Water & Flame (Witches of the Elements Series Book 1)

by Alejandra Vega

  “Hmph.” Harper stepped aside as Abbie left the room. The woman made a show of locking the door, closing it firmly, and then trying the handle before stalking off down the hallway.

  Well, Abbie wouldn’t be able to check that room again. It could have been worse, though. She had already found out what she needed to know. The only residue she had detected was on the desk itself, and probably too weak for Isabella to get a reading. Even if it was strong enough, Abbie couldn’t take the whole desk.

  Who would have thought it would be so hard to find evidence of magic in the house of a powerful witch? Of course, that witch’s house was bigger than some airports. She would keep trying and eventually find what she needed.

  When her heart rate settled back to normal and the thoughts of where she might find what she needed faded from her mind, images of Ben came back with a vengeance. She would have to do something about that. It was going to drive her crazy.

  Chapter 16

  Ben and Penelope were together constantly during the four weeks they traveled Europe. His mother had made sure of that. It wasn’t just whisking him away to another continent. She had little trips and visits planned to keep them together and constantly interacting. Sometimes Margaret accompanied them, but most often she had pressing matters to attend to, and the two would be alone. How it grated.

  Penelope, for her part, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She had been to Europe many times, of course, and had favorite spots she wanted to show Ben. He tried to be polite, but it became harder every day.

  “Oh, look at all the shops,” Penelope said, pulling Ben’s arm toward some expensive clothing establishment. She had not let go of his arm since they left his house. The skin where she grasped seemed irritated and red, as if he had a sunburn. “Let’s see if there is anything in there that will look fabulous on me.” She looked at him as if he should say something.

  He said nothing.

  Her beautiful face morphed into a pout, a common expression for her. Ben merely shook his head. He was not about to feed that ego.

  They passed one of the grand fountains in the square in Paris. As they passed it, Ben slowed and finally stopped. Penelope tugged harder on his arm, but he stayed where he was, looking up at the statuary and the complex streams of water coming from it.

  The central figure was a mermaid, her torso unclothed and larger than life size. The detail on her tail was fine enough that Ben had the urge to run his fingers over the scales. She held a pot or jar under her right arm, supporting it with her left, tilting it as if pouring its contents into the basin of the fountain. A stream of water jetted out of the mouth of the pot.

  Arrayed beneath the mermaid’s platform, half a dozen sculpted horses reared and charged, stone waves cascading out from under their hooves or flanks. Jets of water sprayed out to simulate the splashing.

  Ben was mesmerized. He had always enjoyed the fountains and sculptures in Europe, but he felt something like a kinship with this one. Abbie’s face superimposed itself on the mermaid, and he blinked. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but one thing was certain: this mermaid and the splashing water made him think of her. His heart ached.

  “Why are you stopping, Benjamin?” Penelope asked. “The shops are just over there. All these tourists around the fountain are probably all pickpockets and thieves pretending to be tourists. Either that or poor people who saved for years to come here and get in our way. Come on, let’s go.” She didn’t even have the decency to lower her voice. Several people around them gave her sidelong looks.

  Ben stayed where he was, looking up at the statue. Had Abbie told him she liked fountains or statues? No, he didn’t think so. Still, it made him think of her.

  The wind shifted and a little spray blew toward him. He lifted his chin, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. The tiny droplets were refreshing on his skin. He felt like giggling but only smiled.

  “Ewww,” Penelope shrieked. “The water is getting on me. It’s probably filthy. I don’t like getting sprayed.” She tugged on his arm so hard, her grasp on it broke and she took two steps before she realized she wasn’t holding onto him anymore. “Benjamin, let’s go. I want to go to the shop over there.”

  “You go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to enjoy the fresh air and the fountain for a little while.”

  That pout became twice as pronounced as before. Her eyes actually became liquid. She tossed her hair back and Ben wouldn’t have been surprised if she had stamped her foot. “Why do you want to stand near a filthy fountain with all these dirty little people? Come with me into the shop, and we can get something pretty for me to wear for you.” The look in her eyes went from pathetic puppy dog to smoky.

  Ben almost laughed. If it wasn’t for the derogatory way in which she described the others enjoying the fountain, he probably would have. “I think I am more comfortable with these people than with some shop clerk who will kneel down and kiss my feet just because he knows I can buy the overpriced goods in his shop.”

  A sudden look of outrage twisted Penelope’s face. “I see. You want to slum for a little while. Very well, I will be in that shop, over there.” She pointed to it, threw her hair back over her shoulder, raised her chin, and stomped toward it.

  Ben didn’t watch her past the first two steps. He turned back toward the fountain and let his thoughts drift to Abigail. He wondered if he would ever be able to bring her here. He was sure she would love the fountain. She wouldn’t hate everyone around her, either.

  After twenty minutes, he finally turned to go to the clothing shop. Off to the side of the square, he saw a cart selling souvenirs. It was on his way, so he looked it over as he passed. There were little plastic models of the fountain, depicted in intricate detail. He smiled as he bought one. If he couldn’t bring Abbie to the fountain, he would bring the fountain to her.

  His smile disappeared when he opened the door of the shop. Penelope stood there, pointing, ordering clerks around, telling the dressmaker who owned the establishment which of the dresses she had been offered would suffice. Ben sighed and sat down. He was going to be here for a while.

  When they left the shop, him carrying the three dresses and “a surprise” she had bought, Ben wanted to do nothing but take a nap. He had gotten into the habit of doing that while on this trip. Penelope constantly complained about how he seemed to have no energy, but being with her drained it from him. He couldn’t wait to go home but had no idea when his mother would let him.

  “Don’t put that there,” Penelope was screeching to one of the maids who had set her dresses on the bed momentarily so she could open the closet door.

  Ben heard from the hall and looked in the open doorway to Penelope’s room. The maid was scrambling to pick the dresses up from the bed, her face red. She looked like she was trembling.

  The woman was small and slight, with strawberry blond hair that hung down to barely touch her shoulders. She reminded Ben of Abigail.

  “Penelope,” Ben said, “leave the poor girl alone. You’re scaring her.”

  Dark hair flying as she whirled toward him, her eyes ablaze, she seemed barely able to control herself from snapping at him, too. She took a deep breath, and then another, visibly trying to calm herself.

  “It is so hard to find good help. I thought that your mother was better at picking servants than this. I want this girl fired, Benjamin. Fired! She is incompetent and has a bad attitude. I do not want to see her face ever again.” With that, she swept past him into the hallway and toward his mother’s rooms.

  Ben tsked. He turned back to the girl, who clutched the dresses to her as if they would protect her, sobbing.

  “Now, now,” he said to her in a soothing voice. “Here, let me hold those for you.” He went to her slowly, so as not to frighten her, and then gently took the dresses from her arms. “It won’t do to wrinkle her majesty’s dresses. She might explode if she sees a wrinkle.”

  The woman was not able to hold in a laugh and the
n looked horrified when it escaped. She clamped her hand over her mouth and locked her eyes on the floor.

  “Here,” he said, “let’s put these in the closet as you were trying to do before she attacked you. Come on, it’s okay.”

  Once the dresses were safely hanging in the closet, Ben turned to the girl. “What is your name?”

  “I am called Monique,” she said with a French accent.

  “Monique, I’m Ben. I am sorry for what Penelope did, sorry she frightened you. You did nothing wrong. She merely…overreacted.”

  “Thank you, Monsieur Mason. I try to do my job as best I can. It is sometimes difficult to please everyone.”

  Ben laughed. “Yes, it definitely is, Monique.” She had blue eyes, also, though not as amazing as Abigail’s. Still, they could have been sisters. He told himself he wasn’t being nice to her just because of that. He would have helped her regardless of what she looked like. Wouldn’t he?

  “Monique,” he said, taking her hand with one of his. With the other, he wiped a tear from her smooth cheek. “I’m afraid that we’ll have to rearrange your duties for a little while, until I am able to take Penelope out of here. I’m not sure what job you will be doing, but I think it’s best to keep her from seeing you again. It shouldn’t be long. I’m hoping we can leave soon.”

  “Do you mean…” she sniffled, “…do you mean that I am not fired?”

  “You are definitely not fired, Monique. Penelope is not in charge, though sometimes she thinks she is. I will arrange for you to stay out of sight of her until we leave, and then things will be back to normal after we go. Does that sound all right to you?”

  “Oh, yes, Monsieur Mason. That is fantastique. Thank you. It is true, what the other staff say, that you are not like all the other rich persons. You are very kind.”

  He squeezed her hand and then released it. “I try to be, Monique. I do try.”

  Margaret left the next day, saying something about pressing business she had to attend to back home. Ben suggested that they should all go back home, but she flatly rejected his idea.

  “There are other things you two can share here. I have scheduled a few activities, and Penelope is excited about others she wants to do. Another week or two, Benjamin. I know how it is to be homesick but another week or so and then you can come home.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I suppose I can make it another week.”

  “Or two.” Margaret looked at him as if measuring him. “You really are not having a good time? Is spending time with a beautiful woman so onerous to you?”

  “Mother, she is not my type. She’s beautiful, yes, but we have nothing in common.”

  “I know,” she said. “That’s one reason for this trip. You two will find things you have in common, things on which to build a marriage that can last.”

  “I will never love her, Mother,” he said. “It won’t happen.”

  “Who said anything about love? Love is overrated, Benjamin. No, I don’t expect you to fall in love with her. I expect that you will marry her and have children with her and continue the family legacy with her. That’s all. Love doesn’t even come into it. Stop being such a silly romantic.”

  Ben remained silent; anything he said would be the wrong thing.

  “Benjamin, it’s not like you won’t have opportunities to make love to others. I heard about you trying to rescue that little maid from Penelope. It’s fine. I won’t interfere. If you want her to keep her job, so be it. If you want to take her to bed, that’s perfectly fine, too. She is attractive. Just remember at the end of the day, your marriage and this alliance are more important. Do not jeopardize that. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, mother,” he said. Take her to bed? And that was all right with his mother? That was ridiculous!

  “Good. Now come over here and give me a kiss. I’ll be leaving soon. I do hope you enjoy your time with Penelope. It will make things so much better if you can enjoy spending time with her. You’ll need to do so to keep up appearances.”

  Ben kissed her on the cheek and went to his own room. He couldn’t believe he was trapped in this situation. It was like some kind of horrible dream. He should just leave. Once he got home. On the company jet. It was ridiculous. He was an adult. He could live like other people, with a job and mortgage. He could…could what? Leave the home his father had built, leave behind all those cherished memories, not to mention all his possessions and his way of living. He should, and he would, if he couldn’t get his mother to change her mind about Penelope. He would.

  On the way to his room, he saw Monique carrying laundry down one of the halls. She was not in her normal maid’s outfit but in one of the more functional laundress uniforms. She smiled at him, a genuine, friendly smile and he nodded and smiled back. He missed Abigail so much. He wondered if she thought of him at all. The way she had been avoiding him, he thought she probably didn’t. Sighing, he went to lie down. Another week. In another week, he could go home and be done with Penelope, at least for the time being. He wondered if he’d be able to make it.

  Chapter 17

  Abigail moved listlessly about the halls, doing her work but not really thinking about it. That was okay, though. Cleaning didn’t require her to use much of her thinking or problem-solving abilities. She did her tasks as if by rote and drifted through the day.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was pining. Or sulking. What did she expect would happen? Ben was engaged to Penelope, after all. Did Abbie think he would never spend time with his fiancée?

  It was all ridiculous. She had already decided there could be nothing between the two of them, that she would avoid Ben as much as possible, that she would not pay attention to him. Sure, that was fine when he was here at the estate trying to get her attention. But he had been gone for more than three weeks and she missed him. There, she said it. She missed him. His smile, his face, just his presence.

  She had no time for this, couldn’t afford to get attached to anyone, least of all the son of her enemy. The son of the woman she had come here to spy on. What would happen if she was a part of Ben’s mother being imprisoned or killed for what she had done? What would he think of her then?

  There was a bustle of servants and Abigail looked up to see Mrs. Roberts coming down the hall.

  “She’s back,” the round woman said, “she’s back. Ms. Huntsman has returned. Make sure everything is in place and perfect. You know how much traveling tires her and makes her more critical. Hurry, hurry.” She wasn’t speaking specifically to Abigail but to all the servants within earshot. She continued down the hall, repeating the same thing to others she came across.

  What? Margaret was back? Ben and Penelope must be back also. Well, hopefully they dropped the woman off at her own home—or out of the plane on the way back—and she wasn’t returning with them. But Ben, he should be coming in the entryway within moments. Her heart fluttered despite her insistence that it not. Energy infused her. She hurried to one of the sculptures in the hall and began to dust it, keeping one eye on the front door.

  A moment later, Margaret came through. Helen Shapiro was just a step behind her, sweeping through the entryway and into the hall leading to Margaret’s study. Abigail waited, holding her breath. Subconsciously, she counted. When she got to ten, she started to worry. The butler had closed the doors immediately after Margaret and Helen came through. Where was Ben?

  Hours later, she found out what had happened from Mrs. Roberts.

  “Oh, Master Benjamin?” the Housekeeper said. “He and Miss Penelope stayed at the estate in France. Ms. Hunstman had to come back to take care of some urgent business, but the other two continued on with their planned vacation. I have heard the estate there is magnificent. I wish I could see it someday.”

  “They’re not coming back?” Abigail worried the longing in her voice was too evident.

  “They are coming back, dear. Just not right now. From what I understand, it will be another week or two. I don’t know for sure, of course.
Ms. Huntsman hardly confides everything in me.”

  “Another week or two,” Abigail repeated. “I see.”

  “Oh, dear,” the woman said, putting her arm around Abigail’s shoulders. “I miss Master Benjamin, too. His smiling face helps to lighten the mood here. Why, when he was a child, every time he showed up, everyone was all smiles. Especially before his father died. He lost a little bit of himself then, I think. Lost a bit of his joy and happiness in life. Still, growing up will do that to you. He is a wonderful man, he is. Penelope should count her lucky stars she was able to nab him. I know other women in wealthy families for hundreds of miles—or even more—who would kill to be in her place.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “He’ll be back soon, dear,” she said, giving Abbie’s shoulders a squeeze. “Just do your work and he’ll be back in no time.”

  But Abbie wasn’t so sure things would ever be the same. She may have lost the chance she had been given.

  “Mrs. Roberts,” Abbie said as the Housekeeper turned to leave. “What do you think of Penelope? I mean, do you think she’ll be a good wife to Ben…I mean, Master Mason? I only saw her that night at the party, and then once as they were leaving for Europe.”

  The older woman studied Abigail’s face for a moment. “It is not a good habit to talk about friends of the family, no more than it is to talk about Ms. Huntsman and Master Benjamin themselves.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just wondering. I would like to see…Master Mason happy. He is so kind to everyone.”

  Mrs. Roberts smiled at her. “Yes, yes, I understand. Don’t make a habit of talking about your betters, girl, but I can tell you a little. Miss Moore is beautiful, obviously. Anyone can see that. She is involved with several charities, protecting animals and such, so she has a good heart. She seems polite enough, though she can be a little terse with the staff, as is her right as a guest in the house. Her family is wealthy and owns businesses that are complementary to Ms. Huntsman’s own enterprises. Overall, it will be a good combination of two powerful families and two young people who are in the prime of their childbearing years.”