Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
RUE
It was the strangest feeling riding in front of Theo.
Having him pressed up against me was, much to my annoyance, rather more sensual than I would ever have admitted to another soul.
His muscular arms either side of me barely touched mine as he held the reins loosely in his hands.
I suspected he now regretted insisting we ride this way.
Good. I was glad he felt awkward, and that I had mocked him.
He deserved it for tricking me and returning to Thistlebury Manor when he knew we wouldn’t expect him to. Vile man.
I had been surprised by his attempt to open up to me and suspected he hoped it might make me feel less antagonistic towards him.
How dare he expect me to be so easily persuaded?
I was right: he was a grown man and capable of making up his own mind.
Why didn’t he stand up to his father instead of following the same dreadful practices?
No, no – I hoped he loathed me as much as I did him.
We rode into the town and locals stopped to watch us pass.
I was tempted to lower my head and let my hair cover my face, but most people would know who I was, and those that didn’t would soon find out.
Instead, I decided to make my grandmother proud and show as much dignity as my strength allowed.
I sat up even straighter in the saddle, raised my chin and held my head high.
I had heard whispers at the market from those who thought me haughty; today I intended to act that part.
I made sure not to catch anyone’s eye, not because I thought myself better than any of them, but because I thought I might fall apart if anyone gave me a sympathetic look.
I was doing fairly well until my terror at seeing the Witchfinder returned and I began trembling again, giving away my true lack of courage.
‘Please try not to be frightened,’ he whispered.
I pressed my lips together, determined not to speak to him. If only he hadn’t been so close to me, I might have been able to hide my fear.
‘I promise I’ll do all I can to protect you,’ he added quietly as we rode slowly along the cobbled street.
I wasn’t sure how he expected to do that. He was clearly unable to defy his father in any way.
We reached the office where the Witchfinder was presently based and Theo reined in his horse. ‘You’ll need to dismount first. I’ll help you.’
I didn’t respond, concentrating on willing my legs not to give way. He took me by the elbow and helped me lower my feet to the ground. I wobbled slightly, then steadied myself.
Theo dismounted with ease. He looped Warrior’s reins around a post and flicked a coin to a young boy, asking him to watch the horse. They seemed familiar with each other; perhaps the boy had been waiting for Theo’s arrival.
I ran my hands over my hair to tidy it and shook out my skirt before smoothing the material. I was determined to retain my dignity and had no wish to arrive like an unkempt vagrant.
Theo’s eyes widened and I realised he was staring at the inside of my wrist. I tensed. He had seen the sigil. Why hadn’t I thought to rub it from my arm earlier? Fool.
‘Accompany me inside,’ he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the building without waiting for a response.
He closed the door behind us and, taking my wrist, turned it to look at it. ‘What’s this?’ he hissed, keeping his voice low as he glanced along the corridor, presumably to check we were alone.
Terrified to be caught with this blatant evidence of my practices, I struggled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t immediately lead him to drag me in front of his father.
I looked up at him and saw not triumphant glee at his discovery, but horror.
Maybe I still had a chance to save myself, but I needed to give him a way out of the impasse we found ourselves in.
‘Well? Are you going to tell me?’
I thought quickly and decided accusation was the best form of defence. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never seen a wounded heart symbol before?’ When he frowned in confusion, I added, ‘You know, when couples send a picture of a heart with an arrow through it?’
He considered my question and his frown vanished. ‘I recall my cousin once showing me such a drawing that she had received from the man she was courting.’ He raised my wrist. ‘This is not the same mark, though.’
‘It is not, but it is no more harmful than the one your cousin possessed.’
He seemed doubtful. ‘What is this then?’
I drew the tip of a finger over the smudged sigil.
‘This is an “R’’,’ I lied. ‘It represents me.’ That much was true.
‘And this is my mother’s initial.’ It was in fact two lines coming from the top of the ‘S’ to represent that I was her child, with a ‘V’ between them turning the lines into an ‘M’ for Martha.
‘The arrow through it is our love for each other.’
He stared at it, then into my eyes for a few seconds before answering. ‘I’m sorry that you lost your mother so young.’
Had he believed me? Or was he lulling me into a false sense of security before taking me before his father?
I had no time to wonder because he took my arm, more gently this time, and led me along the immaculate hallway.
The scent of beeswax filled the air. Everything shone, from the wooden floorboards to the oak-panelled walls.
His father expected high standards from his servants, that much was clear.
My terror of the man increased with every step.
We reached a door, but instead of opening it, Theo took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it in front of my mouth. I spat lightly on it and watched in stunned silence as he hurriedly wiped away all trace of the sigil.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked, unable to help myself.
‘I think it’s best, don’t you?’ He gazed into my eyes. ‘I’m unsure whether my father will understand the wounded heart symbol.’
I began to answer but before I could do so Theo opened the door to my left and waited for me to walk into the room.
This must be the Witchfinder’s office, I thought, my heartrate increasing rapidly and my breath becoming shallower.
I wiped my damp palms against my woollen skirt, then stepped inside.
A moment later I stood in front of the man whose face I could never forget.
Why hadn’t we cast the blurring spell sooner to save me from facing my mother’s killer?
I had never wanted to meet him face to face, at least not until I had avenged my mother’s death.
My vision blurred slightly. Determined not to give in to light-headedness, I cleared my throat and clenched my fists, bracing myself for what might happen next.
He rested his elbows on the fine desk and steepled his fingers as he studied me. He inclined his head. ‘Mmm, you’re the image of your mother, Mistress Underwood.’
I focused on keeping my breathing steady, determined not to show how unsettled I was at being in the same room as him.
‘You have changed much since I last saw you.’
I was surprised he remembered me and, supposing he meant that he had seen me at my mother’s execution, said, ‘I was a child then, sir, and if I may say, my impression of you has not altered one bit.’ Unable to help myself, I added, ‘Apart from your hair now being grey.’ I knew I was being rash goading him but didn’t care, despite my fear.
I heard Theo’s sharp intake of breath. I glanced at him and noticed his eyes widen in obvious shock at the way I addressed his father. I was taking my chances being flippant with the older Mr Le Cerf but didn’t care about offending him. How much worse could things be than they were already?
I looked back at the Witchfinder, whose expression hadn’t altered. He continued to gaze at me. I supposed his intention was to intimidate me. I had no intention of showing how successful he had been, deciding he didn’t deserve the satisfaction.
When he didn’t speak, Theo took a step forward. ‘Father, you wished to interview Mistress Underwood about the claim made against her.’
‘Claim?’ I asked, forgetting my resolve to remain stoic. Why hadn’t I taken the opportunity on the ride to ask Theo questions? Then I would have been better prepared for this moment. I gritted my teeth, furious at my lack of forethought, but there was little I could do about that now.
I had thought I was in front of this devil because he already knew I was a witch, but this reference to a claim made against me changed matters completely and gave me a little hope.
I wondered whether I could disprove the accusation.
I was shocked that someone had taken the time to charge me with sorcery.
Who could possibly hate me enough to do something that vindictive?
I didn’t mix with anyone outside my family and my friends on the estate.
Anyway, I mused, everyone in Stanthorpe and Thistlebury, and probably further afield, knows of my mother’s tragic demise, and most people, even if they don’t like me, feel sorry for me.
I had heard many times how others pitied my family and me for having suffered more than enough for one lifetime.
‘That is correct. You must have suspected why my assistant brought you here today?’
I nodded, desperately trying to think who might have accused me to this most evil of men.
He smirked at my confusion. ‘I can see your shock. I shall explain further. You have been accused by one of the townspeople of practising sorcery.’
I had worked that much out for myself. I gave the pinch-faced man a look of disdain, then remembered I needed to deny the accusation if I was to have any chance of escaping with my life.
‘But that’s nonsense,’ I lied. It was the only response to make. ‘May I ask who is behind this false accusation against me?’