Chapter 29
29
Every evening Luna parted from Marcus in the corridor, and every night she lay awake hoping to hear his approaching footsteps, for the door handle to turn and her husband to come to her bed. But she remained disappointed. That slender band of precious metal had, however, given her a courage she hadn’t felt before. Even speaking up in front of the doctor was something she would not have considered doing a few short weeks ago, despite Marcus’s ensuing, if short-lived, sulk.
It was she who suggested that they start to attend the services at St Mary’s on a Sunday together – something she understood his real wife had never done, not so much as stepping foot in the churchyard once after her wedding day. He was delighted with her proposal, convinced that it would further add to the villagers’ acceptance of her, especially should she stand on hallowed ground and not immediately shrivel up and die. The vicar would rejoice in the godless Luna returning to the fold and celebrate her salvation.
Mrs Webber walked to Little Doubton with them on the Sunday morning, delighted her mistress was now a churchgoer. Interestingly, the older woman had no problem squaring her faith in God with her belief in the supernatural, much as Doctor Gardener happily reconciled his religion with his scientific beliefs.
There was a gasp from some of the congregation as Luna stepped through the lychgate, walked up the gravel path and entered the south door, without bursting into flame. The irony, of course, was that as she knelt penitently on her knees, with her head bowed, and prayed for forgiveness for her own unspeakable acts, she secretly longed for Marcus to transgress and commit sins of the flesh with her.
‘Perhaps folk will be more friendly now that we are seen to be a Christian household. The vicar does look at me queer sometimes, as though your previous outrageous behaviour might be contagious.’ Mrs Webber rolled her eyes. ‘It’s bad enough being judged for Jed’s sins.’
‘Does he not attend?’ Luna asked.
‘You’d think he’d be here every week to atone for what he did, wouldn’t you? Reckons he paid his price with his gaol time, but it’s not like that’s his only transgression.’
Luna wondered if she was referring to the beatings he gave his wife, or his immoral sexual behaviour. Probably both.
‘He says stepping into the church makes him feel funny.’ She shrugged. ‘Won’t so much as put his foot in the churchyard.’
Was there more to it than that, though? Perhaps the man couldn’t step on hallowed ground in case he burst into flames. Maybe he was the one leaving the poppets at the well and invoking the Devil?
Over the next couple of weeks, the face of the woman she’d replaced occasionally appeared in the window or the mirror, but she didn’t mention it to anyone, worried they might think she was going mad. Added to which, her mysterious headaches returned intermittently – a shooting pain that lasted a few seconds and then dwindled to nothing. She didn’t want to worry Marcus or consult Dr Gardener, so she initially kept it to herself, but after spotting Mr Webber creep across the back gardens and enter the woods in the middle of the night again, she decided to confront the man, wondering if her strange heads were the result of him sticking pins into some effigy of her.
‘I’ve seen you leaving the house in the early hours and should like to know where you go.’
‘Well now, that ain’t your business, to my mind. You ain’t my wife and I don’t have to account for myself when I’m off duty. Besides, you’re not really the mistress of Ravenswood and we both know it.’
‘I am Luna Greybourne and if you wish to keep your job, I strongly suggest you speak to me with more respect.’
She was getting braver at standing up for herself, but the surly manservant grunted in response. ‘You’ve got no idea of the power of that well, ’ave you?’ he said, leaning closer, a snarl across his lips. ‘There’s all sorts happening in them woods, stuff that would make your hair curl. My foolish wife thinks she can protect herself from it all with a few silly charms, but the evil that’s out there won’t be stopped by a twig wrapped in red thread. You need to leave Ravenswood, young lady, because you’ll either end up sucked into it all and be dancing round bonfires before you know it, or become a victim, and I honestly couldn’t say which is worse.’
His rough face loomed large and she felt threatened. What she didn’t know was whether the man was giving her some friendly advice – run while you can – or telling her, that if she insisted on staying, he would see to it that she suffered.
She regretted confronting Webber and increasingly suspected him of being behind her headaches – something that was confirmed in her mind when Bran came to her room one night, and dropped a poppet on the bed. The crude clay figure was female, with a pin driven into the very place on her head that was causing her so much pain, but the most disturbing thing about it was that ‘Luna’ was scratched across the torso; there was no ambiguity over who this doll represented. One thing was certain: someone wished her ill and, as Bran never left the Ravenswood lands, the person responsible was highly likely to be someone close to home.
For the first time, she considered that Mr Webber might be in contact with the spirit world. He’d admitted to seeing strange things in the woods. What if he was the one conjuring up the souls of the dead? If he’d had a physical relationship with Mrs Greybourne when she’d been alive, then he would have a motive to drive her imposter out. Luna now felt certain Marcus’s wife was dead – the missing woman’s presence in the house was too real for her to be safely tucked away in an asylum. The manservant, maybe still in love with his former mistress, was in league with her ghost and they’d been conducting a campaign of terror against her since she’d first arrived. She knew him to be capable of violence, but was her life in danger?
Despite everything in her body telling her that Marcus would not forgive her, she knew that there was only one person who would understand how terrified this discovery made her, and who might be able to offer advice regarding the odious Mr Webber.
Luna decided to pay Findlay another visit, but deliberately waited until Bran was in the woods before she slipped from the house. Marcus was shut in the study, which so far was just a large desk and small pile of books on the floor, to attend to business correspondence. Now that he was able to focus his attentions on his financial affairs, his investments were proving incredibly lucrative. She told him that she wanted to visit St Mary’s for quiet prayer and would not be gone long. He was cursing his inability to locate an important document, and, preoccupied, merely nodded his acknowledgement.
As she walked down to the pretty whitewashed cottage, there was a small part of her that felt guilty for disobeying her husband, but if he would not accept that the supernatural was at play here, she would speak to someone who did. The bright red hips and haws were a portend of a harsh winter, but September had been mild and the trees were unusually late to display their fiery sunset of leaves. Within a few weeks they would fall and the only colour would be from the evergreens.
Mr Findlay answered the door wearing a deep-purple waistcoat and with his hair sticking up in tufts. Now that the weather was cooler, he had a bright blue knitted scarf wrapped several times around his neck.
‘Luna! What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d be allowed to visit once Mr Greybourne had returned.’ He ushered her inside, clearly delighted to find her on his doorstep.
‘He doesn’t know I’m here,’ she was forced to admit. ‘He thinks I’ve headed to St Mary’s.’
The cunning man raised a white, bushy eyebrow and grinned. ‘A delightfully clever move, my dear. Let them see Luna repents her sins and is embracing the church. Win the vicar round and the congregation will surely follow. Unfortunately, the reverend and I do not see eye to eye over my use of divination through the tarot and my unorthodox communications with the spirits of those who have moved on. To his mind, it is one step away from summoning the Devil, but he fails to understand that it is merely the departed wishing to reassure their loved ones that they are at peace.’ He pointed to a small crucifix on the wall. ‘I worship in my own way, and am not convinced you need to be in a centuries-old stone building to have a relationship with the Lord. Ultimately, it is the good deeds that we perform and the honest and unselfish ways that we live our lives that are the best way to honour Him.’
She agreed completely. Mr Findlay had kept her secrets and been kind to her from the beginning. Mrs Webber told her how desperate people came to him when the vicar had condemned their moral lapses or the doctor failed to heal their ailments, and how he eased their troubled minds when they were genuinely afraid of things relating to the spirit world.
As she entered his cosy home, the same sharp pain pierced her head. She groaned and placed her palm across one eye, as Mr Findlay rushed to her side and helped her to a seat.
‘What on earth is wrong, dear lady?’
She explained about the repeated episodes and he nodded, before busying himself by mixing up a selection of herbs to make a tea that he assured her would help.
‘We cannot be certain it is ill-wishing, but I suspect someone is sticking a pin into a likeness of you as we speak. I’d hoped you would win the local people round. Mrs Cole spoke very highly of you and your help with the harvest when I was last in the village. Your presence at the celebration was welcomed, so they are surely reassessing their unjust vilification of the Ravenswood Witch.’
‘I think it might be someone closer to home and that Mr Webber is the person you warned me about. He’s been practising witchcraft by the well at night, and summoning the ghost of the Ravenswood Witch. Summoning Luna Greybourne,’ she clarified.
‘You’ve seen her?’ he asked, and she nodded.
‘She wants me gone from Ravenswood, or possibly even dead.’ She cast her eyes to the floor. ‘Of course she does; I’ve been trying to convince everyone that I am her.’
Mr Findlay came over to her and reached for her hand. He gave it a squeeze, passing no judgement on her actions.
‘I told you that she had passed on. She has visited me, too, and is trying to tell me the truth of her passing, but she never was a woman who made much sense in life, and I fear she is even more confused in death.’ He gave half a smile. ‘It worries me that her rage will be unjustly directed at you when you are an entirely innocent party in all of this.’
He walked back to his shelves and began to rummage amongst the bottles and jars, tipping a quantity of something into a small cotton bag.
‘I will send you home with some dried sage to throw on your fire and dispel the evil in the house. Placing small piles of salt in the corners of your bedroom will help to protect you at night. I’m concerned that Mr Greybourne was responsible for her demise and we know he has a temper, so you must keep this all to yourself.’
‘But he is wrong about you,’ she pointed out. ‘Especially when all you have ever done is help me. In many ways he is a very stubborn man, and his refusal to accept there are things in this world that defy explanation is one of them.’ She paused. ‘But I think, equally, you are wrong about him. I think he did his best for Luna and cared for her, in his way, as I care for him.’
Mr Findlay looked up from stirring the teapot.
‘Ah. I thought I sensed a change in you.’ He poured her a small mug of the fragrant tea and placed it on the table next to her. She took a few sips and immediately felt calmer.
‘The cards have told me many things, and that there will be an increased affection between the two of you is one of them.’ He smiled. ‘That you truly care for him is good news, indeed. Perhaps I am wrong about Luna’s death. It has been known to happen on occasion,’ he joked. His blue eyes twinkled. ‘She was my friend but, of course, I only ever heard her side of the story. It is not impossible that she was manipulating the truth. If you are happy with Marcus, then I am happy. ’
There was something about his crinkled eyes and soft smile that invited honesty.
‘More than I have a right to be,’ she admitted.
‘I noticed the wedding band when you removed your gloves,’ the astute man said. ‘And from the pink across your cheeks and breathlessness when you speak his name, do I detect an improvement in relations between yourself and your husband? Has this companionship developed into something more… intimate?’
‘We are not living truly as man and wife,’ she said, wriggling in her seat as her cheeks grew even hotter. She wasn’t prepared to admit the frequent carnal thoughts of Marcus that consumed her days and interrupted her dreams. She had been slow to admit her feelings to herself. ‘There is a fondness there, to be sure, but perhaps more akin to brother and sister.’
Their shared kisses and racing heartbeats were no one’s business but theirs, yet Mr Findlay’s delight at this piece of information was plain to see. He even dug out some biscuits from a tin on a low table near the fire.
‘I dearly hope that will change with time. If she died at his hand, then perhaps he was forced by her actions. I do not say that he is a bad man, but suggest he might be someone who has done a bad thing. He deserves to find love. I don’t think he ever had that with her.’
She was keen to move the conversation away from any possible future relations between her and Marcus and back to the threat she felt from her manservant.
‘Could Mr Webber have been responsible for Mother Selwood’s death? We only have his word that she was cursed by the Ravenswood Witch.’
Mr Findlay took the seat opposite her.
‘The man was undoubtedly there when it happened, lurking about the woods doing goodness knows what. He carried her back to Ravenswood and his wife sought my help. She had, without doubt, been struck down with a terrible apoplexy. But let us remember that Mother Selwood fancied herself a witch, so was not an innocent in this story. People forget that she went around cursing people herself, and was rather put out that a younger, more… exotic woman was stealing her thunder. I understand she confronted her about it at the well that night. There was an argument and Luna cursed her. She was forever cursing people – even me on occasion.’
This explained how Bran had picked the phrase up. Was he also clever enough to associate it with anger? He’d certainly been mad at the Kelling boy for stealing the spoon.
‘But the apoplexy could have equally been brought on by the very agitated nature of their confrontation,’ Luna pointed out, trying to find a rational explanation for the whole thing, and Mr Findlay shrugged.
‘In the end, it was all rumour and guesswork. The constable didn’t trust Webber as he had form, and Luna was taking opiates and remembered none of it, although happily claimed the cursing. She wanted people to believe she was a real threat, and a dead woman certainly enhanced her reputation as a witch. Everyone gave the Greybournes an even wider berth after that, and they’d hardly been neighbourly with them beforehand.’
Luna frowned. So, Mr Webber had been the only witness and Luna had been so drugged that she couldn’t remember the incident. Was it just Luna that Mrs Webber carried her amulets and charms to protect herself from? Hadn’t Mr Findlay told her that men could be witches, too?
Conscious of the time, Luna drank her tea. She should be returning to Ravenswood.
‘I meant it when I said that you are welcome here any time – day or night – if you ever feel in danger. Please trust no one, and I do mean no one at the house. There is undoubtedly great peril ahead for you, and I know that there is still a malevolent presence that wishes you harm; I saw it in the cards. It is my experience that evil can be very cunning, dressing itself up in the guise of a friend. Stay alert.’
Luna felt a shiver run through her. There was no doubting that Mr Webber was a bad man and, after all she had learned at Honeysuckle Cottage that afternoon, she wondered whether he could actually be in league with the Devil Himself.
They walked together through the front garden, many of the flowers over now, but hardier shrubs and herbs were still thriving, and the smell of woodsmoke was in the air. She slipped through the white-painted gate and latched it behind her.
‘Thank you.’
‘Not at all. Here is the sage I spoke of, and I have another gift for you.’
‘Oh?’
He passed over the cotton bag, along with a small glass bottle containing a pale pink liquid, with a matching silk ribbon around the neck.
‘Should you decide your husband needs a helping hand to act on any amorous feelings he might have towards his wife, put two drops of this in his cocoa and leave the bedroom door unlocked.’
He gave a cheeky wink and Luna couldn’t help but smile.