Page 37 of Witchbane

‘Not from them.’

‘Who then?’ I thought of her trusted coven members. ‘The coven will be casting their individual spells to help me when they hear what’s happening to me.’

‘Not from them, sweet Rue. From another source. A strong one who doesn’t realise they have the power to help you.’

Without thinking, I turned to face her, but she wasn’t there; only a coolness remained that hadn’t been behind me a second before. Who could she possibly mean? I knew everyone with the power to cast spells and couldn’t think of anyone more powerful than the Witchfinder. I lay back on the long grass and spread my arms, gently brushing the daisies, buttercups and violets with my bare skin.

I woke with a start, my meadow disappearing and my dream vanishing. Disorientated and frustrated to have woken before I had deciphered my mother’s words, I rubbed my eyes. What could have woken me? Then I heard the sound of hooves on the drive and tensed. Who could that be? We rarely had guests and most of them arrived by foot.

Surely Theo wasn’t back here again.

‘Easy, boy.’

My spirits sank as I recognised the rider’s voice. ‘No,’ I groaned, close to tears. What could he possibly want now?

‘Whoa, Warrior.’

I ran over to the window and looked outside. The magnificent stallion was rearing. Something had spooked him, evidently from the house, because that was the direction he was facing. Staying half-hidden by my curtains, I watched Theo stroke the horse’s powerful neck and calm him, his voice soothing. I felt a pang of loss to see such gentleness in the tall muscular man who so clearly loved his steed, then reminded myself who he was and stepped back from the window.

As I did so he looked up in my direction. I winced, annoyed at my carelessness, then I noticed his eyes weren’t upon me but were fixed upon the floor above. The attic. I shivered. Could something up there have spooked the horse?

I heard Warrior snort, but from the sounds of his hooves on the ground he seemed to be calming. I took another peek outside. Theo was walking him slowly in a large circle, still stroking the horse’s neck. If Warrior was calm, there would be no reason for him to delay entering the house. The thought spurred me into action. I didn’t want my family to speak with him without me present.

‘That damned man and his family,’ I grumbled. Not wishing him to see me dishevelled or assume I was distressed by the morning’s events, I smoothed down my hair, pinched my cheeks to give them colour and straightened my skirts. As well prepared as I could be to face him once more, I left my room and hurried to join my family.

Before I reached the bottom of the stairs there was an unfamiliar knock on the front door. My heart pounded, my tiredness forgotten as I went to open it.

‘Who the devil is that?’ my aunt asked, coming into the hallway, frowning.

‘Allow me, Mistress Rue.’ Pierre immediately made for the door. ‘I’ll see who it is.’

Dear Pierre, protective as always, I thought gratefully.

We watched as Pierre opened the door to reveal Theo Le Cerf. He at least had the decency to appear embarrassed at making yet another unexpected visit. He stepped forward. No one spoke. We stared at him as he looked from one to the other of us.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said, removing his hat and revealing his untidy hair.

My grandmother appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Why are you here again? What could you possibly want from us this time?’

I saw him look up at my father’s portrait. My aunt had many times wanted to remove it, but we agreed in the end that it was one of the few valuable items remaining in the house and went some way to retain an air of elegance, though that was fading with each passing year. I didn’t often look at it because it brought back happy but now painful memories of how wonderful he had been to me as a child. While I still felt close to my mother when I was outside – in the rose garden and particularly in the herb garden, where I spent hours with her harvesting herbs for her spells – this portrait was a connection to my only living parent.

Looking into his eyes, seeing the half-smile on his kindly face, reminded me of so many precious times we spent together taking long walks across our fields and through the woods; when he taught me to swim in our lake; or surprised me with my first pony on my fourth birthday. I sighed heavily at the memory of the pair of us going for long rides, or flying the kite Pierre had made for me. So many magical moments shared between us that made his sudden disappearance all the more painful and confusing.

Theo stared at the painting. He seemed to sense me watching him and looked at me before shifting his gaze to my grandmother.

‘Is that a portrait of Lord Thistlebury?’

‘It is,’ I answered shortly without giving my grandmother a chance to respond. ‘Why?’

He gave an apologetic smile. ‘Curiosity, nothing more.’

‘You haven’t told us why you are here,’ my grandmother reminded him.

‘I apologise.’ He gave a small bow. ‘My father sent me to repeat his instructions to Mistress Underwood.’ He looked at me apologetically. ‘I’m sure you have already shared them with your family, but he wanted to ensure you had not forgotten any part of them.’

‘My granddaughter is more than capable of passing on a message,’ my aunt said, sniffing disdainfully.

‘I am sure she is, but I must follow his orders.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘I wanted to give you time to catch up with each other before returning here.’