Cassiopeia had been very reluctant to give any concrete details about the mysterious Grindelwald, saying only that if Mr Jarvis had never heard of him, that was a very good sign, as it meant that he didn’t get very far with his plans. The man was on the wrong side of things, that much was plain, but Cassiopeia had seemed unusually hesitant to share her thoughts about him, especially given her frank confrontation of the other difficult and emotive topics which they had discussed.
She listened politely to the news of Mrs Jarvis’s job offer. As a girl, Cassiopeia had believed very strongly that it was wrong for women to engage in paid work, and that it was a failing of their families if they had no choice but to do so. Travel and the war, however, had broadened her horizons, and while it was still something she would never contemplate for herself, she no longer judged others for it the in way that she once had. Not everyone had the assurance of a family fortune. She was able, therefore, to appreciate Mr Jarvis’s pleased reaction to the news.
‘What sort of events do they plan?’ she asked, mildly curious. It seemed rather an unusual choice of job.
Cassiopeia watched contently as Mr Jarvis examined the little potion-bottle, but his last question caused her to instinctively tense. It was only for a fleeting moment, but the attentive observer might have been able to tell that the question worried her. It wasn’t an entirely unexpected one, especially not with Arcturus seemingly merrily discussing his magic with all and sundry, and it wasn’t the worst that he could have asked, but it was still difficult.
‘A teaspoonful, twice a day,’ she answered him. Take the easy questions first. ‘She mustn’t shake the bottle, or place it too close to a fire. Oh, and I’m afraid I’ve been told the taste isn’t very pleasant, but that can’t be helped.’ She gave him a small, encouraging smile. ‘Mr Jarvis, before I tell you more about the tonic, I should like to ask you what your opinion is of magic. Have you ever met a wizard before? A genuine wizard, that is, not some charlatan practicing sleight-of-hand and confidence tricks?’ He had seen them, she supposed, at the celebration in Everdale, but that wasn’t quite the same.