The Witch’s Daughter (13 page)

‘Can you dismiss so quickly the chance to be near me?’ he asked gently.

Now she understood. She let out a snort of amazement as she snatched away her hand and shook her head. ‘I swear I do not know what more astonishing words will come from your mouth this day! First you bid me enter your house as a servant, though you call me friend. Now I hear your plan was to install me as mistress, to be at hand when whimsy turns you in my direction, ever eager for what crumbs of affection you might choose to give!’

‘Bess, I…’

‘No! I beg you say nothing further. I see I misread your character, William. I had foolishly seen goodness and innocence in those smiling eyes of yours. How mistaken I was.’ She spun on her heel, her heavy boots sucking at the sticky mud of the track as she strode toward home.

‘Bess, do not turn away from me. Let me be your friend still!’ he called after her.

Without pausing or looking back, Bess told him, ‘I have no need of a friend who thinks me good enough to share his bed but not his name. Good day to you, William Gould!’

When Bess reached the cottage, she found herself still unable to contain her rage. She slammed into the house. Her mother heard the door rattle in its frame and came through from the dairy.

‘Bess? What has happened?’

Bess tore the shawl from her shoulders and hurled it onto the settle.

‘I have been taught a lesson about the true nature of men,’ she said, pacing the floor.

‘Oh. And who was your teacher?’

‘None other than William Gould, heir to Batchcombe Hall, soon to be lord of all he surveys. A lord like any other who will take what he wants in his high-bred hand and twist it to his will.’

Anne’s expression changed to one of alarm. ‘Did he harm you?’

‘Oh, quite the contrary, Mother. I should thank him, indeed, for opening my eyes. Let me tell you what caused him to come calling after his long absence. Was it to be in the company of a friend, mibben? Or more, you might be thinking, was it to express the depth of his true feelings for me? No, neither of these. It was to give us a gracious offer of employment. Tell me, Mother, how would that sit with you? Are you ready to be housekeeper at Batchcombe Hall? To serve the Gould family? To one day soon have William as your lord and master?’

Anne surprised Bess with her reaction. She did not at once dismiss such an idea; nor did she take offense. Instead, she sat on the bench and rested her arms on the table. Bess saw that she was taking in this news.

‘Mother, am I to believe you would consider such a fate for us?’

‘I am not in a position to reject it out of hand, Bess. We are failing to manage the farm. You know this.’

‘Is that what you want for us? To be servants?’

‘Do you think yourself better than those who do such work? When you wallow in the mire to rouse an ailing hog, or pull the lice from your hair that the infested ewes have shared with you, or fall filthy to your bed in soiled linen, do you see yourself too good to be a housemaid, Bess?’

Bess could not believe what she was hearing.

‘That is not all,’ she told her mother. ‘William had a wider role in mind for me. He saw me as his future mistress, so conveniently placed in the servants’ quarters. What do you say to that?’

‘I say every woman must choose a master. William is a good man. He would protect you.’

‘I swear I am driven quite to madness by the words of others! To hear my own mother counsel me to accept such a fate! Is this the low opinion you have of me?’

‘You are my dear-heart. You are my all, Bess. I seek only to see you safe. To see you secure.’

‘And you care nothing for my reputation?’

‘Reputation is for those who can afford it.’

‘And my freedom?’

Anne narrowed her eyes at her daughter.

‘Have I instructed you so poorly? Do you not know that no woman is free, Bess? Indeed, the only freedom she possesses lies in her choice of master.’

‘Was Father then your master?’

‘Certainly he was.’

‘No! He treated you as his equal!’

‘You are mistaken, Bess. There can be only one ruler in the house.’

‘So now that you have freedom thrust upon you by courtesy of death you would give it up and see me debased for a new master?’

‘The Goulds are a fine family.’

‘I do not think their morals fine.’

Anne leaned heavily on her elbows and spoke with a sigh in her words. ‘You are ignorant of the ways of the world, Bess, and that is due to my shortcoming, not yours. I should have better taught you. I should have clearly shown you your place. Instead, I encouraged your strength of character, your spirit, your wits. I see now I have done you a disservice.’

‘No, Mother. You have not.’ Bess came to sit opposite Anne and took hold of her hands tightly. ‘You have raised me to be who I am, and I will not see us both crushed into nothing. I will not see us reduced further. We will find a way to stay here and to work the farm and to rebuild our lives.’

‘Bess, your courage cannot be doubted, but it gives false hope to deny our limits.’

‘I will show you we have need of no man.’

Anne shook her head. ‘Daughter, without a man’s help, you would share your sister’s grave.’

Bess felt a chill grip her heart. She waited for her mother to explain.

‘When you were stricken with the plague, I saw that I was losing you. I tried everything I could to heal you, but to no avail. I came to see that you too would slip from my grasp. As your brother and sister had done. As your father. I could not sit and watch you die, child. I could not. I went to Gideon.’

Bess frowned. ‘But why? Why did you think that he, of all people, could help?’

‘There are things about Gideon Masters you do not know. Few people are aware of the truth of that man. Indeed, it is not something many would understand. But I knew. I have always known.’ She squeezed her daughter’s hands but could not meet her gaze, keeping her eyes cast down as she spoke. ‘Your grandmother was known for her healing powers, as was her mother and her grandmother before that. The knowledge they had was passed down to me through instruction and practice, as I have sought to pass it on to you. The women in our family have done good work, Bess. They have seen generations of babes safe delivered into this world; they have treated their ailments through cradlehood; they have eased the suffering of all and any who looked for their help. There is nothing ungodly in this. No witchery. No magic. Simple remedies, herb concoctions and tinctures and unctions. That is all. But sometimes, as you saw with your sister, sometimes, Bess, it is not enough. I could not save Thomas. I could not save Margaret. I could not save your poor dear father. I knew I could not save you. Gideon was the only hope left to us. I went to his cottage in the woods and begged him to cure you. I said I would do anything, give him anything, pay any price, if only he would make you well again. I knew he could do such a thing. And he saw that I knew.’

Anne let go of Bess’s hands and straightened up as if unable to say what she had to while touching her daughter. Bess wanted to ask a hundred questions but forced herself to be quiet and let her mother tell the tale.

‘He took me inside. He warned me there would be no going back from the journey we were about to take. He made me tell him twice more that this was truly what I desired, at any price. Only when he was certain of my resolve did he act.’ Anne shook her head and rubbed her eyes. ‘Oh, Bess, to see such power in the hands of a single man, it is a thing of wonder and of terror. I stayed there the whole night watching him about his incantations, his chants and prayers, his rituals and strange processes. There were flames of white fire dancing in the room, and sounds … unearthly sounds the like of which I have never heard. Nor can I describe them to you now. For the most part I was required to do nothing. Then, toward dawn, Gideon drew me forward to stand in a circle he had marked upon the floor. Within the circle he had drawn a five-pointed star. He made offerings; he spoke in strange tongues. The very air in the place that night tasted of magic, I swear it. All about me swirled shapes and colors and sounds not born of this world.’ Anne stood up now, her eyes glowing at the memory, her gaunt faced framed by her chalky hair looking wild and distant. ‘I felt it. I felt the power that Gideon summoned. It was a fearsome thing. A thing like no other. A force from without that traveled into my very soul. I tell you I have never been more afraid in my life.’ She looked down at Bess, her expression altered to one of ecstasy. ‘Never more afraid and never more alive!’

Bess found a small voice. ‘You used magic to cure me? Gideon gave you this magic?’

‘Yes. And it worked! As soon as I felt it enter me, I knew it had the power to heal you. I knew you were saved. I returned home and did as Gideon instructed. I made offerings. I lit candles. I repeated the strange songs and incantations. And you lived!’ She smiled now, her face radiant with the joy of what had happened.

It was some moments before Bess could speak, but speak she must. There was one more question that demanded an answer.

‘Mother.’ She stood up and chose her words with care. ‘Tell me, what price did you pay for this magic?’

Anne looked away, shaking her head.

‘What price!’ Bess persisted.

‘No! Do not ask me that.’ Anne raised her voice and held up a hand as if to ward off further interrogation. ‘Never ask me that, Bess. Never.’

Bess wanted to press her further but found she could not. The revelations her mother had made were enough for now. Her head was already in turmoil. She needed time to consider what she had been told. Further explanation would have to wait for another day. But that day would come. Bess would have her answer.

The following morning the pair arose before dawn in order to reach Batchcombe in time to set up their stall at the market. They had no cheese to sell, nor butter, nor eggs. They took, instead, a small bundle of lace collars and the solitary pig. The animal seemed to sense the futility of resistance and allowed itself to be herded up a makeshift ramp onto the back of the old cart. Whisper trod the ground with slow and steady hoofbeats so that they arrived at their allotted corner of the high street a little after eight o’clock.

They had not attended such a gathering since autumn of the previous year, and Bess was shocked to see how reduced the event was. Gone was the usual hustle and bustle, the good-natured banter between stallholders, the gossip of the women and the posturing of the men. The brutal winter weather and the merciless progression of plague had rendered Batchcombe a town of shadows and ghosts. Couples were reduced to lone figures. Families had once filled the street, but now grim-faced parents walked with spaces beside them where their children should have been. Many had lost the sole provider, forcing women to sell articles of their own clothing and furniture or to part with precious livestock. The fish stall was empty, there being no men to spare to send out in boats. The door of the baker’s was shut and locked. There was, as there had always been, drunkenness, but it was no longer of the ribald and merry variety. Instead, men tipped ale and cider down their throats and sat in gloomy silence, awaiting respite from their own personal torment. Few elderly people had survived, and even fewer babies, giving the scene a curiously unbalanced and unnatural feel. The children who had been spared looked haunted now, bereft of siblings and weary from grief and overwork. It was a look Bess knew she wore herself. Even the weather seemed tired and could not be bothered to blow or bluster as it had done. Everywhere there was a sense of absence and of loss. The sky remained flatly gray. The ground was damp mud and dull stone. The people of Batchcombe themselves had lost their color, with not a crimson coat nor scarlet cape to be seen, so that the market presented a drab and sorry spectacle.

Bess stood beside the hapless sow while her mother did her best to persuade a well-dressed woman to buy some lace. As she watched the procession of sadness drift by, she wondered idly if there would ever be joy in the village again. A couple she recognized paused in their progress up the street. Bess mustered a smile, but the man stared stonily and the red-eyed woman looked fit to dissolve into fresh fits of weeping. Bess frowned at her mother who put a hand on her arm as the couple walked on.

‘Goody Wainwright had all her children taken by the plague,’ Anne explained.

‘I am sorry for their loss, but why do they regard us with such hate in their eyes?’

‘It is hard for them to reconcile themselves to their lot. My daughter lives still. Theirs does not. That is all.’

As if to underline the truth of this, Mr. Wainwright slowed his step to hawk heavily and spit in the direction of Anne’s feet. Bess wanted to respond, to say something in their defense, but she noted her mother’s forbearance and stayed silent. She was so unsettled by what had happened it took her a moment to realize she was being spoken to. She turned to find William standing beside her.

‘Good morning to you, Bess. I had hoped to find you here.’

‘William, if you have come to press me further…’ She found herself uncomfortable in his presence.

‘No. No, please forgive me for offending you, Bess. I … I had not given the matter proper consideration. I see now that I misjudged your feelings for me. I am sorry. I had no wish to cause you distress.’

Bess looked at him. What was the point in trying to make him understand? He and she had grown up separated by a divide that could never be crossed.

‘There is nothing more to be said on the matter,’ she told him.

Anne moved closer to her daughter. ‘Good morning, William,’ she said levelly.

He responded with a stiff bow, clearly unsure of how his proposal had been received. His eye lighted on the pig.

‘Ah, you are selling her?’

‘Why, no,’ Bess snapped, ‘we fancied the ride to market might improve her temper.’

Anne stepped between William and Bess.

‘Yes, William. We are selling the sow.’

‘Good, well, we could use another such animal. She looks … well enough.’

‘She is a little lean,’ Anne said, ‘but she is young and has produced fine piglets in her time.’