Page 33 of Dare it all for Love

“I don’t know what it means, but that is surely witchcraft,” the young woman said under her breath.

Before Florence could respond a gruff voice sounded from the open doorway.

“What’s all this?”

“Sterling! Thank God. Look at this.” Henry gestured for the man to come in.

Sterling Oak stared about the assembled company for a moment, appearing reluctant to enter. At Henry’s insistence he moved forward, and his eyes widened at the sight of the corn doll.

“What do you make of this?” Henry asked, gesturing to the carving on the tabletop.

Sterling stared at it. He seemed uneasy. “A hexafoil.”

Henry’s eyebrows went up. He waited but Sterling said nothing further, so he gave an exasperated huff.

“Which is?” Henry demanded.

Mr Oak shrugged. “To trap evil spirits.”

Henry made a sound of irritation and rubbed a hand over his face. “So I’m dealing with a blasted lunatic.”

Mr Oak sucked air in through his teeth, plainly disliking Henry’s observation. “Wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, what would you say?” Henry asked, losing his patience.

Mr Oak glanced around the assembled company and frowned, shaking his head. Clearly, he did not wish to speak in front of everyone.

“For heaven’s sake, Sterling,” Henry said. “If you know something—”

“I never said that!” he retorted.

“I think perhaps Mr Oak would rather speak to you in private, Mr Stanhope,” Grace put in, before the two men could lose their tempers. “Perhaps he does not think the conversation fitting for female ears,” she added, though there was a hint of mockery in her eyes.

Mr Oak’s attention was suddenly riveted on Grace, and with such intensity Florence felt he no longer saw anyone else. It was as if they’d all disappeared.

“That’s not it,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

“What, then?” Grace asked.

He studied her, really studied her, as if he could weigh the elements of her soul if he stared long and hard enough. Grace returned his gaze with a quiet calm, apparently unruffled.

“That there corn doll represents the Maiden. The cunning folk know things we don’t, Miss Weston. My Gran did. There’s stuff out there older than us, things we don’t understand.”

“You surely don’t believe in witchcraft?” Henry said, clearly aghast at the idea.

Sterling met his gaze steadily. “I don’t say as I do, but I don’t say as I don’t either. There are more things in heaven and earth.”

Grace seemed interested in this, her head tilting to one side to study Mr Oak. “You’ve read Hamlet, Mr Oak?

“Aye, why not?”

“I meant no offense. Only that I supposed farmers have little time for such things.”

“The winter months are long and dark, miss.”

There was something in the way he said it that made Florence’s skin prickle. She cleared her throat, eager to dispel the strange atmosphere in the room.

“Whether or not any of us believe it, why would someone put a corn doll in this room, with that symbol beneath it? What are they trying to say, Mr Oak?” she asked.