by Anne Herries
‘I shall be back in time for tea with the girls,’ she said. ‘It was to be her farewell tea and she had invited all the girls she considered to be sensible and almost ready to leave for the wider world.
Leaving the house, she walked across her lawns towards the wood. Although it was a very warm day she was immediately aware of the coolness of the wood and shivered, thinking that she ought to have brought a warmer shawl with her.
She would not go back for it now. Here and there were patches of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy, and gradually the icy feeling at the back of her neck disappeared and she was comfortable again.
In summer the floor of the wood was dry and debris crackled beneath her feet. In spring there were many wild flowers and herbs growing in secret corners but now most were done, though here and there she saw patches of bright colour where either berries or fungi had sprung up. The bright orange berries were poisonous as was the sap of the foxglove, which was the only flower she saw in clumps as she made her way towards the well.
Coming out of a patch of sunlight to the well, she could not see it properly at first and thought she imagined a dark shadow hovering above it, but then as her eyes became accustomed to the light it had gone.
Samantha shook herself, ignoring the ice at her nape. She had never found the well menacing before. The lady was her friend. She had come to say goodbye to a friend, because it was doubtful that she would visit the well again – at least not for a long time.
She had no wishes that needed to be granted, except perhaps a general one for her girls. Smiling to herself, she approached the well and threw a coin into its deep waters.
‘Thank you, my sweet lady,’ she said in a clear voice. ‘I have come to say farewell and to ask you to watch over all my friends, as you have watched over me. I have come to thank you and to tell you that I shall never forget.’
Samantha was surprised to hear the music she had heard before; it was not singing nor the sighing of the wind, but a high pure sound that filled her heart and brought tears to her eyes.
She moved closer, leaning against the old stonework, her eyes closed as she allowed the music to surround her, feeling its beauty, its protection and its love. This was a beautiful farewell, more than she could ever have expected or dreamed of, and she felt safe, cared for, her spirits lifted. Smiling, she let herself drift off to a place of dreams and saw herself with three beautiful children at her feet and Robert striding towards her…
Robert drove like a madman, pushing his horses to the limit. He had left London the moment Sir John’s letter came to his hand and he had read of Fenton’s escape from the house of protection for the insane. The doctors had thought him much better, recovering from what might have been just a temporary infliction, but then he had overcome his nurse, left the man bleeding on the floor of his cell, taking his keys and letting himself out into the main hospital. Someone had seen him leaving the building and tried to restrict him, only to be struck down with a heavy candlestick, his head cut open. Sir John had sent word to Robert immediately for they feared Fenton might seek him out – or more worryingly Miss Merlin. In his rage he had said something about destroying evil and a witch. In his fear for her, Robert had started out immediately but he could not travel fast enough. If Fenton reached her before he did…she was vulnerable for it was unlikely that the madman would attack her in public again. He would no doubt try to catch her at some vulnerable moment. Robert could only pray that he was in time to warn her. The last thing Samantha must do was to visit her precious wishing well. Alone in the woods, she would be at Fenton’s mercy…
He raced up the drive to her house and jumped out, throwing his reins to his groom with the terse instruction to look after the horses. Going swiftly into the house, he asked for Miss Merlin and was met with blank stares. No one knew where she was, but one young woman thought she had gone for a walk.
The wishing well. She had gone to say goodbye to her lady of the well. Robert felt as if a voice were telling him, directing him as he turned and walked in the direction of the woods. He had a terrible feeling that he might already be too late.
Fenton was here. He knew it instinctively, quickening his stride. Unsure of which way to turn, Robert paused for a moment, hoping to find some clue – flattened bracken, anything that might show him which direction she had taken. And then he heard it…the sweetest sound he had ever heard. It wasn’t exactly singing and it might have been the wind, except that there was no wind.
Guided by instinct, he followed the sound. If he was wrong…but no, something was pulling him, drawing him on and he knew that he would find Samantha and that she was in danger…
Samantha opened her eyes and saw him. He was staring at her, a look of menace on his face. His appearance was wild, his hair lank and greasy, his face, hands and clothes smeared with dark stains that she thought might have been blood.
‘Protect me,’ she whispered. ‘My God, what has happened to this poor man?’
‘Witch…’ he muttered and she saw his eyes roll feverishly. ‘Bewitched…you shall not get away this time…I trusted you, loved you and you betrayed me.’
Who did he think she was? Samantha stood as if turned to stone. The music was louder than before, she still felt its protection wrapped about her and was no afraid.
‘Who betrayed you?’ she asked softly.
‘You did,’ he muttered. ‘You said you loved me and then…I learned that you had been his mistress…a man old enough to be your father.’ Fenton took a step towards her. ‘I killed you. I came to your bed as you slept in you fever and I held the pillow over your face…but now you are here and I must kill you again…’
‘You killed Marianne?’ Samantha said, hardly crediting what she was hearing, and yet suddenly she knew what had turned his mind. He was responsible for the death of the woman he had loved so much that she had driven him mad with jealousy and pain. ‘Yet you blamed Robert…because he had caused her to be distressed…’
‘She wanted him,’ Fenton said. ‘You still want him. He loves you now and you will marry him but he shall not have you…’
‘I am not Marianne,’ Samantha said. She did not try to run but stood close to the well, wrapped by the love she felt all about her. ‘Marianne betrayed you but I am not she – and Robert did not take her from you.’
‘He hurt her and she grew ill. I wanted her to live but she was so sick and then…I looked down at her and I knew that the story was true. She was a faithless wanton and so I killed her…but you won’t stay dead. I have to kill you again…’ He lifted his arm and she saw he had a knife with a long curved blade.
‘No, I am not Marianne…’ Samantha gasped as he took a step towards her and then suddenly someone burst through the trees and threw himself on Fenton. They struggled as Samantha watched in horror and prayed and then she heard a terrible scream. ‘Not Robert…’ she breathed.
Robert was rising to his feet. She saw that Fenton’s hand had curved inward and the knife had entered his chest. He twitched horribly for a moment and blood ran from the side of his mouth and then he lay still. ‘Is he…is he dead?’ she asked, aware that the music had stopped.
‘Yes, thank God for His Mercy,’ Robert said. ‘Had he lived and been recaptured they would have kept him in chains for the rest of his life. He was too dangerous to allow any freedom.’
Samantha’s eyes were wet with tears. ‘I feel only pity for him,’ she said. ‘You are not hurt?’
‘Not I,’ he said and smiled. ‘Thank God I was in time – or perhaps I should thank your lady of the well. She drew me here. I heard her voice calling.’
‘She wrapped me in her love,’ Samantha said. ‘I knew that he could not harm me, though I did not know how my salvation would come.’ Moving into his arms, she lay her head against his chest. ‘Take me home, Robert. This poor man’s body must taken home to his family, and the authorities informed. I have some girls to entertain but after that I want to leave. I want to go home to your estate.’<
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Robert bent his head and kissed her. ‘It is over, my love. I do not know what happened here today, but I know that it was something special – a special kind of magic.’
‘The lady of the well is my friend. She came because she knew I was in danger and she kept me safe until you arrived. It is over, as you say, Robert. I have said my farewells to her and I shall not come here again.’
‘You have no need of a wishing well and nor have I,’ he said and bent his head to kiss her. ‘I have all I want in my arms right now.’
‘You look so beautiful,’ Eleanor said as she admired Samantha’s wedding dress. ‘Where did you get such a lovely gown? You did not visit the seamstress in London and I am sure no village dressmaker could have made anything so perfect.’
‘It was delivered by hand to me only yesterday,’ Samantha said. ‘I thought at first that Robert had had it sent from London for me, but then I discovered it was from a friend of my father. His letter said that Papa gave him money when he was desperate and until now he could not repay the debt. A few weeks ago he came into a fortune and when he learned I was to marry, he commissioned the gown from the finest seamstress in Paris. He has also sent me a diamond necklace, repayment, he says for what my father gave him, though I think Papa could never have given him so much.’
‘And you decided to wear the dress today?’
‘It was finer than the gown I had asked to be made for me by a London seamstress, which needs a little adjustment to the bodice. I liked this at once…there is something different about it, in the lace. I have never seen anything as fine.’
‘Nor I,’ Eleanor admitted. ‘I should like to know where such beautiful lace was made for I would order some for my own use.’
‘I shall ask when I write and thank Mr Hadley,’ Samantha said. ‘It was such a wonderful surprise and I think it suits me.’
‘I have never seen you look more lovely,’ Eleanor said, ‘but you have had a glow about you since I returned from the visit to Toby’s parents.’
‘Yes, I feel it,’ Samantha said. ‘It is happiness and good health and…’ She shook her head for how could she explain that moment when the lady of the well had embraced her.
‘It is serenity I think,’ Eleanor said. ‘You always had it, but now it shows so much more.’
‘Thank you, my dearest.’ Samantha held out her hand. ‘We must go down for the carriage is waiting and I would not keep Robert waiting at the church.’
Robert turned to watch his bride approach down the isle towards him. Was it his imagination or was she even more beautiful these days? He only knew that he had never felt so pleased with life or so content. His fear for Samantha had evaporated, because he knew…he knew that they would have long and happy lives. There would be children to enrich their lives and they would find respect and friendship amongst their neighbours and a wider circle.
He did not know why or how he felt so sure of his future happiness, except that it was something to do with the lady of the well and her music. Even as he had wrestled with the madman he’d known that all would be well. It was as if the lady had spoken to his heart – and that of course was ridiculous. If he mentioned one word of what he’d heard and felt he would soon be confined to a madhouse himself. It was nonsense of course it was, but something had changed in both of them.
He had loved Samantha before that afternoon and she had loved him, but something special had happened there in the woods. Robert did not believe in magic, but he believed in what he felt and sensed – and perhaps there was no enchantment. Perhaps the only magic was love.
Epilogue
Robert looked down at the face of the woman he loved. They had spent the evening alone in their private apartments making love. A week back from their honeymoon, they were due to be joined by Toby and Eleanor the next day and he had wanted to make the most of their last evening before their magic circle was invaded.
‘Are you asleep?’ he whispered, gazing down at her.
‘No, just content,’ she replied and reached up to draw his head down to her. They kissed long and passionately, their desire rekindling as he stroked her softly yet with firm strong hands that made her thrill to his touch. ‘I love you so much, Robert – and I am so happy.’
‘I too,’ he murmured huskily and kissed her lightly on the nose and then licked delicately at the hollow at the base of her throat. She shivered deliciously and reached up to stroke his face as the flame kindled between them once more. ‘I think I shall never tire of making love to you. I almost wish Eleanor wasn’t coming yet. I want you all to myself.’
‘We shall always have these times alone,’ she whispered, and licked the curve of his ear, making him groan with need and pull her to him. ‘I want to see Eleanor and Toby. They are family, Robert, and precious to us. I never had a sister and there was a time when I was very lonely.’
‘You will not be lonely again,’ he said and began to kiss her from throat to navel. She laughed and jerked, her back arching towards him.
‘You are tickling me,’ she said and ran her nails lightly down his naked back. ‘Oh yes, Robert…that is so good…’ she gave a little scream of pleasure as his tongue made her writhe and moan, her legs parting as she strained for him, wanting him inside her. ‘There is something I want to tell Eleanor about the lace…’
All thought of lace or the impending visit was lost as he entered her and she was swept along on a tide of such pleasure and such intensity that she could only writhe and arch beneath him, crying his name over and over as at last he came inside her.
And then they clung together until they both slept.
A long time after, Eleanor woke as Robert still slept. It was then that she recalled the mystery of the lace. She had tried to find the lace-maker while they were staying in Paris. Her father’s friend had told her where the little shop was situated in one of the winding lanes that abounded at the heart of the city. But though she had searched everywhere, all she had found was an empty shop, its windows dusty, as if it had not been occupied in years.
She had asked over and over if anyone knew what had happened, but was told repeatedly that it had not been used since before the revolution.
It had indeed been the shop of a famous lace-maker that was known for her exquisite work, but she had been sent to prison for making lace for the Queen and died there. Her shop had been empty ever since for it was thought to be haunted.
So how could her father’s friend have commissioned the special lace for her dress? It was a mystery…unless…
Samantha smiled and turned to look at her sleeping husband. The lady’s magic worked in mysterious ways so perhaps…
But that was her secret. Something she would never breathe to another person. She would simply tell Eleanor that the shop was empty and no one knew where the lace-maker had gone…
Snuggling into the warmth of Robert’s body, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
The end of this story, but perhaps the lady of the wishing well has more work to do yet. Look out for more books in the Wishing Well series.
Anne Herries loves to write. She writes for pleasure and to give her readers pleasure. Thank you for reading this book and please contact the author at
www.lindasole.co.uk
Table of Contents
copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
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