by Sharon Booth
'Not yet. Not until we have some idea what we're facing.' Obviously noting my doubtful expression he continued, 'Look, I understand you don't want them kept in the dark, but think about it. We have no idea who's planning to go back to the seventeenth century, or what their intention is. The High Council is working on this, and they have spies all over the place. We have to trust in them and, in the meantime, why worry your sisters? They're both finally happy. Should we spoil their happiness when there's nothing we can do about any of it, anyway?'
Put like that, I could see he had a point. 'Although, you could say the same about Mother and Castor and Sirius,' I said. 'Why spoil their happiness?'
He gave me a look, and I knew what he meant. It would be unthinkable to keep such news from them.
'Okay,' I said grudgingly. 'We'll get out of your way.' I called for Blaise over Father's shoulder, as I pulled on my gloves, and a minute later he joined us in the hallway. I said goodbye to Father, and mouthed "Good luck" at him, before Blaise and I headed outside.
We walked along the road to the castle, and I watched as he stared in awe at the street lights and the new houses — well, new to him. They'd been around for over two hundred years, but obviously he'd never seen them before.
'This was all fields,' he murmured. 'There was a farm over there. None of this existed in my day.'
'Do you remember what it looked like back then?' I said eagerly. 'Are more of your memories returning?'
He was struggling to recall more. 'I had a quick flash of memory as we closed the Lodge door. I sort of expected to be in a garden, not a square full of gravel like yours. And outside the Lodge gates were fields, and there was a cart track leading to the farm.'
'You might get a bit of a shock when you see the castle,' I warned him. 'It's not what it was.'
He sighed. 'Don't worry about that. It was already ruined back in my day. The Parliamentarians saw to that. They destroyed so much of it during the wars, and the people helped themselves to lots of the stones so ...'
Nevertheless, I steeled myself for his shock when we strolled through East Gate. Floodlights illuminated the castle, although there were dark corners that the light didn't reach. I was sure there were enough of the ruins on display for him to realise how little of his early childhood home was left.
To my surprise, he didn't seem too fazed by the sight. He stopped by what was left of the keep, known to locals as "Clair Tower" and put his hand on the stone wall.
'Are you okay?' I asked anxiously.
He looked at me and I saw the bleakness in his eyes and felt ashamed for bringing him to the castle at all. 'I shouldn't have brought you here, should I?' I said. 'I'm so sorry.'
'No, no you misunderstand,' he blurted. 'It's not that I'm upset about the castle. I'm upset because — well — I can't remember what it should look like. I knew the castle was here, and I knew roughly where it would be and how far from the Lodge, and what had happened to it during the wars. But ...' He sighed. 'I can't picture it, Celeste. There's a blank where the image should be. I don't understand it. It's the same with the Lodge. I know it was my home, too, and I know I lived there with my family, but I can't remember how it looked. When I think of it now, I only see the way it is today. And as for my family ...'
'Can you really remember nothing about them?' I asked gently.
He shrugged. 'I know my father was a soldier. A hero. I know I have a brother called Bevil, but only because you told me so. I can't recall anything about him. I don't even know if he was younger or older than me.'
'Younger,' I said. 'He was four years younger than you.'
'Did I have other siblings?'
'No,' I said. 'Just Bevil.'
'We must have been very close,' he said.
I turned away, not wanting to be drawn into that conversation. 'It's freezing here, isn't it? Would you like to go home?'
'Home?' He gave a short laugh, and I spun round, horrified at my crassness.
'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—'
'It's all right, Celeste. I know what you meant. I suppose I must accept that Castle Lodge, as it is today, must be my home. At least for now. Whatever home, whatever family I had before, is gone. I'm on my own.'
I grabbed hold of his hand. 'You're not on your own,' I said fiercely. 'You have me. Us. I mean, you have all of us.'
He smiled. 'Thank you.' Slowly, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
It would have been a romantic and thrilling moment if he hadn't immediately wrinkled his nose.
'What is it?' I demanded.
He looked flustered. 'What's what?'
'You wrinkled your nose like you smelt something awful! It's not the first time. You've been doing it all day.'
He looked thoroughly embarrassed. 'I'm so sorry, Celeste. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just—'
'Just what?'
He sighed. 'Without wishing to be rude, you all stink!'
I gaped at him. 'I beg your pardon!'
'You're all so highly perfumed. It makes my nose itch.'
'I'm not even wearing perfume,' I protested. 'I rarely do, to be honest. I always forget. Now, Star, I could understand. She has a penchant for Jo Malone. And Mother's ever so fond of her Coco Chanel, but even so ...'
'But you are wearing perfume,' he insisted. He drew closer, and I tried hard not to shiver as he inhaled the scent of my hair. 'Even your hair is perfumed,' he complained. 'Your hands are perfumed.' He unbuttoned his coat and grabbed a handful of his jumper then lifted it up to my nose for me to smell. 'See! Even your clothes smell like wildflowers. It gives me a headache.'
I tried to ignore that, by lifting his jumper, he had revealed a rather taut and appealing torso.
'Cover yourself up,' I said, being all noble. 'You'll catch your death of cold.'
'It's nice to feel cold,' he admitted. 'It's so hot in your house. The hotel was even worse.'
'I suppose we've all got used to central heating and double glazing,' I said thoughtfully. 'I expect houses were much draughtier and damper in your day.'
'I expect they were,' he mused.
I considered what he'd said about the perfume. 'It's shower gel and shampoo and deodorant,' I explained. 'I never thought about it before, but they perfume so many products. There's the soap and handwash, too. And I expect your jumper smells of fabric conditioner.'
'I don't understand what you're talking about,' he admitted.
'I don't suppose you do,' I said. 'You know last night, when Mother showed you the shower?'
He nodded.
'Well, the stuff you used to wash with, that's shower gel. And it has perfume in it. Although,' I sniffed him delicately, 'I can't smell it on you, funnily enough.'
'I didn't use the shower,' he admitted. 'It all looked very complicated and unnecessary to me. Besides, I didn't need one. I'd just been pulled from the river, after all.'
I tried hard not to look appalled. I supposed hygiene in the seventeenth century was a very different matter to our obsession with cleanliness and battling the bacteria. 'I don't suppose you had a toothbrush either?' I ventured.
'A—'
'A brush that you clean your teeth with?' I said. 'Sirius gave you one last night. I don't know if they existed in your time.'
He frowned. 'I have seen them,' he admitted. 'Some of them are ornate — gold or silver. Not used for brushing teeth though. To be honest, people who own them mainly have them as status symbols. It's much easier to clean your teeth with a piece of cloth. That sorts everything out.'
'That's what you think,' I said. 'If you're going to fit in here, you must do what we do. That means learning to brush your teeth twice a day, and having a daily shower with shower gel, and shampoo, too, if necessary.'
He pulled a face. 'Daily?'
'Daily,' I said firmly. 'Once you get used to it, you'll enjoy it, honestly.'
He didn't look convinced. 'Don't you worry washing too often will allow the plague to enter through your skin?'
I
forced myself not to laugh. 'You needn't worry about that,' I said. 'First, keeping clean is the first defence against any bacteria, and second, we don't have the bubonic plague any more. It's long gone.'
'Really?' He looked amazed. 'That's wonderful news. Hmm. Perhaps washing is a good idea. Maybe not every day, but ...'
'Every day,' I said. 'Remember those Christmas presents you unwrapped earlier?'
He nodded, and I recalled how unimpressed he'd been by what he found within the wrapping paper, and how utterly bewildered he'd been by the actual paper and the Sellotape.
'Well, you got shower gel and deodorant and aftershave and a razor in among that little lot,' I said. 'I'm sure Sirius will show you how to use them.'
He frowned. 'I saw no razor.'
'It's electric,' I explained. 'Sirius will demonstrate.'
He nodded. 'I've got a feeling I'll struggle to fit in with your ways and customs for years.'
'You won't,' I promised. 'Give it a few weeks and it will be second nature to you.'
'If you say so,' he said with a sigh. 'Shall we continue with our walk?'
I glanced over at the museum, now locked up for the holiday period, and decided I'd need to keep him well away from there in the coming weeks, as it held far too many clues to his past. We moved away from the keep and headed over to the benches that looked down from the cliff upon the river and houses below. Straight ahead of us was the famous Castle Clair Viaduct. Blaise's eyes narrowed.
'What's that?'
'That's the viaduct,' I explained, sitting down on a bench and patting the space beside me so he would join me. 'It carries trains over the Hrafn.'
'Trains?'
'Oh heck. Horseless carriages that carry dozens of people inside them.'
He buried his head in his hands. 'I can't live in this world, Celeste! I don't belong here.'
'I know it must seem strange to you,' I said, tears blurring my vision as I realised the struggle he was going through. 'It will get easier, I promise you.'
He lifted his head to stare at me, and I saw the anguish in his eyes. 'But do you really believe that, or is it something to say to make me feel better?'
'I really believe it,' I said firmly. 'Of course I do.'
To my surprise, he took my hand. 'I don't know who or what I am. I don't know my character. What if I'm a bad person, Celeste?'
'You're not a bad person,' I assured him.
'But you don't know that!'
'I do know that! History records—' I stopped, biting my lip as I realised how close I'd come to blurting out the whole truth about him.
'I wish you'd tell me what you know,' he said. 'You obviously know far more about me than I know about myself. Why can't you tell me what happened?'
'I want to,' I said honestly. 'But I'm scared it will traumatise you. Aveta seems to think it's safest if you remember it all for yourself. She thinks — she thinks you may have blocked those memories for a reason, and it could damage you if we force you to remember. They'll come back to you in good time,' I finished, mentally crossing my fingers.
He was still holding my hand, and I didn't want to move because I liked it. I enjoyed being close to him on the bench, even though the wind whipped around us. I liked the feel of his hand wrapped around mine. It made me feel safe and as if — as if I belonged. Being with Blaise, I realised, was all I'd ever wanted or needed. This felt so right to me. It was as if this moment was always meant to happen. But how could that be? And there was Jennet to think about. Before too long, his memory could return and he'd remember the beautiful woman he'd adored. Well, I thought, trying hard to be generous and brave, he would need me more than ever at that moment. His heart would be broken, and he'd need someone there to help him with his grief. I could be that unselfish. I could be that noble. Couldn't I?
'Shall we walk by the river?' Blaise asked, and I nodded, though I was reluctant to let go of his hand.
We stood and he dropped my hand immediately. I led him to the steps that wound down to the riverside and we edged our way down them. Blaise shivered as we reached the river and looked out over its dark depths.
'Are you okay?' I asked.
'I can't believe I was in there and survived,' he admitted. 'It was so cold. I honestly thought it was over for me. Maybe it would have been if not for you.'
'I guess we'll never know,' I said, realising it was true. If I hadn't unwittingly worked my magic, would Blaise have drowned in his own time? It was impossible to say. 'I'm glad Sirius was there. He acted so quickly.'
'Your brother was a hero,' he admitted.
'And my brothers-in-law, too,' I said. 'Benedict saved Sirius, because Sirius was done. And Jethro dragged you out, remember?'
'Did he? To be honest, I can't remember much about it. Just the terrible cold and the darkness, and then I was on the bank and your Mother and her servant were wrapping me in blankets.'
'Let's not talk about that,' I said hurriedly. 'It's a horrible subject, and far too depressing for Christmas Day. Castor's not our servant, by the way.'
'He isn't?' he said, surprised. 'Then who is he?'
'He's a distant relative,' I said. 'Another St Clair.'
'Then why does your mother order him around? Why does he allow her to speak to him in such a fashion?'
'Oh, that's just the way they are,' I said, smiling. 'Castor's been part of our lives ever since I can remember, and we all love him to bits – Mother included. Don't let him catch you calling him a servant. Golly, he'd be furious.'
'I apologise for my mistake,' Blaise said. 'I've just never heard any woman order a man around like that. So, where are your servants? I've seen no other since I arrived.'
'You won't. We don't have servants.'
'No servants? How do you manage?'
I burst out laughing. 'Quite easily! Come on. Let's walk.'
We strolled along Riverside Walk, and I showed him Lily Cottage.
'That's where Star and Benedict live,' I explained. 'I used to live there until they got married, but now it's just the two of them. And Paypacket, of course.'
'Paypacket's Star's familiar?' he said. 'The silver cat with attitude?'
I laughed. 'That's Paypacket,' I said. 'He gives poor Benedict an awful time.'
He pulled me to a halt. 'Tell me,' he said. 'Is it true that Benedict has no magic?'
'That's right. Neither does Jethro.'
'Yet they married witches?'
'They did,' I said, smiling.
'And they're not afraid?'
'Well ...' I thought about Benedict, and how terrified he'd been when he learned Star was a witch. 'Not now.'
'How extraordinary,' he murmured.
'It's different today,' I said. 'My sister, for example, runs a shop in the marketplace which is a witchcraft supplies shop.'
'She sells magical supplies, in full view of the public?'
'Yes. It does ever so well. Actually, it's one of the most popular shops in town.'
'And the authorities allow this? No one threatens her? She's in no danger?'
'None. Witchcraft is no longer a crime,' I told him.
'So, you can practise witchcraft out in the open?' he sounded amazed.
I hesitated. 'Er, no, I wouldn't say that.'
'I'm confused,' he admitted.
'I don't blame you. Thing is, witchcraft is no longer considered a crime because most people don't believe it exists. They think it's harmless fun. A story. Not true. A lot of the people who come into the shop do so, even though they don't really believe in magic. The ones who know it's real say nothing and keep their magic under wraps.'
He looked deeply worried.
'Honestly, it's nothing to fret about,' I said. 'We're safe. It's better to keep our powers a secret from non-witches, in case it frightens them. But we're in no danger of being burned or hanged or anything like that. You can relax.'
'It doesn't matter to me any more,' he said despondently. 'I've lost my powers and there's no hope of them returning.'
'You don't know that,' I said. 'Aveta seems to think it's the trauma of time travel. I'm sure they'll come back when you've settled.'
He shook his head. 'I wish I could believe that.' He groaned and kicked awkwardly at the pavement.
'What is it?' I asked.
'I feel so useless! I'm no good to anyone like this. It's the most frustrating thing ever, and I don't know what to do with myself. Please,' he said, 'don't tell anyone I feel this way, will you? I wouldn't want anyone else to know I'm not coping too well.'
'I promise I won't tell anyone,' I said.
'I know you won't.' He eyed me steadily. 'I already know that much about you, Celeste. I don't understand why I've confided such weakness to you. It's hardly attractive, is it?'
'It's not weakness,' I insisted. 'And, actually, I find it very attractive.'
He looked surprised. 'Do you? But, surely, a man's job is to be brave and fearless? How can you find a coward attractive?'
'You're not a coward! And I find you extremely—' I broke off, embarrassed.
He said nothing for a moment, then his hand gently touched the side of my face. I raised my eyes to his, and we looked at each other for a moment, neither of us saying a word. 'Perhaps,' he said finally, 'your mother should have insisted upon a companion after all.'
'Really?' I gulped. 'Why's that?'
'I'm very tempted to kiss you,' he admitted. 'And I think that's something your mother would thoroughly disapprove of. Rightly.'
'Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't,' I said quickly. 'Really, it wouldn't bother her at all.'
I saw the hesitation in his face, and I had everything crossed he'd give in to temptation. I knew I was being shameless, but I'd waited all my life for this moment. I could hardly believe it was finally about to happen. I mean, what were the odds, really?
To my dismay, Blaise dropped his hand and stepped back, turning away from me. 'I'm sorry, Celeste. That was unforgivable of me. I don't know what happened. It felt like — for a moment — I knew you so well. As if we'd known each other all our lives.'
I felt a sickening lurch as reality hit me. It was my likeness to Jennet! Of course it was. The attraction he was feeling had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with the fact I bore a distinct resemblance to the love of his life — my twelve times great grandmother. 'It's okay,' I managed, though my voice was croaky. 'Think nothing of it.'