Witchrise (31 page)

‘Perhaps.’ I stared dully at the river. ‘And now my mother’s ring lies at the bottom of the Thames.’

William spat out a thin strand of green weed, a look of disgust on his face, and struggled to sit up. His wet hair was plastered across his forehead, almost in his eyes. He thrust it back impatiently. ‘Who cares?’ my brother demanded hoarsely. ‘He’s dead, it’s over. Did we save the girl?’

‘I . . . I think so.’

‘Good, then let’s go home.’ William looked about himself at the darkness, the river, the wet jetty. His lip curled up. ‘I do not like London.’

‘Take the juice of two dead toads—’ I made a face. ‘Disgusting. Why does it always have to be
toads
?’

‘Read on and stop complaining,’ Richard muttered from under the brim of his floppy straw hat.

I sighed, finding the place again in my mother’s grimoire. ‘Take the juice of two dead toads that have been dried three days on a hot brick . . . Wait, that’s wrong.
Powdered toad.
Yes, sorry, wrong spell. That was for stopping a wound from bleeding.’

‘Huh, that could have proved useful when Alejandro was wounded.’ He sounded impatient. ‘Have you not studied all the spells in that book? I told you, there’s little point finding a remedy
after
you needed it.’

I said nothing, holding my breath for a count of ten, then letting it go slowly. I had frozen at the name Alejandro.

Very carefully, no one had mentioned Alejandro since we returned from London a bare month ago, though now and then Elizabeth spoke warmly of the ‘sacrifices’ that made us better people. But it was ludicrous to shrivel up inside every time I thought of a certain Spaniard. Alejandro was gone from my life, and so was Marcus Dent. I was free of all past ties, good and bad.

I had to admit, it was odd to think that Marcus Dent would never trouble me again. Of course, Richard had his doubts about that, and despite being confined to his bed for many days after Dent’s attack had quizzed me at length over the circumstances of the witchfinder’s death.

But I was the one who had struck him, and knew my spell had connected. Marcus Dent was dead. And it was time I began to live again. Even if that meant learning to smile even after hearing Alejandro’s name.

So I forced my lips into a mimicry of a curve. It felt hard. But worth the effort if it concealed my broken heart.

‘I’ve been too busy,’ I explained huskily, pretending to leaf through the pages, ‘for I still wish to learn more natural magick from Cecilie while she is still with us. She must return home soon, of course, now she is feeling stronger.’

I glanced at him curiously, for Richard and Cecile had grown close over the past weeks. Though that was not surprising, for both had power and had spent long hours together as their hurts healed.

‘Will you miss her when she goes?’ I asked softly.

Richard pushed back the brim of his straw hat to stare at me. His eyes were hard but ironic. ‘Hoping to push my affections onto some other woman, Meg?’

‘I thought perhaps it had happened already.’

He shrugged, closing his eyes again, his arms folded loosely across his chest. ‘I like Cecilie, I will not deny it. But I have promised Master Dee that I will return to his service as soon as Bishop Bonner releases him from his duties. I cannot be in two places at once, so to tie myself to another person would be foolish. Besides,’ he added calmly, ‘you forget I am not a free man. I am still Dee’s apprentice and bound to him under law.’

‘John Dee would let you go if you asked,’ I murmured, but did not pursue the matter. I knew his affection for Dee to be as strong as mine for the Lady Elizabeth, and that was a bond I too would find hard to break.

‘Spells to repel evil spirits,’ he reminded me.

Turning back to the grimoire, I searched through the pages. ‘Oh, here’s one. Burn two small coals in a copper dish when the moon has been new three days. When the coals have cooled, take nine pinches of ash and scatter them across the threshold at noon. This will attract friendship and good luck to your house, and repel ill will.’

‘That’s a love-spell,’ he said contemptuously, and sat up, holding out his hand. ‘Give me the book. I will find the spell.’

‘No, it’s mine,’ I insisted childishly, and jumped to my feet, clutching the grimoire to my chest. ‘Anyway, why do we need to repel evil spirits? Marcus is dead. The Queen has lost interest in persecuting her sister now that King Philip may be coming back to England, and we have added to Mistress Goodwife’s protective ring around the house. We are safe from all threats here.’

Glaring up at me, Richard made the sign to avert bad luck. ‘You never learn, do you? Have you forgotten that small thing called tempting fate? It is never possible to defend a place completely. There is always a counterspell for those determined enough to find it.’

I heard laughter, and looked up in relief to see Cecilie and Alice slowly crossing the lawns towards us, my brother in tow. I did not like arguing with Richard, so seized on this excuse not to answer him. William was looking sheepish, I noticed, perhaps because he had an armful of cushions.

‘Here,’ Alice instructed him, pointing. ‘And you can sit there. By your sister.’

‘Thanks,’ I said drily, and made a rude face at William, who stuck out his tongue in turn.

William had returned from London a changed man, more ready to laugh at himself, and less quick to take offence. Perhaps his encounter with Marcus Dent had proved the making of him.

‘But I thought you two were hanging that new tapestry this afternoon. Is it done?’ I asked them.

Alice smiled, settling herself demurely on the cushion and pulling Cecilie down beside her. ‘Not quite. We came out because . . .’ She glanced shyly at William. ‘Your brother has some news he wishes to share with you, Meg.’

I stared. ‘William?’

My brother grinned. ‘Wish me happy, Meg. I have asked Alice to marry me, and she has said she will speak to her father. If he gives his consent—’

‘Which he will,’ Alice interrupted quickly, ‘or there will be trouble about it!’

Everyone laughed, even Richard from under the brim of his hat.

‘Then we will marry next summer. I wrote to Father last week and received his reply today. He has agreed to let us rent the small cottage from him, up near Home Farm. The farm will be mine when he dies, of course, but until then the cottage will make a cosy home for the two of us.’

I hurried to embrace him, tears in my eyes. ‘I do wish you happy, William. With all my heart.’

‘And I wish you happy too.’ Richard pushed back his hat and held out a hand for William to shake, for although he had recovered from his injuries, he was still meant to be convalescing. The two shook hands, Richard’s smile lopsided. ‘One day you must show me how to do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Persuade a woman to take you on. And such a man. I fear Alice will have a hard task ahead, smoothing off your rough corners.’

William pretended to curse, but was laughing all the same. ‘Well,’ he said awkwardly, ‘there is always Meg. She would make you a good wife, though perhaps not a biddable one.’

Richard stilled, as did I.

No, I thought, and winced inwardly.

Alice looked aghast at her new betrothed, then covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.

‘I thank you for that kind recommendation, sir, and will take it into consideration when I am ready to lose my liberty,’ Richard said lightly, a smile on his face, but his gaze had moved past me to where Cecilie sat listening to our lively conversation, her fair head bent.

Since being brought back from London with us, Cecilie had settled into Hatfield with gratitude after her imprisonment, but it was obvious to me why she had remained here so long after her hurts had healed. She was hoping for some sign from Richard that he was interested in more than just friendship.

She would have a long wait, I thought sadly. Richard was not easy. Not easy at all.

William was frowning. ‘Forgive me if I spoke out of turn,’ he said, looking at me.

‘You are forgiven.’ I closed the grimoire. ‘Enough reading for one day. Does the Lady Elizabeth need me?’

Alice shook her head. ‘No, she is reading with Kat and Blanche. Some great dusty tome on the government of nations.’

Richard crooked a brow. ‘Sounds delightful.’

‘Well, it’s better than love poetry, the way she suffers. Poor Lady Elizabeth, I caught her crying this morning. She was very cold with me afterwards.’ Alice sighed, shaking her head. ‘She is taking it hard.’

‘Master Dudley, you mean?’ I asked quietly, for it was plain now that her ladyship had dissolved the knot between them in London. It was a pain I could perfectly understand, though I had only noticed how the princess had drawn away from us all since returning from her brief visit to court. It was almost as though the Lady Elizabeth had finally seen the crown within her reach, and was now determined to think of nothing else – not even the man she loved but could never have. ‘At least she will see him again one day. He has not
left the country
.’

I had intended to go inside and sit in my bedchamber for a while. It was something I did most afternoons if I was not needed for my duties. Sitting alone in my room, not thinking about . . . Well, just sitting alone.

But to my surprise, Cecilie was looking up at me. ‘Shall we take a walk? I was hoping to talk to you, Meg.’

My mother’s grimoire still clutched to my chest, I followed her slowly across the lawns and into the well-kept herb garden. The fragrance was intense there in the afternoon sun, almost dizzying. I stopped to break off some delicately scented thyme, handing it to her.

‘Good for speaking with spirits,’ I said, as she bent her head to sniff at the dark green spikes. ‘Dried, ground into powder, then burned in small pinches in a censer.’

‘Not bad in rabbit stew either.’

I grinned.

‘What did you want to talk about, Cecilie?’ I asked, pausing beside the sweet marjoram to drag out a thin straggling weed from near its base.

‘I have enjoyed our talks about magick,’ she said lightly, ‘but it is time I went home. My mother is not strong, and she has no daughters at home now.’

‘Of course.’ I linked my arm with hers, suddenly wishing she could stay at Hatfield a little longer. Not since Aunt Jane had I been able to speak at length with another woman about the magickal arts. ‘I knew the day would come, but I shall miss our late-night discussions on the proper use of the Devil’s turnip.’

‘Or how to counter a curse with human blood and bladderwrack!’

We both snorted with laughter.

‘When you have returned home, may I come to visit you sometimes? If her ladyship gives permission, that is.’

Cecilie smiled. ‘I insist upon it.’

‘Maybe on the night of a full moon?’ I teased her.

‘I think that would be an excellent time, yes. I expect Gilly Goodwife will be glad to see you too. And share news of our craft.’ She glanced at the heavy grimoire under my arm. ‘Bring your mother’s spell book. Unless you would prefer not to share it?’

‘No, I am happy to share my mother’s spells,’ I insisted, and in truth I was, for I had never before belonged to a coven, a group of witches with one common purpose and belief. It seemed a rare and beautiful thing to enjoy the fellowship of wise women under a full moon.

We had reached the bounds of the gardens, and woodlands lay ahead. Sensing that Cecilie was tired, I suggested we turn back, and walking slowly we returned to the narrow stretch of grass before the house. To my surprise the lawn was empty except for Richard, asleep now under his wide-brimmed hat.

‘The others must have gone into the house. Perhaps her ladyship has summoned them.’ I hesitated, then thought she might wish to speak with Richard alone too. ‘I am probably needed inside. I shall see you at supper.’

Cecilie smiled, a warm autumn sunshine lighting up her face. The seer bore little resemblance now to the thin, wide-eyed creature we had rescued from Marcus Dent’s cellar, looking more like a skinned cat than a young woman. Her hair was still short, her skin pale, but her face was beginning to fill out. She would always be slender though, small-boned, her wrists still cruelly scored from the manacles Dent had used to restrain her. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Suddenly I felt like a gooseberry. The odd one out. Again. I turned away, thinking drearily of the chores I had left undone, and trailed back to the house.

As I reached the door, I heard a wild cry behind me and spun, staring. What I saw was beyond any horror I could have dreamed in one of my nightmares.

It was Marcus Dent.

Alive.

Walking across the lawns towards me in a swathe of smoky black tendrils, his arms upraised, chanting steadily as he came.

The bright sky darkened with his approach, turning day to night.

It was not possible.

Time had never moved more slowly. Even as I took a step back towards my friends, I saw my mother’s ring on his finger, glinting proudly there, and knew he had fooled us at the river. I should have known it would not be easy to kill the witchfinder. But my relief at his death had drowned all my suspicions along with the man himself. Now he had walked straight in here, brushing aside our protective spells with an ease only one wearing the ring could have managed. And it was easy to guess what he wanted.

Cecilie was staring, white-faced and shaking at the sight of her captor, still alive and walking freely among us.

‘No, no . . .’

‘You devil!’ Richard threw aside his hat, hauling himself up from the grass in the same movement. ‘Get away from her!’

Marcus flicked his gaze that way, and at once both Richard and Cecilie were thrown backwards by a violent wind, cut off from me and Marcus by a ring of fire that sprang up from the grass itself, burning waist-high with a fierce and very real heat. I thought at first he meant to burn me himself, since I had evaded his damn bonfire every other way. But then Marcus turned, sweeping his hand up to the sky, then down to the earth in a graceful age-old gesture, and I realized what he was doing.