by Sandra Heath
Nicholas clutched his arm as the green lights continued to shimmer over it. He felt the spell peeling raggedly away, like layers of skin being torn from his flesh, and the pain was so acute that beads of perspiration leapt to his forehead.
Davey was rooted to the spot with fear. He wished he were still on the green with his gran, wished he were anywhere but here right now. His frightened gaze was drawn toward the grove again as the clamor of the hounds became almost deafening. He heard a savage cry, inhuman and evil, and his knees felt so weak he could barely stand.
Nicholas inhaled deeply. All manner of truths swung back through his consciousness, forgotten images, sketches of loving nights with Verity. He tried to control the flood of memories, but then his lips parted in horror, for he was now released from all Judith’s magic, including the druid’s moss, and he remembered what he had done tonight. He realized too that his love for Verity transcended the spell. Maybe the enchanted seal had made him love her in the beginning, but his own heart made him love her now.
“Verity...” he whispered, his glance moving to the misty shadows of the track to the grove, then he snatched the reins and urged his horse toward the mill.
Davey stared after him, but then he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps approaching through the mist from the direction of the village. Already unnerved, the boy flung himself into the autumn undergrowth at the side of the road and crouched there among the leaves with his eyes tightly closed.
The footsteps passed, light, soft, and anxious, but by the time he found the courage to look out it was too late for him to have seen that it was only his own grandmother who had hurried by. He was about to emerge from hiding to run back to the village when a ball of little orange flames appeared from nowhere directly in front of him.
It was silent and frightening, and Davey shrank back among the leaves again. He had heard of corpse candles and knew his Aunt Martha was one of those who could actually see them, but he hadn’t realized he could too. He didn’t want to see such things! His lips quivered, and he suddenly didn’t look at all like a fearsome Halloween demon. “Oh, Gran ...” he whimpered.
The rattle of a can made his breath catch, and he turned even more fearfully toward the village. Shadowy and barely discernible through the mist, the churchyard watcher made his way to the corner and halted directly alongside Davey’s hiding place. The boy stared at the indistinct figure on the seat.
It was the peddler! Davey’s teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, and as the watcher turned to look directly at him, nodding and touching his ribboned hat in greeting, the child fell back senseless among the cold leaves.
* * *
In the grove, Judith had begun to recover from the nausea. The seal! Someone had given it back to Nicholas, and had finally destroyed her spell! Well, his wife would die anyway!
Hecate gave a peal of unearthly laughter as the witch seized the dagger. The hounds became frenzied, the green flames fluttered, and the night air seemed to stand still as Judith raised the gleaming blade above Verity’s heart.
But then came the thud of hooves along the track, and suddenly Nicholas burst into the grove. Judith recoiled instinctively as he flung his horse toward her, but then she tried to plunge the dagger into Verity in the final second. But the horse was upon her, dashing her aside like a doll.
The dagger was jerked from her hand, arcing through the air to pierce the terrible face in the Lady. Hecate screamed and disappeared, and the dagger fell to the leaf-covered grass. The howling of the hounds, was silenced, and the green flames of the candles began to slowly fade.
Nicholas reined in, turning his frightened horse at the very bank of the millpool and urging it back toward Judith as she tried to claw her way to Verity again. He leapt from the saddle and flung the witch aside. Then he took off his coat and tossed it contemptuously over her. “Cover yourself, madam, for you look somewhat ridiculous,” he said scathingly, then knelt to untie Verity.
As Judith clutched the coat around herself, her glance fell on the dagger, which still lay in the grass, but as she reached toward it again, Sadie’s voice rang out from the edge of the grove.
“It’s too late, witch, you’re done for! Spells aren’t your sole preserve, I can cast them too! I made your effigy and put some strands of your hair on it, then I buried it with the peddler. As his corpse rotted, so your monstrous soul rotted too. The time was up at the stroke of midnight on Halloween, and there’s nothing you can do to reverse the magic. It was a Cansford that put the torch to you before, and it’s another Cansford that’s put paid to you now. You thought you only had to watch my sister, and you discounted me. Well, breathe your evil last, Meg Ashton, for this time you will not live again, and I only wait to dance on your grave!”
Judith’s face was like a sheet. Oh, fool, fool! Too late she remembered catching her hair on the branch. Her heart began to pound unevenly, and she felt hot. Terror suddenly loomed on all sides, and all she could think of was retrieving the image from the grave. It was her only hope. She struggled to her feet, still clutching Nicholas’s coat around her nakedness, then she began to run toward the track.
Sadie stood scornfully aside. “Midnight has been and gone, witch! Your heart is already beginning to slow and your black soul shrivel!”
Judith continued to run. Her lungs felt as if they would burst, and her heart missed a beat before lurching on once again. She staggered up the track, and Sadie’s contemptuous voice followed her.
“I’ve paid you back for what you’ve done, witch! You put the eye on my Davey, and on poor Mr. Windsor, you killed Admiral Villiers, and you intended to kill Lord and Lady Montacute. But you’re the one who’s dying now, Meg Ashton, and it’s the flames of Hell that wait for you!”
A wail of fear escaped Judith’s lips. The sound of her heart seemed to echo through her, and her legs felt like lead as she continued to make her unsteady way up the track. She could see the road ahead now, but Sadie’s triumphant laughter seemed to be following her. She had to get to the graveyard! She had to!
But as she stumbled the final yards to the road, the corpse light appeared again, and as she stared at it, it turned from orange to blood red. Then she heard the jingle of harness, and a cry of abject terror was torn from her lips as she saw the watcher’s cart waiting for her. Her heart missed another beat, then pumped once more before becoming still within her. The life went from her eyes, and she fell dead by the wheels of the ghostly cart.
The peddler climbed slowly down and reached down to search for what was left of her evil soul. When he found it, he dragged it from her body and threw it disdainfully into the cart, then he resumed his seat and shook the reins. He whistled softly to himself as his spectral vehicle moved slowly away, going right across the road then into the trees opposite, where it vanished in the mist.
As its passing faded away into silence, the undergrowth shook at the side of the road, and Davey crept from his hiding place. His face was white beneath the soot, and he clutched his arms around himself. Then he ducked low to run back to the village. He wanted his gran, or his Great-aunt Martha!
* * *
Martha was at that moment being helped into the kitchens at Windsor House by some of the other servants. She was still weak from the effects of Judith’s invisible barrier, but in spite of the waves of sickness that continued to pass over her as she sat by the fire, she was anxious. What was happening with the seal? Had Davey given it to Nicholas yet?
There was a sudden shocked silence, and the wisewoman looked up to see what had caused it. Her eyes widened then, for Joshua had appeared in the doorway, his nightgown very white in the dim light. He clung to the doorjamb for support, and his face was still gray, but there was a new brightness in his eyes as he looked inquiringly at them all.
“I—I feel much better suddenly, and have a fancy for a slice of hot toast.” He searched their faces. “Where’s Verity?” he asked them.
* * *
Nicholas undid the last of Verity’s bon
ds, then took the gag from her mouth. “Are you all right, my love?” he whispered, pulling her close.
“Yes, I—I think so ...”
“Oh, Verity, forgive me, forgive me, I swear I didn’t know what I was doing. It wasn’t until Davey gave me the seal...” There were tears in his eyes as he kissed her hair. “I love you, my darling, you’re everything in the world to me.”
“Am I?” She looked unhappily up at him. “I was fooling myself earlier tonight, for you don’t love me, except through the seal.”
“I didn’t need the seal to make me see how much you mean to me,” he said softly. “I spoke the truth when I said I touched the pin you gave me, and knew I still loved you. Judith had the seal then, not you.”
Hope lit her eyes, although she hardly dared allow it.
He smoothed her curls from her forehead. “If I’d lost you tonight, I don’t think I could have borne it,” he whispered.
Her lingering doubts melted away. “But you didn’t lose me. And, Nicholas ...”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you earlier.” She paused, looking up intently into his eyes. “I’m having our baby,” she whispered.
He stared at her, and then his embrace tightened gladly. “Oh, my darling...”
As she raised her lips to his, she knew it really was all over, and now there could only be happiness ahead. They kissed, and the green flames of the candles flickered briefly, then went out forever.
* * *
It was May again, and Wychavon Castle was filled with joy as the first cries of Verity’s baby boy rang out.
Life had indeed been transformed since Judith’s demise, for Nicholas and Joshua were now the best of friends, although there was nothing they liked more than to argue politics after dinner. Anna and Oliver had been guests since the New Year, and seemed set to stay on for some time longer because everyone was enjoying things so much. Their happiness was particularly radiant, for, thanks to Martha’s knowledge of herbs and such things, Anna was at last expecting a child of her own.
But in Wychavon village, Sadie was now held in as high respect as her sister, for everyone soon heard the full story of the secret spell in the peddler’s grave. The realization that Meg Ashton had been among them alarmed the villagers, who didn’t care to know that such wicked sorcery had again taken place in their small corner of Shropshire. It was decided that the facts would not travel beyond the village boundary, and there wasn’t a single soul—man, woman, or child—who didn’t abide by the decision.
The same agreement existed at the castle too, where everyone in the solar smiled as Martha hurried down to tell them Verity’s lying-in was at an end, and as Nicholas dashed to be with his wife and son, Oliver broke open a Jeroboam of champagne.
Verity was cradling the baby in her arms as Nicholas entered. Her hair was a tangle of curls about her shoulders, and her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes sparkled happily.
Nicholas went to her, taking her hand and raising the palm to his lips. “Are you all right, my love?”
“Yes, of course.”
He gazed down at the tiny new life swathed in a lacy knitted shawl, then hesitantly touched one of the little hands. The baby grasped it firmly, and Nicholas smiled delightedly. “A true Montacute,” he murmured.
“But with the fair hair of the Windsors,” she pointed out.
“A fitting mixture,” he said, then raised his eyes to her face again. “I adore you, my lady,” he said softly.
“And I you, sir.”
He studied her then and gave a slight laugh. “Well, I do declare ...”
“What is it? Do I look dreadful?” she asked, putting a concerned hand to her hair.
“Your freckles have gone.”
“My what...?” She broke off and stared at him. “Are—are you quite, quite sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
A pleased smile brightened her face. “It’s taken a year, but the May Eve dew has worked after all! Oh, Nicholas, if you only knew how I hated having freckles!”
“My darling, I’d still find you adorable if every inch of you were covered in freckles,” he murmured, leaning across to kiss her nose.
She drew back a little, her eyes briefly anxious again. “You—you don’t think the witch will return a third time, do you?”
“No, she’s gone forever now, thanks to Sadie Cutler. But I’m going to have the Lady removed from the grove. Just to be sure,” he added prudently.
Copyright © 1996 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451188632)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.