Текст книги "Witch from the Sea"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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THE HASTY MARRIAGE

CHRISTMAS CAME AND THERE were the usual festivities although my father had said there should be very special rejoicing in the culmination of this year of victory. It was now over a month since my adventure. It still haunted me. My mother noticed that I had changed and asked me if I were well. I assured her I was, and still I said nothing, which was strange for previously I had always shared confidences with her. But of this I could not talk.

We decorated the great hall with holly and ivy; and there was much singing and dancing and playing with cards and dice. The servants enjoyed this for they were only allowed to do it during the Christmas season, therefore it seemed especially exciting as all forbidden things do. There was a law which forbade craftsmen and servants to gamble, which most of us said was for their own good. Of course a man of substance could do as he wished. My father liked to gamble. He was a gambler by nature and he was inclined to be very lenient with servants who broke the law in that way.

So Christmas was celebrated with the dice and cards and the mummers and masking; and it was as I remembered it had been all my life.

“Last Christmas,” said my mother, “the fear of the Spaniards hung over us like a black pall. This year we are free.” I wished I felt free. A greater black pall hung over me, for a national disaster can never really affect us like a personal one.

With the new year the Landors came for the proposed visit. Loving to boast about his possessions, my father had wished to impress them with his wealth. My mother retorted that the Landors were a wealthy family and would not be amazed by that in others, particularly if it were thrust under their noses to be remarked on.

But my father would have it his way. I knew he was very excited about the prospect of new business interests.

New Year, he said, should be celebrated much as Christmas. A Lord of Misrule should be appointed through a certain trinket to be found in one of the cakes or puddings and that should add to the fun. It was to be a right merry welcoming in of the new year, for he prophesied it would be a year of great prosperity for England.

My mother said to me: “It will be a pleasure to see the Landors again. Do you think so too, Linnet?”

She was looking at me intently and I could not meet her eye. I said that I should indeed be pleased.

“It seems that they will join with your father. I like the idea. I daresay we shall see a great deal of them in the future.”

I could see she was already planning my wedding. Now was the time to tell her. I began: “Mother …” There was a dreamy look in her eyes. I could see she was visualizing the bride and bridegroom and all the preparations that must go into a wedding. And again I could not bring myself to speak of that night at Castle Paling.

On the last day of the old year the Landors arrived. Fennimore took my hands in his and smiled at me. I felt my heart uplifted a little, because he was so different from Colum Casvellyn. How gentle he was, how tender he would be.

My father and mother were in the courtyard welcoming the guests, my father shouting orders and making the servants run hither and thither, my mother taking quiet command.

We took them to their rooms and they pleased my father by admiring Lyon Court. The smell of roasting and baking filled the house and it was a very merry party which sat down to supper that evening. Edwina had come over with Carlos, for Carlos was very interested in the new venture and would indeed have a share in it. So would Jacko; and young Penn was determined to learn all he could.

Edwina was beginning to show signs of pregnancy; she had changed; she was more beautiful I thought because there was such a lovely serenity on her face. She had always been so anxious when Carlos went away on his voyages. Now, I thought, she will have a child to care for and she will be happier.

She talked to me about the coming child when we were alone.

“I’m so happy, Linnet,” she said. “I’ve wanted this so much … and so has Carlos. We thought it would never happen and now it has. Is it not strange? For so long we have been married and yet some people conceive immediately. I really began to think there was something wrong with me.”

I said it was wonderful to see her so delighted and asked what she hoped for, a boy or a girl.

“Carlos wants a boy of course. Men always do.”

“My mother says they so admire themselves that they want to see a replica. That is why they want sons.”

Edwina laughed. “I simply don’t care. I merely want a baby. You’ll know how I feel one day, Linnet.”

There followed a week of pleasant friendship. The men were often together talking of ships and the trade they would bring throughout the world. My father took the Landors on to those of his ships which were in the Sound and they planned all kinds of alteration to them which would render them more suitable for the new project. My mother was very happy. I knew she had decided on Fennimore for me and she believed that before the visit was over an announcement would be made.

It was at the New Year that the frightening possibility had come to me. It could have happened. He himself had suggested it. I was not sure of course but I soon should be and what should I do then?

I feigned a headache and shut myself in my room. My mother sent Jennet up with a posset for me. Jennet was a very talkative woman and her conversation was full of hints about men. It had always been so. My mother used to say: “Jennet was made as she is. I suppose we can’t blame her.”

Jennet sat on the bed and held out the posset to me.

“There, Mistress Linnet, you drink that. It’ll give you a nice sleep and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Thank you, Jennet,” I said.

She brought her face close to mine and looked at me searchingly: “Mistress Linnet, there’s nothing wrong?”

“Wrong?” I said. “What do you mean.”

She blushed. She had always had a habit of blushing if her thoughts were indelicate and although she had been the mistress of many men she had the air of a virgin. I think that was probably what attracted them.

“Oh … nothing, Mistress. There was that gentleman at the inn.” She giggled. “My dear life, I remember when he came into the inn and would have his way. You could see he was that kind. Reminded me of the Captain, he did.” She used my father’s name with reverence. She was more proud than anything else that once he had got her with child. Jacko was the result. Jacko was her only child in spite of her numerous lovers. She went on giggling about the man at the inn and watching me covertly. “And then he rescued you. When I watched you being made off with and him after you … my dear life!”

I said: “I’m going to try to sleep now, Jennet.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She looked down at me. “And then he took you to his castle. ’Tis like an old tale of knights and ladies that the minstrels do sing of, I do declare.”

There was a dreamy look in her eyes which yet held a certain astuteness. I thought: She knows what has happened. Is it possible then? And the niggling fear was with me.

Twelfth Night came. This was the culmination of the festivities. The following day the holly and the ivy would be taken down and solemnly burned in the meadow. It was unlucky to leave it up after that.

We had the Twelfth Night cake and there was a great deal of speculation as to which of us would find the silver penny.

Fennimore was the lucky one. My father as head of the house announced: “I crown you Lord of Misrule till the midnight hour.” And the crown which we used every year was placed on his head.

My father, Captain Landor and two of the tallest of the menservants carried him round the hall and he chalked crosses on the beams wherever he could reach them chanting: “Protect this house from the curse of devils and evil spirits and of all conjuring and wicked charms.”

We played games. My mother had hidden treasure and we were to hunt for it in pairs. I was pleased when Fennimore, Lord of Misrule, chose me as his companion; and I could not refuse him if I had wished because he was King for the night.

We went off hand in hand, Fennimore holding our candle high, and I was aware that the eyes of my parents followed us with approval. I was sure that they had decided this would be a fitting time to announce our betrothal. Family ties would cement the business ones. I had to lead the way because naturally he did not know the house as I did.

My mother had devised the clues and the finding of one led us on to the next. It was a game we had played all our lives; and the treasure hunt was considered to be the highlight of any of our gatherings. It showed how they trusted Fennimore to allow me to go off with him as they did; for usually young people were paired off by their elders. Of course Fennimore was the Lord of Misrule and was supposed to have his way, but if someone like Colum Casvellyn had been in his place they would never have allowed it. Why did I have to think of that man so constantly? What a question to ask myself! How could I ever forget him? What a fateful, evil trip that had been for me. It would affect my whole life. How strange that one night could do that.

Fennimore said: “Are you cold?”

“No, no. It was just a passing shiver. Someone walking over my grave, as they say.”

And I thought: The grave of my innocence which is now dead but not buried deep enough.

He took my hand.

“Are we going to find the treasure?” he asked.

“That depends on how clever you are.”

“You are the clever one.”

“I? Whatever gave you such a notion?”

“I suspect it. You are a very unusual girl, Linnet.”

“Surely not.”

“I think so,” he said.

We had crossed the hall and mounted the dais. There was a door there which led into the small dining-room and sitting-rooms which we used when we were alone, for fashions were changing and in households like ours only on special occasions did people dine in the hall with all the servants seated below the salt.

We looked into these rooms and we were not very successful with the clues. I think our minds were not on the treasure hunt.

We mounted the staircase and went along the gallery. Fennimore sat down in one of the window seats and drew me beside him. He lifted the candle and looked into my face.

Then he set it down and said: “Linnet, there is something I have to say to you.”

My heart began to beat very fast because I knew what he was going to say and I wanted to stop him. I wanted him to wait until I had grown farther away from that night at Castle Paling. I wanted to know whether it would be possible for me to cast it right out of my mind, to forget it so completely that it would seem as though it had never happened. Until I knew, I did not want Fennimore to say what was in his mind.

He went on: “I am so happy that your parents and mine are going to work together. I admire your father so much although I am so different from him and I think he would rather I was more like he is.”

“Why should he wish that?”

“Because he is so adventurous and has led a life of great daring.”

“I gather he has not always acted admirably.”

“He is a bold captain. The Queen has complimented him. He is the kind of man who has saved this country from the Spaniards. That is why it seems so wonderful to me that he should now be ready to fight another campaign … a campaign of peace.”

“It is not necessary surely to be aggressive to succeed.”

“I do agree with you. But what I want to say to you is this. Our families will work together. Linnet, from the moment we first met I felt drawn to you. If your father had not joined with us, it would have made no difference to my feeling.”

I must stop him quickly. He must not go on and ask me to marry him … yet.

I put out a hand helplessly and he took it.

He raised it to his lips. Memory stirred within me. I could feel hot hard lips on my skin. Was I ever going to forget?

How gentle he was, how tender. I needed tenderness. What would I not have given if I could go back two months … My mother had said: “We will go by road, it is not such a long journey.” And I had been excited at the prospect. Then the scene in the inn and that nightmare moment on the road and later … that oblivion which was not quite complete and the experience which I had had no will to resist.

If only it had never happened.

He kept my hand in his. “Our families wish it, Linnet. That makes me so happy. It will be so right for us … You will not be far away from your home. Your mother will visit us. So you will not be parted. I know your love for each other.”

“Please don’t go on, Fennimore,” I said.

“Why not, Linnet? Surely you know that I love you. I believe you care for me …”

“I cannot say,” I stammered foolishly. “I must have time. It is too soon … I am not ready.”

“I should have waited awhile. You are so young and so innocent …”

I was glad that he could not see the deep flush in my cheeks. I was trying to suppress those flashes of memory. Had I been doing that ever since?

He was contrite, eager not to distress me.

“My dearest Linnet, we will say no more. I have been too rash. I should have waited, prepared you. I did not realize how little you had understood. We will leave this matter and I will return to it later on. But I have made my feelings known to you. I should have prepared you. I will ask you again soon,” he went on. “And Linnet, will you promise me to think about this?”

“I will think about it.”

“You see, my dearest, you and I could be so happy together. We shall have this wonderful project in common. I remember how it excited you when I first talked of it. Our families will work together. We shall be together. You see how it is.”

“Yes, I see how it is. Fennimore, you are so good and kind. Give me time.”

“You shall have time, my love,” he said.

“I promise you I will think about this, but as yet …”

“Of course,” he said, “as yet it is too soon. I have been foolish, Linnet. I have hurried you. Never mind. Think of what this could mean. I swear that I would do everything in my power to make you happy.”

I stood up. “Please, Fennimore,” I said, “let us now play this game and try to find the treasure.”

He said softly: “Our treasure will be in each other, Linnet.”

I shivered again because I was afraid. I longed to be the girl I had been before I had spent a night at Castle Paling. I wanted to be young and innocent and in love with Fennimore. But I was unsure how to act—unsure of everything, of whether I loved Fennimore, of whether I could marry him, and most of all what happened that night when Colum Casvellyn had half-drugged, half-awakened my senses and made a woman of me while I was still a child.

I tried to think of the treasure; I succeeded a little since I was able to solve some of the clues.

We almost won, but Carlos and Edwina who had chosen to hunt together were the victors.

My mother was watching me intently.

I knew she was disappointed that she could not announce my betrothal on that night.

The next day we took down the decorations, carried them out to the fields and ceremoniously burned them. Christmas and New Year celebrations were over for twelve months. This time next year, I thought, I shall be so far away from the night at Castle Paling that it will be no longer constantly on my mind.

The whole household was present at the burning. It was a custom that everyone should have a part in it for to stay away could bring ill luck. It was when the blaze was dying down that we heard shouting in the distance and one of the servants said: “’Tis old Maggie Enfield. They be hanging her this day.”

I knew Maggie Enfield. She was a poor old woman, almost blind, and her face was disfigured by numerous ugly brown warts. She was known as a witch in the neighbourhood and lived in a tiny cottage which was little more than a hut. We used to take food and leave it outside her door. My mother sent this not because she was afraid of what might happen to her if she did not but because she had real sympathy for the poor old woman.

A few years ago she had been known as a white witch. She grew certain herbs in the patch of land round her cottage and brewed concoctions which had cured many a sickness. She had produced love potions too; and she did what was called the “fast”. If she fasted for several days and sat silent in her cottage she brought all her powers to bear on a certain object. She had been known to discover lost articles. If a sheep or a cow strayed away people went to Mother Enfield and paid for the “fast” and almost always she could discover the spot where the animal could be found.

But witches—be they white or black—lived dangerously, for they could never be sure when people would turn against them. Farmers who suffered a run of ill luck with their stock, parents whose children died unexpected and unexplained deaths, women who were barren, any could be put down to a witch’s actions; and when people raged against their own ill fortune it seemed to soothe them to wreak the anger they felt towards fate against some human victim.

So it had come to this for poor Maggie Enfield. I had heard whispers. Jennet had told me. Somebody’s baby had been born dead; someone else had a disease among his cattle. Maggie Enfield had been seen passing the cottage where the baby had died and had been caught looking at the cattle.

And now they decided that she was a black witch and that she had sold herself to the Devil for these special powers, and Maggie Enfield was being dragged from her cottage by those who were determined on vengeance.

They would hang her on one of the trees.

I shivered. I would not go down Gibbet Lane for a long time. I remembered vividly the first time I had ridden down that grim thoroughfare. There were two trees there suitably shaped to form a scaffold. There could scarcely be a more terrifying sight than a body hanging helpless, lifeless, swaying on a tree.

And now the celebration of burning the Christmas decorations had been spoilt by the thought of old Maggie Enfield in the hands of her executioners.

My father was for going to join in the macabre proceeding but my mother stopped him.

“I will not go,” she said quietly, “nor will you, Jake. What will our guests think?”

“They’ll think that another of Satan’s brew has met her just deserts.”

“They are gentlefolk, remember. Such a spectacle will disgust them.”

“Justice should disgust no one.”

My mother looked impatient and she turned away from him. She went over to the Landors and told them that we should return to the house without delay or she feared that the meat which was turning before the spit would be burned to a cinder.

My father, amused, as he often was by my mother’s defiance, refused to be done out of what he would consider a treat, and rode off in the opposite direction.

He was going to give his approval to the ceremony of hanging the witch.

The subject of witches came up over the meal and Father was vehement.

“The woman was guilty and had her just reward,” he said. “Those marks on her face proved it. Her succubus visits her nightly. The marks were found all over her body.”

“Oh come,” said my mother, “they were warts. Many have them.”

“Then tell me why she can cure them in others and not in herself.”

“I am not skilled in these matters,” retorted my mother.

“So it doth seem,” replied my father. “Well, Mother Enfield has now joined her master. There she will rot in hell.”

“Why should she?” asked my mother. “If she has served her master well perhaps he will reward her.”

“If I had my way this country would be purged of witches. I’d ferret them out. I’d have the gibbets busy.”

Fennimore suggested that often innocent women were accused of witchcraft simply because they were old, lived alone, had a cat, a squint or a few warts.

“If they be innocent they must prove it,” said my father vehemently.

“People are too ready to accuse others,” commented my mother. “Perhaps they should look to their own shortcomings before being so ready to condemn them in others.”

“By God, woman,” said my father, “we are talking of witchcraft!”

He was a very intolerant man. He had a code and there was no diverging from it. He had been guilty of rape, I knew. There was Carlos to prove it—the result of a raid on the Spanish coast. What Colum Casvellyn had done to me was exactly the sort of trick he would have played on a woman; and yet he would be outraged because this had happened to his daughter. As my mother had said so often, there was no reasoning with him.

Now he talked fiercely about what he called the cult of Satan. My mother said that witchcraft had stayed with us; it belonged to the days before Christianity came to our land. It was a part of the religion of the ancients. It was anti-Christianity; it was worship of the Horned God whom Christians called the Devil.

She, who had studied the subject, was knowledgeable about it. She said that the Sabbats were in fact a kind of religious ceremony in which the Horned God was worshipped; and because there was a need to people the earth, the dances performed at the feet of the horned God were in fact fertility rites.

My father watched her sardonically as she talked—a mixture of pride and derision in his glance. Fennimore said that this was so and the way in which to wipe out witchcraft was not to torture and kill defenceless old women but to lure them from their beliefs in this old pagan religion and make Christians of them.

“Oh, you are a reformer,” said my father with a laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is not such a bad thing to be,” replied Fennimore.

“It is a very good thing to be,” said my mother, smiling at him warmly. There was no doubt that she was very fond of Fennimore.

She managed to turn the subject back to the ever-interesting one of trade and the new project for it was clear that my father might become too dogmatic and introduce a discordant note.

And so the unfortunate incident of the witch’s hanging was forgotten and the rest of the day passed pleasantly.

In the morning the Landors left. Plans had been made; ships were being converted, the new enterprise was about to begin.

I was now certain, and as the fearful truth dawned on me that as a result of that extraordinary night I was going to have a child I felt as though the bars of a cage were forming round me.

I knew of course that I must tell my mother. My father had left on a short voyage and I chose the time while he was away. I asked her to come to my bedchamber as I had something very important to say to her.

I faced her there and blurted out: “Mother, I am with child.”

She stared at me in disbelief and I saw the colour leave her face.

“Linnet. No!”

“I fear it is true.”

“Fennimore …” she began. “I am surprised …”

“No, not Fennimore, Mother.”

I was trying hard to find the right words and they would not come.

“Not … Fennimore!” She was frankly bewildered.

Then the words started to tumble out. “It was that night. He … he took me to Castle Paling. It was there …”

“That man!” she cried.

I nodded. “You … he … You love him?” she demanded.

I shut my eyes and shook my head. I could hear his mocking laughter. Did I remember it from that night? Had it penetrated my drugged senses?

“He took me to his castle and there … I don’t know what happened. I was exhausted. He had a room made ready for me … a room with a four-poster bed. He took me to a room where food was laid out. He said he was sending his servants to find you. I ate and drank … and that is all. The next morning I awoke in the four-poster bed … I was naked and different … and he was there …”

“My God,” cried my mother. “Your father will kill him.”

“So I feared.”

“You told me nothing.”

“I was unsure …”

The horror had given way to love. She had taken me in her arms and was rocking me as though I were a baby. “My little Linnet,” she said. “Don’t fret. We will do something. I could kill him myself.”

The burden had dropped away from me as I knew it would when I told her. She would find some answer. She always had. All my problems had been taken to her and when she knew them they had ceased to be insuperable.

She sat down on my bed, her arm about me.

“Linnet,” she said, “what do you remember of that night?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I think I remember something … sometimes I believe I have imagined it. I was at the table and he filled my goblet. He said I was exhausted and needed refreshment.”

“The devil!” she cried. “Oh Linnet, sometimes I hate men.” I knew she was thinking of my father. I knew a little of her stormy life and I believe that she had been ill-used. I knew that I had a brother Roberto who was somewhere in Spain, the son of her first strange marriage; I knew that my father had his bastard sons. And I wished I had confided in her long ago. “And then?” she prompted.

“Then? I drank and the haziness came over me … Everything seemed to slip away. I was aware of him. I think I knew he lifted me up and carried me. Then I woke and it was morning and I knew what happened.”

She was silent, and her arms tightened about me.

“I have been so frightened,” I added.

“You should have told me before, Linnet. But never mind, I know now.”

“What can I do?” I asked.

She stroked my hair. “Never fear, we’ll find a way. When your father knows he will go to Castle Paling. It could be the end of one of them.”

“Yet he …” I began.

“Yes,” she said. “Yet he. But men are illogical. What he will think an ordinary occurrence for himself is a violent outrage when performed by others. You are his beloved daughter; it is the daughters of others who may be ill-used.” She laughed, a sad bitter little laugh; and she went on stroking my hair. “I wish you had told me before, dearest. I cannot bear to think of your keeping this to yourself. How was he … this … man in the morning?”

“He laughed at me. He said that I had not resisted him. He said I had joined him in a merry bed and it was as much my wishing as his.”

“He is indeed a scoundrel. You must hate him.”

“I do, and …”

“I think I understand,” she said. “Do you remember anything of what happened during that night?”

“I am not sure. Is it possible that I could not be sure?”

“I think it is. But that night is over. Nothing can alter what happened then. You are carrying his child. You are sure, Linnet?”

“I think so, Mother.”

“We must make sure. But I would not have anyone know of this yet … not even my physician. What we have to think of is what we can do. You are unmarried and pregnant, and the man who wishes to marry you is not the father. If only it had been Fennimore, but Fennimore would not have behaved so.”

“He is quite different from Fennimore.”

“That man,” cried my mother. “His arrogance in the inn and everyone afraid of him. A plague on these men who think everyone in the world is put there to serve them. But let us think what must be done. That is of the utmost importance to us now, Linnet. There are herbs, of course. Maggie Enfield could have given them, but alas is hanging on her gibbet, poor soul. There are others but I fear that sort of thing, Linnet. It is not for you. Fennimore is a good man. He is a tolerant man and that is rare. I had set my heart on your marrying him.”

“I cannot do that now.”

“It is not impossible. What if we told him the truth?”

“You mean you would ask him to father another man’s child?”

“If he loves you, he would.”

“I could not ask him to do that.”

“I could explain what had happened …”

I shook my head. “It is impossible, Mother. Colum Casvellyn would know the child was his. On that morning he hinted that I might already be with child.”

“The man is indeed a devil.”

“He would not let it be forgotten. He lives too near. He might want the child … if it were a son.”

“That could be so,” said my mother. “There seems to me but one thing. You must go to London. I will take you to my mother. She will care for you and the child can be born there. It can be said that you are a widow whose husband is recently dead. It’s so far away none will be able to prove otherwise. My mother will be delighted to care for you and the child. You will be happy there.”

“And leave you?”

“The time comes, Linnet, when mothers and daughters must part.”

“And you wanted me to marry Fennimore that we might always be quite near.”

“Not only that, Linnet. I wanted it because I felt that Fennimore is a good man who would be kind to you. I longed to hear you say that you were betrothed.”

“So might we have been but for that night.”

“Your father must not know. I fear that man. I feared him when he strode into the inn. I had an uneasy feeling that he was going to bring some evil to us. When we left the inn that morning I felt such an immense relief that it seemed out of all proportion to what had happened. Now I understand it. If we had only taken a different road.”

“You can always say that of life, Mother. It is always a matter of taking the wrong or the right road.”

“Now we must be sure to take the right one. I’m glad you have told me, Linnet. Together we will find the solution to this. But there must be little delay. No one here must know that you are pregnant. It is early yet.” She calculated swiftly. “It is not yet two months. If we go to my mother we must do so within the next month.”

“What will my father say?”

“We shall have to be very careful with him. He is expecting an announcement of your marriage to Fennimore. He will not understand this sudden desire to go to London and may well oppose it. That could delay us. You know his impatience. Now he has decided to throw in his lot with the Landors he wants you wedded and providing him with grandsons to continue with the business when they come of an age to do so. It is the best way, Linnet. In fact I think it is the only way. You might of course tell Fennimore. He would be discreet. No one can blame you. And who knows he might be ready to marry you.”

“I couldn’t, Mother, not with the child.”

“You would grow used to the idea. Perhaps it would be best.”

“Please do not tell him.”

“We will not act rashly although we must not delay too long. This has been a terrible shock and I need time to think. Dearest Linnet, I do not want you to go to my mother. To lose you would break my heart, for I should see so little of you and we have been together all your life. Yet it seems to me the best solution, unless of course Fennimore …”