Witchfall (33 page)

They filed into the house, Richard frowning darkly as he
carried Mistress Ashley’s bag inside, Alice trailing in last, her expression one of bewilderment as she looked back at us.

Soon only William and Alejandro remained, looking at me. I stood helpless, my hurt feet throbbing, my arms by my sides, and did not know what to say to them.

The Lady Elizabeth had betrayed me. That was all I knew. I would never have thought it possible, not after what we had been through together. But her loyalty to Kat Ashley had outweighed her loyalty to a witch. Why did that surprise me?

‘I had better go up and start packing.’ I managed a fleeting smile at my brother, but dared not look at Alejandro, for fear I might burst into tears. ‘Will you help me, William? It should not take long. God knows I have little enough to take with me.’

‘William, would you give us a moment alone?’ Alejandro asked him quietly, his gaze on my face.

My brother hesitated, then nodded. ‘I will be waiting in your chamber,’ he told me, and disappeared.

I knew William was unhappy to be leaving Hatfield, but would stand by me whatever happened. I tried not to dwell on how it would feel to go home and face my traitorous father; my impending return to Lytton Park was the least of my problems right now.

‘I will speak to her ladyship tonight,’ Alejandro told me deeply, taking my hands. ‘She cannot dismiss you. Not after
the dangers you have faced on her account. It is too ungrateful.’

‘When were the Tudors ever grateful towards their servants?’ I asked, but shook my head. ‘No, Alejandro. Mistress Ashley has returned and must have her way, for she is the closest the Lady Elizabeth ever had to a mother. You will only lose your own position here if you try to sway her opinion, and Kat Ashley will hate you for speaking against her.’

‘You think I care?’

‘The Queen herself asked you to guide her sister in spiritual matters,’ I reminded him gently, ‘and King Philip asked you most particularly to watch over the Lady Elizabeth and keep her from harm. I do not think you care if you are dismissed. But you will not wish to betray either of them by leaving – in particular your own King.’

He closed his eyes in pain, then nodded. ‘I cannot leave Hatfield, it is true. But I cannot bear for you to leave either.’

‘I must. It is done.’

‘Then use your power. You are a witch, and a talented one. I have seen what you can do. Perform whatever magick you can to—’

I interrupted him, smiling up at him drily. ‘You would have me strike Kat Ashley down and take her place as the princess’s most treasured confidante?’

His eyes darkened, his voice suddenly husky. ‘I would have you stay by my side and not go out into the world where I cannot protect you.’

‘The vile shadow is gone,’ I reminded him. ‘I am safe enough.’

He shook his head. ‘You have forgotten Marcus Dent.’

I had not forgotten him. But to tell the truth, I had hoped he was no longer a threat, except in shadows and visions, his power gone since falling into the void. I knew that was a weak hope. Yet I could not have Alejandro fretting for my safety every day I was away from him, and perhaps putting himself in danger by attempting to persuade the princess to take me back.

‘He has not come at me here, though he could have done if he wished. If Marcus Dent is such a threat, why am I still alive?’

‘You nearly weren’t,’ he pointed out. ‘Besides, you said yourself the place is protected by spells that keep him out. What if he pursues you on the road home?’

That was my fear too. But I could not allow him to see that. ‘Don’t,’ I said softly, and laid a finger on his lips, very aware that we could be seen from the house. ‘I will be safe enough. And I will write to you, when I have the time.’

‘I will write every day,’ he promised me grimly.

‘And neglect your duties to the princess?’ I shook my head with a sudden weariness. My heart hurt as it had never hurt before, not even when I thought myself dead and separated from him for ever. ‘Alejandro, it has been a lovely dream for us, being together this year. But it is over now, and I want you to forget me.’

‘What?’

He was staring now. I could not bear it. It was the worst sacrifice I had ever needed to make, but I knew what had to be done if Alejandro was to survive our dangerous association.

‘Finish your duties here with the Lady Elizabeth, then return to Spain and marry a noblewoman chosen by your family. That is your path, and it is an honourable one. I have my own narrower path ahead, a path of magick and solitude, and there can be no space for you on it.’

‘Meg, no!’ Alejandro exclaimed, catching at my arm as I turned towards the house.

‘
Noli me tangere!
’ I cried in a voice of power, and suddenly he was on his back on the grassy track, winded, staring up at me in shock. ‘Let that be a lesson to you, priest. Do not seek me out again before I leave, or I will strike you down again. There can be no love between what I am and what you are – only hatred and fear. I see that now, and am glad we must part before you can betray me to your masters.’

As I hobbled painfully into the shadow of the house, I realized that I was crying, and wiped away the tears before anyone could see my weakness.

My heart was breaking. I had thought we would be together for ever. But of course there could be no happiness for us. Our love had been a foolish girl’s dream. The Lady Elizabeth had betrayed my trust and loyalty, and perhaps that would prove a good thing in the end. For now I must grow
up, harden my heart to love, and become a solitary witch like my aunt.

‘
Adios
,’ I whispered, bidding Alejandro farewell in his own language, but I did not look back.

My father came out to stare when I arrived home at Lytton Park, then hurried to help me down from the cart. He shook hands with William, exchanging a few awkward words with his son. Then he kissed my cheek, not quite meeting my eyes. The last time we had seen each other, he had been drunk and angry in a bedchamber at the Bull Inn in Woodstock, refusing to admit to his betrayal of my aunt. I kissed him back, yet could not find it in my heart to feel love for him, not after he had condemned Aunt Jane to the fire in order to steal the princess’s letter of clemency. But he was still my father and I owed him some respect for that, if for no other reason.

‘But are you back for good?’ my father asked when William tried to explain what had happened, clearly bewildered by our sudden return. ‘And why was Meg dismissed from the princess’s service?’

Warily, he lifted his head to gaze down the dirt track that led out of the park – almost as though expecting to see soldiers galloping after us in angry pursuit.

My father was looking much older, I thought. There was more grey in his hair and beard, and his face was becoming lined. Perhaps he had learned his lesson about meddling with
politics, when Aunt Jane died and he nearly lost his children too. But I doubted it.

‘Let us talk inside,’ I murmured, uncomfortable under the servants’ curious stares. ‘It’s been a long drive and my throat is dry. Then I would like to rest in my old bedchamber, if the bed can be aired for me.’

‘Of course.’ He turned to give orders to the servants and they ran inside. Then he led the way into his study, where a fire was burning cosily and his hound lay sleeping on the hearth. At the sight of me, he jumped up and began to lick at my face. I crouched down to embrace him, and could not help remembering the day I had come down in secret to feed my aunt’s magickal books and papers to the fire before the witchfinder could come back and search the house. How it had grieved me to see her precious hoard consumed by fire. Yet I had known it had to be destroyed. Sometimes pain had to be suffered to prevent a greater hurt later. I only hoped Alejandro would soon recover from any pain at our parting.

For my own part, I knew I could never feel love again. Not like this, not with such depth and urgency. But Alejandro was a man, and would soon fall in love with someone else.

Someone better.

I stopped torturing myself, and rose to my feet. I swayed slightly, for they were still tender under the bandages, and saw William’s worried glance.

‘What is it?’ my father asked at once. He had been pouring us both a cup of wine, but now he stopped, coming
to take me by the shoulders. He stared down into my face. ‘Meg, are you in pain?’

How to answer
that
, I wondered feverishly. But I managed a shake of my head. ‘It’s nothing. I hurt my feet a few days ago, that’s all. I just need to get some rest, if my chamber is ready.’ I glanced without appetite at the platter of meat the maid was carrying in. ‘I can always eat later. Forgive me, Father. I’m not hungry now. Just dog-tired.’

He nodded, but still looked uneasy.

‘What is it, Father?’ I frowned, searching his face. ‘Something is troubling you.’

His hands tightened on my shoulders and he leaned close to my ear. ‘Marcus Dent is back. You know that?’

‘William told me, yes.’

‘He came here some months ago, asking after you. I told him you were at court, still in the Lady Elizabeth’s service. Did I do wrong?’

I shook my head. ‘Don’t fret yourself, Father. He can do nothing to me now. He has no power left to frighten me.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Are you certain? His face—’ He shuddered, remembering. ‘He is scarred now, and one eye is missing. He speaks so harshly. I did not want him to pursue you to court.’

‘I told you, Marcus Dent can do nothing to hurt me. I made sure of that before I left for court.’ I saw his wary look again and regretted saying that. My magick was not something I needed to share with him. It would only lead all
of us into danger. ‘I’m so very tired. Will you be terribly disappointed if I sleep tonight, and we talk more tomorrow?’

My father made no argument against this, but called another servant and had me escorted to my bedchamber. The place was in disarray, the old rushes unswept, the wall hangings stained, and the mattress hurriedly stuffed with fresh straw where it had been sagging. But some recently aired linen had been thrown over it, then enough blankets and covers heaped up to keep out the autumn chill. With the help of a young maid, I was soon out of my gown and snuggling under the covers, trying to get warm. My brother came to see how I was, but went away without speaking, finding me drowsy and already half asleep.

Since leaving Hatfield, I no longer dreamed of the tower. But I dreamed of Alejandro that first night, and then every night I was there. Always the same dream, the two of us together on a dark stairway, and his arm about my waist, helping me descend. Then his voice in my ear, ‘I love you, Meg Lytton. And I will never be parted from you again.’

Whenever I woke, my eyes were damp with tears. I knew then not to be afraid of my recurring vision of the tower and Marcus Dent with an axe. For I knew Alejandro and I would never see each other again. Or not in this life, at any rate.

So if
that
dream was untrue, all the others were too.

Several weeks passed and we settled back into our old life at Lytton Park with surprising ease. I took charge of the
housekeeping now that my aunt was no longer alive, for there appeared to be chaos in some unlived-in parts of the house. My father handed over the keys to the cellar and the store cupboards without demur, clearly happy to have some kind of female presence back under his roof. The kitchen servants took their orders from me after that, and if any of them remembered the day Marcus Dent and his men came to the house, calling my aunt a witch and dragging her away, none of them ever spoke to me with disrespect or mentioned my aunt’s fate.

It was hard not to wonder what Alejandro was doing, so far away at Hatfield House. Sometimes, in an idle moment towards the close of day, I would catch myself thinking of Alejandro with pleasure, and would have to reprimand myself sternly. I did not want to spend the rest of my life dreaming of a man to whom I had once been betrothed. I was not that weak. But it did hurt, recalling how happy I had been in his arms and the plans we had made for our future together.

Happiness is fleeting, I told myself. Better to face the truth now that we will never be together, and focus on what I can do . . . magick, that is.

Thankfully, such cruel conversations in my head were rare. Mostly, I would remember his lips on mine, then hurry to oversee some unsavoury task – the beating of dusty bolsters and bedcovers outside in the chill autumn air, or the scrubbing of the hall flagstones to discourage beetles
and cockroaches from lodging in the gaps between stones.

Eventually, I looked out one morning and saw how the grassy lawns were cracked with frost, spiders’ webs turned to icy ropes of white across every bush and fence. The evenings had begun to draw in earlier, fires lit in the downstairs chambers as soon as daylight began to fade, to ward off the dark and cold.

Soon it would be winter, I realized, and we would have been apart more than a month.

He did not write. Nor did I.

It was better that way, I lied to myself, and even stopped looking out towards the gates of Lytton Park every day, hoping to see a servant on a pony bearing a letter for me. After all, what good did it do to constantly pine for someone who would never be mine? Perhaps one day I would cast a spell to banish unwanted love, and that would be an end to it.

Yet whenever I thought of gathering the ingredients for such a spell, somehow I would find an excuse to put it off another week or two. I was half in love with love, that was my problem, and I was wallowing in my loneliness instead of moving on.

One day, as winter began to settle about the house in earnest, I finally heard the sound of an unexpected rider approaching and almost dropped the basket of dried apples I had been carrying down from the attics. They were among the last
fruits from the harvest, dried in the sun and wrapped carefully in cloth to preserve them from weevils, and the maid looked at me askance. I handed her the precious basket, wiped my hands on my apron, and hurried outside to see who it was.

I heard shouts of alarm, and looked down the track to see my brother rushing out of the stables to help the rider. ‘Whoa there!’ he cried, bravely trying to grab at the horse’s bridle as it careered past.