Witchrise (11 page)

‘Then tell your brother to stay with me. I am no longer young, I need one of you here.’

‘That must be William’s choice, not mine.’

He hit out angrily. ‘William will not stay at my bidding. I have already asked. He wants to return to Hatfield too – he mentioned some young woman in the princess’s service.’

I nodded. ‘Alice.’

‘Is she of good family?’

‘I believe so, yes. Close to the court, like the Canleys were. And they are Protestants.’

‘Well . . .’ My father grimaced. ‘That’s good news, at least. I could not have stood to see both my children wed to Catholics.’

I looked away. He still thought I might marry Alejandro. Was he right . . .? My father seemed very old suddenly, his hair silvering, his face drawn in tight lines. I hurried to embrace him, and felt his body tremble slightly against mine.

I kissed him on the cheek. ‘Never fear. Marcus will not harm you once I have gone. And I will return by and by.’

‘I am not afraid of Marcus Dent,’ my father said sharply. But he had a strange expression on his face when I curtseyed and left him.

Richard was descending the stairs when I entered the hall, with Alejandro a few steps behind him. I was relieved to see Alejandro up and about, but equally concerned that he would set his recovery back by rushing to be well and whole before he was ready.

‘Well?’

‘I told you, he’ll live,’ Richard said laconically. ‘But he’s not yet ready to sit a horse.’

Alejandro’s mouth was a straight line as he reached the last step, his brows knit together with concentration.

‘I disagree,’ he insisted, addressing Richard without even looking at me. ‘I am in a little discomfort, that is all. The wound is healing well, by the grace of God.’

‘And thanks to my intervention,’ Richard added, but held up a hand when Alejandro’s eyes narrowed angrily. ‘Peace, priest. I am not interested in arguing with you over God and His mercy. And I agree that you need not delay your return to Hatfield any longer. But it would be madness for you to sit a saddle in your condition.’

I frowned, not understanding. ‘Then how . . .?’

‘He can travel in a litter.’

Alejandro stiffened, then looked from Richard to me, clearly aghast at this suggestion. ‘Like a woman?’

‘No,’ Richard commented lightly. ‘Like a wounded man lying in the back of a cart. And Meg will be safe – both William and I will be on hand if there is any trouble. Will can drive the cart and I shall ride alongside.’

Alejandro straightened, meeting Richard’s gaze squarely. ‘The journey to Hatfield will take twice as long with a cart, and we have delayed long enough as it is. I’ll take my chances on horseback, I thank you. And I too can fight if necessary.’

‘Then your stitches will burst, the wound will fester, and you will die a painful and horrific death.’

My stomach turned. ‘Alejandro, please.’ I went to him, my gaze searching his face. ‘Do not be stubborn. My father will lend us his cart. You can sit up, you need not lie down. No man will think any the less of you for it, not after the wound you have sustained.’

He looked at me silently for a moment through his lashes. ‘Will you travel with me,
mi alma
?’

‘In the cart?’

Alejandro nodded, still watching me.

I felt heat in my cheeks. ‘Yes, of course. If you wish it.’

‘I do,’ he murmured, then took my hand and lifted it to his lips. There was the suggestion of a smile in his dark eyes, though I could not be sure I had not imagined it. ‘If you are there with me, it will not seem such a hardship.’

Richard made a choking noise under his breath. ‘Have you no shame?’ he muttered, averting his eyes from such unwanted intimacy, then turned on his heel and headed for the back door. ‘I think William’s in the stables. I need to find him and arrange which horses we can take.’

I ignored him, smiling back at Alejandro. I did not want to deceive the Spaniard into thinking we would definitely marry, for I felt sure that possibility was becoming more remote every day. But I loved Alejandro, and would do whatever he asked to ensure that he looked after himself properly.

‘Pack up what you need, Meg, and say your goodbyes,’ Richard threw back curtly over his shoulder. ‘We leave for Hatfield first thing tomorrow.’

The weather stayed cold but dry for the next two days as we made our slow way cross-country from Oxfordshire to where the Lady Elizabeth made her lodging at Hatfield House, a remote country mansion where we had lived very happily the year before. The road was uneven, little more than a dirt track in places, but while Alejandro winced at the worst bumps and jolts, he said nothing, his jaw set hard, never once calling a halt.

I sat beside him on the cart, cross-legged, and played at cards with him, then dice, then listened while he read aloud to me from a long poem by Ovid which he had borrowed from my father’s library of books, translating smoothly from the Latin as he read.

We slept at a rough tavern on the first night, too tired to do more than close our eyes, but on the second day had not been riding many hours before we came in sight of the narrow, smoking chimneys at Hatfield House. With the sun hidden behind clouds, the great house looked shadowy and a little sinister. The windows on the west side were all shuttered against the daylight, like a row of blinkered eyes. The entrance yawned dark at the centre, shrouded in ivy.

I shivered, studying it as we approached. I had never seen the place look so grim and unwelcoming.

‘Look, I can see the house plainly now!’ William exclaimed, driving the cart. He turned and grinned back at me. ‘We are nearly there, little sister. Still thirsty?’ We had finished the last of our meagre supplies the night before and had not thought to ask the tavern keeper for more on our departure that morning.

‘My throat is a little dry,’ I admitted, then looked across at Alejandro, who had fallen asleep in the chill sunshine, wrapped in travelling furs.

His face looked beautiful as an angel’s now that the lines of pain had been straightened out, his body relaxed as he slept, one arm slung over my mother’s chest of magickal instruments – which I had insisted on bringing away with me – his short dark hair ruffled by the breeze.

I had been examining my mother’s ring on this last leg of the journey, for I was still curious to know its purpose. So far we had no word from Master Dee about it, and the only way I could think of discovering its use would be to wear it.

Now the ring glinted in the sunlight, inviting me.

I slipped it onto my finger and held it up, admiring the way it caught the light. At once I felt more awake, stronger somehow, as though I had just drunk one of Richard’s healing draughts. And my finger began to tingle, growing almost hot.

I frowned, turning the ring on my finger. The heat was not uncomfortable nor unpleasant. Indeed, it was rather like the tingling itch I felt in my fingertips when the power descended upon me. But this heat seemed to be trickling back along my hand and wrist, up my arm and into my shoulder bones, spreading warmly towards my heart . . .

Richard kicked his horse into a trot, riding past with a quick glance down at Alejandro, and I hurriedly slipped my glove back on, concealing the ring.

‘Best wake your sleeping prince,’ he told me, unsmiling. ‘See, they have heard the horses.’

Sure enough, the entrance door had been thrown open, and I recognized Alice at once, standing out on the path with her hands on her hips. The maid’s face creased into a broad smile at the sight of William, then she waved at us, calling something back into the house.

A moment later, a taller figure joined Alice on the path. Only it was not the Lady Elizabeth as I had expected. It was the dark, sombre figure of Kat Ashley, staring at us from beneath her old-fashioned French hood.

‘Don’t fret,’ Alejandro murmured beside me. When I turned, surprised to see him awake, he managed a reassuring smile. ‘You will not be turned away this time. It was Mistress Ashley herself who bade me ride for you.’

‘Mistress Ashley was behind this summons?’ I was amazed, for she was the one who had ordered my dismissal upon her arrival at Hatfield. ‘But it was she who called me a witch and sent me home to my father’s house.’

He yawned, stretching as he stirred from his bed of furs. I tried not to stare at the perfection of his body, not even the humble clothes my brother had lent him able to disguise his muscular strength.

‘That was before the Lady Elizabeth had special need of you. Things have changed now.’

I frowned, wondering what he meant.

Alejandro threw back the furs as we approached the house. When William had drawn the cart to a halt, he stood, holding onto the swaying side of the cart, and I recognized a certain bold recklessness in his expression. He did not wish the princess, or any of her ladies, to think him weak. However much it cost him to pretend he was not injured.

He jumped down without waiting for William’s offered hand, then turned to help me.

‘Meg,’ he murmured, and caught me by the waist, lifting me easily down onto the path. He frowned, his hands slipping to my hips and lingering there a moment, disapproval in his face. ‘You have lost weight.’

‘I’m just growing taller,’ I joked.

‘You should not let yourself become too thin,’ he insisted, then smiled into my eyes, the warmth of his smile filling my heart. ‘Thank you for keeping me company on the journey. And do not allow Mistress Ashley to intimidate you. You have the power here, not her.’

My eyes widened at this dangerous suggestion. But I could not ask him to elaborate; Mistress Ashley was already upon us.

She took my arm in a claw-like grip, shooting a grim look at Alejandro as she pulled me towards the house. ‘Why has it taken you so many days to answer her ladyship’s summons? Was the urgency of the request not made clear enough to you? We had almost given up all hope of you arriving at all!’

‘Forgive me,’ I answered her, more sharply than was entirely polite, ‘but Alejandro was injured on his return to Lytton Park, and we could not—’

‘Injured?’ She had stopped dead on the path, staring back at Alejandro. Her hand dropped from my sleeve. ‘What nonsense is this girl speaking?’

‘A mere scrape,’ Alejandro told her smoothly. ‘Nothing more. You must forgive my slow progress, Mistress Ashley.’

‘Señor de Castillo might have died if we had not stayed a few days to tend him properly,’ I corrected him, ignoring the warning look in his eyes. ‘You should be grateful we are here at all.’

‘Indeed?’ she countered, her tone haughty.

I could not help glaring at Mistress Ashley, even though it was rude. The first and only time we had met, the princess’s former governess had wasted no time in turning Elizabeth against me and bidding me leave Hatfield for ever. Now she was treating me like the lowliest of serving girls.

‘When I left, Mistress Ashley,’ I said coldly, ‘you accused me of witchcraft and told me I could never return while you were in residence. What can possibly be amiss that I am summoned back with such urgency?’

Her mouth tightened with fury. ‘I have not changed my opinion of you one iota, witch girl. Do not be deceived by this summons. But my mistress is in dire need of your skills. She is unwell and has been worsening every day since I sent Señor de Castillo to fetch you.’ As we turned towards the entrance, Mistress Ashley glanced up at the gloomy house. Something akin to fear flickered in her face. ‘No more talk now; you must be taken to my mistress with all speed.’

I followed her inside, managing a brief smile for Alice as I passed. Her bright eyes were so eagerly studying my brother that I was left in no doubt of her affection for him. That was one good thing to come out of this strange summons, at any rate.

Inside the walls of Hatfield House, I drew my cloak more tightly about my shoulders. The great house felt colder and damper than when I left Hatfield in the late autumn, and although a fire was smouldering resentfully in the huge grate in the hall, filling the place with smoke, it was making little impact on the chilly air.

Indeed the only hot thing was my finger, still encased in my sheepskin glove, which seemed to be pumping warmth around my body. Perhaps the ring’s purpose was to keep you warm in a snowstorm, I thought, and had to conceal my grin.

‘Her ladyship is still abed?’ I asked in a whisper. The shadowy interior felt oddly hushed, more like a crypt than a house, and I did not like to speak too loudly.

‘The Lady Elizabeth has not left her chamber in days.’

‘But what ails her? Is she sick?’

Mistress Ashley looked at me sourly, her skirts gathered in one hand, breathing hard as she climbed the stairs. ‘Señor de Castillo did not tell you?’ She made a rough noise of contempt. ‘Her ladyship is not sick, you foolish girl. She is
bewitched
.’

An old fear gripped my heart and I stared at the woman, barely able to speak, the hated name burning in my mind.

‘By . . . by Marcus Dent?’

She frowned then, looking back at me. ‘Who?’

I stared, then realized my mistake. She knew nothing of my enemy, and this was unlikely to be his handiwork anyway. Marcus Dent could not have penetrated the magickal defences about Hatfield House and its grounds. Or could he?

‘Nobody,’ I said swiftly. ‘It does not matter.’

Kat Ashley raised her thin brows but said nothing. I could not see her face clearly, for she had not brought a candle. But I sensed that she loathed me and wished me anywhere but there. Simply because I was a witch, I presumed.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she swept along the landing ahead of me in her black weeds, never missing her footing despite the darkness. I followed her wearily, studying the back of her head with acute dislike. Mistress Ashley was a shadow among shadows, a black crow in the house of the dead. She had banished me from here once, and she could do it again with a click of her fingers. Just as soon as I had served her mistress. If we ever got to her room.

My skin crept with sudden dread. Yes, why was it taking so long to reach the princess’s bedchamber? I recalled it being only a few steps along the landing. But perhaps my memory had deceived me.