Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
THEO
Every moment I was searching for evidence against her, my heart raced in case I found something to strengthen my father’s case.
Whatever happened, and however much I wanted to please my family, Rue was far too precious to me for me to stand by and see her convicted.
If only I had an idea how to defend her.
I did believe that my father’s work was essential to save people from unsavoury and evil practices, but I couldn’t imagine Rue being a witch, and now that I had spent some time with her, I questioned whether witchcraft was in itself wicked enough that women who practised it should be regarded as evil.
Was it sufficient reason to condemn them to death? I didn’t think so.
I rubbed my tired eyes. I needed to focus and take things one step at a time. My heart raced as it occurred to me once again that I held Rue’s life in my hands. The prospect of getting things wrong was terrifying.
I sat in the inn eating a bowl of tasteless grey food that was supposed to be mutton stew, and could swallow the stale bread that accompanied it only by taking a mouthful of ale immediately after.
I thought back to arriving at Thistlebury Manor and sensing that I was being watched.
It was the oddest sensation, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright.
I didn’t think I was being fanciful. There really was something ominous about that place, and not just because the building was in such disrepair.
No, there was something else. Something oppressive resided in Rue’s home, but I had no idea what it might be: a dark presence, or was it just a maid lurking by the window, watching me, a stranger, from a safe distance?
I wondered whether Rue was aware of its existence.
Maybe there was far more amiss at the manor than I yet knew.
I struggled to swallow another mouthful of the appalling meal. I needed to eat something, given the long day I had ahead of me. I ate as much as I could bear, then placed my spoon on the plate.
Hearing a voice I recognised, I turned to see the maid who had spoken to me by the stables a few days before. ‘Good day to you.’
‘And to you, sir. I heard you took the Underwood girl in for questioning this morning.’
I was about to dismiss her but thought I should make the most of her presence to ask more questions. Unlike others, this girl seemed more than willing to pass on information.
‘Good afternoon.’
‘Didn’t think much of your lunch then?’
I grimaced. ‘Not really.’
She leant in slightly closer. ‘Don’t blame you. I wouldn’t pay for this muck.’
‘You mentioned that the Underwood woman’s father deserted her after her mother’s execution. Can you tell me more about that?’
Someone laughed loudly near the bar, causing her to look over her shoulder. When the raucous conversation set off once more, she turned back to me.
‘What do you want to know?’ she asked, moving my plate aside and wiping the table in front of me.
‘Have you heard if she has contact with him? If he’s still alive even?’
‘No idea. I’ve never seen him around here, that’s for sure.
I haven’t heard any gossip to say otherwise and, mark my words, there would be some should he ever reappear.
’ She gave an amused snort. ‘I’ve heard some say that they’re witches up at that manor house.
’ She waited for me to react and when I didn’t, added, ‘You know, like that Lady Thistlebury who was executed.’
‘What else do they say?’ I asked, sensing she had more to tell me.
‘That they cast a spell to make him vanish.’
I laughed before I had a chance to stop myself.
Her friendliness vanished and she glared at me. ‘Are you mocking me, sir?’
I rested a hand on my chest. ‘No, sorry. I’m only amused that people believe it possible for a person to be made to vanish.’
She narrowed her eyes and tucked her grubby cloth into the waistband of her apron. ‘If you don’t believe these things to be possible, then you need to take care.’
Before I had a chance to respond she flounced off with an affronted sniff.
I made a mental note to look into Lord Thistlebury’s whereabouts, hoping to find him and plead for him to return and help me prove his daughter’s innocence. Or, if nothing else, to discover more about Rue and the strange manor house.
A glass smashed against the table nearest to me, shocking me back to the present.
‘Oi, get him out.’
I picked up my plate and tankard to stop it being knocked to the floor. The scuffle neared my table, which was knocked over as the landlord and one of his patrons wrestled with the man I guessed had thrown the glass.
Eager to return to my thoughts, I thanked the barmaid who came over and righted my table, then sat down, doing my best to ignore the banter that sprang up around me as the landlord walked away.
I needed to concentrate on the strange goings-on at the manor and my dread at returning there and interrupting Rue’s return to her loved ones.
As I rode Warrior back towards Thistlebury Manor, I ruminated on the details of the accusation against Rue that had been made, which my father had been reluctant to share with me before he allowed me to leave his office.
Was he right to take the maid’s accusation seriously and not just suppose it to be the spite of a jealous girl?
After his comment in his office, I guessed he now suspected that to be the case.
Not that I trusted him to follow that thought.
Instead, I had a nagging feeling he would use it against Rue regardless of what he really believed to be the truth.
If Rue did practise sorcery, and I very much doubted she did, then I had a battle on my hands if my father was determined to come to a different conclusion.
The way he had treated her, warning her and her family but then letting her go, was too much like a mischievous cat playing with its prey.
Why would he give Rue detailed instructions, then insist I follow and reiterate them to everyone at the manor?
I couldn’t banish a sense that my father had an underlying obsession with the Underwood family. But why?
That his behaviour towards Rue might have something to do with an obsession with her dead mother troubled me greatly.
I neared the property gates and slowed Warrior from a trot to a walk.
An idea was forming in my mind. I began to think I might have found a way to help her.
I felt a surge of hope. Staring at the avenue of trees ahead of me, I willed them to give me answers.
My guilt as her hunter was making me desperate.