The White Witch

by Barbara Cartland

  Flora shook her head.

  “I have no intention of marrying anyone until I really fall in love, and I mean the love that I have read so much about and which is very different from what I see happening around me.”

  The Marquis understood that she was expressing her innermost thoughts without really thinking of who was listening to her.

  “You surprise me,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I have always believed that young women like yourself start looking for the most important suitor and are determined to marry him, almost as soon as they have left the schoolroom.”

  Flora laughed.

  “You are thinking about the debutantes in London,” she said. “I have heard how the poor little things are just pushed up the aisle, having no idea of the difficulties of marriage or how they should handle a husband.”

  “And you, of course, know all about it,” the Marquis said sarcastically.

  He felt sure that she was only showing off, but Flora answered him quite seriously.

  “I have coped with dozens of matrimonial problems in this village and the villages around us. The girls come to me asking for a talisman which will make a man propose, or asking how they can capture one who is already looking in a different direction.”

  She sighed before she continued,

  “Then after their marriages they encounter further problems and because I can give them useful herbs, they expect me to give them my advice as well and they try to do exactly what I tell them to do.”

  The Marquis could only stare at her. Eventually he asked her,

  “How old are you?”

  “I was always told that is a rude question,” Flora retorted, “but if you are really interested, I shall be twenty-one next birthday.”

  “Then it is certainly high time you were married and starting to produce the large family you are planning.”

  Flora laughed.

  “As I have no one to organise me,” she said, “I can only be thankful that I am not being pushed up the aisle with some man who is eligible because he has money and is doubtless ambitious to be top of his profession.”

  She was speaking so scathingly that the Marquis could only smile.

  “You certainly do surprise me, Miss Flora, and now you have the task of persuading me – and I must say rather against my will – to open the school for which I suppose we shall also have to find teachers.”

  Flora looked at him with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

  “I have one good teacher already and two others in view, but of course, my Lord, they have to be paid and that, I can tell you, is something magic cannot do.”

  As they left the blue drawing room to decide on the room that Flora required for the pupils, the Marquis was laughing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Marquis spent another restless night.

  When he awoke he wondered how long he would continue to be so vividly aware of Locadi and to see her in his dreams no less vividly.

  The more he thought about her, the more he realised she was a very determined and shrewd woman in addition to the fact that she undoubtedly practiced witchcraft.

  She had made up her mind to marry him and he would have to be very astute to escape the trap she was setting for him.

  Once again he wished he was in the East where he could consult a Priest, a Fakir or a Shaman about his predicament.

  He was quite sure that if he consulted any of his friends in London they would simply laugh at him, adding that he had undoubtedly been drinking too much.

  He had however travelled enough to know that his apprehension was far from being just an illusion. Magic was something that was practiced in every Eastern country.

  He had been impressed yesterday when Flora showed him the room she had found in the castle that could serve as a temporary school.

  It was in fact the old squash racquet court which the Marquis had forgotten even existed. It had been built by an earlier owner of the castle and was then restored for his father when he was a boy, but allowed to fall into disrepair when he himself had not used it. The problem had been that he knew no one to play with.

  When Flora showed him the court attached to the East wing, he realised immediately that it would make an excellent schoolroom as it would not interfere in any way with the more precious parts of the castle.

  There was a door on the side of the house by which the children could enter and there was actually a place where they could wash their hands and hang up their coats.

  “It is very clever of you, Miss Flora, to have found the squash court,” he said. “I had almost forgotten it existed.”

  “I am going to beg you, my Lord, to let us have some curtains for the windows. I have already spoken to Mrs. Shepherd, who says she has exactly the right curtains put away in one of the attics.”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I will leave it in your very capable hands, Miss Flora,” he said, “and I can only hope that your protégés will not be too noisy.”

  “I am sure they will respect whatever you ask of them,” Flora said, “and as I have told you I have found two more teachers.”

  She looked at him anxiously as she spoke.

  He guessed that she was still worrying whether he would think so many teachers were too much of an expense.

  He had written a letter to the Vicar last night asking him to return to the village and had tempted him with the offer of a very much increased stipend, in fact larger than he had indicated to Flora.

  ‘It is just a question of money,’ he told himself cynically as he sealed the envelope. He thought the same now when Flora was worrying whether he could afford three teachers or not.

  He guessed that she was speaking cautiously because she was quite determined that he should give a big party.

  When he thought it over it seemed rather unnecessary.

  At the same time if it would help to wash away the unpleasantness that had been created between the castle and the village, then it would certainly be worthwhile.

  He thought that Potter’s death might convince them that he had behaved extraordinarily badly and they would appreciate that his tales of his Master’s meanness were nothing but lies.

  Equally a great number of people had suffered acutely and it would undoubtedly take them a long time to forget their hardship.

  The Marquis was determined today to call on his tenant farmers, but he then realised to his annoyance that he did not know their names.

  He felt it would be a mistake to ask Gower or any of the senior servants as they would expect him to know the names himself.

  He knew that the names must be written in the account books that Potter kept in his office, but the police were still going in and out. They were preparing to remove the body and it was not the moment for him to make an appearance.

  *

  Therefore once again he felt the need to ride to the Four Gables to find Flora. When he reached the house, the groom told him as before that Miss Flora was to found in the herb garden.

  The Marquis wondered why she should spend so much time there when she should be concentrating on more important matters.

  When he walked through the main gate of the herb garden he found that she was not alone. There were three children with her, two little girls and a small boy.

  She did not see the Marquis at first.

  He observed that she was showing the children different herbs and telling them what illnesses they could cure.

  He thought this was a great waste of time and walked down the narrow path towards Flora in an almost indignant manner.

  She now heard him coming and looked up.

  Then she whispered to the children so that when he reached them the little girls curtsied and the small boy bowed.

  “You are early, my Lord,” she greeted him, “I thought you would be out riding.”

  “I am going a little later,” the Marquis replied, “in fact I am on my way but I would like to talk to you first.”

  The way he spoke mad
e it obvious that he wanted to speak to her alone.

  “I tell you what you can do,” Flora said to the children. “You can go to the house and ask Mrs. Brownlow, whom you know, to give you some milk to drink and some of her gingerbread biscuits to eat.”

  The small boy made a whoop of joy,

  “I likes those gingerbread biscuits, miss, they’re scrumptious!”

  “I am sure Johnny, she could spare you two or three,” Flora suggested, “so hurry to the house and I will come and find you as soon as I can.”

  “You’ll not forget, Miss Flora,” one of the girls piped up, “that Mama wants some of your cream for the burn on her hand.”

  “I will have it all ready for you to take home with you when you leave,” Flora promised.

  “Mama said I was to thank you very much,” the child said.

  “You can thank me when you receive it.”

  The two little girls ran down the path hand in hand, but Johnny stayed behind for a moment.

  “You’ve not given me anything, Miss Flora, for the cut on my hand! It hurts when I touches it.”

  “I have something prepared for you in the house and you shall not leave without it.”

  He smiled at her and ran after the two girls.

  Flora looked up at the Marquis as if to ask, ‘and now what do you want?’

  “Are you really teaching those small children to understand herbs?” he asked. “Surely it is a waste of your time.”

  “I think they enjoy listening to whatever I have to tell them,” Flora answered, “and I am sure, although you will not believe me, that this knowledge will help them all through their lives.”

  The Marquis thought that this was an absurd exaggeration but it would be rude of him to say so.

  Instead he said,

  “I have come to see you because I have forgotten the names of my tenant farmers, and it is not convenient for me at the moment to examine the ledgers at Potter’s house.”

  “I can understand that,” Flora said, “and of course I will give the names to you. We will have to go back to the house so that I can write them down.”

  They walked towards the gate and then on an impulse the Marquis said,

  “You talk so much about the good that herbs can do, but what about the bad ones which are often used in the East to harm or kill an enemy.”

  “I suppose that does happen,” Flora responded quietly. “Mine is the white magic in which we all want to believe, but there is also black magic.”

  “And what are the evil herbs called?” the Marquis asked.

  Flora did not speak for a moment as if she was thinking and then she said,

  “I suppose the most ancient of those plants is the mandrake. But it can be both good and bad. In fact the mystics called it the love-hate plant.”

  “What do you mean by that?” the Marquis asked.

  “The mandrake is used in black magic and at the same time it is endowed with mysterious powers against demonic procession.”

  The Marquis drew in his breath. In a few sentences he had learnt, so he believed, exactly what he wanted to know.

  If the mandrake would prevent Locadi from inflicting demonic possession on him, then he must possess the mandrake.

  “I should like to see a mandrake,” he said aloud, “because to be honest I have no idea what one would look like.”

  “I think most people would say the same, as the mandrake is shrouded in dark mystery and the supernatural.”

  “You must tell me more about it.”

  “Why are you suddenly so interested?” Flora asked. “I thought you did not approve of herbs.”

  “Now you are making things up. I do not disapprove, I only rather doubt that they are as effective as some people believe. As I have already told you that I prefer if I am ill to consult a doctor.”

  “Which of course I hope you never will be, but it would be a great triumph if the doctor failed and I succeeded in making you well again, as I have done with your grandmother.”

  “I was thinking before I came here,” the Marquis said, “that it was really the fresh air and Mrs. Bowles’s good food. Anyway we were talking about the mandrake, so please tell me all about it.”

  “It was originally Greek,” Flora started, “and was known as the Plant of Circe, who used it in the magic brews by which she turned men into swine.”

  The Marquis gave an exclamation.

  “I suppose I remember learning that when I read my first books on Greece, but I had no idea it was the mandrake that she used.”

  “It was certainly very effective,” Flora asserted “but you should read what Papa quoted about it in one of his books.”

  “What is that?” the Marquis enquired.

  “It was said, and these are the exact words, as near as I can remember them, ‘never or very seldom to be found growing naturally, but under a gallows where the matter that hath fallen from the dead body hath given its root the shape of a man, the head of a woman and the substance of a female plant’.”

  “It certainly sounds most unpleasant,” the Marquis commented dryly.

  “It is also recommended that the mandrake should be dug up at midnight if it is to be really effective.”

  By this time they had left the herb garden and were walking across the lawn.

  The Marquis was wondering, if the mandrake was as effective as Flora believed it to be, where could he find such a plant?

  He had the idea that she would not have permitted it to grow in her garden, even though it could help people like himself who were threatened by diabolical black magic.

  Because he was afraid she would read his thoughts, he quickly talked about something else.

  When they reached the house Flora wrote a list of the names of the farmers on the various farms he owned.

  As the Marquis took the list from her he was still ruminating about the mandrake.

  Without really considering the question he suggested,

  “As you obviously know these people better than I do, why do you not come with me?”

  Flora looked at him in surprise.

  “Do you really want me?” she asked.

  “I think you might be very useful,” the Marquis replied.

  There was a hint of laughter in the way he spoke as he thought she was fishing for a compliment and he was not prepared to give it to her.

  However she answered him seriously,

  “If that is true, then of course I am willing to come and help you make amends for the disgraceful way they have been treated by Potter.”

  She looked at the clock and added,

  “You will have to give me five minutes to change into my riding habit, and will you be kind enough to tell the groom who is holding your horse to saddle Sunshine for me?”

  The Marquis felt that in a way he was being made use of but still obeyed.

  Then sooner than he expected Flora came running down the stairs and out through the front door to where her horse had been brought to join his.

  “I left a message for Papa, saying that I might be away for some time,” she told him.

  The Marquis lifted her into the saddle.

  “I suppose,” she continued, “you appreciate that we may have to go hungry or eat luncheon at an Inn, where I can assure you they serve delicious bread and cheese if nothing else.”

  The Marquis laughed,

  “I think I might be able to endure that for one day. At the same time it would be more pleasant to return to the castle.”

  Flora did not say anything more as they rode off.

  The Marquis thought, although he was reluctant to admit it, that it was nice to have a companion on what was likely to be a long ride to the far corners of his estate.

  *

  By the time they had visited three farms, it was already one o’clock and Flora said she was feeling hungry.

  They were a long way from the castle and there were two more farms for them to visit, not far from where they were at the moment.

&nbs
p; The Marquis looked at his watch and as he put it back into his waistcoat pocket, he said,

  “Very well, you win. Now where is this ancient Inn that serves such excellent bread and cheese?”

  “If the bread is stale and the cheese is sour,” Flora replied, “I shall be prepared to apologise but the place I was thinking of is only about half a mile from here.”

  “Good, please lead the way.”

  It did not take them long to travel the short distance.

  When the Marquis saw the Inn, it was just as he had expected. Black and white, very old and named the Dog and Duck.

  The proprietor, an elderly man who was going bald, was overcome at seeing the Marquis.

  “Tis a real honour, my Lord,” he said. “I hears as how you had returned from abroad and I never expected you’d be a calling here.”

  “We are both very hungry.” the Marquis declared, “so you must give us anything you have ready and we would like to be served sitting outside in the sunshine.”

  “Of course, my Lord,” the proprietor said. “and the Missus’ll do her best, but ye can’t expect miracles when things have been real hard.”

  He did not wait for the Marquis to ask what the hardship had been, but carried on,

  “If them farmers aren’t given seed they’ll have no crops, and if they’ve no crops they’ve no money to spend with me.”

  The Marquis knew that there could no argument against this logic, so he merely said, “everything is being changed since my return home and that is why I am calling on all the farms.”

  The old man looked at him suspiciously as if he thought he might be lying, before saying,

  “If that be the truth, then God bless your Lordship.”

  “I promise you that it is,” the Marquis replied, “and in the meantime, until things improve, I will remit your rent and in six months time we can talk about it again.”

  The landlord of the Dog and Duck stared at him as if he could not understand what he was hearing.

  Then he ran into the kitchen shouting for his wife, bringing her back with him in a few seconds.

  As she curtsied to the Marquis he told her what he had been promised.

  “I just don’t believe it,” the woman quivered, as the tears ran down her cheeks.

  “You’ve saved us,” she cried, “I were thinking we might have to go to the workhouse.”