Chapter Fourteen
Bryony glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Stefan standing behind her when it was an hour until sundown. Laying her paintbrush aside, she turned to face him. “Is something amiss?”
He shook his head. What could be wrong when she was here? “I am in the mood to go out. Would you care to go with me?”
“Where are we going?”
“To Covent Garden. The Tempest is playing there.”
“I’ve only been to plays at the theater in town, never at Covent Garden. I hear it’s a grand place. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
“And so you shall. I will return for you in an hour. We will dine first.”
We? she thought. He never ate a thing, but she lacked the courage to question him about it. “I’ll be ready.”
He returned in one hour exactly. Bryony’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him. Clad in a white shirt, black jacket and cravat, trousers and boots, he was beautiful.
Stefan smiled inwardly. Beautiful, hah! “It is you who are beautiful,” he said.
And indeed, she was. She wore a gown of emerald green that outlined every curve and revealed a good bit of cleavage.
She wore her hair up, though several long curls framed her face.
She carried a matching green cloak over her arm.
“How long will it take us to get there?” she asked.
“Not long. We are going by magic.”
She frowned at him. “Magic?”
He nodded. “The theater is located in the West End of London. Much too far away from here to go by carriage.”
“But magic…is it safe?”
“Safer than any other way.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “How does the magic work?”
“Witches never reveal how their spells work,” he said, with a faint smile. “Do you trust me?”
She looked doubtful a moment, then nodded slowly.
“Very well.” Taking the cloak from her arm, he settled it on her shoulders, then slid his arm around her waist. “Close your eyes. You might feel a little queasy, but do not be afraid. We will be there before you can count to ten.”
When she closed her eyes, his arm tightened around her. “Here we go.”
She gasped as she was overcome by a sudden feeling of weightlessness. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…
“Open your eyes, fair Bryony,” he said. “We are here.”
She found herself standing in front of John S. Sweetings, Fish and Oyster Merchant. Stefan held the door for her and followed her inside. The seats were of dark wood. There were framed paintings on the walls.
Bryony had no idea what to order and left the decision to the young man who waited on them. Stefan ordered wine, of course.
“What is the play about?” she asked.
“It is a tragic comedy about Prospero, a magician who seeks vengeance against his brother, Antonio, on a remote island.”
“A magician?” Bryony said, with a wry grin. “Like you?”
“Not quite,” he replied. “I have no brother.”
They made small talk over dinner and then left the restaurant. Outside, Stefan wrapped his arm around her waist. “Ready?”
“I guess so.”
“Does it frighten you?”
“A little.” It was disconcerting, that feeling of nothingness, weightlessness. Darkness.
“No need to be afraid,” he assured her. “Close your eyes.”
As before, they were at their destination in mere moments.
It was a large building with tall windows on either side of the entrance and four columns in the middle.
Stefan escorted her into the building where they found their seats.
The stage was large, four rows of boxes rose on either side. It was quite opulent.
Shortly after they were seated, the play began and Bryony found herself caught up in a tale of treachery and vengeance and a love affair between Prospero’s daughter, Miranda, and Ferdinand, who married. In the end, Prospero decided to give up magic and forgive his enemies.
“What did you think of the play?” Stefan asked as they joined the crowd leaving the theater.
“It was very entertaining.” She looked up at him as he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her away from the other theater-goers. “Would you give up your magic?”
“Perhaps, for the right reason.” His arm tightened around her. “Here we go.”
When next she opened her eyes, they were back at the Mountain House.
Bryony removed her cloak before sitting on the couch. She took off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “I had a lovely evening. Thank you.”
Stefan inclined his head. He would have to be more careful about taking her away from the house in the future. He had seen her brother in the crowd outside the theater and although he couldn’t be sure, he suspected the young man had seen Bryony. “Perhaps we shall do it again.”
She felt her heart skip a beat as he leaned down to claim her lips with his. “Rest well, fair Bryony.”
“You, too.”
With a wry grin, he left the house. It would be hours before he sought his own rest.
Leyton Barrett stared at his son. “Are you sure it was Bryony?”
“I know my sister when I see her,” Eli replied, bristling. “It was Bryony, all right, with some man I’ve never seen before. A big guy, well-dressed, dark hair, looks foreign.”
“Why didn’t you approach her?”
“I tried. I followed them out of the theater and they…they just vanished from sight.”
“What? Vanished?” Barrett snorted. “That’s impossible.” For ordinary men. What had Audley said? The villagers never saw him by day and knew nothing about him.
Eli shrugged. “I saw it with my own eyes. One minute they were there and before I could get through the crowd, they were gone.” Eli laughed humorlessly. “Maybe he’s a magician, like Prospero.”
Barrett muttered a crude oath. “People don’t just disappear,” he muttered under his breath. But monsters do.