In Fallen Woods

by R N Merle

  ‘I will.’ replied Darklin, giving Mrs Day a shy smile as she left. She fleetingly wondered what Gressyl would say when she got back. The last two days had passed in a kind of dream. All the things that had happened, all the things that she had learned. Darklin was left with the realisation that she must change her ways. Mrs Day had shown her a new path, and it was up to her to follow it.

  Darklin returned to Shadows End the following afternoon. As she walked into the garden, she saw Bess weeding. As soon as Bess noticed her, a look of relief passed over Bess’ face. She rose from her knees, and hugged Darklin.

  ‘Where were you? You’ve been gone for days, I was worried!’ Bess said, gently tugging on a lock of Darklin’s hair in chastisement.

  Darklin relaxed as Bess let her go. ‘I had some matters I needed to think about.’ she replied, guiltily.

  ‘I am sorry, if I upset you, the other day in the meadow.’ Bess apologised.

  ‘I’m sorry you were worried.’

  ‘It’s just that after Mother and Father… I tend to think the worst. Will you tell me another time, if you aren’t going to come?’

  Darklin nodded. She turned to look around her, and saw that John was standing behind her. She was painfully struck by how handsome he looked, but there was something different about him. His eyes were shadowy, troubled. His face was unshaven. He looked older somehow, more distant than he ever had been. She would be his friend, Darklin thought, trying to be positive. His friendship had once made her happier than anything else in the world, there was no reason to think of it now as something that was second best.

  He half smiled, ‘I’m glad to see you.’ he said, but he did not look it. Darklin nodded in return, and turned away, embarrassed, telling herself that one day she would be able to put the moment in Rosamund’s tower behind her.

  ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’ she asked Bess.

  John excused himself and walked away, and Darklin felt horrible for being so unfriendly. Then Tom and James came running up to her, with Grace tottering behind. Tom hugged her, and James put a hand against her skirt, as if he was making sure she was real. Grace gave her a big smile, as Darklin picked her up, and she even had a tail wag from Willow. It made her happy to be welcomed back so warmly. She let the feeling settle deep inside her, hoping that it would help hold back the dark force of Vardyn.

  Soon, things returned to as they had been before. The only thing that had changed for Darklin, was being around John. There was an unacknowledged distance between them, though he never avoided her, nor was ever less than friendly. But, his eyes released hers a second too soon, and if she ever found herself alone with him, she would make an excuse and leave. She wanted them to be friends as they once were, but as soon as they were alone, she couldn’t bare it. She hoped he had not noticed. It did not happen often, as he was hard at work on the farm.

  The harvest had begun. There were days when Darklin hardly saw John, and when the barley and rye were ready to be reaped, Darklin made herself scarce to avoid the hired workers. Instead, she went to see Mrs Day. Spending time with Mrs Day was perhaps easier than being at Shadows End. She could tell Mrs Day things she never would say to the Somerbornes, about spells and magic, about what Gressyl had taught her. Darklin told her everything about her life that she could remember. She even told Mrs Day about the rites she had gone through in order to receive the power. She couldn’t believe the relief she felt, once the secret had been told.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like a fair promise,’ Mrs Day grumbled, ‘that woman has used you most cruelly.’ She put her hand on the side of Darklin’s face, but for once Darklin did not bristle, or flinch, or turn away. She had nothing left to hide. Mrs Day knew the very worst things about her, and was not afraid, or repulsed. From then on, Darklin felt like a person instead of a witch.

  When the crops had been safely stored, and all the workers had returned to whence they came, Bess sent word that it was safe for Darklin to come back. The following afternoon, Bess told Darklin she wanted to talk to her about something. They sat at the kitchen table. Darklin thought Bess looked a little nervous.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Darklin anxiously.

  ‘Well. Every year, like our parents did, we have a gathering to celebrate the end of the harvest.’ Bess began.

  ‘Oh.’ said Darklin, relieved. ‘When is it?’

  ‘A few weeks, the second Saturday in October, in fact. But it won’t be just us there, you see. We will be inviting our friends and neighbours, to thank them for their help.’

  ‘So I should stay away, is that what your telling me?’

  ‘Not exactly, I was wondering if you might want to come too.’

  Darklin imagined a house full of strangers, and cringed.

  ‘I do not think I would.’ she said.

  ‘But just think, if we introduced you to people, they would have no reason to suspect you, and then you wouldn’t have to be afraid.’

  Darklin could see why Bess wanted her to be there, and in part it made sense, but she was still wary, her old instincts told her to remain hidden.

  ‘I don’t know, Bess…’ she said.

  ‘Well, have a think about it. It might be just the thing for you to meet some new people.’

  ‘Will the folk from Fallenoak be coming?’ The thought of seeing them, knowing what Gressyl had done to them, filled Darklin with horror.

  ‘No, not Fallenoak, we don’t really know anyone there, but there will be people coming from Clearwell.’

  ‘Well, what would I say to them? I can’t say who I am.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to. You would just be our guest, that no one had met before.’

  ‘I don’t know how…’

  ‘I’ll teach you what to say. People always say the same things anyway. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, how do you do….” There’s nothing to it. Please say you will come, I promise you will have a lovely time.’

  ‘Bess, if she doesn’t want to come…’ John had come into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of tea. Darklin shifted in her seat.

  ‘But I know it will be good for her. What do you say, Darklin?’

  ‘Bess, leave the lass alone. Darklin, you really don’t have to be there if you don’t want to.’ John drained his tea and went back outside.

  ‘Won’t people think I’m strange? I don’t have the same clothes as you.’ said Darklin.

  ‘That’s simple. I’ll lone you a dress.’

  Darklin couldn’t imagine she would fill one of Bess’ dresses, she didn’t have her curves, or height.

  ‘Where will I say I am from?’

  ‘We would say you were a relative come for a visit. Father had family in Dorset, we will say you are our distant cousin. It would be good for you Darklin, to see people as they are. And I will be able to show you my Joseph.’ Bess whispered.

  Darklin thought. She was tempted, and flattered at the idea of being claimed as a Somerborne, if only for a day. Then she imagined herself among the strangers, pretending she was someone else, feeling like an impostor, waiting to be found out at any moment. It would be uncomfortable, if not completely fearful. She thought of what Mrs Day had said about making an effort to change things, and thought of Gressyl alone in the dark.

  ‘If you think I will be accepted, then I will come.’ she said, though fear was already clawing at the edges of her mind.

  ‘Darklin, I am so pleased.’ Bess laughed with delight. ‘I promise everyone will be friendly, and there will be singing and dancing, and lovely things to eat and drink!’

  Darklin knew she liked singing, but had never danced, she didn’t have a clue how.

  ‘Bess,’ she said sincerely, ‘You will not make me dance.’

  Bess laughed. ‘Very well. Though you may be sorry if any of the young men ask you for one.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s likely.’

  ‘We shall see.’ The grin on Bess’ face spread, making Darklin wonder what Bess knew, and she didn’t.

 
In the weeks before the gathering, Bess became preoccupied with preparations, assigning everyone tasks to complete. She coached Darklin on what she would have to say and do, preparing her for every possible scenario she could think of. Darklin made lists of things that needed doing, including making sure the dress Bess had picked out for her would fit.

  The night before the gathering, Bess and Darklin sat in the kitchen, each in their own way wracked with nerves.

  ‘Oh, I do hope it goes well, last year was such a disaster. And Mother and Father were famous for their celebrations. They always made sure everyone had such a good time.’

  ‘We have done everything on the list. It’s all ready. Now all we have to do is wait.’ Darklin said, as if it was something to be dreaded.

  ‘What is the earliest that you will be able to get away from your mother? I’ll have to have some time to try and tame those wild locks of yours.’

  ‘I don’t think it matters what time. She doesn’t seem to notice if I am even there, these days.’ Darklin thought of how Gressyl had not said a word about the night she had not come home.

  ‘Is she unwell?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I have asked her that, and she said not, but there is something wrong. Mrs Day said the magic has used up her life. She usually notices everything I do, and more. It’s like she is in a trance.’ Darklin looked down. ‘And I don’t want her to wake.’

  ‘That woman has done a lot of harm, not least to you. It is natural that you should feel that way.’

  They both sat quietly for a while. ‘Do you want to go over all the things people say?’ Bess asked.

  Darklin shook her head.

  ‘You know, you can always leave if you hate it. I won’t mind. And if it goes as badly as last year, I may very well come with you.’

  Darklin laughed, a little relieved, feeling like she now had an avenue of escape.

  It was dark, when Darklin wended her way back to Gressyl’s house. The nights had started to draw in, and the day had been gloomy. The path between Shadows End and the water pool had been worn clear from her trips back and forth over the summer. She allowed her mind to roam as she walked, deep in thought about what the next day would bring, full of anxiety, which she tried to temper with hope. As she neared the water pool, she heard rustling behind her. She stopped and listened. An icy finger of fear traced its way down her spine. But when she looked behind, there was no one there.

  As soon as Darklin arrived at Shadows End the next morning, Bess pounced on her.

  ‘Come on, Darklin, we need to get you ready.’

  Bess led the way, carrying a jug of hot water up to her bedroom, with Darklin following behind. Bess sat Darklin down on the chair next to the bed.

  ‘We need to get these knots out of your hair.’ Bess began working methodically through the mats with nimble fingers, careful not to pull at the roots. When Darklin’s hair was free of tangles, and surrounding her head in a frizzy mass, Bess washed it through with warm water and soap. In spite of her nerves, Darklin felt immediately better, as the tightness of her scalp, which she had never noticed before, relaxed. Bess combed through the wet hair, and neatened the ends with a pair of shears.

  ‘Right, now go and sit in the sunshine to dry it. You can look after Grace for me, I have so much to do, and I don’t want her in the way. Come and find me when your hair is dry, and we’ll get you into your dress.’

  Darklin carried Grace out into the garden, taking with them the wooden animals carved by her father. Grace chattered happily in her own way, as Darklin danced the animals on the grass before her. She sat with her back to the sun, feeling its pleasant warmth heating her head. The hair that was normally dull and matted, transformed into streams of glossy black curls as it dried. She loved the feeling of its softness, and the breezes flowing freely through it.

  When Grace began to look sleepy, Darklin carried her inside and put her to bed. She ran her fingers through her hair to see if it was dry, and finding the underside still wet, she went back into the garden. She drew her hair forward over her face, exposing the nape of her neck to the sun, and sat crossed legged, under her dark tent of hair. She would give it a few minutes, then go back inside. She rested her eyes; she hadn’t had any sleep between going to bed at dawn and leaving the house, and it was beginning to catch up on her.

  ‘Darklin.’

  She woke with a start. She looked up, and pushed the hair out of her eyes to see who had spoken her name. It was Mrs Day, standing close by.

  ‘Hello.’ Darklin smiled.

  ‘You were dreaming, my dear.’

  ‘I was,’ The images from her dream flooded back to Darklin. Every time she slept now, she dreamt of the same family. This time she had been combing the hair of the little girl, just like Bess had for her.

  ‘I have the same dream, over and over.’

  ‘What is it about?’

  ‘I dream of a family, in a cottage by the sea.’

  ‘I see. Do they frighten you, these dreams?’

  ‘No, mostly they frustrate me. I don’t understand them.’

  ‘Have you asked the witch about them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You never did tell me how you were taken in by that woman.’

  Darklin frowned in confusion. ‘She is my mother.’

  Mrs Day looked forcefully into her eyes. ‘Are you sure of it?’

  ‘I.....’ Her head spun as she tried to remember her past. She tried to think of her earliest memory, and the sailor and his wife with dark, almost black eyes, flickered inside her head.

  ‘Those dreams are not meaningless. You know who they are, don’t you, my dear?’

  Darklin nodded, tears rushed down her cheeks. ‘They are my family.’

  ‘I thought as much, I wouldn’t have put it past that woman to steal a child.’

  Darklin was dazed, for a long while she could not say a word. She scoured her memory for details about her family, but she could only recall them from her dreams. A thick wall blocked her memories. It felt like she was seeing them through a pin hole in that wall, but streaming back from the other side, through the same tiny aperture, like an incandescent ray of sun, she could feel their love for her.

  ‘Why can’t I remember them?’ she asked desperately.

  ‘You know the witch better than anyone. She has done something to your mind, probably when you were a child, to lock them away from you.’

  Darklin suddenly recalled how she used to feel like she had something to remember. Now she knew what it was.

  She concentrated on what she had seen in her dreams. She had a sister, with dark hair and eyes, just like her; and a baby brother with fair hair. Darklin could almost summon their names to the tip of her tongue, almost. The pain of being without them struck her violently; as if half of her being had been savagely torn away.

  ‘How will I find them?’ she cried.

  ‘You will have to wring it out of her somehow.’

  Darklin was jolted into a fury. Gressyl would not tell her, she was sure of it. She remembered how she had acted when she had asked about her father.

  ‘She won’t tell me, I know it.’

  ‘You must make her.’

  An upstairs window opened, Bess shouted down, ‘The guests will arrive soon, time to put on your dress. Hello, Mrs Day!’

  ‘I must go, will you tell Bess I am sorry.’ Darklin leapt to her feet. Mrs Day, caught hold of her.

  ‘Wait, you shouldn’t deal with her unprepared. Don’t confront her until we know of a way to get it out of her. Give me the day to think about it.’

  ‘She has no power left. She has no way to hurt me.’ insisted Darklin, turning toward the woods.

  ‘I’m not worried about her power, I’m worried about yours. If you go to her in a rage, you may end up using it in a way that will change you forever.’

  Darklin could not think straight. She didn’t trust herself. A storm of emotions warred inside her, a battle of fury and love. She let out a cry.

  ‘
Take some deep breaths, my dear.’ Mrs Day took hold of her hands. ‘In and out, in and out, that’s it.’ When Darklin appeared calmer, Mrs Day said, ‘Go up, and get changed. I brought some tea to calm the nerves, I think we could all do with some.’

  Darklin stiffly climbed the stairs to Bess’ room, and tapped on the door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Darklin opened the door. Bess was standing, dressed in a pale blue gown, that Darklin had never seen before.

  ‘What do you think?’ Bess asked, but when she saw Darklin’s expression, her face fell.

  ‘What is wrong? Have you been crying?’ Bess crossed the room, and put her arm around Darklin. ‘You don’t have to do this. I won’t mind a bit. We’ll forget the whole thing.’

  The gathering didn’t seem so worrying to Darklin now, she welcomed the distraction of it, to see her through the next few hours.

  ‘It isn’t that…’ Across the room, Darklin saw the dress Bess had adjusted for her, draped over the bed. It was white with trimmed, mid length sleeves, and a rounded neckline, with a pale green ribbon around the waist.

  ‘It is beautiful.’ Darklin murmured.

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Darklin saw how much work Bess had put into it. This day was important to Bess, and Darklin decided not to distract her with her unsettling news.

  ‘But I don’t want to upset you. You can always wear it another time.’

  ‘I want to wear it today, honestly.’

  ‘Very well. If you are sure.’

  Darklin saw there were other garments laid out for her. She gingerly picked up the stays.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to strap you in. It’s customary for us ladies to wear them I’m afraid.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Heaven knows.’

  Bess turned her back, while Darklin struggled into the unfamiliar undergarments, then helped her hook the stays. Darklin gasped as the restricting garment reawakened the pain in her ribs.

  ‘You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.’ Bess said, as she pulled the dress over the top of Darklin’s head, and pushed and tugged until it fit.

  ‘There,’ said Bess, she held Darklin’s hands in her own, and smiled.

  ‘Do I look like everyone else?’