Charms of a Witch Page 3

'Why do you not accept? 'Twould be a good match for you, my dear.'

  'But not for him.'

  'It is a pity,' Mistress Dean commented, 'for he is a good lad, and you would go back to the position you lost when you came here to care for me.'

  'To a very resentful Mistress Francis,' Lucy said drily. 'Apart from any other consideration, I could not face her as an infuriated mother-in-law!'

  'You need not live with them. And she would soon accept the inevitable.'

  ' 'Tis not inevitable. Please, Grandmother, do not urge me to it.'

  'Very well, but 'tis a pity, for living here in such isolation there will be few other chances come your way.'

  'That worries me nought,' Lucy assured her. 'I am happy enough being here with you.'

  Mistress Dean ceased to urge Lucy to accept Peter's offer, but in a very few days, as Lucy was amused to notice, she was presenting Jem's qualities for Lucy's consideration. He still came regularly, and on the next occasion when he was talking to her in the parlour, she suggested that he took Lucy for walks around the village when he could spare the time.

  'Why, I would be delighted,' Jem said hesitantly, and very surprised, for this to some extent recognised his claims as a suitor.

  'Lucy does not get out enough,' Mistress Dean continued. 'She needs more diversions, and needs to be in the sun more before winter closes in on us.'

  Lucy laughed at her. 'I am out in the garden as much as I possibly can be. Can you not see how brown my hands and face have become? Mistress Francis would be horrified.'

  'You are working hard there, child, but 'tis not the same as a gentle stroll. Do not refuse to go with Jem.'

  'I would not do that. I have seen little of the village and would know it better.'

  Delighted at this development, Jem arranged to fetch Lucy on the next sunny day.

  *

  Later that day, just as the early winter night was closing in, Lucy answered the door to find a strange man standing outside. She held up the candle and saw a tall fair man, dressed in a dark red suit embroidered lavishly with gold thread, and a black velvet cloak thrown back to show the suit. He wore a broad brimmed black hat, and this had a feather, yellow coloured, which drooped rakishly over one eye.

  He widened his eyes in appreciation as he beheld Lucy, and bowed low to her.

  'I beg pardon, Mistress, for disturbing you, but I fear I have lost my way, and called to ask directions.'

  'Where is it you seek, Sir?' Lucy asked.

  'An inn called the Black Goat, in the village of Brookley. I fear I took the wrong turning off the Chelmsford road.'

  'No, Sir, you are in Brookley now. If you continue along this road, and turn to the right past the church, follow that road a little way out of the village, and the Black Goat is to your left. You cannot miss it, 'tis a large inn.'

  'I thank you. 'Tis run by Mistress Perkins, I believe? What manner of woman is she?'

  'I cannot say, Sir, for I have but recently come to the village, and have not met her.'

  The stranger stood for a moment silently considering Lucy, and she blushed at his obvious admiration, and began to close the door. He realised he was embarrassing her, and though plainly wishing to prolong the encounter, stepped back and bowed again.

  'My thanks, Mistress. I hope I will have the pleasure of meeting you again. Farewell.'

  Lucy smiled slightly, and retreated.

  'Who was that?' Mistress Dean asked as she returned to the parlour.

  'A gentleman who had lost his way. He sought the Black Goat.'

  'The Goat? I wonder what his business is there? It does not cater for many gentlemen, though some come occasionally. But 'tis a prosperous place. Jem will have that as well as his farm when his mother goes. He is now the wealthiest yeoman in the village and for miles round about.'

  'He would find it difficult to be both innkeeper and farmer,' Lucy commented briefly, and changed the subject, for she did not care to talk much about Jem since her grandmother had begun to hint at his eligibility as a husband. She liked him, and was glad of his company, but she could not be entirely at ease with him. Something in his manner, the way he stared at her for minutes at a time, made Lucy uneasy. She shrugged off the feeling, thinking that it was the differences in their upbringing, and being rather ashamed of herself for what she thought was snobbery.

  *

  So when Jem appeared two days later, as a pale sun was gleaming through the scattered clouds, she agreed to accompany him.

  'Come, Lucy, let us walk,' he hailed her.

  She had been working in the garden, but she stood up, laughing.

  'Would you drag me away from my work?' she asked.

  'It is at your grandmother's behest,' he replied. 'I will help you later.'

  'What of your own work? Can the farm do without you?'

  'Aye, the men can do what is necessary without me. 'Tis not the first time. What do you think happens when I go into Chelmsford?'

  'Very well, Jem. Come in and have some ale while I tidy myself.'

  Lucy settled Jem in the kitchen, then washed the soil from her hands, ran upstairs and changed into a clean gown, and picked up her cloak. She tied her hair with a ribbon, and was soon back in the kitchen, laughing to see that Jem had not finished his ale.

  'Hurry,' she teased him, 'or the sun will be gone.'

  'You were too quick for me,' he smiled up at her. 'I am used to my sister Betty taking hours to prepare herself, even to go to the village.'

  'I will tell Grandmother.' She smiled at him, and went off to the parlour. 'Jem has come to carry out your command.'

  'Good, my dear. Do not hasten, Mistress Smith promised to come and see me this afternoon, so I shall not want for aught.'

  Lucy kissed her, then rejoined Jem in the kitchen. This time he was standing waiting for her, and they left the cottage. On the road, Jem turned left.

  'There is a path a short way along that leads through the woods and across the field to my farm, by the river.'

  'I know the path,' Lucy said, for it was the way she had walked with Peter. 'I did not know where it led. It comes out by your farm?'

  'Yes, to the side of it.'

  'How is it that you have a farm as well as an inn? I thought when I first met you that you were a farmer, then I discover you live at the Black Goat.'

  'It is complicated,' Jem answered. 'The farm is really my mother's. She was the only child, and it came to her when her father died a few years back. But she could not run it herself, and my father was busy with the inn. I had always wanted to be a farmer, and I was old enough by then to deal with it. Then when my father died a year later my mother preferred to stay on at the inn. 'Twas what she was used to, for she had worked there since she was a girl. Indeed, for many years before my father's death, she was really in charge.' Jem smiled a little. 'My mother is a strong woman, she dominated the family and father wished for a quiet life.' He chuckled. 'Having the running of the inn, being in complete charge, suits her admirably.'

  'And you live there rather than at the farm?' Lucy asked.

  'It is more convenient, for the inn is only a short distance away from the farm, on the road that borders the river. We serve the boats that come this far.'

  'Boats?' Lucy queried in surprise. 'I did not know boats could come so far. What of the ford just beyond the village?'

  'Oh, they cannot go any further, and only small boats come, but they are poor roads round about, and a lot of our supplies come in by boat, so we have business from that too. As for the farm, there is a couple living in the farmhouse acting as caretakers. 'Tis kept in good repair, for I shall move to it one day.' He paused and looked closely at Lucy. She glanced up at him, then looked away hurriedly.

  'How far does this wood extend?' she asked after a few moments of uneasy silence.

  'A few hundred yards, about half the distance from the road to the river, then 'tis open country until we reach my farm to one side of the path, and Mr Buller's to the other.'

  As
they went, the slight constraint between them disappeared, and Lucy forgot her embarrassment at the implications of Jem's remarks. He explained the history and relationships of many of the families in the village, but he did not mention Sir Humphrey Anstey, and Lucy was shy of asking him. Soon they left the trees and were walking along a path with banks on either side. Jem pointed out the boundaries of his own farm, and explained proudly to Lucy what he was doing, and the changes he was making.

  'We will go and see it on the way back, if you like,' he said diffidently. 'First, let's follow the road along by the river.'

  'Where does the river lead?'

  'It feeds into the Crouch, but the road winds round where the river goes direct.'

  They had reached the road by now, and Lucy saw that it followed the bank of the river very closely here. She walked across and looked at the slow-moving grey water, the ripples topped with silver in the rays of the wintry sun. To the left she could see a large rambling building.

  'That is the Black Goat,' Jem said. 'Apart from the Manor and the farms on this side of the road, 'tis the first building of the village. I will take you there one day soon.'

  On the far bank were more fields. 'They belong to tenants of Sir Humphrey Anstey,' Jem informed her, 'but we see little of them in the village, they keep very much to themselves.'

  To the right the river flowed smoothly, widening perceptibly until it swung round to the left, the road following, hugging the bank. There was a high wall edging the road.

  'That is Anstey Manor,' Jem said, pointing to the wall, 'Sir Humphrey has not been seen for many years. He was always strange, but is a complete recluse by now. Let us walk as far as the river bend, though we shall not be able to see the Manor, 'tis enclosed. There is a thicket within the wall, and we can see nought from the gate.'

  Lucy nodded, and they began to walk along the road, but they had only just reached the bend when Lucy stopped, and with a gasp caught Jem's sleeve in her hand.

  'Look!' she exclaimed, 'There, in the water, in those reeds!'

  *

  Jem looked where her finger was pointing.

  'It's a man!' Lucy continued, and scrambled down the bank to the edge of the water. The reeds were thick here, and there was other vegetation, and she could not reach the man she had seen, who was floating on the water entangled in the weeds a few feet from the bank.

  'Jem, help me.' She turned with an appealing look, but Jem was standing on the bank, surveying her with a grim expression.

  'It is of no avail, Lucy. He is dead.'

  'We must make sure.'

  Shrugging his shoulders, Jem jumped down onto the small sandy patch where Lucy was standing.

  'It is not deep here,' he said, as he pulled off his boots and hose. Stepping cautiously, he waded out into the icy cold water, and after only three or four steps could reach the body caught in the weeds. He grasped one of the legs and pulled, and very soon the body floated free. Jem waded back to the bank, the body pulled alongside him.

  'He has been dead for some time,' Jem said curtly to Lucy.

  She could see now that the man's face, bloated and horribly discoloured, was the face of a corpse, but with revulsion and horror she recognised the stranger who had called at the cottage two evenings before. His fair hair was now dark and plastered to his head, and his red coat was a sodden black, but the gold thread gleamed, and despite the distortion of death, his features were still clear enough for Lucy to be certain it was he.

  'We must tell the Minister,' she whispered. 'Let us pull him out, then the Minister can arrange for burial?'

  'No.'

  Lucy looked at Jem in amazement. 'What did you say?'

  'We must not interfere.'

  'Interfere? How can that be? We do but render a service to the poor gentleman.'

  'You do not understand, Lucy.'

  'What is there to understand? Would you deny him a Christian burial?'

  'We know nought about him.'

  To stop further argument, Jem waded back into the water, and before Lucy could divine his intention, he pulled the body away from the bank, and free of the weed patch. Released, the body floated slowly down the river, being carried by the current across to the other bank.

  'Jem, why did you do that?' Lucy exclaimed in horror. 'The least we could have done would have been to have him buried, or find out who he was.'

  Jem was clambering out of the water, and he returned to face her. He took both of her hands in his.

  'Lucy dear, strange things happen, and 'tis dangerous to become involved. Promise me you will not try to do aught?'

  'What sort of strange things?'

  'Things you and I have nought to do with, and wish to have no dealings with. Lucy, I am warning you not to interfere.'

  'But 'tis wrong to leave the poor man unattended!'

  'It is now a body only, a corpse.'

  'But we should still treat it decently, give it honest burial.'

  'It will be buried at sea, as sailors are,' Jem tried to reassure her. 'Lucy, do not let it upset you. Odd things happen. Possibly he fell into the river at the ford, even higher up.'

  'Or possibly someone killed him and tried to get rid of the evidence,' Lucy said slowly.

  'If that is what happened 'tis none of our business, and we would be wise not to say anything to anyone.'

  'Did he stay at the Black Goat?'

  Jem stiffened, and Lucy felt this, as her hands were still held in his.'Why do you say that? Why should he? He need not have been in Brookley at all to finish in the river.'

  She thought quickly. There were things here she did not understand, and she decided not to tell Jem of her previous meeting with the dead man, and her knowledge that he had been seeking the Black Goat.

  'I thought you would have known of all the strangers in the village,' she said at last.

  'He was not at the inn. Promise me, Lucy that you will try to forget it?'

  She shuddered. 'I could never do that, 'twas horrible.'

  'But do not mention it. You are a stranger in the village, and the people here would resent anything you did if they thought it would cause trouble.'

  'I know full well they resent me anyway,' Lucy said, a trifle sadly.

  'Be not concerned. They will accept you in the end. Newcomers are always looked on with suspicion at first. But promise me, Lucy, not to mention this.'

  Lucy sighed, but then agreed reluctantly. 'But you are no stranger, you could mention it.'

  'I – I know something of the strange goings on here,' Jem said, 'and I do not wish to be involved any more than I wish you to be mixed up in it.'

  'What strange goings on?' Lucy asked curiously.

  Jem looked at her in silence.

  'Jem, if you know aught, tell me, then I can be warned.'

  He nodded slowly. 'There are rumours of witchcraft,' he said abruptly. 'Lucy, do not question me more. I know nought for sure, but sometimes there are strange happenings which cannot be explained. I would not have you come under the displeasure of a witch if there is such hereabouts.'

  Lucy laughed a mite shakily. 'I know not whether to believe in the power of witches,' she said.

  'Of course they have power. They do harm,' Jem answered.

  'I suppose so. Very well, Jem, I will say nought.'

  'Good.' He released her and pulled on his hose and boots. 'Then we shall forget this. It shall not spoil our first walk together.'

  Lucy agreed and did her utmost to appear happy and carefree during the rest of that walk, but she was not entirely successful, for she could not dismiss from her mind the vision of the body floating in the river, nor the warnings Jem had so mysteriously conveyed to her of witchcraft and possible vengeance.

  *

  Chapter 4

  It was a week later when Peter came to visit Lucy. The weather had turned much colder, and she was working inside the house when his knock came on the door. Lucy went to open it, and exclaimed with pleasure when she saw who it was.

 
'Why, Peter, 'tis an age since you were here.'

  He smiled at her, pleased. 'I am glad you think so, Lucy, but in truth 'tis no longer than before. I was here two weeks since.'

  'It seems a long time,' she answered, and having taken his cloak, she led the way into the parlour. Peter always visited Mistress Dean when he came to see Lucy, and they spent a happy time discussing various ailments of Peter's animals. The young man and the old woman had discovered a shared enthusiasm for healing sick animals, and discussed avidly the new treatments Peter produced, comparing them with the age old ways Mistress Dean used. I,ucy had retreated to the kitchen, where she prepared cakes and warm spiced ale. After they had partaken of this, Peter bade Mistress Dean farewell, and went out to the kitchen with Lucy, where they sat down at opposite sides of the table.

  'How go things, Lucy?' Peter asked.

  'I am happy enough, except that Grandmother does not improve. Do not be concerned for me, Peter, I do well enough here.'

  'I am concerned,' he answered, 'and you know full well I am.'

  'Peter,' Lucy began hesitantly. She had thought over the incident when she and Jem had found the body in the river, and decided to tell Peter about it.

  'Just over a week ago, a traveller knocked on the door. He was riding from Chelmsford, and wished to know if he was on the right road to Brookley. This is the first cottage he comes to.'

  'Go on,' Peter said, curious, as she paused.

  'He was well dressed, a gentleman, and he asked if I could direct him to the Black Goat. That is the inn in the village, by the river.'

  'Aye, I know of it,' Peter answered.

  'It is owned by Jem Perkins and his mother. Jem also has a farm. He has been kind, for a long time he has been bringing rabbits and game for Grandmother.'

  Peter's eyes narrowed. 'He is young, this Perkins?'

  Lucy smiled at him. 'Yes, but you need not be jealous.'

  Peter grinned ruefully. 'I cannot help it, my dear, you know how I feel about you.'

  'Yes, but you promised not to say. This man,' she continued hurriedly, to forestall Peter's next remarks, 'I was walking along the river below the inn with Jem two days after the man called at the cottage, and I saw something floating, entangled in the reeds. It was this very man. I recognised him.'