Page 6 of Witchbane

Maybe Jem had been wrong about that, I mused, and I was immediately angry with myself for trying to defend his deceit. I might not have recognised Theo Le Cerf with his hair hidden, because he had spent the past decade living with his mother’s family in Norway, but like the other villagers I was fully aware that Mistress Le Cerf’s son favoured her in looks and bore the same white-gold hair that she did.

I tripped on a stick and righted myself quickly, sick to my stomach that I had spent time speaking to that man and thought him to be decent.

‘No one in that profession could ever be accused of decency,’ I mumbled angrily to myself.

By my family especially. I felt a sharp pang in my heart and resented Theo even more for seeming so friendly and fun. Let alone devastatingly handsome. I sighed, longing to get home and take my mind off things by working with my herbs. I couldn’t waste time mooning over a man I could never have. Should never want. I needed to focus on what mattered: practising my craft and creating spells. If I ever hoped to have the same power as my aunt and grandmother, then I needed to ignore men who could only bring me unhappiness.

Perspiration was trickling down my back as I trudged up the steep lane, wishing now that I hadn’t thought this a good idea, then reminding myself that at least I should be alone up this lane and, should Theo come looking for me, I would remain out of sight while I was taking this route. It wasn’t very far but on a day like today it wasn’t a pleasant walk. I also desperately wanted to be alone in my bedroom and somehow find a way to come to terms with what had happened.

I began to feel weary. Sad. Everything seemed so perfect when we were dancing and then sitting together chatting. I hadn’t ever experienced the lightness like I had done in Theo Le Cerf’s company. Never felt free enough to dance that way before either. I desperately tried to push away the thought that was forcing its way into my head. I sensed that no matter how much I told myself I hated him for who he was, the way I felt at that moment was going to haunt me, whether I wanted to think about him or not.

I guiltily wished that I could have remained oblivious to who he was, just for a while longer. I immediately reasoned that if that had been the case and I had kissed him before I discovered who he was, then my tortured feelings now would be much worse.

I recalled the unmarried, and some married, women in the village watching us as we danced. I knew many of them only accepted me because of my family name or respect for my grandmother and aunt. My mother too was still held in reverence by some, because of her beauty, her kindness to others and the sadness of her tragic death. Those who still made time for me did so either because they were genuinely loyal to my family, or because they needed the tinctures, salves or, in some cases, spells that my grandmother or aunt created for them.

Today, though, some of those women who tended to share their opinion of me only behind my back struggled to hide their envy that I was being favoured by the tall, distinguished, impressively built man. I had spotted a couple of the women with their hands resting on their cinched-in waists to emphasise their slenderness, while others discreetly pulled down the necklines of their dresses to reveal more décolletage to gain his attention. He didn’t seem to notice, because his beautiful blue eyes didn’t move from my face, making me feel that for once I was truly special. I had relished every moment.

What an utter fool I had been. I pushed away my scrambled thoughts and remembered my vow ten years before to seek revenge on Elias Le Cerf, to take away the thing most valuable to him. His son. If I was to honour that promise in my mother’s memory, I couldn’t possibly allow myself to feel anything at all for Theo or his family – apart from the loathing that had consumed me while I was growing up. And that’s what I intended to do.

Chapter Three

THEO

As soon as I could politely steal away from the women, I hurried to fetch Warrior and left the event to go and track down the girl who had mesmerised me so completely. I couldn’t let her go without finding out her name. She might think she hated me now, but I intended showing her that even though I was the Witchfinder’s son and worked for him, I wasn’t like him in any way at all.

I thought of her melodic laughter, her sweet smile and those enchanting eyes. If it was possible to fall in love at first sight – and until today I had not believed such a thing could happen – then I had no intention of losing her without at least trying to persuade her to give me a chance.

I reached the road and tried to decide the likelier way she had taken. Surely she hadn’t got that far on the old cart I spotted her and her companion leaving on? Half an hour later, Warrior trotted along the outskirts of Goose Green Marsh. I had stopped to ask a few people if they had seen the girl with wavy auburn hair and turquoise eyes, but even though some gave me a sideways glance none admitted to doing so.

Having scoured south of the festival area, I tried looking up Old Beaumont Hill, but none of the people I saw, on carts or walking, were her or her friend. Frustrated, I returned to the bottom and took the road to Meadowbank. Maybe she lived this way? I turned a corner and my heart leapt to see Jem on the cart. It took a second to realise he was alone and my mood dipped yet again.

Aware he wouldn’t wish to speak to me, I took the chance of asking him where she might be, hoping he would have pity on me and tell me.

‘Hello,’ I called, waving to attract his attention as he spoke to the foreman at the barn.

His expression became thunderous as I neared him.

‘I’m sorry to approach you in this way,’ I said, ignoring his heavy scowl in my direction. ‘But I’m looking for the woman you were accompanying away from the festival.’ I waited for him to offer information, or at least respond, but he simply glared at me. This was going to be more difficult than I had expected. ‘I was hoping to apologise to her,’ I explained. ‘I’m aware she hadn’t expected me to be who I was.’

Jem glared at me. ‘Don’t waste your breath. I will not be telling you anything.’

Not ready to give up, I tried once more. ‘I could write to her, if you think she isn’t willing to speak to me direct.’

‘No.’

‘But—’

‘You will not persuade me to change my mind.’ He looked me up and down with a barely disguised sneer. ‘I don’t care who you are. Now, I need to finish what I’m doing.’

I left him to his work and, sensing he would not leave the barn until I was well away from the area, and would probably take a roundabout route in case I attempted to follow him, decided that the only way to find the woman who had stolen my heart was to keep looking. I groaned inwardly and turned Warrior away.

It dawned on me as I walked back towards Sandybrook that I hadn’t yet taken the hill up to Les Grupieaux. My mood raised, I spurred Warrior into a trot. As we reached the foot of the hill I surmised that I hadn’t been looking for very long and also that it was a very hot day. She must not live very close to the festival to travel there by cart, and I supposed she would therefore still be somewhere on the road, especially now she must be walking. I slowed Warrior, not wishing to exert him too much in the heat, and soon reached the top of the hill, disappointed not to have come across her yet. Refusing to give up, I investigated several lanes before assuming she had not come this way.

On my way down the hill it dawned on me that I had a meeting with my father and that I must now be late. ‘Damn,’ I groaned, aware how he hated lazy timekeepers. I needed to get back to Stanthorpe, and fast.

Halfway down the winding hill I reached the entrance to Crack Ankle Lane. I had never taken the narrow lane before. I wasn’t given to being superstitious but had known since I was a child that the route was supposed to be haunted. It was steep and in places known to be very slippery, due to the greenery overhanging the narrow, high-sided track. I hesitated, reluctant to chance taking Warrior that way.

I heard the church bells from St Peters begin to ring. I had little choice if I wasn’t going to be extremely late in meeting my father.