Belmary House 5

by Cassidy Cayman

  At the time in 1889, Ariana was the self-styled queen of a coven of witches she gathered together. Ariana went missing, having been killed by Nick Kerr, and a woman wrongly identified Tilly as Ariana by that scar. The woman said it was from a rabbit bite when Ariana was a child. It bothered Tilly for a few years after Ariana was born, but she had long since forgotten about it, lulled into the belief that they made things right. The coincidence that they both ended up with similar scars had been too strange, further adding to the dreamlike quality of the whole crazy experience. It didn’t seem possible, while she was actually living out the years, that she and her daughter could get bitten in the same spot.

  With a pounding heart, she shook Ariana a little more roughly than she meant to, causing the girl to stop trying to break free from her grip. She already saw the bloodstained fabric near Ariana’s elbow. She didn’t bother to unbutton the wrist, instead tearing open the sleeve enough to see the damage for herself.

  “Oh my God,” she repeated, sitting back on her heels and trembling.

  She looked at Serena to see if she remembered being told that story, so long ago it almost didn’t seem like it happened. The look in her eyes said she clearly did. She glanced fearfully from Ariana’s fresh bite to Tilly’s shawl covered arm. The servant arrived with the tea things, and she ordered her to run for bandages and medicine.

  “It doesn’t seem bad,” Serena said, too calm and controlled. “If you leave it alone, Ariana, you won’t even have a scar.” She said this directed at Tilly, and Tilly nodded, finally shaking off the fear that gripped her.

  But a new fear took over. Rabies. Owen had said it was a big, wild rabbit. She knew most rabbits didn’t up and bite someone unless they were infected, which meant the thing might already be in the final throes of its disease. She realized that there wasn’t yet a vaccine for rabies, and she could no longer contact Liam to get her a dose.

  All the stress of the morning crashed down on her and she burst into hysterical tears. She couldn’t lose her daughter to something like this. Not after all the energy they put into changing things. Ariana looked at her like she’d grown a second head and blinked worriedly, having never seen her mother so out of control.

  The servant came with the first-aid things and Serena unceremoniously nudged Tilly out of the way. She cleaned and wrapped up the small bite in no time. She patted Ariana and told her and Owen to find Farrah and apologize for running off, then go and get some food from the cook.

  Ariana looked both loath to leave her distraught mother and eager to get away from the horrible scene, and Owen finally dragged her away. As soon as the children were gone, Serena gave Tilly a shake.

  “What in the hell is the matter with you?” she asked.

  Hearing the unaccustomed swear word come out of Serena’s ladylike mouth shocked her enough to stop crying.

  “It’s the scar,” she said. “It finally happened. That means—” she choked off her sentence as Serena shook her again.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” she said, a stony edge to her voice. “Didn’t you hear me say there won’t be a scar? We’ll keep it covered. It’s barely a scratch anyway.”

  Tilly had seen it. It was more than a scratch. It looked like the horrid beast had sunk its teeth as deep as they could go. “There’s rabies, though,” she said, determined to be miserable.

  “Nonsense,” Serena said. Tilly scooted back, not wanting to be shaken again. “We’ve never had an instance of that on this land. Never.”

  “But why did it bite her then, if it wasn’t sick?”

  Serena gave her a long, hard look and Tilly pressed her lips together. Her daughter was notorious for trying to catch and befriend animals that had no wish to make her acquaintance. Growing up in London, Ariana didn’t get much chance to interact with wildlife. When she was let loose on the farm she tended to become exuberant in her love for all living things. She stalked the unfriendly barn cats and their various rodent prey, and crept up on birds and deer, determined to eventually make a pet out of one. She probably managed to somehow catch the poor rabbit and it had been scared into biting her.

  “Okay,” Tilly said. “Okay.” She pretended to be convinced and got back into her seat, waiting for her hands to stop shaking.

  She knew she had to act like everything was fine, because she could see how desperately Serena wanted things to be. And she wanted them to be as well. But now she felt more strongly than ever that her misgivings about lying to her children all this time weren’t just because of her grief over Liam’s death. The rabbit bite seemed like a judge’s gavel coming down hard, shattering all the illusions she built over the years. She snuck a glance at Serena, who was looking back at her.

  “It’s too late now,” Serena said, as if reading her thoughts. “We have to carry on as we’ve been going.” She swallowed and shook her head. “And hope and pray.”

  Ashford barreled into the room then, his face drawn with concern. “I’ve just come across Farrah,” he said, leaning against the door frame, his shoulders as broad and strong as ever. Other than a dusting of salt and pepper at his sideburns which Tilly found irresistibly sexy, and a smattering of fine lines around his silver gray eyes, he hadn’t changed. “She said she can’t find the children, but I saw them skulking their way down to the kitchen.” He scowled and Tilly couldn’t help getting up to hug him, wanting to lean against him. “Are you sure Farrah’s capable of watching those scoundrels?”

  She laughed, and the feel of him putting his arm around her dissolved her stress as if it never existed. He’d been asking that question since she appointed Farrah the care of her firstborn nine years ago. Farrah was a fellow time traveler, pulled through the portal from 1984 after Tilly reopened it.

  Farrah was a bit of an odd girl, and did have her past struggles, but Tilly had grown to like her and trusted her with both her and her children’s lives. And while she wished Farrah would let Ashford’s assistant Thomas Adkins off the hook and finally marry him, she didn’t want to lose her as a nanny.

  To be kind about it, her kids were a handful. She didn’t think anyone else would treat them with such understanding. The wee fiends would be beaten regularly if she had to hire someone who was from this time and practiced the childrearing model of the day.

  “I told them to find her before they got food,” she complained. “I’ll let her know they’re all right.”

  For some reason she didn’t mention the rabbit bite. A guilty look at Serena showed her faithful friend calmly sewing away as if they weren’t in the room. Just as they wanted, things were back to normal, and Tilly let herself breathe easily once again.

  Children got into all sorts of scrapes, especially high-spirited ones like Ariana. It was foolish of her to get so upset. With Ashford smiling down at her, and his hand resting against her shoulder, she knew everything would work out. There was no possible way that sinister future would happen, not with all the safeguards they put in place.

  The spell book had long since been destroyed, so no evildoers could go after it. Now that Liam was gone they wouldn’t have to make up intricate cover stories for their trips through time to visit her family anymore. They were well and truly done with magic. The children would never be touched by it, good, bad, or indifferent.

  Being in Ashford’s embrace was a bit like magic, making her believe anything was possible, and if the next ten years was even half as wonderful as the last, she couldn’t ask for anything else.

  Chapter 2

  Ariana sat glumly in the kitchen, too hurt to be cheered by the drool-worthy fruit tart in front of her. She picked at it to keep the cook from worrying and calling for her mother. She avoided looking at Owen, knowing there would be pity in her cousin’s eyes. Well, he wasn’t really her cousin, just as Auntie Serena and Uncle Kostya weren’t really her aunt and uncle. That was just what she called them, the same as Owen called her parents aunt and uncle.

  It had always been that way and, at any rate, no matter what she called him,
he was her best friend. He was more fun than anyone else she knew in London. Her father’s farm in Scotland was her favorite place to be. More than her own home, and definitely more than their other property in Happenham. She had a real great-aunt there who wasn’t very kind, and her real second cousins were old and frequently drunk.

  She knew why they couldn’t live in Scotland full time. Her father had mysterious and boring duties to fulfill because he was an earl and had to be in London. She’d miss her parents if they let her stay up here without them, because she knew her mother would never live away from her father even though many of her friends’ parents lived apart for most of the year.

  “Ye’ve barely touched your tart, love,” the cook said, ruffling her hair. “Would ye prefer some cold pork instead? Or perhaps a bit of chocolate?”

  The cook was so solicitous and Ariana could tell she really meant it. It made all the hurt she felt when the rabbit bit her come rushing back. The tears she’d been holding back to keep Owen from feeling sorrier for her finally fell. Her arm barely stung at all anymore, but the shock of being so utterly betrayed by the rabbit she’d been leaving garden scraps out for cut straight to her heart.

  She sat quietly behind the raspberry bushes every day since they arrived, watching the hare, all fluffy in his winter coat, until she was finally able to get close enough to him to reach out and feel his soft fur. Her touch had spooked him. Instead of jerking back, she thought if she grabbed him and hugged him he’d understand how much she wanted to be his friend. He kicked her in the chest with his powerful hind legs, then bit her hard enough to go all the way through her coat and heavy wool dress sleeve.

  She might have kept the whole humiliating ordeal to herself if Owen hadn’t come looking for her and seen everything. He panicked when he saw she was bleeding and ran off to get help. She managed to trip him up and they rolled down a hillock, getting covered in brambles and mud, but the tumble made her arm bleed harder and he refused to keep it a secret. She looked up through her tears and glared at him.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked indignantly.

  She was glad she upset him. Anything was better than the constant look of pity he had since he saw her struggle with the rabbit. He was always so smug about knowing more about country life than her. She knew she acted much the same when he visited them in London, but he never seemed to do quite such foolish things as she did. Knowing now just how foolish she was trying to grab that wild animal made her cry harder. Owen was instantly contrite and hurried around to her side of the wooden plank table and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

  “Does it hurt that much?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt at all,” she spat, shrugging off his kindness.

  How could she possibly explain to him that it was her heart that hurt? She’d grown to love that rabbit over the last few days and she stupidly thought he felt the same.

  Owen let out a long, grumbling sigh. “It hurt your feelings didn’t it?” he asked, somehow always able to know what she felt. He was barely a year older than her, but an awful lot wiser. “Ah, Ariana, you’re too trusting. You’re really going to get in trouble one day if you keep thinking you can tame a wild animal. The beastie didn’t mean to harm you, but it wouldn’t have been happy all shut up in a cage, no matter how well you fed it or however many blankets you made.”

  “You don’t know that,” she sniffled, embarrassed he knew her secret heart but too honest to pretend he was wrong. “He might have grown to love it.”

  Owen shook his head. “He would have died from sadness in three months, or lost great patches of his fur at the very least. He would have gone to skin and bones and his eyes would have lost their—”

  “All right, all right, I get it,” she said, finally laughing at the seriousness of his tirade. The cook left them alone now she had stopped crying, and after a moment of eating their tarts, Owen leaned close to her.

  “Can you keep a secret?” he whispered conspiratorially. She gave him an offended look, not wanting to dignify such a ridiculous question with a response. He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Fine, sorry. Listen, I want to show you something I found. I need your help with it actually, since you’re a better reader than me.”

  She held back a smile. She did love reading, tore through every book she could get her hands on. Her Uncle Kostya especially helped keep her in books, saying she reminded him of the little daughter he had with his first wife, before he married Aunt Serena and they had Owen. She thought it disappointed him a bit that Owen didn’t read much, and that was why he indulged her with new books all the time.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Her imagination fired up, already conjuring up images of treasure maps or diaries full of juicy secrets. Perhaps a deathbed confession of murder? She shivered at the possibilities.

  “Just come with me and I’ll show you,” Owen said maddeningly. He glanced at the cook. Seeming satisfied they were forgotten, he gestured toward the back door.

  She knew they needed to find her governess Farrah and apologize, knew if they disappeared again she’d be skinned. The look in Owen’s eyes promised adventure, though. The kind of adventure you couldn’t get in London with a grown-up always breathing down your neck. It was so much easier to be free up here in Scotland, so much easier to be herself with Owen.

  She could handle Farrah. Since her mother had practically come undone about her tiny injury, all she’d have to do was cry about it hurting tonight and she’d probably avoid a punishment. She shoveled in the last bite of delicious fruit tart and followed Owen silently out the door.

  ***

  Owen Povest led his cousin down past the barn and around the pond, hunkering down behind a large bramble patch to make sure Farrah or any of the other adults hadn’t followed them. Ariana wasn’t really his cousin by blood, but he was happy to call her that. He didn’t have any relatives to speak of besides his parents and his grumpy, rarely home grandfather on his mother’s side.

  Ariana was one of his favorite people in the world, though she did tire him out sometimes, especially with her naivety. He hadn’t originally planned to share his secret with her, but he hated to see her tender heart get so broken over that rabbit. Now that she was along, he was glad of it.

  He felt bad about lying to her about what he found, because he hadn’t technically found it yet. However, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the dreams he’d been having for the past few months. Nightmares, really. It was to the point he was beginning to be afraid to go to sleep, like one of Ariana’s baby brothers, and he knew he had to face what the dreams were trying to get him to find.

  Either the thing in the nightmares would really be down there, in which case he’d probably embarrass himself from the fear of it all being true, or there’d be nothing. There was a part of him that knew the dreams were true, though he didn’t know how that could be possible, but he still hoped he was wrong. If there was nothing, he’d have to face Ariana’s temper, but he could weasel his way out of a tongue lashing by saying he made up the whole thing to take her mind off the rabbit bite.

  As they crouched behind the bramble patch, he sensed her shifting around impatiently and he rolled his eyes. If she was stalking one of her wild beasties the lass could sit still for hours on end. If he wanted to make sure they didn’t get in trouble yet again, she couldn’t wait ten minutes.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said, heading circuitously back toward the house.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, already suspicious he was having a lark at her expense. “Owen, is this thing you’re trying to show me in the house?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. She was whip smart about so many things, but sometimes he wanted to shake her. “But we’re supposed to be with Miss Farrah, remember? And this thing I want to show you— well, we’re definitely not meant to find it. I mean, mess about with it.”

  He didn’t know how he knew there would be huge trouble if his parents knew what he’d been dreaming about, but he knew
it as sure as he knew his own name. He had a strong feeling Ariana’s parents wouldn’t be pleased about it either.

  He almost gave up the entire mission, thinking maybe if he asked for warm milk before bed he’d sleep more soundly. Or he could run around more, tire himself out so thoroughly he wouldn’t have a chance to dream. He knew he couldn’t give up sleep entirely. He tried and ended up getting a beating at school for dozing off and snoring. At home he forgot to feed the dogs and got an earful about responsibility from his father.

  No, he needed to face this once and for all. At least it would be better with company. Ariana was small, but she wasn’t fearful of anything. It was one of the things that made him worry about her when she came to visit, but right now he hoped it would prove to be helpful.

  Owen led them around the kitchen garden, staying back behind the orchard. When he felt like no one could have possibly followed them, and he could see no one around, he grabbed Ariana’s hand and pulled her as fast as he could toward an old cellar entrance, half-hidden under rotting leaves. Its creaky, rusted hinges took both their efforts to finally pull it open enough for them to slip through. Instead of stairs, there was a slippery stone path with mold growing between the cracks from the years of rain that leaked through the derelict wooden entrance.

  Ariana took a quicker route than him, losing her footing and sliding to the bottom. She got up quickly and he was sure she said something angry to him, but he was entranced with what he saw. The rusty old door, the stained and cracked walls, the slippery, dangerous ground underneath their feet. He’d never been here awake, but it was exactly as it was in his dreams. In his sleep he’d walked this path countless times.

  “There should be a candle on the wall down there,” he said, not yet able to make his feet follow her down.

  He could barely see her as she continued down the passage a bit, but heard her striking at a flint. She came back into view, holding up a tin holder with a wax stump on it.