The White Witch

by Barbara Cartland

  “How extraordinary,” Lady Carson exclaimed.

  “His family still lived in the castle,” the Dowager resumed, “but every night and most of the day he stayed in his little hut or knelt praying in the Chapel.”

  “What an amazing story!” Lady Carson said, “I would love to see the Chapel. Is it very dilapidated?”

  “Not at all,” the Dowager replied. “At least it was not a year ago. It has always been looked after by the head gardener’s wife, and I believe, although I have not asked since I have been here this time, that she even puts flowers on the altar every week.”

  Flora knew exactly what the Dowager was saying as she had visited the Chapel in the shrubbery several times.

  It had been designed by one of the finest architects of the time, who had concentrated on the carvings, the stained-glass windows and the very beautiful altar made from marble brought all the way from Italy.

  “Do you ever hold a service there now?” Locadi asked the Marquis.

  He shook his head.

  “We have our larger Chapel here in the castle which can hold all the staff. They also go to the Parish Church, which is just at the end of the park on festive occasions.”

  He paused before he added,

  “And of course the family all go to the larger Chapel to be buried.”

  “And also I suppose,” Locadi said softly, “to be married?”

  The Marquis pretended he had not heard the question.

  He turned to ask Lady Carson some question about their horses and if her son was a good rider.

  “We are all hoping that, because you own the best land for the occasion that you will arrange a point-to-point or a steeplechase,” she replied. “Or is that too much to ask so soon?”

  “Not at all,” the Marquis answered. “I shall certainly consider your suggestion and I am sure it is something I would enjoy myself.”

  “And which you will undoubtedly win, my Lord,” Harry Carson chipped in. “So you ought to be handicapped!”

  “I will think about that,” the Marquis responded, “but as I shall have to present the prizes, I will be forced to eliminate myself even if I am the winner!”

  They were still talking about horses when dinner came to an end.

  The Dowager rose saying to Lady Carson,

  “I think the ladies should leave the gentlemen to their port and I hope they will not be too long before joining us.”

  “We will not keep you waiting, Grandmama,” the Marquis volunteered.

  The Dowager led the way back into the drawing room. Flora walked to the window.

  She knew the Marquis had given orders that the fountain which was just outside the drawing room should be turned on and thought how lovely it would look in the moonlight.

  She was not mistaken.

  There was a full moon that night and the sky was filled with glittering stars. They were all reflected in the water being flung high into the air from the fountain.

  It was much more impressive than the fountain in Flora’s herb garden.

  The spray from the fountain made her feel, as her own did, that the water was like prayers rising towards the sky, hoping to be heard.

  Then suddenly a voice beside her said,

  “Tell me, Miss Romilly, how long have you known the Marquis?”

  It was Locadi who was speaking.

  Flora knew instinctively that the question was somehow barbed.

  As the older woman spoke Flora could feel vibrations of resentment and dislike coming from her.

  “I have not known him for long, although my father knew his father,” Flora replied. “But I have been able to help him a little in repairing some of the damage that was done whilst he was away abroad.”

  “I should have thought there were plenty of other people to do that for him,” Locadi commented tartly.

  Flora did not reply, and after a moment Locadi continued,

  “Perhaps I should let you into a secret. His Lordship and I are engaged to be married, but I have been in mourning for the past year and it will look disloyal to my late husband if I married again too quickly.”

  “I understand and of course you have my good wishes.”

  “I will make it very clear,” Locadi resumed, “that Ivor belongs to me, and therefore it would be a mistake for you to waste your time running after him.”

  There was a short spiteful tone in her voice and Flora stiffened.

  “I hope,” she said, “that I would never run after any man and certainly not one who is engaged to another woman.”

  “I am glad to hear that you are so sensible, but do not forget that what I have told you is a secret, and we must wait a little while before Ivor’s family is told and of course mine. Just leave Ivor alone.”

  She snarled as she turned away and walked back to the sofa to join the Dowager.

  She sat down beside her and started to gush in an exaggerated fashion over the castle.

  “It must have broken your heart,” she said to the Dowager, “when your husband died and you had to leave here. I always think it is so sad that the widows of noblemen lose not only their husbands but their homes as well.”

  “I was so glad for my son to inherit the castle,” the Dowager replied quietly, “and as I enjoy being in London I spend more time there than in the Dower House, which I find rather dull.”

  “Of course you do,” Locadi agreed, “and because you are so beautiful, as your grandson has already told me, I am sure there are plenty of gentlemen in London to pay you compliments and of course escort you wherever you wish to go.”

  The Dowager made a brief response and started to talk to Lady Carson about the country.

  A short while later the gentlemen returned to join the ladies.

  The Marquis found Locadi sitting silently and looking sour.

  Flora was at the window still watching the fountain.

  He wanted to join her but knew it would be a mistake.

  He remembered that when he was in London, Locadi was jealous of any woman he talked to whilst he was with her, and if he admired someone she immediately pulled them to pieces.

  ‘It’s absurd to think that she might be jealous of Flora,’ he tried to tell himself.

  At the same time he knew she would be resentful and in consequence very offensive. He therefore talked to Fredrick Romilly about his book.

  It was still quite early when the Dowager announced that she thought she should go to bed.

  “It is my first day up,” she said, “and although I have enjoyed every minute of the evening, I am determined to be well enough to watch the fireworks on Saturday night.”

  “Are you having fireworks?” Lady Carson asked the Marquis. “Oh, please may I come? I do love fireworks and I have only seen really good ones once or twice in my life?”

  “And I would like to come too,” Harry said. The Marquis laughed.

  “The more the merrier. Of course you can all come. I shall be delighted to invite you all.”

  He turned to his grandmother.

  “Incidentally,” he said, “Gower tells me that in the coach-house he has found the boat that was lit up on my twenty-first birthday. Do you remember it?”

  “Of course I do,” the Dowager replied. “Can you use it again?”

  “I have every intention of doing so,” the Marquis said. “It shall be lit up for all the small boys who will think it is a fairy ship that will carry them to unknown parts of the world.”

  “Is that what you believed when you were young?” Flora asked.

  “Yes funnily enough it was,” the Marquis admitted.

  “And that was why later you wanted to go exploring when you grew up.” Flora remarked.

  “I think really,” he replied, “that it was a desire to get away from everything that made me unhappy, and also to see for myself the world outside my own estate.”

  Flora laughed.

  “You certainly succeeded,” she said. “Who could imagine that you could travel to so many exciting
places which I have only read about in Papa’s books.”

  “One day perhaps you will visit them yourself,” the Marquis suggested.

  Flora gave a sigh.

  “I do hope so, but I expect it will just be in my dreams.”

  The Marquis thought that was what he would like to be sure of dreaming tonight. Instead of which he forced his thoughts to a standstill.

  He was suddenly afraid of what would happen when his guests left and he would be left alone with Locadi.

  Mr. Romilly was already saying goodbye.

  “It has been such a delightful evening,” he said to the Marquis, “and I hope that you will dine with us one night soon.”

  “I shall be delighted,” the Marquis replied.

  The Chief Constable made a similar invitation and Lady Carson added,

  “You will see us on Saturday. Are you quite certain you do not mind us all coming to watch the fireworks?”

  “I am charmed that you should do so,” the Marquis said, “and I hope they will not disappoint you.”

  “I am sure I shall be thrilled with them,” Lady Carson answered.

  The Marquis took them to the front door and escorted them into their carriages.

  Then he gave his grandmother his arm and helped her up the stairs.

  “I hope you are not too tired, Grandmama?” he asked.

  “I have enjoyed every moment,” the Dowager said. “To tell you the truth, dear boy, I am sick to death of being alone in bed.”

  The Marquis laughed and kissed her.

  “I will give a dozen parties for you before you leave and there is certainly no hurry for you to do so.”

  “I have no intention of leaving until Flora says I am completely cured. “That dear girl has worked miracles on me and I feel a different person since I came to the castle.”

  “You can stay as long as you like, Grandmama,” the Marquis replied. “I love having you here.”

  He kissed her again.

  Then as he left her with her lady’s maid, he noticed as he looked downstairs that Locadi was just crossing the hall.

  That meant she was coming up to bed and he knew exactly what she was expecting.

  The Marquis turned and hurried to his own room where his valet was waiting for him.

  Only when he was undressed and wearing his long black robe did the man say,

  “Is there anything else you require, my Lord?”

  “No, thank you,” the Marquis replied. “But please call me at six thirty. I wish to ride before breakfast, and you know there will be a great deal for me to do tomorrow.”

  “There will be indeed, my Lord,” the valet agreed.

  He left the room and the Marquis wondered desperately what he should do.

  He knew that Locadi would be expecting him to visit her room, and if he did not she would undoubtedly come to his.

  ‘I cannot do it,’ he thought, ‘I cannot face her and besides – ’

  He did not have to put it into words that he no longer desired her. In fact all he wanted was to avoid her.

  He thought that if he slept in another room it would be impossible for her to find him, but then he was not so sure as she was using black magic.

  He feared that, as she could direct her thoughts to him, she might in the same way be able to divine where he was sleeping.

  In any event it would be degrading to be sleeping in a strange room while she roamed from room to room looking for him.

  “What can I do? What the Devil can I do?”

  The Marquis spoke the words aloud.

  As he said them, he knew that Locadi was thinking of him and willing him towards her.

  It was then that he was struck with a sudden idea.

  If Locadi was using black magic which was evil, the only antidote would be something good.

  For a moment he thought of riding over to see Flora and asking for her help, but then he told himself that was impossible. She must certainly not become involved in anything like his present situation.

  She is pure, good and, he suspected, very innocent.

  How could she understand women like Locadi who aroused passions in a man that were purely physical? And yet had nothing to do with the spiritual side of love.

  ‘Good and bad! Bad and good!’

  The words seemed to repeat themselves in his brain.

  He conjectured that if he could not find white magic to fight the black, he must turn to something stronger than either of them.

  Time was passing.

  He was convinced that if he did not go to Locadi very shortly, she would come to him.

  He felt sure she was just waiting like a wild animal crouching before it could strike.

  She would realise very soon that his valet would have left him and the lights in that part of the house would be almost extinguished.

  There would be no one to see her moving stealthily along the corridor towards the Master suite.

  Swiftly the Marquis picked up a pillow and the eiderdown from his bed. Putting them over one arm and carrying a candle, he quietly left his room.

  There was a secondary staircase which led to the ground floor and a night footman was on duty in the hall.

  There was however no one to see him as he turned along a corridor which passed the drawing room and the study. As this corridor was not used at night, there were no lights except for the candle the Marquis was carrying.

  Finally at the end of the passage he came to a door of Gothic design which led into the Chapel.

  As he opened the door he was conscious of an atmosphere of sanctity and holiness which had been missing in the part of the castle he had just left.

  The very beautiful Chapel was large enough to hold twenty people. It had been built in the age of Charles II and the carvings on the pews depicted angels and the coat of arms of the Wyns.

  There was a gold cross studied with jewels on the altar and six tall candles in gold candlesticks.

  Whether the Marquis was in residence or not, it had always been traditional that there should be flowers in the Chapel.

  There were white flowers in pots on either side of the altar.

  The family pew itself was long and wide and was built to seat four people comfortably, or more if they squeezed up.

  It boasted comfortable well-padded cushions on the seats which were covered in red damask that matched the carpet which ran from the door to the altar.

  The Marquis removed the key from outside the Chapel door and shutting the door behind him, he locked it.

  Then he arranged his pillow on the pew and lay down spreading the eiderdown over him.

  He had slept in far more uncomfortable places on his travels.

  In fact he thought he was very comfortable.

  When he closed his eyes he was quite certain that Locadi would not be able to penetrate his mind here in the Chapel, nor would she be able to intrude into his dreams.

  As he lay there he was thinking of Flora and her herb garden.

  The village people might think she practiced witchcraft, but they had no idea of what it meant in reality.

  He had seen Locadi’s eyes looking at him during dinner and afterwards when they were sitting in the drawing room. It was almost as if she was physically pulling him towards her.

  However hard he tried not to recognise her, he felt as if her powers were engulfing him.

  He blew out the candle and closing his eyes he prayed as he had not prayed for a long time.

  It was quite a simple prayer.

  He asked God to protect him from all that was evil, wrong and wicked. He also asked God to help him bring happiness and prosperity to his people and peace to himself.

  He did not pretend that it was not his own fault that he had become so involved with Locadi.

  He now believed that he needed a Power greater than himself to save him from what he accepted to be an evil and wicked snare.

  ‘Please God help me,’ he was praying over and over again until he fell asleep.


  CHAPTER SIX

  The Marquis was woken by the rising sun percolating through the stained glass windows of the Chapel.

  He realised at once that he had slept peacefully and had not been disturbed by Locadi either in his dreams or in his thoughts.

  He raised himself off the pew, stretched and picked up his pillow, eiderdown and candle.

  Then as he looked at the altar he said a quiet prayer of gratitude that God had protected him during the night.

  He climbed up the side staircase to his bedroom, where the clock showed that it would be another half-an hour before he was due to be called and thought that he would lie on his bed for a while.

  He turned to look at his bed and recognised that someone had slept in it.

  He knew exactly what had happened. Locadi had, as he expected, come from her room to his and waited for him.

  He supposed that she had only returned to her room at dawn to prevent his valet finding her.

  ‘At least I won that round,’ he thought to himself. Even so he was fearful of what the day might bring forth.

  At six-thirty exactly his valet called him. When he was dressed he walked downstairs to visit to the stables, as he always preferred to go himself rather than order his horse brought round to him first thing in the morning.

  Sometimes he would change his mind as to which horse he would ride and there were still some which he had not tried out since his return to the castle.

  He was about to walk to the door nearest to the stables when a footman came hurrying towards him.

  “Miss Romilly’s waiting for your Lordship in the estate office, my Lord.”

  The Marquis raised his eyebrows.

  He wondered what could have gone wrong and then thought that Flora must want to consult him about the plans for the party. But at this hour in the morning? He knew that today they would be very busy directing the workmen who would erect the tents. There would also be those who would set up the fireworks and yet another firm from whom he had ordered the tables and chairs.

  He walked to the estate office which was actually on his way towards the stables.

  As he entered Flora was standing at the writing-desk Mr. Potter had always used.

  On the desk stood what looked like a large plant covered in wrapping.

  “Good morning, Miss Flora,” the Marquis greeted her, “you are very early.”