The Witch's Thief (4 page)

“Basil!” she said, then motioned for him to sit in the chair. With immense relief, he obeyed. She took a moment to inspect his head, ascertaining for herself the extent of his injury. “A simple poultice will see this healed. I can prepare it momentarily.”

“No need, Auntie. I’m fine,” Basil said.

“Well, my stars, it does me good to see you, my boy!” Petunia stated then leaned back to get a good look at him. “You’ve grown. Why were you gone for so long? I could have been dead and buried before setting eyes on you again. Did I not say so, Julia? Many times over the years. Oh, Julia,” Petunia said, turning to face the woman. “You know my nephew Basil. My dearly departed niece’s son. You were much attached as children, if I recall. Basil, do you not remember our neighbor Miss Grey? It has been a long time, indeed, if you should forget her. She spent more time here with you than your sisters, to be sure! She’s come to keep company with me at Merriweather as my lady’s companion.”

Basil made to stand, as a gentlemen should, but Julia stopped him. “No need for formal re-introductions,” she said, smiling with genuine warmth. “We are old friends, are we not, Mr. Merriweather?”

“So old that we need not be so formal, I believe, Miss Grey.”

A shade of pink lightly flushed her cheeks. She lowered her lashes, looking quickly to the floor, though her smile remained in place. “Indeed,” she said.

Aunt Petunia began to chatter once more, marveling at Basil’s physical changes and all the years that had passed since she last clapped eyes on him. Though he followed her dialogue, his aunt’s voice fell to the background as Basil focused on the sight of Julia.

Julia!

Stray strands of dark brown hair curled softly against her cheek. The fire’s light shone upon it, illuminating the reddish interwoven strands, a trait she shared with her younger sister. The color suited her pale skin and enhanced the jade of her eyes.

His nostrils twitched. Her scent of lilacs plagued him. Basil refrained from inhaling deeply of that beauteous odor.

The moment he opened his eyes to find himself on the library floor with her hovering over him, he had been convinced he woke to a dream. After all, he dreamt of her often. Even while he banished her from every waking thought, she still came to him at night, her hands searching for him, her heat warming him, her lips tasting him. He’d suffered many difficult nights with her memory tormenting him.

And to have her now, only an arm’s length away and unable to embrace her as he so desired tore at his fragile heart. He resisted for decorum’s sake as well as her own good. He broke ties with her those many years ago. He’d not do her harm by engaging in her society now, no matter how much he yearned for her company.

Aunt Petunia spoke his name and he realized she’d ask him a question that he failed to answer while he busied himself with memories of Julia. He needed to pay better attention.

“Ah, yes. I came as quickly as I could after I received your letter.” Basil rubbed his hands in front of the fire. He wondered if he’d ever feel warm again. “Where are the girls?”

“Lillian and Melora are with Uncle Arden.”

“Whatever for?” Basil looked up abruptly.

Petunia’s elder brother Arden Prescott rarely wanted much to do with any member of their family. Occasionally, he accepted Petunia as a guest in his home in Cornwall out of familial duty, but other than that he preferred the life of a recluse. He was obsessed with his alchemical work. Basil visited his estate as a child and recalled glimpses of a gray-haired man smelling of rotten eggs. “Why are the girls with Uncle Arden?”

“He’s claimed guardianship over them,” Petunia said, frowning. “He promised a Season, a chance for them to find husbands. I thought he was being charitable after all these years, so I urged them to accept. They’ve never been to London, after all.”

“And?”

Petunia shook her head in remorse. “Lillian contacted me a few weeks ago. There was no Season. He’s already picked men for them to marry. Sold them to the highest bidder, in fact. He’s run out of money and found husbands in exchange for funds.”

“The scoundrel!” Basil sat up. “He cannot force them to marry. Who does he think he is that he may coerce them?”

“His work has always been his obsession. I fear he’s grown worse still since my last visit to Cornwall.”

“I do not know why you insist on keeping contact with him. He’s little more than a madman.”

“He’s my brother,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “He’s the only one I have left since your dear grandfather departed this earth. As children, Arden and I were the best of friends. I honor that memory despite what he has become. And, I believe people can change, Basil. Don’t you?” Her left eyebrow rose inquisitively, daring him to answer.

He looked away. Yes, people could change. He changed much in the last ten years. In more ways than he cared to admit.

Basil glanced at Julia, whose gaze remained fixed on the fire, wondering in what ways she had changed, too. Her looks hadn’t changed greatly. Julia’s face remained much as the younger version he remembered, although her eyes differed. They looked older, serious. Her youthful exuberance had vanished. Things had happened to her, changed her, matured her in ways he was certain he didn’t wish to know. Had he done that to her? The vibrant life he had seen in her eyes was now dulled with...pain?

He looked away from her. He’d go mad if he kept up this line of thought. Although he could blame himself for many things, he’d hoped Julia had managed to forget him as he promised to forget her.

And because he was used to the lies he told himself, his hungry gaze turned back to her, devouring the sight of her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her. The urge to reach for her, to take her and cradle her in his arms nearly overpowered him.

“Julia, my sweet, would you be a dear and run to my rooms to fetch my shawl? This vulgar snowstorm has the chill in this room going right through to my bones. We’ll have Parker see to the fire. It’s starting to die down,” Petunia said.

Julia nodded. “Of course, ma’am.” She obligingly stood, offered a brief curtsy and left the room. Basil couldn’t help but note the look of relief in her face as she darted passed him toward the door. He resisted the urge to reach for her arm. He wanted nothing more than to gather her into his embrace so he could give her a proper kiss.

He still couldn’t believe it.

Julia.

How was it he returned to find her living in his very home? Where was her husband? And the myriad of children he imagined she’d have by now? Although it pained him to think so, she should have her own household by now.

Aunt Petunia leaned over toward his chair, shaking him from his thoughts. She grasped his hand and squeezed tightly.

“I have missed you, my boy.”

Basil smiled. His throat tightened at the tender emotion in Aunt Petunia’s chubby face. He caressed her weathered hand, the affection he felt for his aunt warming him.

“I never imagined you would stay away for so long.”

“Nor did I.”

“And with hardly a word? Basil, did they not have mirrors where you were?”

“In fact, Auntie, they did not.” Basil released her hand and she sat comfortably back in her seat. “I’ve spent a goodly amount of time in wilderness virtually untouched by civilized man. Mirror communication was out of the question. I couldn’t even post a letter. I hoped you wouldn’t worry over much as I did promise to return.”

“I assumed it would be a bit earlier than this.”

Basil nodded, glancing to the door. How long did it take to retrieve an old woman’s shawl? Turning back to his aunt, Basil tried to focus on her instead of the woman who had gone upstairs.

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

“No.”

“Care to tell me the reason you hid away within the jungles?”

“I’ve explained in my few letters. I’m following Father’s footsteps. Searching the world for special spells and practices to record in the grimoires.”

“Your father’s spellbooks might be the excuse for leaving England, but not
the
reason.”

“That’s the only reason, Auntie,” Basil said. He turned back to face the fire and hoped his tired face did not reveal the lie. She was too perceptive by far. He prayed she’d not see the odd shudder course through him, nor the way his hand trembled on occasion. He clenched his fist when he felt one coming on, hoping to hide it from her. He wondered briefly how long he could manage to keep it all a secret. Especially with his foolish travels through the mirror. He knew better than to attempt it. Reed had tried to talk him out of it. But the urgency in his aunt’s letters compelled him. It was not only his sisters that worried him.

“Where is Sage? Why has he not done anything to assist with Lillian and Melora’s troubles?”

“Your brother’s been delayed in London. As soon as the storm is done and the roads are passable, he’ll join us here.”

“Delayed?” Basil arched a brow.

Aunt Petunia gave him a knowing glance and shrugged. She knew his brother’s habits better than he. Sage was a rogue or, as his aunt often referred to him, a free-spirit. He dallied with any woman with a pretty face and an embedded ring on her finger. Sage was not one to fall into a marriage-trap with a green girl. He much preferred a more experienced sort of woman.

Some things, it seemed, had not changed.

He glanced at the ceiling, as if he might see through the plaster and wood to the rooms above. Where was Julia? What took her so long? Having had a few moments to glimpse upon her only left him wanting more. He yearned to see her face again. He wanted to stare at her, to listen to her voice. He could be content to sit for hours and simply watch her. To be in the same room again. His skin ached to be near her.

Where was she? And, why was she here in Merriweather Manor? Was it simply as a lady’s companion for his elderly aunt?

He sighed, lowered his gaze and turned his attention back to his aunt.

“You are the only one I could turn to, Basil. Sage will do all he can, of course, but he never held much sway with your uncle. Senna is visiting Hyacinth in Italy. They hope to arrive within the next month. And Drake, well... He remains secluded in his castle. Since Susanna’s passing, he’s much changed these days.”

Basil nodded with impatience as his aunt catalogued his siblings and their goings on, but there was only one woman he wished to hear of and she was currently residing in one of the rooms above his head.

“Basil, you must put a stop to your uncle’s horrid plans. You have been their guardian since your parent’s death. You must do something to save your sisters from such unwanted marriages.”

“As much as I wish to, I can do nothing at the moment. After the snowstorm moves on and the roads are passable, I will travel to Uncle Arden’s estate and settle this matter.” He leaned forward and patted his aunt’s frail hand. “Worry not, Auntie. I’ll bring the girls home.”

She wrapped her other hand over his, squeezing tight. “Oh, Basil. I knew I could rely on you. You were always the one, you know. The most responsible.”

“Auntie.”

“No, it’s true. After your poor parents were killed in that horrid carriage accident, you became parent to your siblings. You had no choice but to grow up quickly, to take charge of the family. To guide them, to help them grow into the adults they are today.”

Basil smiled. “My dear Auntie, you discredit yourself. I relied on you to care for the children while I was gone.”

Petunia shook her head, refusing the role of family savior. Basil knew, even if she didn’t want to admit, he was no rescuer.

No, he was far worse.

A coward.

****

Julia hurried down the hall and ran up the stairs. She found the room given to her upon her arrival at Merriweather Manor over a year ago and closed the door firmly before she began pacing the floor. She wrung her hands. Her long skirts swept against the rug. The rhythmic swishing noise usually calmed her any other night. Tonight, however, it simply agitated her further. She scowled as her fingers fisted together.

“Whatever are you doing?” Marianne appeared at her side, conveying a look of annoyance at the disturbance Julia caused. Julia’s sister slumped onto the winged back chair near the wall. She blew away the curls that fell into her face with a heavy sigh.

“We have a problem,” Julia said, noticing her voice remained breathy and soft. She scowled further and cleared her throat. “Basil Merriweather has returned.”

“What?” Marianne jerked forward, sitting straight. Her reddish curls bounced in the firelight.

Julia nodded. “He’s newly arrived. He’s downstairs in the library at this very moment. Oh, Marianne, I had not planned on this!”

“Calm yourself, dear. There’s no need to go into a tizzy. So, he’s home. Does he plan to stay?”

“He’s been abroad for ten years or more. I’m certain he plans to remain long enough to renew his acquaintance with his aunt and the rest of his family. He has much to beg forgiveness for in that department after being gone for so long.”

Marianne nodded and leaned back into the chair. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I wonder what prompted this return. Was he sent for?”

“Yes, Mrs. Prescott sent a letter,” Julia said. “Something about his sisters and their uncle. I had a difficult time concentrating with him so near.”

“You still have feelings for him?” Marianne asked in a rather shocked voice.

“None that I would admit to,” Julia lied. Being eight years her junior, her sister had been very young, barely the age of nine, when Basil left. Julia was uncertain how much Marianne remembered about her relationship with the eldest Merriweather boy. She did not wish to prompt any more memories. “I was simply in shock. He’s been gone over a decade.”

“To be sure,” Marianne muttered, and then waved her hand at Julia. “Oh, do please stop your pacing. My head is beginning to ache from it.”

Julia stopped and stared. “Does that happen?”

Marianne scowled in annoyance. “A habit, I surmise.”

“I do not believe I possess the strength to go through with our plans. Not with Bas—Mr. Merriweather in residence. There must be another way to find it.”