Page 107 of A Time of Witches

He smirked. “Don’t worry, Anne. I won’t turn you in, you little fool.” He opened his coat and withdrew a folded page from a pocket. “You will agree you had this confession scribed for you?”

“You’ll give me money to support the babe and my family when I am released from Brackenmere Manor?” she shot back with a spine Lilith wished she would show more of. Especially with the likes of the magistrate.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered irritably.

Anne’s fingers linked over her belly, her brows thrust together as she gave a reluctant nod. “I will.”

“You ought to read it.” He thrust the papers toward her. “In case you’re pressed to go into further detail.”

Her cheeks scorched with color. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can’t.” He rolled his eyes and returned the pages to his pocket. “It doesn’t matter. Agree to anything on the stand. If you flounder, they will assume it is due to your ignorance.”

Anne’s fierce blush darkened.

Lilith wanted to scream at Anne to refuse, to burn the poppet and run. But she knew she was only an observer to what transpired hundreds of years before. She was here to witness history, not alter it.

At least, not in this moment.

“And don’t get it into your head that the child will bear my name. My surname is one of pride and elevated social bearing. A bastard will never be graced with the Walsingham name.”

The air seized in Lilith’s lungs. That name hit like a blow.

Walsingham.

Wasn’t that…?

She pulled up her phone and went back to her contacts. Yes, there it was: Asher Walsingham.

The magistrate was related to Asher.

Her stomach dropped.

Was this why Asher had been so cagey? Why he’d been loathe to let her come to the manor?

Had he known and intentionally kept the truth from her?

The magistrate strode away, leaving Anne alone. She put her hands over her face and sobbed, this poor woman who had been forced to become a traitor.

Lilith had her answer, the culprit who had spoken against Sybil. And she had the reason why. Now she just needed to find Jacinda.

Lilith dashed inside, leaving Anne weeping piteously in the shadows. The scullery maid was the only occupant on the first floor, now hard at work making what appeared to be a pie.

Upstairs, Bess moved through the bedchambers with an efficient energy, bustling about with dirty linens trailing behind her. Jacinda was not in her room. Nor was she in the library.

In fact, a sweep over the entire household proved Jacinda was nowhere to be found.

There was one last place to look.

Lilith went to the library and opened the secret room. Heart racing, she slipped inside.

The candles flickered to life, revealing the small space.

But no Jacinda.

The grimoire waited in the silence, like a held breath.

Lilith approached the ancient book. “What else do you have for me?” she muttered.