“Eve’s curse threatened us with the torments of hell, but our release from eternal destruction was bought by Christ Jesus, who endured a bitter death for our sakes,” chanted Mister Sinclair.
Up piped Mister-calls-himself-Reverend Arnold. “As the Lord has His mysteries to bring us to eternal glory, so Satan has his mysteries to bring us to eternal ruin. These mysteries are not easily understood, for Lucifer’s depths are hidden. But this sorrowful time can be one of learning for us.”
Back came Mister Sinclair with, “We must reflect on why God let loose witchcraft among us. His wrath has a reason. Do not forsake us, oh Lord. Inspire us to renew our battle against sin.”
On and on they harped till my head was fit to burst. The childer’s fidgets got so noticeable that Mister Sinclair stopped preachifying to scold them. While they were chided, I let on I had chores that could wait no longer, and slid out to the cattle byre. Noah had milked the Galloway cow earlier, before going home to his own four walls, but I could always say I was checking she had enough fodder.
I sucked on a length of straw, trying to find a way through the maze of things I heard and saw, but didn’t always understand. Earlier, Peggy said Hamilton Lock had a particular reason to hate the Haltridges. But she never would tell me what it was. Hate was a powerful reason for somebody to leave their grave, if a way could be found to do it.
Parsley, who was in calf, let out a moo and rubbed herself against me, as if she knew I was in a state and wanted to cheer me up. I fell to wondering whether she might miss my master’s horse. Sometimes they were put together to graze in the same field, and always seemed perfectly companionable. Different animals can be right together, just as different people can. My master and I were always at ease in each other’s company, no matter the gap in our station. Or was I fooling myself? Maybes his eye had been caught by a serving girl at his inn in Dublin, and she was helping him to pass the time agreeably. That was a thought gave me no pleasure, and I buried my face in Parsley’s warm flank.
Hooves clattered up whiles my thoughts dallied. It was Frazer Bell and I was about to go out to him, but the mistress appeared at the door, and instead of holding it open to admit him, she pulled it shut behind her. They talked in the yard, Frazer’s mount sniffing the ground. I strained to hear them, but their voices were low, until she moved him closer to the cattle stall, where I could follow their conversation.
“It’s the house to blame, Frazer. I’m convinced of it.”
“There’s one way to test your theory. Move her to another house.”
“But where?”
“She could come to mine.”
“That wouldn’t be proper. You’re a bachelor – you don’t even have a sister to keep up appearances.”
“I have a housekeeper.”
“Nevertheless, tongues would wag. We must preserve Mary’s reputation. It’s more important than ever, under the circumstances.”
“Why not come too, Mistress Isabel? You could be her custodian.”
“I can’t leave my own household with James gone from home. The Lord knows, I’d give anything to get away from this place. But it wouldn’t be right – James would take it amiss. I’ve given up trying to spare him worry, and written to ask him to come back to us.”
“That was wise of you – he’s needed here.”
“I see I should have summoned him back before now. I’m sorry I ever invited my cousin here, Frazer. But would Mister Sinclair even permit us to move her? I don’t like to speak ill of the minister, but you’d nearly think he relishes what’s happening.”
I must have made a sound, because they sprang apart as though caught canoodling. This witchery business had everyone looking over their shoulder. Your right hand hardly knowed what the left was doing – and was better off not knowing, forbye. I had no choice but to show myself, trying to look as if I wasn’t eavesdropping.
The mistress spoke sharply to me, when I had a perfect right to walk along the yard after seeing to Parsley. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak about like that – my nerves are rattled enough.”
“Sorry, mistress. I was just headin’ back to the prayers. Unless there’s anythin’ you’d prefer me to do?”
“No, you may rejoin the prayer meeting.”
Frazer held the door open for both of us to go indoors, though the mistress was gurney at him giving consideration to a maid. The sound of voices reciting together sailed out. It sounded like Psalm 142. Frazer gave me a wee wink when her back was turned. But all I cared about was the snippet about the mistress bidding my master home. It wouldn’t have hurt her to mention it to me. Even though it would take him some days to return to us, just the thought of him pointing his stallion northwards filled me with pleasure. I knowed it was foolish of me, but I couldn’t help myself.
* * *
“The longer this goes on, the more puffed up some folk get,” said Peggy, as we toasted our toes at the fire that evening. “Mister Sinclair is cock of the walk these days.”
“Aye, he has a strut to match the rooster. Except the rooster keeps hisself a sight cleaner.” I allowed myself a wee laugh, but Peggy didn’t join in.
“I dinna understand where thon lass comes be the names,” she said. “She might be fit to say what the witches look like, but to my mind it’s strange she can name them.”
“She says she hears them call out to each other,” I said. Peggy grumbled under her breath, and I asked her straight out, “Do you not believe she’s witched?”
“Oh aye, she’s witched sure enough.” Troubled, she leaned in towards the fire, which showed up the hairs on her chin. “By rights, Hamilton Lock should never be able to quit his grave. The folk that paid him back for his wicked life took steps to pin him to the earth. But it looks as if he did find a way back, and this would be the first place he’d come.”
“Does he walk here because his family used to live right here?”
“That’d be reason enough. But there’s another, forbye. He died here, too. Out there, in the yard, hard-by the turf stack.”
My eyes popped. All these years I’d been filling baskets with turf, never guessing.
“They say the shades of folk who die a violent death are allus drawn back to the place where their blood was spilled,” said Peggy.
“But what happened? Why did he die here in the Haltridges’ yard?”
Peggy didn’t answer and I tried to get her to tell me more, but she let on to be deaf. In the end, I had to leave her be – it was time to go and see about the bairns. These days, Jamesey and the wee missie were tiptoeing round the house like a pair of scared mice. I gave them some gingerbread, and told them a story whiles they ate it. It was a happy story, about a magic kingdom under the sea where nobody grew old.
“Nobody dies there, do they?” asked Sarah.
“Not a soul.”
“Good, because then they can’t come back to haunt you.”
It wrung my heart to hear her. I did my best for them, but it wasn’t enough. They couldn’t stay in Knowehead House – who knowed what nightmares it was giving them? After that wee wink from Frazer Bell, I decided to approach him. Maybes he could get the childer sent away. I watched for a chance to speak to him, and saw him go out to the yard. I slipped out behind, quick as a hot knife through butter, and found him in the stable with Lordship, his hand on the stallion’s neck. That brute of a beast was whinnying, and as true as God the pair of them looked like sweethearts.
“Mister Bell,” I began.
He carried on fussing round that animal, but looked over his shoulder at me with a pleasant expression. Which is more than can be said for the stallion: he flared his nostrils and pawed at the straw.
“Sir, it’s about the childer. They ought not to be here. Not till there’s an end to this business.”
“An end to this business.” His eyes took on a faraway look, for such a sensible gentleman, and he wasn’t seeing the bairns. Then words spilled out of his mouth as if he couldn’t hold them in. “Do you know, I
wonder if an end is possible? It just seems to grow and grow. First it was that poor creature with the scarred face. Now it’s the mother and daughter. At a push, I’m willing to believe the mother might be a witch. But not that gentle girl. Yet Mistress Mary has identified both, and insists they are her tormentors.”
“About the childer,” I tried again. “Somebody needs to do right by them.”
“I’ll speak to Mistress Haltridge. Noah Spears can take them to Belfast, to her people. If you look lively, they can be gone by noon. Tell Peggy to get ready to go with them.”
“Aye, she’d be as well with a change of air. Between you an’ me, I think Peggy is startin’ to dote.”
“She’s not leaving for a change of scene. She’s leaving for her own safety. Mary Dunbar has denounced Peggy McGregor as a witch.”
“What?” I could hardly believe my ears.
“She named her just now.”
I gawped. “But the two of them were allus jawin’. They seemed right and friendly. What made her turn so sudden?”
“You’re asking for reasons when reason doesn’t come into this. It’s unfathomable. I can’t share the kirk’s certainty this is a bewitching. Yet there’s no doubt Mistress Dunbar is in considerable distress: mental as well as physical. What can she gain from accusing innocent people? But I’m worried –”
He came up short, covering his face with his hand for a moment. It was a mortal shame to see such a superior gentleman at a loss, though he recovered himself speedily and let on to be stroking those handsome side whiskers.
“Only your mistress and I were present when the accusation was made against Peggy. But if Mistress Dunbar repeats it in front of ministers or elders, they’ll treat it seriously. Peggy McGregor needs to get well away from Knowehead – the sooner the better.”
And what about me, I wanted to ask? How safe was I here? If names were being thrown about as witches, what was to stop mine being put out there? Mary Dunbar could denounce me as handy as Peggy. My step was leaden as I went back indoors.
* * *
Mary Dunbar did repeat her accusation. She said it the next day, in front of the mistress and me when I brought the young lady a bowl of beef hash.
She turned up her nose at it. “Did you make that?”
“Peggy does the most of the cookin’. All I done was scoop it out of the pot over the fire.”
“She’s trying to poison me. Peggy McGregor is one of them. She’s a witch.”
“Ach, no, Mistress Mary,” I began, but the mistress spoke over me.
“You’re mistaken, Mary,” she said, tart, as if scolding Jamesey and Sarah. “How come you’ve only started mentioning this? Surely you’d have recognised Peggy before now?”
“I never saw her in Lock’s Cave. But I saw her last night, when the coven met somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“In a humble sort of cabin, I don’t know where. Peggy tried to hide her face from me, but I knew her at once. Not all the witches go to every meeting – three or four at a time are sufficient to work a spell. They only need the full coven if they intend to do mischief on a grand scale.”
“Peggy’s an old woman, barely able to get about.”
“Oh, Isabel, why do you doubt me? She flew there on a goose she calls Vinegar. He answers her bidding when she whistles for him.”
“Mary, please stop this. Peggy McGregor wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“She slapped me on the face. When she saw that I knew her, she was filled with fury, and had two of her sisters hold me. Then she lifted her arm above her shoulder and let fly with the flat of her hand. She was trying to make me cry. When I wouldn’t, she said I’d end up in a bawdy house where I’d truly have cause to weep.”
“Peggy has a stiff arm – she can raise it no higher than her elbow. For the love of God, Mary, be careful who you accuse.”
“Maybe her master has cured it.”
“James is no physician.”
“I mean her unearthly master – Hamilton Lock.”
The mistress caught hold of her cousin by the wrist. “Listen to me carefully. Peggy McGregor has served this household faithfully these many long years, and I cannot tolerate accusations being made against her. Especially in connection with that vile name.”
“I’ll tell the minister you’re trying to silence me. And the Constable.”
The mistress let her go brave and smart.
While this was going on, I remembered all the potions and salves Peggy was forever brewing up. She said the receipts were passed down through her family. But was it possible some of them were not come by honestly? I had shared a bed with Peggy McGregor for seven years, but how well did I really know her? And then I shook myself. Doubt begets doubt.
“Eat your hash, Mistress Mary,” I wheedled, the way you would with a child. “You’ve wasted away since you come among us.” I signed to the mistress, and she copied me.
“Do, Mary, there’s a good girl. We need to bring some roses back into your cheeks.”
“Mister Bell is worried to see you so pale, Mistress Mary,” I put in.
Mary picked up the spoon.
“Aunt Dunbar won’t be a bit pleased with the care we’ve taken of you when she sees you again,” said the mistress.
The spoon clattered on the table. “Are you sending me home, Isabel?”
“Well, of course you’ll go home some time. This is only a visit.”
“But I’m not ready to leave. Don’t make me.”
“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. I had a letter from your mother today. Scarlet fever has broken out in Armagh. It wouldn’t be safe for you to go home. Though how safe it is for you here, I’m at a loss to say.”
“I like Islandmagee. I’ve never liked anywhere half so well.”
The mistress flashed a look of surprise at me, and I was thinking the same as her. How could anybody like a place where they were bewitched?
“I know I’ve been plagued by witches here, but I couldn’t bear to leave the island. Not now.”
It dawned on me she must feel important, with ministers and elders hanging on her every word.
Mary Dunbar said, “You know, Isabel, maybe it wasn’t Peggy McGregor I saw, after all. Maybe it was somebody who looked like her.”
“Yes, that could be it. Just remember we all love Peggy here, particularly my husband. James would be devastated if anything happened to her.” She stroked her cousin’s curls. They hung limp now, in need of a wash. “Mary, we think it best to move you from this house to another one on the island – to test whether it’s only here in Knowehead you’re bewitched. I’ve spoken to Mister Sinclair about it. He’s willing to have you stay with him.”
“Mistress, is that wise? At least we can watch over Mistress Mary here. Who knows what might happen, and none of the family there to see about her?” I was choosing my words carefully in front of the young lady. What I really meant was at least we could keep a check on what she said – and who she denounced. But the mistress didn’t catch on.
“I have discussed it with both Mister Sinclair and the Reverend Mister Arnold. They will protect her.”
“Aye, but –”
“It’s not your place to say ‘but’ to me, Ellen. Now, Mary, Frazer Bell recommends this course of action. James values his advice, and so do I.”
“I trust Mister Bell. But I don’t want to leave Knowehead,” said Mary.
“Only for a wee while. To help you get better.”
“Why do I have to go to Mister Sinclair’s house?”
“He’d be on hand to pray over you. The minister is better able to watch over you than anybody else.”
The young lady wrinkled her forehead. It took no stretch of the imagination to see she preferred a bed under Frazer Bell’s roof than the minister’s.
The mistress spotted the gurn on her. “Your safekeeping is our chief concern, Mary. You must try settling into another house, just for a few days.”
“Of course I’ll be guided by you
. I know I’m causing you trouble. Oh Isabel, it’s so good to get away from my father’s house in Armagh. I felt stifled there.”
“But you’re beset here. You’re the target of witchcraft.” The mistress swallowed, and when her voice came out again it trembled. “Mary, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. This Mistress Anne you mention from time to time among your tormenters. Is she – do you think she might be – James’s mother?”
“I never met the other Mistress Haltridge.”
“But is she young or old? Tall or short? Fat or lean?”
“I’m not certain, Isabel, I’ve never had a close look at her. All I can tell you is this: the others dance to her tune. She has mastery over the witches, and Hamilton Lock has mastery over her. They seek mastery over me, too. But I will not yield. To her – or to him.”
“I see. Spoken like a true Christian. Now, I must make sure the children are packed for their trip to Belfast. We have the loan of a carriage from the Reverend Mister Arnold, and Noah Spears is charged with driving it. I do hope he takes proper care. Noah is better used to carts than carriages.”
The House Where It Happened Page 20