Two hours passed without the girls coming out of their episode. Beatty’s refusal delayed the process. She wanted to go home. She decided to brave the situation and went over to the table, kneeling to meet Freya at eye level. Freya extended her arm. As she reached for Beatty, she pressed her fingernails hard into her cheek and dragged her nails down the side of Beatty’s face. The wounds were deep enough to draw blood.
As the blood flowed from Beatty’s wounds, Freya and Antonia came out of their trance. Freya looked at Beatty with surprise. ‘What happened to your face?’ she asked.
‘I scraped it on a tree branch,’ Beatty lied. ‘I can be so clumsy sometimes.’
Lady Bennet came to her side and handed her a handkerchief.
Beatty got up from the floor. ‘May I be excused, ma’am?’ she asked, hoping Lady Bennet would override her sister-in-law’s demands.
‘Yes, you may, Beatrice.’ Lady Bennet gave her sister-in-law a warning look, which Lady Cornwall knew better than to challenge. The day’s session was over.
Beatty went home and presented her ma with the first of many scratches to come. Over the following days, her face looked more used than a scratching pole.
One evening, Cordelia returned from the abbey, barging into the house. ‘Beatrice, the servants are now sayin’ they are sufferin’ the same symptoms as the girls. They even reckon you’re comin’ to them in their dreams. When will it end?’
‘I can’t go over there again, ma,’ Beatty said. ‘And you can’t make me either.’
Her mother agreed it was time to stay away. Lady Cornwall was leaving in two days. When Beatty was finished with the old dame, she could cut her ties with the Bennets.
The two days passed quickly enough, but Beatty was too cocky with Lady Cornwall on the day she left. Lady Cornwall barked some orders at her and Beatty steely defied her. In anger, Lady Cornwall made a comment that Beatty deserved to hang on the noose.
Beatty let her have it. She told her the only witch around here was her and she deserved to rot in hell.
‘How dare you,’ stated the old lady. ‘I can’t wait to see you hanged.’
‘And I’d be happy to have you swingin’ beside me,’ Beatty retorted. ‘I wish you dead. I curse you to hell and back. I despise you.’
She was expecting a bit of a war, but the old lady turned her back and walked off.
Beatty wasn’t in the habit of insulting her superiors, but she had been the target for Lady Cornwall’s cruelty for three weeks. She felt ashamed at her insolence and yet, she felt justice had been served.
Nonetheless, she hoped it didn’t come back to bite her on the toe.
Eight
‘She is a witch,’ Tessa screamed at the top of her lungs.
Lady Cornwall’s daughters had returned with the dreadful news that their mother had passed away. They had not written because they wanted to confront their uncle and aunt face to face, hoping to save their nieces from the evil creature that was Beatty. They had been too riled up to invite their relatives to their mother’s funeral.
Together they sat in the visitor’s room, minus the children. Tessa and Hattie had requested they speak to their aunt and uncle in private, as they knew things may get heated.
Tessa, the older daughter, was usually a quietly-spoken lady who had often let her mother do all the talking—her sister, Hattie, was much the same—but the inconsolable Tessa standing before her uncle was every inch her obnoxious mother: loud and demanding.
‘I insist you report the girl to the sheriff,’ Tessa commanded. ‘How many more must suffer at her hands? You now know she is capable of murder.’
Mr Bennet was not a man easily persuaded, nor was he a man given to folly. ‘Now, Tessa, your mother fell ill to a fever. You cannot pin that on Beatty.’
Hattie, who had been sitting with her aunt while her uncle and sister were having it out, jumped to her feet and replied angrily in her sister’s defence. ‘You all heard that beast curse my mother right before we left. As soon as we arrived home, my poor, dear mother took to her bed. Not even twenty-four hours later, she was dead.’
Hattie wrapped her arms around her sister and they cried on each other’s shoulders. Mr Bennet didn’t know where to look. They bellowed, their despair climbing one to two decibels higher. As far as Mr Bennet was concerned, the wailing was far too loud and exaggerated to be considered genuine. A blind man could see it was a show, and a poor show at that. The fabricated scene provoked Mr Bennet to overemphasise his sarcastic eye rolls with equal measure.
‘Next, they’ll be tearing their clothes off and throwing ashes over themselves,’ he thought unabashedly. ‘Like the ancient Hebrews did in their mourning rituals.’
The boisterous crying was plain annoying in Mr Bennet’s opinion, especially as it dragged on. He looked to his wife for salvation.
As he anticipated, Lady Bennet, like the true empath she was, was more understanding in these situations.
As exaggerated as the scene appeared, Lady Bennet admitted there was some truth to the Cornwall girls’ grief. After all, they had just lost their dear mother with whom they were much attached. Yes, they may have wanted to win the master’s pity and perhaps overturn his ruling on Beatty’s culpability with a sympathy vote, but their grief was admittedly genuine enough.
Lady Bennet gave both her nieces a gentle embrace. Her simple gesture was all they needed. They calmed right down. Their grief-stricken wails diminished to quiet sniffles and the occasional whimper.
With a gentle persuasive touch, she guided them over to the sofa. There, they remained entwined as one big mass of gloom and misery. Lady Bennet kneeled at their feet. She stroked their arms and continued to soothe them with her soft, persuasive tones, until mercifully, their crying subsided completely. She patted them on the back lightly like they were babies.
Mr Bennet looked on with admiration for his wife. He took pride in the tender creature she was. Even after twelve years of marriage, he was still a love-stricken gentleman hopelessly besotted with his adoring wife.
When the girls settled, Lady Bennet rose to her feet and took her original place across from them. Her husband came to her side and joined her on the couch.
Lady Bennet was glad her children were in class. Her nieces and their rowdy hysterics were likely to have triggered their already sensitive condition.
Both her nieces wiped at their eyes with hankies. They looked so vulnerable. Their hands were shaking slightly, and the odd sniffle or whimper broke the silence in the room.
Yet, as vulnerable as they looked, Lady Bennet had discovered how volatile they could be. Their true natures had been hidden behind their mother’s skirt. For years, Lady Bennet had taken for granted their sedateness. They were not the helpless little dames they had always appeared to be while under the guardianship of their mother.
Lady Bennet decided she and her husband should tread warily. They now knew how strong Margot Cornwall’s viciousness ran through her daughters’ veins.
Even though she empathised with the girls for losing their mother, it did not mean they had won her favour. How could she offer her nieces her sympathy vote, when it was the girl next door she truly empathised with? She worried for Beatty. Lady Bennet’s nieces were steadfast on condemning Beatty to the rope. She worried for Beatty’s mother too, who was understandably concerned for her daughter.
Tessa and Hattie’s intent to condemn Beatty disturbed Lady Bennet immensely. She did not believe in witches and definitely did not believe Beatty to be a witch. Witchcraft was not making her girls ill; there had to be a rational explanation. Perhaps the cause was something in their diet, like her husband Franklin had suggested, or something in the environment. The wild accusations against Beatty were ridiculous. She questioned how highly intelligent people could believe in such nonsense.
When Tessa managed to pull herself together, she looked to her uncle and aunt. ‘Uncle, Aunt. Do forgive my brashness. I did not come here to accuse you of wrongdoing. I have no desir
e to lose your affection.’ Her eyes clearly showed the fondness she had for her kin. ‘I simply hoped I could persuade you into seeing the girl’s true nature.’
‘Yes,’ butted in Hattie. ‘I apologise too.’
Mr Bennet melted. He could tell their apologies were genuine. He could tell Maude agreed. ‘My dears,’ he said. ‘Can you just trust me in this situation? I am trying to get to the bottom of it.’
‘And of course we do not wish to part with either of you,’ added Lady Bennet. ‘You are family and we love you both. You are my own brother’s children. Your father is a good man. He is a brother I have always looked up to and respected.’
Tessa and Hattie looked hard at their uncle for a moment, as though surmising their next decision.
‘Please excuse us for a moment,’ said Tessa. She leaned in close to her sister and started whispering.
Mr and Mrs Bennet watched on anxiously as their nieces conversed in hushed tones right before them. There was a lot of head nodding and objections made through grunting. Finally, there looked to be a conclusion.
It was Tessa who broke the news. ‘We know your intentions are always honourable, Uncle, and we believe eventually the truth shall prevail. We only hope that the veil shall be lifted from your eyes before anything horrendous comes to our nieces.’
‘We only wish to save our cousins from that monster, Uncle,’ said Hattie, eager to add her thoughts.
Tessa took command again. ‘So we have decided to give you a chance to do the right thing.’
Both Mr and Mrs Bennet felt a burden lift off their shoulders.
‘Thank you,’ spoke Mr Bennet, the relief evident in his demeanour. However, as soon as the offer was made, Mr Bennet’s sharp mind was ticking away. Somehow, he had to prove Beatty’s innocence and find the true cause to the illness ailing his household.
After reaching a ceasefire with her nieces, Lady Bennet rang for tea and cake. For some time, they sat and drank tea while making idle chat. During their peacetime, the subject of witchcraft was not broached by either party.
Lady Bennet was pleased to see Tessa and Hattie were back to being the courteous girls she was accustomed to. Apart from this one big issue that divided them, she hoped to maintain a good relationship with her dear brother’s girls. Hopefully, with some time, she would help them to see the madness in their claim.
Gradually, the room fell into awkward silence. The girls were still, to a degree, used to keeping quiet while their mother did all the talking.
The clinking of the teacups and saucers, along with the sipping of warm tea, echoed in the room. Mr Bennet covered his mouth and let out a yawn.
Lady Bennet sat her and her husband’s empty cup and saucer on the trolley. She rested her hands on her lap and straightened her back. ‘I’m sorry, but I must get this off my chest,’ she commented, breaking the silence. ‘Please don’t get angry.’
The girls looked at her with a mix of caution and defiance, in preparation for battle.
‘I believe you put too much belief into fantasy ideas,’ Lady Bennet said. It was a bold statement, considering Tessa and Hattie firmly believed Beatty had murdered their mother by bewitchment. ‘Witches cannot do all that crazy magic that you give them credit for. Do you really believe they can cause a person to die just by the words they speak?’
Lady Bennet could see their hackles rise, but she persisted. ‘You are attributing more power to witches than you do God.’
The girls slammed their empty cups onto the trolley. Both sat back into their seats. They were speechless, but the fire in their eyes was blazing.
Lady Bennet leaned forward, the pleading in her eyes somewhat managing to soften their demeanours. ‘Please, girls. I beg you, stop all this foolishness. Let the experts determine what actually ailed your mother. According to the doctor’s ruling it was simply a fever, which has taken a lot of people from all over.’
Their faces grew red.
‘If it is such foolishness, then look at what is happening to your daughters, right under your nose,’ Tessa roared in fury. ‘Who is causing that?’
Hattie nodded her head in agreement, clenching her skirt in her fists.
‘The question is what is causing it?’ Mr Bennet said. ‘As you know already, my wife and I have referred our girls to the best doctors. They could not find a cause.’
‘It is the witch,’ Tessa and Hattie barked in unison.
Mr Bennet fell into silence and began to pace the floor up and down, as he did when troubled. His head was full of chatter. His nieces’ demands and their ridiculous allegations annoyed him immensely; his neighbour’s innocence was yet to be proven and his own girls’ ailments plagued him.
Added to those dilemmas were the unexplained activities that went on in his household: the banging on the walls and the movement of furniture, plus the writings on the walls that would appear right in front of his eyes.
Did these activities coincide with his children’s fits or did they not? Were they somehow related? His mind raced through a whole range of possibilities. His air of frustration warned the girls not to challenge him.
Nobody dared to speak.
‘I have it,’ Mr Bennet said, facing his audience. He stood with his legs apart and one hand behind his back. He pointed to the ceiling as if the answer were there. ‘A process of elimination.’ He had planned to keep a diary all along, as it’s what he would always do in search for a solution, but it had only just dawned on him that he only had to make it sound impressive to the girls to win their favour.
All three women looked at him, dumbfounded.
‘Tessa, Hattie,’ Mr Bennet said, pinning them with his eyes. ‘Before I am convinced that I need go to the sheriff, please allow me the time to do a thorough investigation. Let me complete the journal that your mother started. I will explore every possible avenue. If I cannot find the answers, then I will seriously consider there is trickery at work.’
The girls beamed with delight that their uncle was finally willing to consider their claim, which they knew to be reliable.
‘What say you, Tessa?’ he continued. ‘Hattie? Will you give me some time?’
They looked at each other and conferred on the matter through facial expressions.
‘For how long?’ Tessa asked.
‘Well, the Assizes are coming up in July. Give me until then.’
‘That’s eight months away,’ Tessa exclaimed.
‘Eight months is not that long. It is feasible enough to find a cause for the girls’ illness and your mother’s death, is it not? It also allows time enough for Beatty to prove her innocence.’
He ignored their moaning.
‘Let’s not forget, we are trying to save lives, not persecute. If nothing else, I shall at least have plenty of evidence to put on record and I promise you that should my daughters be in any immediate danger I will take urgent action. You can count on that.’
They argued back and forth. It was excruciating, but finally Tessa and Hattie were convinced to take up Mr Bennet’s petition. After all, they knew their uncle would keep his word. They were sure in the long run the outcome would reveal to their uncle and aunt that Beatty was indeed a witch who was harming the children.
‘Well then,’ Tessa announced. ‘Eight months it is.’
Pumped with relief, Mr Bennet forgot to be his serious self for a miniscule moment and clapped his hands. ‘You have my word, ladies,’ he vowed, grateful for their settlement.
Lady Bennet clasped her hands in excitement. ‘And please, ladies,’ she announced. ‘You do not have to rush home. Stay as long as you like.’ The smile on her face was fixed as she eagerly offered them more tea. In addition, she offered clean linen for their beds and hot baths for as often as they wished.
‘Thank you for your kind offer, aunt,’ Tessa answered. ‘We would love to stay. It will allow us to make some observations ourselves. How long do you think you can put us up?’
‘My dear,’ Mr Bennet replied. ‘We will leave that up
to you. Stay as long as you like.’
Lady Bennet happily confirmed his proposal. ‘You are family, my dear. You can stay as long as you like and return home when you are ready.’
‘Thank you kindly. It will be nice to be here for my cousins,’ stated Hattie, rather caringly.
‘Oh course, my dear,’ replied Lady Bennet. ‘Your concern for your cousins endears me.’
‘They need me, aunt,’ Hattie replied. ‘Somebody needs to be here for them.’
Dead silence filled the room as the implication of those words sunk in.
Lady Bennet quietly sipped her tea, seething with rage. Mr Bennet chose wisely to keep his mouth sealed, in case he provoked the girls into changing their plans.
Hattie went red the moment she realised she had overstepped the mark. She realised she had cruelly labelled her aunt and uncle as bad parents when she knew they weren’t. She struggled to make eye contact. She bowed her head and drank her tea in solemn silence.
Hattie felt her sister nudge her with her sharp elbow. Tessa was reprimanding her with her eyes. Tessa nudged Hattie again and directed her sister’s gaze over to where her aunt sat.
Hattie looked between the two, confused.
‘Go on,’ Tessa mimed with her lips.
‘What?’ Hattie whispered.
‘Say you’re sorry.’
Hattie turned to her aunt. At first, she struggled to speak, but then she forced herself to say something. ‘Sorry, aunt,’ was all she could muster up.
‘Sorry for what, Hattie?’ Lady Bennet said.
This took Hattie aback for a moment. She felt even worse for the disrespect. ‘I know what great parents you both are and how dearly you love your children. I foolishly opened my big mouth before thinking. It was immature of me. Please forgive me, aunt.’
The sparkle returned to Lady Bennet’s eyes.
‘Thank you for your apology, Hattie,’ her aunt said, smiling. ‘It means a lot to me.’
Hattie liked how her aunt could so easily bury the hatchet. Her stubborn mother had never forgiven so easily. She knew Aunt Maude had already put the past behind them. It was refreshing.
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