermere offered to educate her in exchange for her help running the winery. Of course, at the time, a woman’s value was tied to her marriageability, so her father was more than happy to divest himself of the burden.”

One of the other women, one who actually seemed to be from the City, broke in. “But she did marry? Eventually?”

The vintner leaned in, putting her hands in her pockets. “There’s a lot of speculation as to what occurred between Ms. van Bergen and Cornelius Windermere, but really no one knows for sure, or why she eventually pursued marriage at an age when she would have been considered past her prime.” She raised an eyebrow. “What I can say is that since Windermere had no children of his own on the continent, everyone assumed he would leave Ms. van Bergen’s son the winery, and that certainly didn’t transpire.”

“And the farm-to-table charcuterie—thanks.”

In the car she’d insisted on paying for her own tour, and Seb had shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road, with a “suit yourself.” But when they’d walked in, he’d put both of their tours on his card and she hadn’t stopped him. Lily had pride, but if he wanted to, she wasn’t going to stop her filthy rich beau from spending money he wouldn’t even know was missing. Especially when she had a new laptop to buy.

Her stomach cramped when she thought of it. She’d filed a report with campus security, omitting names. She and Seb had found the laptop with a tracing spell, smashed to bits in a dumpster behind one of the dorms. Fury had run through her, so intense that she couldn’t even cry. Now, Asher’s spare production laptop sat on her desk at home, most of her things safe in the cloud, but she’d still had to rewrite an entire paper.

“Charcuterie,” she said, trying to mock him with a straight face and failing.

“What?” He fared better with his mock offense. “Did you see the size of those pours? We need to get home in one piece.”

When it came, she speared a piece of cheese, washing it down with a sip of her first sample. She knew nothing about wine, but Seb’s polite grimace and bracing swallow implied this was not a shining example.

“Do you think whatever happened between Selene and Windermere is important to the Elumnara?”

He nodded, setting down his wine glass and managing only a slight wince. “It gets better the more you drink,” he confided.

“Tastes fine to me.” She said, shrugging.