by Kari Edgren
“What is it?” Henry demanded.
“It’s a witch’s bottle,” she said. “And by the look of that dark hair, it’s been made to ward against Mistress Kilbrid.”
The room grew deathly still as Mrs. Ryan’s words slowly sank in, becoming a part of our understanding. The rest of the servants had gone to bed by now, and the only noise came from a large gilded clock above the fireplace. Henry spoke first, breaking the heavy silence, while I struggled to find my tongue.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he said, keeping his eyes steadfast on Mrs. Ryan. “Certainly you are mistaken.”
“No, sir,” Mrs. Ryan countered. “I’ve seen plenty of the kind back in the old country, and there’s no mistaking it. Upon my life, it’s a witch’s bottle if ever I saw one.”
Henry stood at my side, a hand resting protectively on my shoulder. “Very well,” he said. “Then tell us what it is and why it was buried under the front walkway?”
“To make a proper witch’s bottle the flask should be made of bellarmine. If that can’t be found, clear glass or even pottery can be used instead, but I don’t think this matters so much as the stuff inside.”
“And what is that?” Henry eyed the bottle suspiciously.
“To have the proper effect, the flask must be filled with the witch’s urine and then either her hair or nail clippings, whichever can be gotten most easily.”
It hardly took any time for the equation to come together. If the bottle was made to protect against me, then someone thought I was a witch and that was my hair and urine. Ick!
My primary concern probably should have been that someone thought me a witch, but having the contents of my chamber pot so clearly displayed seemed of higher importance at the moment. “That is utterly disgusting,” I said with a fair amount of dignity. “Please discard it at once.”
“Wait, Selah,” Henry said. “We need more information first. Mrs. Ryan, what is that bottle supposed to accomplish?”
“It’s a powerful ward to protect against witches. The flask is most often buried near doorways, like the one you found, to break a witch’s spells and stop her from entering the house. My grandmother hung one inside of a chimney once to block a witch from coming in that way.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake! The witch’s bottle and its alleged powers offended the human intelligence on so many levels, I didn’t know where to begin with my indignation. Even worse, that someone like Mrs. Ryan could believe such rubbish.
“And how do you know this was made against Selah?” Henry asked next.
“There’s no one else living at Brighmor, or even near about, who has dark hair that curls like my mistress’s. Miss Goodwin’s is straight as a stick and Agnes the washerwoman has more frizzle than curl. The hair in that bottle belongs to Mistress Kilbrid to be sure. Now what we need to be asking, no offense to you, sir,” she hastily added, “is why someone is making a bottle to begin with. There’s no rhyme or reason in doing something so vile against my mistress.”
Henry and I exchanged a quick glance, both guessing at the culprit. But Nathan couldn’t have been working alone and must have had an accomplice with access to my bedchamber.
“Mrs. Ryan, who have you assigned to empty the chamber pots?” Henry asked, as though reading my very thoughts.
“Oh, goodness, it could be either of the chambermaids depending on what needs to be done. Most days though, Mary Finney is in charge of cleaning Mistress Kilbrid’s room.”
“And does Mary fix your hair each morning?” Henry asked me. “Would she also have access to your hairbrush and combs?”
“Mary would never act against me,” I protested. Though certainly not the brightest creature, Mary was a very sweet girl. I couldn’t imagine her harboring ill intent of any kind. “I’ve known her for a year and we’ve always gotten along perfectly well.”
“It’s true,” Mrs. Ryan confirmed. “Mary doesn’t seem the type of girl who would do something like this. All the same, I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
“You will speak with every servant who has access to Selah’s room,” Henry added. “If Mary is innocent, then someone else living under this roof is up to no good.”
“I’ll see to it first thing tomorrow, sir,” Mrs. Ryan promised. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be turning in unless there’s anything else you’ll be needing tonight.”
I wanted to be alone with Henry, to further discuss the situation. “We’re fine, thank you, Mrs. Ryan,” I said. She gave a small curtsy and then left the room, taking the nasty bottle with her.
We listened in silence as her footsteps retreated through the house toward the servants’ quarters. “Well, this is a fine kettle of fish,” I said once we were alone. “To think, one of my own servants has been conspiring against me with that fiend, Nathan Crowley. Whoever it is ought to be pitched head first into the pond this very moment.”
Henry knelt down in front of me. “We’ve nothing to do till morning when Mrs. Ryan has had a chance to question the servants. Needless worry will get us nowhere, and we’ve more important issues to deal with tonight.”
“More important than witch’s bottles and two-faced servants?”
“Yes, of greater importance even than those,” he said, with a slight smile that told me he was up to something.
“Don’t leave me in suspense. Pray tell what could possibly need our attention above a malicious thief sneaking about, stealing my...personal effects.” This sounded more dignified than hair and urine.
“Your toe,” he replied.
“You can’t be serious? My toe is of no consequence in light of these other offenses.”
“Who takes care of Selah Kilbrid, the most skilled healer in all the Colonies, when she’s been hurt?” His brows rose in question, but he forged on before I could answer. “Your foot can hardly bear weight and needs to be properly tended tonight. Now, if you’ll be so kind and accompany me to the apothecary there will be no need for further persuasion.”
He might be right, but the prospect of limping all that distance was daunting, especially with my bedroom so much closer. “It’s not so bad. I’ll just take care of it in my room.” I stood slowly, making sure not to put any undue pressure on my sore foot.
Thinking the matter settled, I turned to hobble away. The next instant my feet left the ground and I found myself in his arms. “What are you doing?” I gasped.
His eyes glinted with a mix of determination and mischief. “Being more persuasive. Now take one of those candles so we’ll have a better time of it.”
His arms were like iron, and squirm as I might there would be no easy escape. Deciding to make the best of the situation while sparing myself from an undignified struggle, I grabbed a candle to light our way. “On second thought, I’ve reconsidered. A trip to the apothecary is an excellent idea after all.”
“I knew you would see reason, with the right amount of persuasion.”
“Yes, you have been most convincing in a brute force sort of way,” I laughed. “Do you actually have any experience with doctoring, or should I expect more of the same when we get there?”
“I’ve knowledge enough to find your toe and tie a bandage around it.”
“How reassuring,” I teased.
Once in the apothecary, he set me down on the wooden table rather than the floor, leaving my feet to dangle freely in the air. “What will I be needing?” he asked.
“Water, to start, from that smaller pot there.” I pointed toward the fireplace. “And a salve would be nice, from one of those jars on the far end of the second shelf. You’ll also need a linen towel and some bandages.”
While I sat watching, Henry collected all the items and set them together next to me on the table. He then carried over the chair and placed it directly in front of where I was sitting. Instead of taking a seat, he tur
ned around and put his back to me. “Please remove your stocking.”
At any other time I would have been mortified, but under the circumstances, it seemed a perfectly normal request. Keeping an eye on his back lest he be tempted to turn too soon, I kicked off my shoe and reached up beneath my skirts to untie the garter that held my white cotton stocking in place. With the tension released, I neatly rolled it down, spying a nice spot of blood on the toe. Fortunately, there were no snags or rips to be seen. “Ready,” I said, once I had smoothed my dress back into place.
Henry turned back around and sat down in the chair. “Let’s see what you’ve done.” He lifted my foot just below eye level to better evaluate the damage. “The nail of your big toe is split partway down the middle. There’s a fair chance you’ll lose it.”
“Brilliant,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.
He began to carefully feel for broken bones, starting at my toes and slowly moving his hands along my foot to my ankle. He was so focused on his work, I thought he might continue right up my calf, but he stopped and looked up at me. “Can you move your toe?” he asked.
“I think so.” I wiggled it the best I could, though its usual range was severely limited.
“It’s been sprained and is beginning to swell, but there are no broken bones so far as I can tell.” Having made an official diagnosis, he set to tending my wounds accordingly, asking me to pass the necessary items.
My toe felt much better under his care, the throbbing turned into more of a dull ache, and I began to relax as he rubbed my foot with the salve. It was really only needed on the broken nail and around my toe, but he very gently rubbed it into my arch and heel, causing me to sigh contentedly. His fingers felt so good I wanted to remove my other stocking and have that foot rubbed as well. Before I could work up the courage to ask, he tied the bandage and wiped his hands clean.
“All done,” he said, standing up. “How does it feel?”
“Wonderful. I don’t think I could have done a better job myself.”
“Let’s see how you do with a little weight.” He took me by the waist and lifted me from the table.
Back on the ground, I put some pressure on my foot. Finding it tolerable, I tried standing with equal measure. When a good deal of the former pain returned, I shifted back to the one foot. “I’m sure it will be greatly improved by morning,” I assured him. “There’s a crutch over by the door that I can use for tonight.”
He stood very near with his hands still on my waist to keep me steady. “I’ll carry you upstairs so you don’t cause any more damage,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “Though I don’t believe we’re finished here yet.”
Surprised by his change of tone, I glanced up at his face to find him staring at me with unguarded desire. Meeting my eyes, his grip tightened and a small tremor passed through my body as he bent his head, drawing so close our lips nearly touched.
There were a million reasons why we needed to stop before things progressed any further, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall even one. My body began to tremble for want of him, and the only thing I knew with certainty was how much I needed him to kiss me. Responding to my wishes, he moved one hand to my back, pressing me against him, and I closed my eyes ready to yield.
The moment his lips brushed mine, a fire burst to life inside me, making my blood burn and my skin prickle excitedly. Having never experienced this level of intimacy, I was ill prepared for such an intense physical response. A warm tide spread through my body, starting in my core and moving unbidden along a familiar pathway to my hands. His desire flowed into me, a desire so intense it took hold of my senses. Somewhere in the far depths of my mind, a voice cried out to stop. I ignored it, wrapped my arms around his neck, heedless of what secrets were about to be revealed.
Henry deepened the kiss, and my body turned molten. Fire played on my fingertips, begging to move forward. Brushing one hand along the back of his neck, my last strand of reason began to unravel when he drew back his head and snuffed the candle.
“Someone’s awake,” he said, his voice unsteady.
I held onto him, unconcerned if all of Hopewell was awake so long as they left us alone. Footsteps passed through the hallway, followed by the soft click of the servants’ door.
“Well, whoever it is, they’ve just left the house,” I said, not yet grasping the significance of the situation.
We listened for another minute when Henry reached up and took my hands from his neck. “It could be the servant who betrayed you. I’m going to see. Wait here until I get back.” He moved like a cat in the dark and left the room before I had a chance to fully register what he was doing.
Left alone, the last few minutes hit me with the force of an iron shovel. My knees gave out and I sank into the chair, dangerously close to losing my breath. The roving servant played little in my thoughts, except how the interruption had saved me from disaster at the last possible moment. As the warmth slowly receded from my arms and legs and moved back to my core, a sudden dizziness swept over me, and I dropped my head between my knees to keep from fainting.
Oh, dear Lord...
While staring aimlessly at the dark floor, I forced slow measured breaths through my nose. What happened to me? I had only ever experienced such a sensation in the process of healing a patient, and then, from years of training and experience, it was always safely controlled. But tonight, it had come out of nowhere. Overtaken by desire, I had nearly let it pass unhindered into Henry. Thinking about what he might have done in response to an unexpected rush of fire made me shudder. At that very instant, he would have known I wasn’t normal, that maybe I wasn’t even entirely human.
“You stupid girl!” I muttered into the darkness.
Henry was my greatest ally against Nathan Crowley, and I had just come unfathomably close to trading his help for certain condemnation. Not to mention the otherworldly consequences for breaking yet another law by revealing my identity in a fit of passion.
When the dizziness started to fade, I straightened in the chair and gazed toward the one window in my apothecary. Despite living amongst humans all my life, and being partly one myself, I had never before felt such disparity between our kinds as I did right now. Even the confrontation with Nathan on the road to Brighmor hadn’t left me feeling so estranged from all of humankind.
Tears burned in my eyes, and without thinking, I traced one finger across the line of my lips. On several occasions, my mother had warned that it would be too difficult to hide my gift from a husband. But in all that time, she’d failed to explain how just one kiss could kill me.
Pushing up from the chair, I hobbled over to the door in search of the crutch. Henry would be back soon and quite possibly hoping to pick up where we had left off. By then I would be safely upstairs, trying my hardest to forget how much I had enjoyed the feel of his mouth on mine.
Back in my room, I undressed down to my shift and crawled into bed, opting to take the coward’s route by faking sleep rather than having to face him again so soon. The morning would suffice to hear whatever information he had gained, once I was rested and not at risk of shaking all over if he stood too near.
A good hour must have passed before he finally came up the steps. I curled up on my side, intentionally turning my back to the door. He knocked softly and receiving no reply, opened the door just enough to see that I was in bed. For several minutes, he stood staring at my back while I worked to keep my breathing slow and steady.
“Good night, Selah,” he whispered into the dark. He then pulled the door closed and crossed the hall to his own room.
Chapter Ten
The Tenth Command
The next day I stayed in my chamber under the pretext that my toe needed time to heal rather than being further aggravated by tromping up and down the stairs. In truth, I hadn’t yet managed to banish last night from my thoughts, and
so opted for the next best option of avoiding Henry’s company for as long as possible. This plan worked until mid-morning when a series of raps sounded on the door.
“Come in,” I called, thinking it to be Mary returning with the tea I’d requested.
Nerves jumped beneath my skin when Henry entered instead, a tray precariously balanced between his chest and one arm. Setting the tray on the bed, he nudged it close to me, and then sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“How is the patient this morning?”
A deep blush crept up my neck. “Very well, thank you.” I forced a shaky smile. “Did you discover anything last night? I must have fallen asleep by the time you returned.”
He gave me an odd look before turning his attention to the teapot. “Whoever left last night started toward the road. I barely caught sight of her skirts when she heard me coming and slipped into the adjacent woods. I searched for an hour without further sign of her.” Tipping the pot, he filled one cup with the steaming brown liquid. “And I’m afraid Mrs. Ryan has equally poor news. After interviewing the maids, she has reported that they have each denied any knowledge of the bottle, or who might have made it.”
“Then one of them is lying.”
A generous spoonful of sugar went into the cup next, same as I would have done. “I believe you’re right. But without more evidence there’s little to be done other than keep our eyes open for now.”
I frowned at the idea.
“Don’t worry, the culprit will reveal herself sooner or later.” He handed me the cup, which I gratefully accepted, tilting it toward my mouth for a small sip. “And we’ve something else to discuss.”
Hot tea hit the back of my throat. I gasped and fell straight into a coughing fit. More tea splashed over the rim of the cup, and Henry grabbed it from my hand, putting a linen napkin in its place.
I held the napkin to my mouth until the coughing subsided. Henry remained silent, watching me, and I dropped my gaze to the tray. “But you’ve already answered the questions I had from last night,” I babbled in a desperate attempt to avert any mention of our kiss. “I...I don’t believe we’ve anything more to discuss right now.”