by Sharon Booth
'I'll be the judge of that,' she said. 'Sirius?'
'Don't look so worried, Mother,' he reassured her. 'We're going — out.' He looked at Sirius, who frowned for a moment before nodding.
'We're off to The Two Brothers Inn, that's all. There's a snooker match on.'
'Since when did you have any interest in snooker?' I demanded.
'I've always liked snooker,' Sirius said.
'Well, you've kept it quiet, I'll give you that.' I watched him suspiciously. I'd never known Sirius show any interest in snooker, pool, or anything of that kind. It sounded like his idea of hell to me. What was he really up to? Was it something I should know about? And was Castor in league with him? What if they'd found out something about the prophecy?
'So, it's just you and Blaise tonight,' Sirius said cheerfully. 'You'll have the house to yourselves. What will you do?'
He beamed at me, and I felt my face burning. So that was why he was going out! He'd cottoned on to why I was suddenly wearing makeup and a dress to work. Drat!
'I expect Celeste will be busy,' Blaise said. 'I'll revise what I've learned about the history of the castle. It will be useful if I give guided tours.'
Sirius gave me a hard stare.
I cleared my throat. 'Er, perhaps I could cook dinner for us?' I suggested. 'I've done little cooking since I moved out of Lily Cottage. It would make a nice change for me.'
Blaise looked dubious. 'Really? Are you sure?'
'I can cook, you know,' I said, rather put out at his obvious doubt. 'I used to do it all the time when I shared a house with Star. Don't worry, you'll love it.'
'That's settled,' Sirius said. 'Why don't you make a night of it? Dinner and the cinema, or the other way around. I'm sure Blaise would love to see a movie on the big screen for the first time.'
'Cinema? I've seen adverts for those on the iPad,' Blaise said eagerly. 'I'd love to visit, if that's all right with you, Celeste.'
'Sure.' I tried to sound nonchalant. 'I'll have to figure out what we can watch.'
'There's that new Jane Austen adaptation at The Plaza,' Mother said helpfully. 'It's got very good reviews, and it's supposed to be witty, too.'
'There you go then,' Sirius said.
'Maybe an action movie would be a better choice,' I said. 'Don't you think so, Blaise?'
Blaise looked confused. 'I'm not sure what you mean. I'll leave it up to you.'
Sirius leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. 'Trust me on this, Blaise, you'll both enjoy the Jane Austen. You can't beat a good romance.'
****
It was a quiet day in the museum. I'd just taken delivery of some promotional leaflets I'd had printed when I heard familiar voices outside. Sure enough, within moments Jethro and Sky strolled through the door, trailing with them the glamorous Trinity. To be fair, she didn't look as if she'd made any more effort than I had that day. I think I was bitter because she seemed so effortlessly dazzling, and I'd bet my last smudge stick no one made fun of her or gave her weird looks, just because she'd put a bit of lippy and some mascara on.
'Morning, Celeste. We've just been — golly!' Sky stopped dead and gaped at me. 'Are you going to a party or something?'
I took a deep breath while silently muttering some rather rude words I would never dream of uttering out loud. Fancy saying that! And in front of Trinity and Jethro, too.
'Of course I'm not,' I said coolly. 'It's a bit of makeup, that's all.'
'Oh, right. Well, we've been for a stroll around the town and Trinity's been to The Broom Closet, haven't you?'
Trinity smiled. 'I sure have. It's such a darling little shop. Real cute.'
'And we took her upstairs to meet Mrs Greenwood, too,' Sky continued. 'She liked it up there, didn't you?'
'It's a great little place. A real old-fashioned English teashop,' Trinity said, beaming at me. 'Mrs Greenwood was so lovely, and she made me the most awesome salad for my lunch.'
Salad? Who in their right mind would go into The Rosemary Tea Rooms and order salad? No wonder I'd had a funny feeling about her last night.
'She's eager to have a look around the museum,' Jethro explained. 'She wants to get a feel for the story behind my book.'
Since Jethro was writing his own fictional account of the story of the St Clair brothers, I supposed the museum was a good place for Trinity to get a handle on the legend. Although, given recent revelations, I doubted even a fantasy writer of Jethro's calibre could come up with a story as weird and unlikely as the truth.
'It's only three pounds to get in?' Trinity shook her head and brought a purse out of her handbag. 'Wow, that's real value.'
'Oh please,' I said, 'no charge for family and — friends of family.'
'Oh, but I insist,' she said. 'It's hardly fair not to pay. You have a business to run.'
She wouldn't take no for an answer, dropping three pound coins on the counter. Deciding I wouldn't waste ages arguing with her, I thanked her and handed her a ticket.
'The first room's the general history of magic through the ages,' I explained. 'The second one is more specific to Castle Clair.'
'It sounds so exciting,' she said.
'Why don't I man the counter and you take Trinity into the museum?' Sky suggested. 'You'll be able to answer her questions much better than I will.'
'Oh, but Jethro's familiar with the exhibits,' I said. 'Anyway, there are lots of signs and exhibition boards, and there's a guidebook if you—'
'But it's not the same,' Sky said. 'Oh, go on, Celeste. No one knows this place like you do.' She smirked at me. 'And no one knows more about Blaise St Clair either. He's your specialist subject, isn't he?' She looked pointedly at my dress and I knew exactly what she was thinking.
'Fine,' I said. 'If Trinity has no objections?'
'Of course not,' Trinity said. 'Lead the way, Celeste. I can't wait.'
It was weird seeing Jethro in full professional mode. He couldn't wait to show Trinity the objects we had on display and tell her a little about them. I couldn't help wondering what they needed me for.
Trinity listened patiently as he told her all about the various instruments of torture that had been used on suspected witches, and showed her the grisly contraptions we had on display, such as the scold's bridle, the ducking stool and the witch-pricker.
'Grim,' she said at last, peering through the glass at the gruesome collection of thick pins.
'Aren't they?' I said. 'The witchfinders, or witch hunters — call them what you like — used to stick the pins in a suspected witch. He or she was supposed to feel no pain if they were, indeed, a witch. But do you see that one in the middle?'
Trinity peered closer. 'Aha. What about it?'
'It has a retractable blade,' I explained. 'The witchfinder cheated. The poor wretch would have felt no pain because the sharp part of the instrument retracted and so as far as the watching crowds were concerned, they had proved their guilt.'
Trinity folded her arms. 'Terrible. These people were charlatans. Claiming to tell a witch by dumb methods like these and then cheating! What a nerve. All those innocent people...'
'Exactly.' Jethro sounded eager. 'You can see the potential for corruption and cruelty, can't you?'
'And sadism,' I added. 'Not to mention plain old sexism and the rule of terror.'
'A way to control the masses and keep women in their place,' Trinity said, nodding. 'Oh, yeah. I see the potential. And I see the benefits. Gee, no wonder witchfinders get such a bad press.'
'Deservedly,' I said crossly. 'Some of them were far more evil than any so-called witch.'
She stepped back and gave me a slight shake of the head. 'I wouldn't go that far,' she said.
'You wouldn't?' I thought of that wretch Tobias Palmer, and how scared Blaise must have been. I thought of the men and women who had no magic to help them escape, who had been captured and tortured by men like Palmer, and it made me sick to the stomach. 'I would.'
'I'm sure some of them were just trying
to do a job,' she said. 'Remember that, in those days, people really believed in witchcraft and magic. And it scared the hell out of them. So witchfinders had to protect them from forces of darkness. It was nothing personal. Not for some of them, anyway.'
I could feel my hackles rising.
Evidently, Trinity sensed my hostility. She held up her hands. 'Sorry, just playing devil's advocate here. I try to always see both sides of the story.'
'And you've done your research,' Jethro said.
I glared at him. He sounded almost admiring!
'Perhaps we should go into the next room,' I suggested, thinking the sooner we got this tour over with the better.
We wandered through into the adjoining exhibition room, which was solely dedicated to the history of magic in Castle Clair and the legend of the two brothers. Trinity honed straight in on the three large portraits that hung on the far wall.
'So, these are the famous St Clair boys,' she drawled. 'And the filling in the sandwich must be Jennet.'
I couldn't deny it, she impressed me. The woman had done her research.
'Striking,' she said, waving a hand at the first two portraits. 'Blaise and Jennet are similar, aren't they?'
I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I looked up at the paintings of my darling Blaise and his own true love. 'Similar?' I croaked. 'In what way?'
'The confidence, I suppose,' she said thoughtfully. 'Obviously, they're both dark-haired and good-looking, but it's much more than that. They have an air about them. A knowledge of their own worth, I guess. Whereas this one,' she added, glancing up at Bevil's portrait, 'is entirely different, isn't it?'
I stared up at Bevil and felt a lurch of shame. She was right. Bevil was nothing like Blaise. As Blaise had revealed, he had lighter hair than his brother, but it wasn't only that. There was a sadness and an uncertainty in his eyes. His posture was different. He didn't look in the slightest bit proud or haughty, just rather uncomfortable and as if he'd rather be anywhere than posing for this artist. How had I not noticed that before?
Maybe, I thought with some guilt, because I'd been so focused on Blaise I'd paid scant attention to my direct ancestor. But then, he was a traitor, and it was hard to look at him without remembering that.
'So, who was this Jennet woman?' Trinity enquired.
'Sorry?'
'Jennet.' Trinity scrutinised the plaque beneath the portrait. 'Jennet St Clair, née Wade, born 1645, died 1681. My, she wasn't very old when she died, was she?'
'She lasted longer than the other two,' Jethro pointed out. 'Blaise was only twenty-nine when he — ahem — jumped, and Bevil was twenty-six when he was killed in a riding accident.'
'Real tragic,' Trinity agreed. 'I know the mortality rate in England was high in those days but even so ... how did Jennet die?'
'We don't exactly know,' I admitted. 'We found her death recorded in the parish register as "Stoppage in the stomick", whatever that means.'
'Ah, the quaint ways people used to describe causes of death,' Jethro said. 'I've found some corkers during my research. Do you know some people were recorded as having died of "Extreme filthiness"? Even "Visitation by God"! Can you imagine?'
'So, Jennet's son would only have been around ten or eleven when his mother died and left him an orphan?' Trinity said.
'Yes, that's right.'
'So, who cared for him? Who brought him up? Presumably he made it through okay, since I'm guessing he's your direct ancestor?'
'That's correct,' I confirmed. 'Rafe St Clair's brother, Titus, brought up Bartholomew. He took him to his own home near Beverley and Bartholomew grew up there, before returning to Castle Clair as a young adult, and taking up residence back at Castle Lodge. Titus is the direct ancestor of Castor, who lives with us now.'
'Wow!' Trinity whistled. 'Must be kinda cool to trace your ancestry so far back, right?'
'But you've traced yours, haven't you?' Jethro said. 'You said you had Yorkshire ancestry.'
Trinity smiled. 'Sure I have, but it doesn't go anywhere as far back as yours. My mom was born in York and I've discovered some of her family are still in the area, but I've only been able to trace her line back two centuries so far. Like most Americans, I have English and Irish ancestry, which is exciting to me. One day I'll find out more.'
'Are you planning on meeting your mother's family while you're here?'
Trinity shrugged. 'It depends if I have the nerve to make contact, I guess. I'm hoping to find out more about my ancestors at least, but Jethro and I have a lot of work to do, so we'll see.'
'I think it's brutal, having to work while you're supposed to be on your holidays,' I remarked.
'That's the publishing world for you,' she said lightly. 'It's kinda heavy duty.'
She swung round to look at some other exhibits. 'Wow, the famous Mother Clipson!'
'You've heard of her?' I said, surprised.
'Sure. The famous prophetess. Didn't she predict air travel and cars?'
'Allegedly,' Jethro said. 'She foretold the building of the famous viaduct, too, among other things. Be careful, though, because a lot of these so-called predictions were written years after her death. A whole mythology can spring up around these people, so you have to take most things with a pinch of salt.'
'Like the two brothers,' Trinity observed. 'Fascinating story, but how much of that is true? I mean, come on, guys! Witches and witchfinders! Someone knew how to spin a story and make a few bucks for the town, right?'
I bristled and felt Jethro's hand on my arm.
'Even so,' she said thoughtfully, 'I guess there's no smoke without fire. I'd love to know what really happened that night. And even without the magic, it's a fascinating story. That your family has been the dominant family in this town for so long is kind of awesome, without all the rest. And you still own the castle! A real old English castle! That's amazing. So, who's the guy in charge these days?'
'That,' I said stiffly, 'would be my brother, Sirius.'
'Sirius?' She grinned. 'You guys have such great names. So, do I get to meet him? I'd love to get his take on things, what with him being the current St Clair head guy.'
What a way to describe him. I could imagine it would thrill Sirius. Not.
'He's not one for interviews and publicity,' I said. 'He's a quiet man.'
'Oh, that's a shame. Is he married?'
My eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? I hoped she wasn't thinking of setting her cap at my brother to get her hands on an old English castle. It was probably just the sort of thing she'd do.
'He's not,' Jethro said. He looked at me uncertainly and I stared back, not sure how much she needed to know or how much I was willing to tell her.
Jethro apparently decided there was no need for discretion. 'Sirius was engaged a few years ago,' he said quietly. 'To my sister.'
'Wow! Keep it in the family, hah? So, what happened? Some big bust-up? I expect that made things awkward all round, right?'
Jethro and I shuffled awkwardly.
'She — Carissa — she died,' Jethro said.
Trinity's hand flew to her mouth, and to her credit, she looked genuinely appalled. 'I'm so sorry! I had no idea. Oh, Jethro, that's awful for you. And for poor Sirius, too.'
'Thank you. It was three years ago now but, yes, it still hurts. We both miss her dreadfully,' Jethro confessed. 'She was a beautiful, lively, kind young woman, and she didn't deserve what happened to her.'
'What — I mean, how—'
'Leukaemia,' he said briefly. 'Very sudden.'
'Oh, Jethro.' Trinity's eyes filled with tears and I thought, maybe I'd been harsh on her. She had feelings, that much was certain. There was nothing fake about the sadness in her voice.
'I'll have a word with Sirius,' I said on impulse. 'I can't promise you he'll agree to talk to you, but I'll try.'
'That's real kind of you,' she said. 'Honestly, if he doesn't want to, don't force him, okay? I'd hate to upset him. The last thing he needs is some pushy American fly
ing in to interrogate him.'
And there it was again. That weird sensation of dread. I couldn't figure out what was making me so nervous, but something was setting off alarm bells and I couldn't help wondering, who exactly was Trinity, and what was she really up to?
'Close the door.'
I blinked as Jethro's voice echoed around in my head. I froze, realising I was having one of my strange episodes again. Everything around me faded away. I could see nothing, and the only sound I could hear were the words that were being spoken, in the past, yet somehow inside my mind right now.
'You're jumpy! Relax, Jethro.'
'How can I relax? If Sky knew …'
'There's no need for Sky to find out. At least, not yet. Look, are you sure this is what you want? We don't have to carry on with this, you know. If it's worrying you so much, we can stop. Things can go back the way they were.'
Jethro's voice was low, troubled. 'I don't want to hurt Sky. I couldn't bear it.'
'Then …?'
'But I can't go back. This feels right, doesn't it? We both feel it, don't we?'
'Celeste, are you okay?' Jethro's voice broke into my thoughts and I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see his face after what I'd just heard.
'Honey, are you okay? You've gone very pale.'
Trinity's hand was on my arm and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to shrug it off in disgust. She and Jethro were deceiving Sky somehow, and the thought made me sick to my stomach. The question was, what was I going to do about it?
Chapter Fifteen
The house was empty when I got home that night, except for Blaise. To my surprise, I arrived home just as he was coming in from the garden. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a pair of wellies and had the widest smile on his face.
'What have you been doing?' I asked.
'Weeding,' he replied. 'I was having a stroll around the garden and I noticed some weeds popping up, so I thought I'd get rid of them. I've had a brilliant hour out there. You know, it's a great space. You're not making the most of its potential. I'd love to do something with it.'
'None of us are gardeners,' I admitted. 'Castor used to keep it under control but he's getting on a bit now.' I felt a pang of guilt. 'I suppose I don't think about that enough. Castor's always been — well — Castor. He's always seemed ancient to me, but I suppose he is genuinely old now. He ought to be taking it easy.'