Beneath An Ivy Moon (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 4) (17 page)

The book went on to say how the following journal entries, dated 1858, were written by a wayward and headstrong student named Mary Girard: a girl who had eventually been expelled from the school in December of that year— for conduct unbecoming a student. The book claimed that the following entries proved the piety of Mrs. Crowly and would illustrate the devotion she had for her student’s safety and of course, their spiritual welfare.

September, 1858. I have made a friend that the Headmistress will not approve of.

The entry began. I crossed my legs, settled in and kept reading.

Mrs. Crowly does not allow her students to walk beyond the borders of the school grounds. If we are to walk outdoors it is always in groups, always supervised, and usually only when we are herded on a daily basis to church. The only thing the Headmistress does seem to approve of is scripture lessons. But these are not the scripture lessons I know.

I went for a walk alone after prayers this afternoon. I was upset and confused after one of the many sermons we had all received. It was warm and stuffy in the hall, and I wanted some air and sunshine. In defiance, I went off alone, and outside of the borders of the campus proper. I found myself some time later at a cabin in a little clearing. When I realized where I was, I was afraid. I’d heard rumors about the local midwife— the woman that some of the people in town whisper is actually a witch.

I know that other girls from the school have gone in secret to see her before. Some to find out their future and others for a love charm. All the girls know that Polly, who was suddenly sent home last year, had gone to the woman in the cabin to try and rid herself of the trouble she had gotten into.

However, I hadn’t gone there on purpose. And I was curious. I only wanted to see for myself.

I imagined a haggard old crone would be in residence, but instead I saw a pretty woman with red hair tending her gardens. Her cabin was well maintained with a sturdy stone foundation, and glass windows. It was such a peaceful, and lovely scene that I stood under the trees and watched her for a time. I was startled when she lifted her head from her gardening, and greeted me, even before I had made myself known to her. It was as if she had known that I was there. I was so alarmed that I crossed myself and said a quick prayer to the Holy Virgin for protection.

But the woman was kind. She seemed to know that I was from the school, and she asked me if I was enjoying my lessons. I was shy answering her at first, but she was so gentle and patient with me, that I found myself thinking that surely no woman this pretty, generous and welcoming could be a witch. How ridiculous!

I complimented her on her fine gardens and she smiled as I chattered away about school, and missing my home and family. It was she who suggested I return to the school, and before I left she plucked a small ripe tomato from her garden and gave it to me. Her name is Prudence Thornton. She lives alone in the cabin. I wonder what it would be like to live alone, to be free, without a brother, father or husband controlling your every action.

I will go back to talk to Prudence again as soon as I am able. She was quite frankly the most interesting person I have met since coming to Mrs. Crowly’s School for Young Ladies.

“Oh my Goddess,” I whispered. “Cabin with a stone foundation, a woman with red hair, rumored to be a Witch. It all fits.”

I flipped through the next several pages of the old book. There were two more journal entries from Mary. I jumped to my feet
. I had to show these to Nathan
!

CHAPTER TEN

I rushed to the table where Nathan was still researching and plopped into the chair next to him. “You’re not going to believe what I just found!” I waved the book at him.

Nathan jerked his head up. “What?” he said. “What did you find?”

“I think I’ve identified the remains of the woman at the site.” Excited, I reached out and gave Nathan an enthusiastic one-armed hug. “There are three entries in here from a student of the school. They are dated 1858. Let me read you the first.”

I began to read out loud and Nathan took notes. When I finished the first entry he gave my arm a friendly squeeze. “This is amazing. A midwife in a nearby cabin. Keep reading. What else does Mary have to say?”

Fascinated, I flipped the page and continued to read to him.

October, 1958. I have visited Prudence several more times since my last journal entry. She has been busy harvesting and is putting up the fruits from her garden for the coming winter. Today I helped her pull onions and braid them into long ropes to be hung in the stone root cellar under her cabin. Prudence told me that they, along with other root crops, were best harvested under a waning moon.

I also helped her gather the last of her apples from the little orchard behind the cabin. I thought they would be spoiled but Prudence says she wants to get all of her harvest in before the Full Ivy Moon comes.

I stumbled over the words. “Whoa.” My eyes met Nathan’s over the book, and I felt a little shudder roll down my back. “The Ivy Moon is part of the old Celtic lunar calendar.”

“Correct,” he said.

“That wouldn’t have been common knowledge to most people back in the 1850s. Prudence Thornton is sounding more and more like a practicing Witch.”

Nathan made a note on his legal pad. “I’ll do a search for the surname Thornton in the 1840s 50s and 60s census and see what else we hit on.”

I tried to smile, but it came out a little lopsided. “Kind of a creepy coincidence about the Ivy Moon.”

“No such thing as coincidence,” Nathan said, tapping on the page. “That was an October journal entry. The Ivy Moon cycle is assigned from September 30 to October 27.”

“I know. We’re in the Ivy Moon cycle right now.” I cleared my throat. “The moon is waxing too. I call,
Spooky
.”

Nathan leaned forward in his chair. “It is a little eerie. An Ivy Moon, and a modern Witch named Ivy at the center of the mystery. I think everything is fated to play out at
this
particular time— for a reason.”

I nodded in agreement. “Where was I?” I ran my finger down the page, and found the place I had stopped at. “Got it,” I said, continuing to read the second entry from Mary Girard’s journal.

I had never heard of a Full Ivy Moon. Then again, Ivy Moon or not, I know that the Harvest Moon was last month, because the people in town had been talking about the bonfire and dance that was going to be held. All the girls at school were excited and hoping that we would be allowed to attend. But Mrs. Crowly forbade it. All we could do was to watch the golden moon rise over the river from the high windows of the school.

I am truly growing to hate Mrs. Crowly. She’s so hard on all the girls. With her lessons on deportment, and of course her new religion. She has been trying to pressure me into giving up Catholicism and to become Presbyterian. I was sorely tempted to go to the nearby parish and ask the nuns there to intercede on my behalf with Mrs. Crowly.

I miss her sister, Mrs. Easton. She was so kind, and was my favorite of the three teachers here at the school. I wonder how her husband and sons are faring since her death this past spring. All of the girls were so sad when she passed. I found out that it was Prudence who had acted as midwife to Mrs. Easton. I asked Prudence about it once, and she said the baby had come far too soon, and that Mrs. Easton died of childbed fever a few days later. Mama says men risk their lives in war, and women in childbirth... I suppose that is true.

I got caught when I snuck back to the school tonight. I told Mrs. Crowly that I had gotten lost and that is why I was so late coming in. I had dirty hands, mud caked shoes from helping Prudence in the garden, and I feared I smelled slightly of onions. I do not think the old trout believed me. I shall have to be more careful in the future.

I stopped reading and glanced up at Nathan. “That’s the end of the second entry.” I blew out my breath and rolled my shoulders at the tension gathering there.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I want to hear the rest.”

“Okay, here goes...”

November 1858. Mrs. Crowly has sent a disciplinary letter to my parents for conduct unbecoming a young lady at her school.

How I hate that old woman! I wish she would expel me from her school so I can go back home. I’d rather take the veil than stay here another year. The other girls are all whispering about me. Elizabeth started a rumor that I was in a family way and that’s why I’d been sneaking off to see the witch in the cabin.

All the other girls laughed when she said that. I was so angry that I dumped my soup on her in the middle of the dining room. How she screamed when the hot soup poured in her lap! Elizabeth jumped up and pulled my hair in retaliation, and I slapped her face. It took both Mr. and Mrs. Crowly to pull us apart. I am now on probation at the school, not only for fighting but because I have been accused of associating with a woman of loose morals, and for un-Christian like behavior. As punishment, I am to scrub all of the floors in the building every day for a week.

Last week, Mr. Easton came and took his three little boys away from the school. After their mother’s death they had been living here, and Mr. Crowly watched over them. Mr. Easton suddenly showed up one afternoon when Mrs. Crowly had gone into town to raise money for her new church she wants to build. The handsome widower bundled those sweet little boys so quickly into his buggy... that it almost looked like they were escaping. I saw the whole thing from my dormitory window. Mr. Crowly embraced his brother-in-law, and as I watched he handed him an envelope. I think it may have had money in it. But Mr. Easton and his sons are well away. No one in William’s Ford knows where they may have gone to. Mrs. Crowly flew into an awful rage when she returned and discovered that the boys had left with their father.

I managed to see Prudence again, but I was not able to stay long. I told her what had happened at the school, and she warned me not to come back to her cabin, because it wasn’t safe. She said the Crowlys are trying to force her off of her land. That Mrs. Crowly had sent ministers out to Prudence’s home and they had tried to bully her into leaving William’s Ford. I could see that Prudence was afraid. I hope that all this hasn’t happened simply because I began to visit her. I pray that she will be safe. I will be quite sad without visits to her cabin to look forward to. I will miss seeing my friend.

What is happening at this school? The handsome Mr. Easton running away from here with his little sons... Mr. Crowly seems to retreat more every day. He is always locked in his library these days, almost as if he hates his wife and wants to avoid her as much as I do. Now that I think on it, since the death of Mrs. Crowly’s sister, the woman has become more fanatical and even harsher. Her daily sermons on piety and proper behavior, not to mention the dangers of the sins of the flesh are sounding more zealous than ever before.

I wonder if Mrs. Crowly blames Prudence Thornton for her sister’s death? It might explain her hatred, and why she wants to take Prudence’s home from her. I came to this school two years ago for an education, and maybe to be a teacher myself someday. Now all I want is to go home and forget this place.

I have sent a letter to Mama and Papa and told them how unhappy I am. I hope that they will receive it soon. I want to go home.

I sat back and closed the little book. “That’s the last entry from Mary Girard.”

“So the local midwife, Prudence, attended Victoria Crowly’s sister Melinda Easton.” Nathan typed as he spoke. “But the baby was premature, and afterwards Melinda died of complications...”

“And maybe Victoria decided to go on her own personal witch-hunt.” I examined the photocopied picture of Victoria’s portrait that was lying on top of a nearby stack of papers. “I’m starting to like this old broad less and less,” I said, tapping the image.

Nathan held out his hand for the book. “Mary writes that Prudence fears for her land. That’s important.”

“Why?’ I asked.

“Some of the most energetic— active hauntings are often over land disputes, or a need for justice.”

“The entity— Prudence spoke of calamity.” In my mind’s eye I could still see Jessica’s feet sticking out from under that pile of rubble. “Do you think Prudence was sad about Jessica?” My stomach lurched at the thought. “Or maybe she was happy that part of Crowly Hall had been destroyed?”

“Let’s make a timeline of what we do know so far...” He began to enter in information quickly on his laptop. “In 1853
The College for Women
was established by Victoria and George Crowly.”

“Melinda Harris Easton, Victoria’s sister was teaching at the school.” I riffled through my own notes, allowing him to catch up on his typing. “From the documentation Cypress found, we know that Melinda Harris Easton suffered a stillbirth.”

Nathan nodded. “Thanks to the entries of Mary Girard’s journal we now have confirmed that Prudence Thornton, the local midwife, attended the birth.”

“The local midwife with knowledge of the old ways, who lived in a nearby cabin with a
stone foundation
,” I said, “like the stone foundation being excavated on campus.”

“Melinda died from complications a few days after her child in the spring of 1858 according to the journal,” Nathan said, “and by November, Mr. Easton, Melinda’s husband, snuck his sons away from Victoria Crowly.”

“From the sounds of it,” I said, “I’m betting George
helped
him get the boys out of the school.”

“Prudence was worried about losing her land,” Nathan replied. “Victoria Crowly was— according to Mary Girard— harsher and more unpleasant than ever before. Then in December 1858 Mary Girard was expelled from school for conduct unbecoming.”

I drummed my nails on the table. “More likely she was expelled because she dared to make friends with an independent woman who was suspected of being a witch.”