Burning Bright Read Free Page A

since Shaping, unless one had the Extraordinary gift of Healing others, was useful only for making oneself pretty, and Elinor was accustomed to being the plain one. But to speak to Selina every day…
    Elinor stretched out her hand to the fire, and the flame mirrored her gesture. Where had this strange talent come from? Her father had not discovered a single Scorcher in his lineage for a dozen generations. Her mother, talentless but pretty, was out of the question as a source for Elinor’s talent; Mr. Pembroke thought too well of himself to believe his wife had ever played him false. At any rate, Elinor resembled her father too closely for that to be possible, with her chestnut hair and heavy, dark brows, her iron-grey eyes, her too-strong chin that on her father looked manly and on Elinor looked stubborn. Her heritage was a mystery, and one Elinor had no interest in solving.
    She drew back from the flame and undressed, awkwardly fumbling with the lacing of her stays until she could wriggle free of them. She was to be launched on society in the manner of one of the Navy’s ships of the line, rigged and outfitted for the duty of marrying well and producing dozens of talented babies for her noble husband, all thanks to this unexpected talent—and yet she could not say, if she were given the opportunity, that she would ask for it to be taken away. The fire was like a part of her that had been waiting all these years to awaken, and the idea of losing it, even after only four months’ time, made her feel ill.
    The sheets were still clammy because she had come to bed before the maid had brought the warming pan, but she rubbed her bare feet together to warm them, then bade the fire bank itself. She felt as if she were in two places, her solid body here in the slightly damp bed, her ghostly self snuggled securely into the fireplace. It was a strange but comforting feeling, and she lay awake enjoying her dual state for close to an hour before falling asleep.

    Elinor rose early the next morning and went quietly down the stairs to collect the newspapers. Her father never failed to arrange for their delivery, no matter where he was. She settled into an overstuffed chair in the unfriendly drawing room decorated in mauve and eggshell blue and opened
The Times
. Such ghastly news out of Nottinghamshire these days, those men striking in darkness, burning and smashing looms in the name of their “General Ludd.” And now Parliament was talking of making those actions a capital offense. Napoleon’s men overrunning Spain, his ships armed with Scorchers wreaking havoc on the Royal Navy’s proud fleet. Reading the newspaper certainly put her own problems into perspective.
    She heard the faint sound of the door opening, the murmur of the butler’s voice—she had no idea what his name was—and then, more clearly, “I know perfectly well Miss Pembroke is at home, and you need not trouble yourself inquiring.”
    “
Selina!
” Elinor threw the paper to the floor and leapt from her seat, meeting her sister halfway down the stairs and nearly bowling her over in her enthusiasm. Selina, Lady Wrathingham, laughed and embraced her tightly. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” Elinor said into her ear. “I have missed you so much.”
    “I’ve missed you too. Now, shall we sit and talk? I knew you would not mind if I came early, but I wanted you all to myself for an hour.” Selina pinched Elinor’s cheek gently. “And I intend to breakfast with you, which I realize is a shocking imposition, but if one is a viscountess, one is allowed to break with tradition, especially in the bosom of one’s own loving family.”
    “I can think of no greater pleasure,” Elinor said, taking her sister by the arm and leading her upstairs to the drawing room. “I will tidy these papers away—sit, sit, and feel free to remove that horrid bonnet.”
    “You think it horrid? It’s new.”
    “Puce has never been your color, Selina.”
    “You may be right. Oh