Chapter 34
THEN
Emory returned to Milburn Hall, clueless as to how he had got there. The horse, thank God, knew its way back.
Emory only had to turn its head slightly once – it veered towards Meggie’s cottage, where Emory could not bear to go right now.
He rode the horse to the stables, and then left it in the care of the groom.
He walked mindlessly into the house, to see Charles sitting by the fire with a goblet of wine.
The dark, wood-panelled room was oppressive and Charles smug and carefree.
‘Ah! Emory.’ Charles raised his goblet. ‘There has been some excitement in the village today, I hear.’
Emory said nothing and made to walk past the man and ascend the staircase. He was on a different plane of existence – nothing was real and nothing made sense. But his so-called brother was still speaking.
‘There was a witch burning today. I cannot say that I had anything to do with it, but rumours spread.’ He chuckled.
‘And some bitch – or witch – definitely inflicted a wound to me. Look!’ He ripped the shirt away from his chest and Emory saw a bandage there.
‘Cuthbert Nicholson wanted to earn his fees. Kincaid taught him well.’ Charles raised his glass to the fire.
‘I hear they despatched the bitch relatively swiftly. I trust Nicholson is sleeping well. The rumour is he’s at The Head Inn tonight; he deserves the comfort after such a fruitful day.
He was determined to do a good job. Such a godly man!
What’s one more of those creatures off the streets? ’
‘Shut up.’ Emory’s voice was low and dangerous.
But Charles was heedless of it. ‘Meg Noble was always odd. Even when she was a child. I never understood why you wanted to run wild with her. It was unseemly. But, I suppose, nobody knows where you really hail from, so you may have been well-matched. I suspect I shall need to find someone else now to help me – more’s the pity.
’ He sighed loudly. ‘Dearie me. What’s a man to do? I need my fucks, brother!’
‘Shut up.’ Emory repeated his threat, feeling his hands curl into fists. The cut from the dagger stung but he didn’t care.
‘You truly liked her, I believe. Tell me, did you ever consort with her and the Devil? Ever make love under his watchful eye?’ Charles laughed out loud now, high and hysterical, and Emory realised he was drunk. ‘Was she different to a normal whore? Better, perhaps?’
‘She was not a whore!’ Emory yelled. He stormed over to Charles and stood over him. ‘And you know what happened today. I have been told you were there.’
‘Was I? Can’t say I recall.’ Charles shrugged, unconcerned.
That was it. Emory grabbed Charles by the arms and dragged him out of the seat. The goblet of wine fell to the floor and a red stain spread across the mat. It looked like the bloodstains in the snow.
Something else snapped within Emory’s mind, and he pushed his brother against the wall and gripped him harder. ‘What did you do? I know you were part of this.’ He slammed him into the wall and Charles looked shocked as his head bounced off the panelling.
‘I did nothing! You’re clearly mad.’ Charles yelled back. ‘These people, these witches – they go against everything a man should believe in—’
‘But if you were given the opportunity, you’d still lie with one,’ said Emory. ‘You would have lain with her had she let you.’
Charles’ eyes filled with fury and he spat at Emory.
‘I would not have lain with that,’ he said.
‘The only thing she was good for was to get other whores out of trouble. Witchcraft has its uses, I suppose. She can rot in hell now. The Snow Witch and that Devil-spawn she was carrying. Now that was a surprise to me. Maybe not to you, though—’
A red veil filled Emory’s vision – had he been able to get to that dagger quickly, he would have stabbed Charles through the heart. But it was easier just to…
Before he could stop himself, he found himself squeezing his hands around his brother’s neck, pushing as hard as he could into the wall as his brother choked.
Then he imagined he heard her.
Emory…
Emory blinked, looking around for her, peering towards the window where he imagined she stood outside, watching him…
His momentary lapse was enough for his brother to wriggle free. Emory was still looking over at the window, trying to see her.
‘Meg—’
Then he felt a crack, and a pain shot through his face as his brother’s fist connected with his cheekbone, hard enough to spin Emory around so he was facing Charles.
‘Never do that to me again,’ hissed Charles, his voice hoarse as his face blurred in front of Emory’s eyes ‘Or you will regret it. You are a bastard, remember? The Devil alone knows where you came from and I let you stay here out of the goodness of my heart. You should be careful, brother. The witch has gone; nobody will ever know anything different to what I tell them. Is that clear? Nicholson did a good job. She was a dangerous woman. She deserved to die.’ He raised his fist again and punched Emory one more time for good measure.
It was Emory’s turn to slide down the wall, half-conscious. As the darkness swallowed him up, he saw his brother storm off, and he saw Meggie’s concerned face leaning over him, felt her gentle fingers running down the side of his face…
He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the darkness and to her touch.