Page 47 of Witchbane

A few seconds later, the butler returned and in the same imperious way addressed me as I stood at the door. ‘If you could come this way, sir, His Lordship will see you now.’

I braced myself. I had just one chance to persuade Rue’s father to help me rescue her. If I made any mistakes during this audience, I would be putting her life at risk. I forced the thought from my mind. I took a steadying breath and walked into the room.

Lord Thistlebury was standing in front of an ornate fireplace, where a small fire kept the slight evening chill from the air.

‘Thank you, Banners.’ Lord Thistlebury studied me. ‘Would you care for some refreshment?’

‘Thank you, no.’

Lord Thistlebury asked the butler to leave us and motioned for me to take a seat opposite him. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met before.’

‘We haven’t.’

‘I am at a loss as to the reason behind your visit, sir.’

This is my moment, I thought, deciding it would be best to introduce myself fully, so that Rue’s father understood the gravity of my reason for being here. ‘As your butler will have told you, I am Theo Le Cerf.’

I saw something dawning on Lord Thistlebury’s face before it grew pale. ‘You are Elias Le Cerf’s son?’

‘I am, Your Lordship.’

The older man narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched as his obvious hatred of my father registered on his face. ‘You look nothing like him.’

‘I take after my mother. Her ancestry is Norwegian.’

There was silence for a few seconds. ‘You work with him?’ It sounded more like a realisation than a question but I answered anyway.

‘I am his assistant.’

Lord Thistlebury picked up a glass of what I guessed might be port, drank and set it down again. ‘You must have taken a lot of trouble to track me down.’

I nodded, though it wasn’t exactly true.

‘And I presume you have a good reason for doing so.’

He didn’t seem concerned at my presence, but then everyone reacted differently to situations. I kept my questions to myself and waited for him to speak again.

He scowled. ‘And the reason behind your visit?’ he said eventually. ‘I had hoped to have seen the back of that man after all this time.’

I took a breath to speak when Lord Thistlebury interrupted and stunned me to my core with what he said.

‘He lied about Martha, Lady Thistlebury. She was not a witch.’ He almost spat the words. There was a shifty look in his eyes and I realised he was lying. I didn’t blame him. After all, if the roles were reversed wouldn’t I lie to the Witchfinder’s assistant about the woman I loved, to save her or, as in this case, her reputation? ‘But Elias Le Cerf was never a man to accept defeat, especially in matters of the heart.’ He stood, walked the few steps to the fireplace and, resting an elbow on the mantelpiece, lowered his face into his hand. ‘Just because she was Sorrel’s identical twin and Sorrel chose her husband over your father.’

‘I … I don’t understand.’ My mind raced. ‘Are you insinuating my father was in love with your wife?’

Lord Thistlebury spun around to face me. ‘Not my wife. Her twin sister, Sorrel. They were identical twins. Very different in personality, though. As far as I’m aware, when Sorrel spurned your father and turned down his proposal of marriage in order to marry someone else, Le Cerf vowed to make her pay, which he did in the worst possible way.’

I struggled to believe even my father would stoop so low. I glared at him. ‘That’s nonsense.’

The older man shrugged. ‘Believe what you will. I’m telling you that’s how it was.’

‘But what about my mother?’ I asked, realising how foolish my question sounded. What this man was saying made no sense at all. ‘But my father was married to my mother eleven years before—’ I realised what I was about to say and stopped myself.

‘Before he murdered my wife, is that what you were about to say?’

I needed to know the truth, or at least this man’s version of it. ‘It is,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve heard whispers of my father and another woman, but never who she might be, let alone that it was Rue’s aunt, Sorrel Tredwell, or that they had known each other before Lady Thistlebury’s arrest.’ Surely he couldn’t be that vindictive. Could he?

Lord Thistlebury seemed weary suddenly. He stumbled slightly and I leapt up to help him into his chair.