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Before he left, he paused by the door. “I suggest you stay below this morning.”
Instinctively she went to object, but he hurried on.
“It won’t be for long. We dock in Lowestoft later today and I’ll take you on shore then. I thought you might enjoy that.”
Maisie nodded. “Some time on land would be most pleasant, thank you.” His thoughtfulness was an aspect of his character that contrasted to his rough-hewn looks.
“So, you will occupy yourself by preparing for that?” He waited for her to confirm her intentions.
“Yes, Roderick, I will occupy myself here until you come to take me on shore.” It was a reward offered to force her to stay below, but Maisie wasn’t willing to risk a proper turn on dry land for a few moments on deck.
“Good. I will purchase us a good meal in an inn there. We will talk then. You can tell me about yourself.”
That was the last thing she intended to do, and it took every bit of good sense she could muster not to deny him outright. Instead, she didn’t answer.
When he left, she stared at the door and fretted.
Why did he want to know about her? She couldn’t tell him anything. It wasn’t safe for him, or her. Unbidden thoughts of her keeper crept in on her. Why? Roderick didn’t think of her the way Cyrus did—as his tool, his possession. At least she didn’t think so. Her experience was limited to one guardian, but she couldn’t forfeit her liberty again. This arrangement was only for their journey.
Nevertheless, doubts threatened her. Roderick was not aware of her secret craft. He was thinking of her protection, and he wanted his men to trust him. Still, she couldn’t help but be reminded of what had transpired with Master Cyrus, and the way he controlled her in the name of protection. The fact that she was currently banished to this tiny room at Roderick’s command unnerved her. Slumping down on the bed, she knew it was going to be some time before she could rid herself of that fear, the fear of being held hostage for her craft.
* * *
Cyrus Lafayette had nurtured her abilities, giving her time to flourish in his domain. Within a year he discovered that her talent was particularly well exploited when it involved the elements and the emotions. He was, however, a patient man, and as she later discovered, his plans were both grand and long-term.
Cyrus had a private income, and his interests lay in power, specifically in influencing government and politics. He moved in high circles. Young Margaret knew little of this until she was twelve years old, when her tutor was given specific instructions to teach her about the royalty, history and contemporary government of Britain. Mama Beth took little interest in her husband’s work. She was a kindly woman and it was hearth and home that mattered to her. She didn’t comment on Cyrus’s affairs outside the household.
Young Margaret was curious when she discovered that he was a man of power and wide influence, because his role in her life was so very different. Or so it se
emed. They spent many hours closeted together. He would debate her lineage with her in secret. These were times she both treasured, because of the subject matter, and feared, because of him.
Master Cyrus explored her world with her, but the way with which he controlled her made her wary even at a young age. She gained both knowledge and caution, but it was never easy. Maisie always feared angering him by saying the wrong thing. His attention was hers exclusively during these times. He was intense, serious, and she often found it difficult or uncomfortable to be with him. Above all, she felt in his debt. When he asked her to do something for him she did so, readily.
No more than once a week, Master Cyrus would encourage her to practice her magic in some small way, in the privacy of his study. She would move objects or extinguish candles with a few whispered words that had either been passed down to her by her mother, or learned under his tutelage. Then one day, he encouraged her to use her magic outdoors, while they were taking a walk in the park one fine Saturday afternoon.
It was a sunny autumnal day close to her thirteenth birthday. He walked alongside her and pointed out different trees, nodding his head and greeting other passersby as they went. When they were in a place where they could not be overheard, he took both her hands and encouraged her to test her magic, to stir the autumn leaves from the ground and make them dance in the air.
For Maisie it was exciting, a new beginning where she explored her craft, safely watched over by him, protected. Together they shared great enthusiasm about her talents, which made her proud, even though he warned her that others would not feel the same about her. They would be afraid of her, just as they had been afraid of her mother. Master Cyrus often reminded her of that.
“I will always protect and cherish you,” he would add.
The following week, Master Cyrus took her on the same walk and once again asked her to explore her craft, but with an altogether different purpose. “I would like you to do something special for me, something like the games we play with your powers when no one is looking.”
Margaret was pleased.
“We have read about love spells, and how you might influence on behalf of a lonely heart.”
She nodded. It was something that fascinated her immensely.
“There is a man with whom I share many fascinating discussions about politics. His name is Gilbert Ridley. He is a widower and he is shy and doesn’t seek company. However, I know a young woman who would dearly love to befriend him. I have arranged for her to pass by him when he is taking his morning walk along the river. When I pause to introduce you to Master Ridley, she will be nearby.”
“And I will draw his attention to her,” Margaret replied, delighted at the game.
The enchantment was woven, and of course it was a great success. Margaret thrilled at the notion that she had played matchmaker for two lonely hearts. The memory remained vivid, for it was a special moment in her life.
It was, however, the first of many times that Master Cyrus urged her to influence his acquaintances from the corridors of power. These requests were always couched in pleasantries, and the spells themselves related to seemingly inconsequential matters. She didn’t begin to suspect his intentions until years later, when she discovered that Gilbert Ridley was ruined, his heart broken and his fortune stolen by a wily courtesan and her accomplice.
As the years went on Maisie discovered other such occurrences that made her doubt her magic was the powerful natural healer that her mother had taught her it was. Instead, she increasingly heard the terrible things that were spoken against witches, and her inner struggle against what she was capable of overwhelmed her at times.
