Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
RUE
The following day was another hot one. I was on my way home from delivering several tinctures and sachets for my grandmother’s clients, by way of punishment for returning home early the previous day.
I was grateful not to have come across Theo Le Cerf, but it was probably because I had kept to short cuts and quieter lanes on my way to and from the homes I visited.
I wondered what had changed to hasten the ruin of my home over the past few months. It was deeply unsettling.
A raven flew out of the rusting gates where the drive for Thistlebury Manor met the road, startling me for a moment and distracting me from my worrying thoughts.
Once inside the gates I stopped to put my bags down for a moment and relieve my aching arms. I was sweaty and hot and my throat was parched.
I needed more than rest, I needed a cool drink of water from our well.
I forced myself to keep going, wishing I could find a shady spot on the overgrown lawn and lie down for a while.
Instead, I walked down the shady tree-lined drive, enjoying the slightly cooler air as I passed through the long leafy archway.
At the end I stopped for a moment to take in the once impressive manor house where I had been born and lived my entire life.
How beautiful it must have looked when my mother first arrived here soon after her nineteenth birthday.
I cleared my throat in an effort not to cry at the thought of how happy and hopeful she must have been then.
I recalled my father boasting that Thistlebury Manor had once been the pride of Thistlebury village, where the Underwood family have lived for generations.
He always stopped short of adding that since he had met and been spellbound by my mother, Martha, and had married her despite the fury of his family, things had taken a turn.
I wondered how different my life might have been if things had been different and she hadn’t died so young.
They might have had more children. I pictured myself playing in the gardens with siblings and smiled.
But my father had disappeared soon after my mother’s untimely death, leaving me alone to be looked after by my aunt and grandmother.
His disappearance had been clouded with mystery.
I wasn’t sure if that was because no one, including my grandmother and aunt, knew what had happened to him, or whether they were keeping the truth from me, believing I was too young to understand or cope with it.
I had tried several times over the years to encourage them to confide in me but never succeeded.
I thought about the Witchfinder and how he had ruined everything for my family and for our loyal estate workers – not that many now remained, especially after the gossip about my mother and grandmother and rumours of them being witches after Elias Le Cerf had arrested and executed my mother.
Only the most loyal servants had remained.
Our finances had dwindled to almost nothing and likewise their wages.
Not that I thought of them as servants – to me, and I suspected to my grandmother and aunt, Pierre, his son Jem, Tilly and her mother were more like family to us after all we had endured together these past years.
Pierre stepped out from two trees, making me jump. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,’ he said, leaning a rake against a nearby tree and coming over to me. He reached to take my bags.
Grateful to him for appearing at that moment, I let him take them. ‘Thank you, Pierre.’ I pushed my hair back from my face where it had escaped from my bonnet.
‘You look worn out, Mistress Rue.’
I groaned. ‘I am.’ I was about to grumble about the heat and having to be out walking in such weather when a thought struck me.
Pierre always seemed to know so much more than I did about what went on at the estate.
He had grown up here and he and my father had been good friends, remaining close even after my father had to step up and take a more serious role in running the place when his father died.
‘You and my father were close, weren’t you?’
‘We were, miss. Lord Thistlebury was my closest friend as a boy,’ he said quietly as we walked side by side up the long drive.
‘Even with our status being so different, I never felt as if he looked down on me and he certainly treated me as a friend when we were here.’ He glanced at me before looking forward again.
‘Whatever it is,’ I said, sensing he was unsure how much to share, ‘I’m old enough to know the truth. Really, whatever it is, I would rather know than come to my own uninformed conclusions.’
‘I hope I’m doing what’s right for you, mistress.’
‘Please, Pierre. Tell me whatever you know.’ I didn’t expect him to fully confide in me, but any information would be better than nothing.
‘There was gossip and untruths about your father and your mother’s characters after Lady Thistlebury’s demise. I do want you to know they were both good people, caring and kind to those who worked for them. Whatever they might have done, or not, I wish above all that you remember that much.’
Relieved, I nodded. ‘Thank you, Pierre, I will.’
‘Your father’s weakness was your mother. I know he loved her more than life itself, because he told me so several times. As difficult as it might be for you to believe, I honestly don’t think he ever suspected her of practising witchcraft.’
My step faltered. ‘How could he not know?’ I thought of the spell room in our basement under the kitchen. I doubted my father would often visit that part of the house, but surely he must have done at some point?
‘The house wasn’t as it is now, don’t forget. When your father lived there, your grandmother lived in her own home and your aunt only visited socially, unlike now when she is there most of the time.’
I supposed he was right. I barely recalled how things were then; I had been nine when my mother died.
Life just seemed to happen around me then, and all I remembered was riding my pony in the field with Jem watching out for me, or going for walks with my mother, or visiting her or my grandmother’s friends.
‘Thinking about it now, I don’t remember my father ever being at the back of the house, only in the living areas. ’
‘That is how it was.’ He frowned and stopped walking for a moment.
‘Your father was so ashamed when he discovered his beloved wife’s secret life, and so humiliated, after raging to the authorities on her behalf and insisting there was no truth in her practising witchcraft, to be told by Lady Thistlebury that, even though she denied her private lifestyle in public, she was in fact a witch – as were her mother and sister. ’
‘My poor father.’ How sad to think he only discovered this shortly before she died.
‘Yes, it was difficult to watch his grief for who he had thought your mother to be. Discovering this other side of her was too heavy a load to bear.’
‘But I thought he stood by her until the end.’ I wasn’t sure why I believed this. Had someone told me, or was it something I liked to believe?
‘It’s true. He did. No matter how shocked he was at his discovery he still stood by your mother and publicly supported her.’
‘What happened after she died then?’
He gave a deep sigh, clearly still saddened by what had happened back then. ‘I believe he tried his best to cope, for your sake if nothing else. Something happened though.’ He hesitated. ‘I can’t say what, but it was enough to make him pack up a few belongings and leave one night.’
I didn’t understand. ‘You can’t say what happened, or you choose not to?’
He gave me an apologetic shake of his head. ‘I made a vow not to share this part of his story and as yet I feel unable to break it.’
Not wishing to press Pierre and cause him to stop confiding in me, I nodded.
‘I understand.’ I did, but it was frustrating to know there was more that he was choosing not to share with me.
I wasn’t sure there was anything he could tell me that would justify to me how my father could believe he was doing the right thing by leaving a grieving nine-year-old child behind.
I smiled to myself as I recalled my induction a few months ago, just days after my nineteenth birthday.
It was the happiest day of my life. I relished having the freedom to put into practice all the spells I had learnt working at my grandmother’s side, but mostly to now have the tools to refine my revenge on Elias Le Cerf that I had vowed to carry out on his son.
We were nearing the end of the drive and I knew that at any point Jem or someone else might interrupt us. ‘Please, carry on.’
I needed to know everything I could, because I wasn’t sure how I felt about my father any more. It had been so long since I had seen him, and as my grandmother and aunt refused to mention his name in the house, I was intrigued to learn as much about him from Pierre’s point of view as possible.
It dawned on me that maybe my father had learnt that witches usually passed their magick down through the female line, and therefore that my mother would pass hers down to me.
Could he have left me behind because he was frightened that I would instinctively follow in my mother’s footsteps?
Did he think me tainted in some way? Or was it simply that he believed I would be better cared for by my grandmother and, especially, my aunt, who after all was my mother’s identical twin and knew her better than anyone.
‘It still hurt that he had abandoned me,’ I admitted when Pierre failed to speak. ‘Although less now, of course. I just wish I knew if my father was still alive.’
‘I believe he is,’ Pierre said. It surprised me that he wasn’t certain.
‘You mean you have no contact with him either?’
He shook his head sadly. ‘He believed it was the right thing to leave and stay away. That was ten years ago, though, Mistress Rue.’ He put my bags down and stared at me. ‘Anything might have happened to him in that time.’
He was right. ‘If only he had sent me word that he was alive, or thinking of me,’ I said miserably. ‘Any contact would have been welcome.’
‘I understand you must feel he abandoned you, but if there’s one thing I do know from all the years I knew His Lordship, it’s that he was a well-intentioned man.’
‘I’d like to believe that’s true,’ I said honestly.
‘Rolf Underwood, Lord of Thistlebury Manor, might be my father but it seems to me that he put his own feelings before his child’s.
I know I was only young when she died, but I know without question that my mother would never have made that decision if the roles had been reversed. ’
‘Maybe.’ He removed his cap, pushed his hair back and replaced it.
‘I know your upbringing has been less than perfect, but you have always been cared for by your grandmother and aunt and those of us loyal to your family.’ He gave a wry smile.
‘Then there’s your grandmother’s friends who visit here at least once a month. ’
We both knew he was referring to the coven of ten other women who joined the three of us at the house to cast spells and ensure everyone was acquainted with potentially dangerous gossip or news about the Witchfinder’s latest prey.
I nodded. ‘I am grateful for all the protection and care I’ve experienced, especially from those of you who live in cottages behind the house and work on the estate.
You’ve all always been kind to me.’ I thought of how Pierre had found me at my mother’s execution and covered my eyes so I didn’t witness the moment of her death, and then carried me away from Market Place, ignoring my pleas as I kicked and screamed for him to let me go.
It was only as I grew older that I realised how indebted I was to him for his foresight in saving me from that haunting image.
‘Especially you, Pierre. You are the most loyal of anyone we know and we’re all grateful to you for being able to rely on your protection so much. ’
He gave me a watery smile. This powerful man who had worked on the land at Thistlebury Estate his entire life looked suspiciously as if he was trying not to weep.