Entranced

by Marion Clarke

  Giles's name had shocked her mind out of its stupor and brought her strength. As she flew across the sand, she tried to keep his image before her. No matter that he had hurt her. Before today, he had been everything she'd wanted and admired in a man, and that's what she remembered now.

  She heard her name called and now Blaize's voice had the harsh, loud timbre she had formerly associated with him. He sounded older; his gait was slower, as though he had reverted to his actual age. There was no time to delve the mystery. He must not catch her. So far, she had been able to stay ahead. The beach curved out of sight behind some giant boulders and Fiona ran faster, as Blaize disappeared from sight.

  Would anyone believe her side of the story? It seemed unlikely. She already was a suspect as well as a stranger, while Judge Blaize was an honored, powerful figure in town.

  Her lungs labored, her legs trembled, and a fierce pain knitted her side when her eye lit on a pile of tumbled rocks and seaweed. And something else. A gull, flying right out of a crevice. Could there be a cave in there?

  For the moment, she was out of sight of her pursuer as she dodged toward the rocks. Yes! A slender opening, almost obscured by a veil of seaweed, appeared between two boulders.

  Quick as lightning, she wrapped a stone about her handkerchief and threw it up the cliff with all her strength. It landed neatly on a bush, making a sign that she probably had clambered up the bluff.

  She drew back the seaweed and pushed inside the cleft, finding herself in a deep cave filled with stones, pools, and more piles of seaweed. She moved farther back into a place of pitch darkness. Even if the judge looked inside, she didn't think he would see her. Mouse-still, she huddled down against the ground, straining every sense to be alert.

  All was silent. Fiona crouched in the dark cave a long time, thinking, almost dazed, unable to discern what she had recently experienced. Then, like a curtain parting, she recalled a strange thing her father had once related. He had just returned from a cargo run to the towns along the Black Sea and said he had heard talk of an amazing man.

  "He is a physician called Mesmer," her father told them, "and 'tis claimed he has discovered an extraordinary force in human beings which allows some people to have a powerful influence over others. 'Tis said you can be put into a trancelike state in which you feel no pain."

  Yes, Fiona thought with a feeling of horror, Judge Blaize must possess that power. In her weakened, distraught state, caused by the trials and by being hurt by Giles and Grace, she had almost been overpowered. But then his lips had hurt her violently as his passion had surfaced. She smothered a sob of dismay, covering her face with both hands. At first he had looked young and handsome, had seemed so kind… was that all part of the trance he had induced in her, his mind directing hers?

  At last, she pushed aside the seaweed and saw that the beach was deserted, the sun now past its zenith. Her senses had returned to normal. It was time for chores and for facing Grace with calm self-assurance—and time, perhaps, to reconsider Giles.

  Those days and nights on shipboard, what had they really meant to him? Was it merely a casual flirtation? He had seemed to withhold his deepest feelings, perhaps afraid of where they would lead an innocent young miss. He must have yearned to have a woman after eight long weeks at sea, and though he realized she was attracted to him, he was too honorable to take advantage of her. Attraction— that was his strength. That was her weakness.

  Fiona wondered sadly how deeply he was tied to Grace. When she asserted her claims, he had agreed to take her berrying. Was it out of an old loyalty, or something else? She had heard no talk of a betrothal yet, but the likelihood existed.

  Leaving the cave to collect her shoes, she turned the problem over in her mind. The best thing was to avoid Giles in the future and push the memory of his lovemaking from her mind.

  It would not be easy. But then, was anything easy here in Salem?

  Chapter 12

  When Fiona entered Aunt Mercy's house, only Grace was in the kitchen, kneading a bowl of bread dough. Fiona had a fleeting thought that perhaps Grace enjoyed pummeling the white mass as though it were a person.

  Grace shot a quick glance across her shoulder, looking at Fiona as though she feared some kind of retribution for making her change berrying partners.

  Perhaps I should really scare her and pretend to be a witch, Fiona thought with a bitter little smile, but she knew what folly that would be. A few more suspicious actions on her part and she might find herself in real trouble. The recent witch trial had shown her what could happen to an innocent person.

  "I'll go feed the hens," Fiona said, seeing a bowl of grain made ready on the sink.

  "Just don't spill it like you did before," Grace growled. Her eyes narrowed and she moved closer. "Say, your dress is buttoned crookedly."

  Fiona's hand flew to her neckline. She felt an embarrassed color flood her cheeks which Grace was quick to note with a thin smile.

  "You look kissed. If I didn't know that Giles went to his surgery with a patient, I might wonder about you two." Grace dug her fists against her waist and glared. "I've told Giles I won't stand any sparking with another girl. Not when I'm so close to saying 'yes' to him."

  Fiona swallowed against a sudden painful dryness in her throat. "Giles—he—he has asked you to marry him?"

  Grace's manner changed abruptly and she giggled. "Oh, la, that will happen when he's sure I'll give him the right answer."

  Grace's sudden coyness and boasting made Fiona ill. How could Giles want this unattractive, loud-voiced bully of a girl who didn't seem to have a single redeeming facet to her personality? But wait—there was her dowry. A tidy sum given to the groom on his wedding day would sweeten any marriage.

  This must be faced and accepted. So be it. Tucking in her ragged collar and rebuttoning her dress, Fiona picked up the basin of grain and turned toward the garden door.

  But Grace was not through with her yet. She stopped Fiona with a floury, fat hand upon her arm. "Just who have you been dallying with, if not Giles? Was it Charles?"

  "No," Fiona answered angrily. Her face flamed, then felt icy. Heavens, if Grace only knew what had really transpired. How Judge Blaize had forced her lips apart and put his hand inside her dress. If Aunt Mercy found out, she might put her out of the house for a session in the stocks, calling her wanton.

  "Who? Who was it?" Grace hissed. "Do you want me to tell Giles, your mother, and everyone else about the strange way you looked when you came home?"

  Fiona rounded on her. "Don't you make up any lies about me or I promise it will be the worse for you. I merely had an accident falling on some rocks. That's all! So watch your words and don't incur my anger."

  Grace fell back, her mouth slack. "Don't hurt me— please! If you have embraced the devil, I promise not to tell a soul." She thrust out her first and little fingers, the age-old sign for warding off a witch.

  Immediately, Fiona regretted her foolish loss of control with Grace and she smoothed her features. "Oh, don't be silly. You can never take a jest, can you? I told you how it happened. I wouldn't know a devil if I met one face to face."

  She swept out the door and started toward the henhouse. As she scattered grain for the clucking fowls, she wondered uneasily if that were true. Who could tell a devil if he was in disguise? Perhaps Grace had come closer to the truth than she knew.

  Was the judge allied somehow with Satan ? She considered all the evidence. He was new in Salem. He had wealth and power usually bestowed on disciples of the Devil. He also had the ability to disguise himself, now young and handsome, kind and sympathetic… then swiftly changing to an aroused and lusting beast. There also was the haughty, domineering, cruel-faced man who instilled such abject terror at the witch trials. He probably could make an innocent victim admit to anything before he was through with her.

  On the other hand, everything about him could have a logical explanation. Fiona strolled thoughtfully across the yard and leaned on the gate. Perhaps he had no pow
ers beyond a keen and nasty mind. Maybe he spied on people in order to hoard nuggets of information which might prove useful in making them obey his will. There had been someone on the road when Grace and Giles had told her about the new berrying plans. It could have been the judge. The three of them had been too absorbed to notice.

  As for the way he had changed himself at the beach and the powerful will he had exerted over her, perhaps her father's tales of Mesmer could explain the whole thing. The judge might have learned the art of manipulating minds. And then there was the drink. From her mother's simpling, she knew of the soporific henbane and hemlock, the magic possessed by mandrake and roots of briony. Surely all were easy to obtain.

  Could anybody become a victim to enchantment without a potion to confuse the brain? Or had she been weaker today because she had needed praise and male attention? She had been so miserable, doubting her own attractiveness.

  If the judge tried it again, could she withstand him, now that she knew it was all a trick? If he was merely mortal, what was there to fear? It might be worth confronting him, even encouraging him, just to find out what would happen. A little voice inside her warned that this might be extremely dangerous. If she led him on, then spurned him in disgust, wouldn't his fury and revenge be boundless?

  "Fiona, dear, Grace said you went to a court hearing today. What happened? Did you not want me to accompany you?" Her mother spoke behind her.

  Fiona shook her head. "You would have been too upset." She dropped her voice and glanced around. The yard was empty, as was the road beyond. "They questioned Rebecca Nurse, and, oh, Mother, it was so dreadful!"

  "Heavens, was she accused?"

  "Accused and held for trial." Fiona swallowed hard. "I'm certain they will find her guilty, and you and I know that can't be true."

  "Of course not. Ah, the awful pity of it! Let's sit down on this bench. Do you feel like telling me what happened?"

  "Yes, I do." Sitting close beneath the shady tree, Fiona related every word she could remember of the two upset-ting trials. First, the slattern, with her pathetic bravado while enduring the hissing and name-calling of the spectators. Then Rebecca Nurse, weak and ill, so bewildered at the charges leveled against her, but steadfastly denying any guilt and beseeching her Maker for vindication.

  "At first, the people acted appalled that she'd been charged and seemed to think that she was innocent, although two of the children, Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam, swore that she was even then hurting them. They screamed and writhed most convincingly. But the tide definitely turned against her when Mrs. Putnam testified. She is the mother of Ann and looked sly and vindictive. In my opinion, she was just trying to be important. I didn't believe a word she said, and neither would you, I'm sure."

  She then recounted the absurd dream while her mother listened gravely. Fiona ended with a bitter regret that she hadn't said some word in Rebecca's defense.

  Ellen shook her head. "Ah, daughter dear, 'twould not have helped, and it might have harmed you vastly. Suspicion has been cast on you from several sources. Both our lives are fraught with danger, and that's the sober truth of it."

  "What can we do? Mother, I am becoming so fearful—"

  "Now, now, 'tis a brave lass you've always been. Perhaps there is a way." From her pocket, she withdrew a folded paper from which the seal had been broken. "I went to the village today and found the postal carrier had left some articles from Boston. I wrote to Samantha when we arrived and here, then, is her answer."

  Fiona took the proffered letter and read aloud:

  Dearest Ellen and Fiona,

  How delighted I am to know that you both have come to America, although circumstances have been sad for you. My deepest sympathy for losing both your dear David and then his brother, Matthew. And now I hear there is grave trouble in Salem. It has a very bad reputation these days and I wish that you would leave.

  Unfortunately, I contracted a chilling ague and am still weak and coughing, confined to my bed and Tilly's constant care. But soon I want you both to visit me for as long as you care to stay. I'm sure you could be happy here in Boston and I have lots of room.

  Write soon, my dears. I can hardly wait to see you.

  My fondest love,

  Your Cousin,

  Samantha.

  Fiona felt a rush of deep relief. Here might be the answer to their main problem. No longer could she hope for any future with Giles; Grace had seen to that. Pain engulfed her as she thought of Giles. She had admired him so much on board the Seawynd, where he had displayed such tireless, even-tempered dedication to all the groaning sufferers. Companionship had grown steadily between them until she had seen desire well up in him to equal hers—or so she'd thought—and he had kissed her—perhaps even when he knew it wasn't right and would end in his regret. She knew beyond a doubt that she had fallen in love with him and had longed desperately to hear a like response from him, but he had never made a declaration and at last now she knew the reason why.

  "Oh, let us go to Boston," Fiona burst out, trying to hide her anguish. "And as soon as possible."

  "Ah, we should give Samantha a chance to be recovering," her mother answered gently. "But you surprise me, Daughter. I thought you did no' like the idea of leaving Giles. What, then, changed your mind?"

  Fiona drew a deep breath. "Remember I told you that Giles was taking me to the berrying? Well, today I met him… and Grace was hanging on his arm as though she owned him. She said—triumphantly—that Giles had promised long ago to take her, and when she reminded him, he agreed and suggested I go with his brother, Charles." Fiona's lips trembled, but she firmed them quickly. "I don't care. Charles is lots of fun, as well as cute." Her voice thickened. "Trouble is, I was starting to take Giles seriously, while all the while he… he…"

  "Aye, there was Grace." Her mother sighed. " 'Tis glad I am you're taking it so well. I won't say you will soon forget Giles. A fine young man he is in truth, and naught will make me gainsay that. Though he's drawn to you, 'tis as I feared, a new doctor needs a good dowry to set him up in business. Fiona, dear, we'll pack our clothes in a few days, bid everyone farewell, and take the sloop to Boston. We can stay with Samantha 'til we're settled, then find a wee cottage of our own, with a garden and a dog or cat. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "Yes, Mother." Fiona couldn't sound enthusiastic and leaned her head against her mother's shoulder while they both sat silently. Robins chirped and flew about, hens clucked, the one cow gave a drawn-out moan, reminding Fiona of the night they had arrived in Salem and thought dark spirits might be about. How glad she had been to see Giles again, although Grace had been possessive and unpleasant to them even then, hinting that they might be witches.

  "Whist, now, someone's coming in the gate," her mother exclaimed. "A very pretty young lady. Do you know her?"

  Fiona straightened up. "Oh, it's Sally Woods." She waved to the smiling girl who approached eagerly, a basket on her arm, a fringed shawl fluttering about her slender shoulders. She looked so bright and cheerful, Fiona felt her spirits lighten as she introduced her mother.

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Prescott." Sally beamed. "Fiona told me that you know the art of simpling, as I do. Would you care to accompany me on an herb-gathering expedition in the woods?"

  "Thank you, that I would, indeed Fiona has told me much about you. I'll just fetch my wee basket and a bonnet."

  As soon as they were alone, Sally asked, "I expect you will be going to the berrying tomorrow?"

  "Yes. With Charles."

  "Charles?" Sally raised her eyebrows. "I thought surely—that is—what about Giles? Can't he go? Oh, I imagine he has some patient scheduled."

  "He's taking Grace," Fiona burst out, gritting her teeth.

  "Grace?"

  "You're beginning to sound like a parrot my father once brought home from the South Seas."

  Sally didn't smile. "I don't understand. At my home the other night, he looked at you often and seemed extremely interested in anything yo
u said or did. I felt certain…"

  When Fiona didn't answer, Sally went on slowly, "Before he went away, Giles might have courted Grace, but I certainly didn't know about it. Of course, we were all very young, especially Grace and me. Five years ago, I was fifteen, and when I went to Giles in trouble, he was so good to me, so sweet, I would have married him if he had asked me. But he sailed away without a word about the future. I suppose he didn't know what it might hold for him, and afterward, when I met Oliver, I was glad. Oliver and I fell deep in love and he is wonderful to me." Her cheeks colored as though she dwelt on days of tender kindness and nights of rapturous romance.

  "I envy you," Fiona whispered, trying to hold back a tear and giving a quick swipe at her cheek. "Oh, Sally, Giles did ask me to the berrying and I said I would love to go and planned to pack a basket for just the two of us."

  Sally stared. "Then—then why did he change his mind? Did you two quarrel?"

  "No, he just said, sounding very curt, that he'd forgotten he had promised to take Grace and asked if I would go instead with his brother, Charles." Fiona tossed her head. "Well, naturally I agreed. I intend to have a good time with Charles, who is a delightful boy. I'll show Grace and Giles that I am certainly not pining."

  "Bravo! That's the best way to act. No use giving that Grace something to snicker about. Well, anyway, I'll see you there. Ah, here comes Mrs. Prescott. She looks so sweet and pretty—just like you, Fiona." With a light pat, Sally ran across the garden and walked away, chattering to Fiona's mother, who sent Fiona a keen glance and waved before she followed her sprightly young companion.

  Fiona settled down to weed her vegetable patch, glad to see that here, at least, something good was happening, the stalks getting tall and thick with feathery tops or tender green leaves. It had been a most disturbing day, and in spite of her brave words, she feared that tomorrow would be as bad… because tomorrow was the berrying.