15
Charlotte
A day of revelations
I sat at the kitchen table with my feet up on the opposite chair, relaxing after another busy day. I had tackled preserving with the last of the autumn peaches. A half dozen glass jars sat on the bench, and I couldn't put them away in the larder just yet. The skinned fruit were like jewels, their rich golden colour contained by the juice that would keep them from spoiling over winter.
I allowed myself a moment of pride at another task conquered. I basked in the sense of accomplishment, silly perhaps, but there had been so few such instances in my life. With the dishes done and the kitchen tidied away for another day, silence settled over the house as darkness fell. I idly flicked through a recipe book, considering my options for tomorrow's dinner, when the hall door swung open and Reverend Mason appeared.
"Ah, Charlotte," he said.
I dropped my feet to the ground and sat a little taller in my chair. "Yes, Mr Mason, do you require something?"
A kind smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "A moment of your time, is all. There is something I wanted to discuss with you first, before I pass the information on to Eleanor."
Had I done something wrong? Worse, had my change commenced and I had not noticed? My heart stuttered in my chest and I placed a hand over it to reassure myself that it still beat within me.
He pulled out the chair beside me and lowered his tall frame. "I have been researching certain local women, at the request of Eleanor."
"The witches." I licked my lips. David told me that there was some hare-brained theory about a powerful witch being behind the horrible creatures. Nonsense, surely? The Turned were the creation of some terrible disease, that's all. How could anyone, witch or not, have done that to people on purpose?
"Yes." He laced his hands on the table. "I have been researching the lineage of two in particular. Sarah Wynn had two daughters who left our shores for America and were caught up in some trouble in Salem. The other witch was a noble by the name of Anne Oakley. Her daughters stayed in these parts. I have traced her offspring down through time, to our current day."
"Oh?" The word scratched over my tongue, my mouth suddenly dry of any moisture, and my hand reached for the cup of tepid tea in front of me. The name Anne Oakley sounded familiar and it itched in my mind. Where had I heard it before?
The reverend unlaced his hands and laid them flat, as though not sure what to do with them. "Eleanor had a suspicion that has proven correct. As it transpires, your mother, the former Lady Jeffery, is a direct maternal descendant of Anne Oakley."
And I was my mother's daughter, making me the distant relative of a witch. I took a slurp of lukewarm tea and let the moisture return to my throat before I could answer. "I'm related to a witch."
A witch's blood flowed through my veins. I tried so hard to climb out from under mother's shadow, to become my own person, only to discover a far darker cloud enveloped my life. It wasn't fair. All I wanted was to live a simple and ordinary life, but fate kept casting me as the evil step-sister.
Mr Mason reached out and took my hand. "There are those, both within the church and without, who hold that all witches are evil."
I bit my lower lip. I refused to cry even though my employer confirmed my evilness. Was he going to cast me out into the street? How could a man of the clergy have a known witch sweeping the floors and cooking his meals? I was sure the church would demand my removal before I tainted, or poisoned, their priest.
"I don't believe that they are all evil," he continued. "I believe our Father allows everyone to freely make a choice. The matter of your birth alone does not decide if you are good or evil, but it is how you choose to live your life. You are a good woman, Charlotte. Anne made her choices but they are hers alone and do not decide your fate."
He reached out and took my hand, then squeezed my fingers. I tried to think my way through the cold fog that descended over my mind. My ancestors stretched back to a woman burned as a witch and possibly a co-conspirator in the horror that now shrouded the world. Some would call my mother a witch for the evil she wrought. I drowned in an ocean of evil and my hands scrabbled for something to cling to or some way of keeping my head above the waves. The reverend threw me a lifeline with his quietly spoken words.
"I am her descendant, but you don't think I'm also a witch?" I asked.
He smiled with the soft reassurance of a man who believed his words. "Free will, Charlotte. It is up to you to determine the sort of person you want to be. But I have faith that you fight on the side of good. Can you find that within yourself?"
A few months ago, I would have said no. Instead I looked around the kitchen, at the small place in the world I carved out for myself. The light hit the row of bottled peaches and they glowed with warmth and highlighted what I was capable of achieving. I thought of the friendship I found with David. Yes, now I was strong enough to reach inside and find the courage to stand on the side of good.
"I think I can."
He smiled. "Good. I have also spoken with the duke. Your presence is required in London tomorrow. The War Office wishes to take a sample of your blood."
My warm thoughts froze as they were doused by frigid water. Would I disappear in their prison like Louise? Why was life so unfair? Just as I reached out for a chance to live my own life, I was thrust back down again.
"No." The word came out partly strangled as I struggled with the injustices of my life.
He gave me another comforting pat. "Eleanor will accompany you. You will not be alone, nor will you be abandoned there. His grace says Eleanor is quite adamant they will not be detaining you, and I think would use her sword to protect you."
Some of the fear retreated. Ella would be by my side and I would borrow some of her strength to make it through tomorrow. "Very well. I might turn in then. Tomorrow will be rather eventful."
I rose from my chair and carried the teacup to the sink.
Wood scraped over the floor as the reverend pushed his chair back. "The duke will send a motorcar to collect you in the morning. Rather early, I'm afraid; you must be at the station by six a.m."
"I shall be ready in time. Goodnight." Given the gnawing worry in my stomach, I suspected sleep would elude me.
At five thirty in the cold and dark, I stood outside on the footpath. The village still slept and I had no concerns about encountering one of the Turned, having discovered I was immune to their virus. I left a light burning in the front parlour to cast a sliver of illumination. I could have waited in the warm kitchen, but my body refused to stay put and nervous energy built inside me. What would today bring?
Headlights rounded the corner and the loud purr of an engine approached. The motorcar pulled to a stop next to me. I glanced over my shoulder at the manse and offered a silent prayer that I would return to my new home. I had grown fond of my life within its strong stone walls.
A soldier emerged from the driver's side and walked around the car.
The smile sprang to my face on its own accord. "David," I breathed his name and it misted on the air in front of my lips.
He returned my smile. "I hope you don't mind. I asked the captain if I could collect you rather than a driver. I'm sure you must be nervous about today, and I wanted you to have a friend by your side."
He opened the passenger door and took my gloved hand.
"I don't mind at all, thank you for being so thoughtful." I tilted my chin in a terribly forward move for me and held my breath as I waited to see if he would accept or decline my invitation.
He pulled me a little closer and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "It requires no effort on my part to think of you. I find you constantly on my mind."
Gosh. The chill and dark of pre-dawn covered my faint blush as he helped me into the motorcar. I saw why he had kept the engine running—hot air blew from ducts in the dashboard. The interior was as toasty as a seat right in front of the fire.
"You could have waited inside," David said as he slid behind the wheel.
"I couldn't sit still. Out here I could pace like a sentry." Cocooned in the car with both warmth and company, my body finally let out a sigh and some of the tension in my shoulders dissipated. I hadn't been to London since the outbreak of war and I wondered how much it had changed.
"The train trip will take a couple of hours, but you can pace up and down the carriage if needs be." He threw me a wink but kept his eyes on the road.
The familiar landscape became foreign in the dark. The sweep of the motorcar's headlights picked out a tree here or an old farm building there. Others were cloaked in night, hiding until daylight. Did trees move and change places when no one was looking in a midnight dance? What an odd thought to enter my mind. Ever since Reverend Mason told me of my link to Anne Oakley, fanciful ideas bubbled to the surface in my head. As though they were long suppressed but now given permission to make their presence known.
More importantly, what would David think of courting a witch? I couldn't bear it if he cast me aside because of my family association. "Reverend Mason had a revelation for me last night. I have a witch's blood running in my veins. Do you think the War Office will be able to tell when they study it under their microscopes?"
Did I imagine it, or did his hands tighten on the wheel? "I will confess to knowing very little about witches. Perhaps that is one of the mysteries the War Office seeks to uncover, that in examining your blood they may find the source of a witch's power. Coupled with you surviving the original pandemic and rejecting a Turned's scratch, there may be many mysteries to be found in your veins."
There was something to consider, but if my blood was a source of power, why couldn't I ride a broom or turn Louise into a frog? I pushed those thoughts aside to examine later. I had a more pressing concern. "I would understand if you no longer wished to see me, given my links to known witches." There, I had said it aloud. I gave David permission to end our fledgling relationship.
He glanced at me, his brown gaze unreadable. Then his attention returned to the road. Cold dread settled in my stomach. I should have left my question for the end of the day, not the beginning.
"Do you know what keeps a man going in times of war?" his voice was soft, not hard or angry.
"No," I whispered. I hadn't given much thought to it. I presumed they followed orders or nurtured a cold rage to do what they must.
He turned the wheel and the vehicle followed a sweeping curve. "Thinking of the future. Making plans for when the world is at peace and a man can sit in his house beside the woman he loves. All during those days in the trenches I hoped for such a future, but I never imagined one until I met you."
The motorcar came to a stop and David turned off the engine. He turned and gave me his full attention. "I will not abandon you because of what some ancestor did. Besides, I imagine it would be handy to have a witch fighting on our side."
He smiled and the world seemed right. I was a witch. And a house keeper. And I now knew, a woman falling in love. Not even Louise could take that away from me.