by H. Y. Hanna
She thought back to the way James had looked at her assessingly and flushed at the memory. How on earth had he thought that she could fit into his sister’s clothes? Surely he couldn’t have thought they were the same size? Were men really that unobservant? Or had he simply been acting polite?
She sighed and put the dress down. What was she going to do now? Her own clothes were still wet and she couldn’t go downstairs wearing them… but she certainly couldn’t go down naked, and she would’ve rather died than admit to James that she was too big to fit into his sister’s clothes! If only she could magically make the clothes larger—Wait a minute! She was a witch, wasn’t she? She could use magic. Well, okay, so far, most of her training had been to do with transforming chocolate… but clothes couldn’t be that different—could they?
She looked, frowning, down at the dress in her hands—she didn’t know any enlargement spells, but she remembered the Widow Mags telling her that chanting words wasn’t really necessary; the words of a spell didn’t hold any magic in themselves—they simply helped novice witches focus. The real magic came from the force of her will and she simply had to concentrate hard enough.
Okay, here goes… Caitlyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She clenched the fabric of the dress in her hands and visualised it stretching, stretching, stretching… Then she opened her eyes and looked down. She broke into a surprised smile. It had worked! The dress seemed to have expanded a few sizes and, when she slipped it eagerly over her head, she was elated to see that it now fitted her perfectly. She smoothed the silky fabric down over her hips and smiled in delight as she surveyed herself in the mirror. The soft lavender-grey colour suited her, making her red hair even more vivid and giving her complexion a creamy glow.
Caitlyn’s hand crept up to the flat, oblong stone strung on a piece of ribbon around her neck. It was the runestone that had been found on her when she was picked up as an abandoned baby, and the strange, unintelligible symbols carved onto the stone’s surface were part of the mystery surrounding her past. She normally preferred to keep the runestone hidden beneath layers of clothing. She couldn’t explain why, but some instinct made her wary about showing it to the world. But hiding it would be impossible in this dress with its wide, scooped neckline. Still, she was only going to be with James, she reminded herself, and she had no fears or worries with him.
She smiled as she surveyed her reflection again. She felt suddenly more than ready for dinner with one of England’s most eligible bachelors!
CHAPTER SIX
James was engrossed in something on his laptop when she tapped on the door of his study and hesitantly entered. He looked up with a smile, rising from his desk.
“Did you manage okay with my sister’s things?”
“Yes… um… with a slight stretch of the imagination…” said Caitlyn with a little smile. She looked admiringly around the spacious but cosy study, with its beautiful mahogany furniture and carved bookshelves, and the enormous mullioned windows with a view out onto a private rear garden. “This is a gorgeous room!”
“Thank you. It used to be my father’s study and it still feels a bit strange to work in here.” James gestured towards the leather chesterfield sofa next to the fireplace. “Come and sit down. The food should be arriving any minute.”
Caitlyn followed him and perched on the edge of the sofa, pausing to re-arrange her dress, which bunched underneath her as she sat down. There seemed to be more fabric than she’d thought and she tried to tuck the excess beneath her legs in a ladylike manner. She was actually glad to make the adjustments, as it gave her something to do. She had been at the Manor many times but had never been alone with James in his study. It felt oddly intimate and made her even shyer than usual.
Finally, when she could no longer fuss with her clothes, she cleared her throat and said: “Um… I hope I’m not interrupting your work or anything—”
James waved a dismissive hand. “I was just catching up on some emails and messages. An old family friend wrote to say that he would be in the area tomorrow and was keen to see me, so I’ve invited him to stay for a few days at the Manor.” He smiled in anticipation. “It will be good to see him—I haven’t seen Gerald in years! He was one of my father’s oldest and closest friends, and I’ve known him since I was a boy, but in the past decade, we seem to have lost touch. He didn’t even make it to my father’s funeral—some unfortunate business took him out of the country at the time.”
They were interrupted by Amelia, one of the original maids at the Manor, bringing in an enormous tray bursting with plates and bowls. As the girl set the tray down, Caitlyn saw that it contained two steaming bowls of hearty vegetable soup, a basket of crusty country bread accompanied by a small plate of fresh butter, a beautiful salad of roasted broccoli, flavoured with garlic and olive oil, and even a plate of bruschetta, heaped with chopped plum tomatoes, paper-thin prosciutto, peppery rocket leaves, and freshly grated Parmesan cheese. The mouth-watering aromas rising from the tray made her realise that she was starving and she couldn’t wait to tuck in.
James eyed the laden tray with a rueful laugh. “No matter what I say to Mrs Pruett about just wanting a ‘simple meal’, she can’t seem to help herself. This is practically a feast!”
He thanked Amelia, who eyed them with sly curiosity, and Caitlyn couldn’t help a blush coming to her cheeks. She knew that the entire village was constantly speculating about her relationship with the handsome owner of Huntingdon Manor. She was glad when the maid finally went out, shutting the study door behind her and leaving them in peace.
Caitlyn leaned forwards to sniff appreciatively, then paused as she felt her neckline fall open. She was dismayed to realise that her borrowed dress had a much lower décolletage than she’d thought. It gaped widely, revealing far more of her chest than she was comfortable with. She wished suddenly that she had thought to add a small cardigan or something similar to her outfit.
“Is something wrong?” asked James, looking at her in concern, as she hadn’t started eating. “Don’t you like the food?”
“Oh no, no, it all looks delicious,” said Caitlyn. She squirmed in her seat and wished that James hadn’t taken a seat across from her. Her neckline felt so low that if she leaned forwards to help herself to a dish, he would be looking down the gaping hole and seeing everything! Then she gave herself a mental shake. Stop being such a prude! Lots of women wear clothes like this—you’re just not used to wearing things so low-cut. And so what if James gets a peek at your cleavage?
Trying to assume a confidence she didn’t feel, Caitlyn began filling her plate, and she was relieved to see that James seemed so engrossed in his own laden plate that he wasn’t looking at her anymore.
He gave a great sigh of contentment. “I never thought I’d say this but I’ve been really looking forward to some home-cooking. It’s funny, when I used to work as a foreign correspondent for the BBC, I used to travel all the time—I practically lived out of a suitcase for months at a time and it never used to bother me. But this time… I’d barely been gone a few days before I started wishing I could be heading back.” He shook his head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I think I was actually homesick! I never expected to feel that way, you know, about Huntingdon Manor and Tillyhenge. I mean, I’d spent time here as a child, but it had never felt like ‘home’ to me, and I only moved back here after my father passed away because I had to. It was my duty to assume the title and take over the running of the estate. But I never expected to feel any real attachment to the place.”
“Well, they do say: ‘home is where the heart is’, don’t they?” replied Caitlyn absently, tugging surreptitiously at her neckline. Then she realised what she’d just said and the potential double meaning in her words, and she flushed. “I… I mean… you… you always put so much heart into the… um… the welfare of the village,” she stammered. “And you’re such an integral part of the community in Tillyhenge… they all missed you while you were away.”
He gave her a teasing look. “I was rather hoping that you’d say you missed me.”
“Oh!” Caitlyn felt her cheeks flaming and she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I… I did…” she mumbled. “I did miss you.”
James moved suddenly, coming to sit next to her on the sofa—so close that she could feel the warmth from his body. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breathing became ragged and shallow. She wanted to turn and look at him but she was paralysed by a terrible crippling shyness. He reached out and, for a moment, Caitlyn thought he was going to caress her cheek, but then she felt a feather-light touch on her temple instead. Goosebumps shivered across her skin as he gently brushed back a wayward strand of her hair.
Then he leaned closer and Caitlyn found herself suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity in his grey eyes. She dropped her gaze in confusion… then her eyes widened in horror as she stared down at her chest. Her neckline was now so low that her breasts were practically spilling out of the dress. She gulped and clutched her hands to her chest, yanking the fabric upwards.
Why didn’t I notice that the neckline was this low, back up in the room? she wondered despairingly. Then she froze. Wait. It wasn’t this low back in the room. In fact, it wasn’t even this low when she’d entered the Study a short while earlier. It had dipped lower and lower, because the neckline was stretching!
She looked hurriedly down at her legs, where she could see pools of fabric puddling around her ankles. The dress, which had been knee-length when she put it on, was now nearly floor-length. She gasped as she realised what was happening: the spell was still working! The dress was still stretching! That was why she had felt like there was so much more fabric when she sat down. The hem was stretching and lengthening, from knee-length, to calf-length, to ankle-length… and the neckline was stretching wider and lower, plunging down to reveal more and more of her chest…
“Caitlyn?” James had drawn back and was looking at her quizzically. “What’s wrong?” He put out a hand but Caitlyn shrank away from him.
“I…” She clutched the fabric tighter to her chest, her mind whirling. How do I stop the dress stretching? How do I “switch the spell off”?
“Did I scare you?” asked James in concern. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, it’s not that…” Caitlyn gave a nervous laugh. “It’s just…” She squirmed again, shifting even farther from him.
James’s gaze fell to her hands clutching the front of her dress. “Is something wrong with your chest? Are you in pain? Here, let me see—”
“NO!” Caitlyn gasped, scooting backwards away from him. She wanted to run from the room, but there was so much fabric pooled around her feet now that she would trip if she didn’t gather up her skirts. But she was also scared to unclench her hands from her neckline. At the rate the dress was stretching, it would probably be as low as her navel by now!
“Caitlyn…” James was looking really worried now. “What is going on?”
Should I tell James the truth? He said that he believed I was a witch and that he believed in the existence of magic…
She hesitated, then said in a rush: “It’s not me. It’s… it’s the dress. I… I had to… um…use a spell to stretch it.”
“A spell to stretch it?” James blinked. “I don’t understand.”
Caitlyn wanted to scream with exasperation. Were men really so obtuse? “The dress didn’t quite fit,” she said through gritted teeth. “Because I’m… er… bigger than your sister.” She felt herself flushing bright red.
James didn’t seem to be aware of her embarrassment. He was still frowning slightly. “No, I mean… You said a spell… you mean, you used… er… magic?”
“Yes, I didn’t know the exact spell but the Widow Mags says words aren’t really necessary… they’re just to help you focus your intent…” She could see James was looking even more confused and blundered on. “Anyway, I… I thought the spell had worked but I’ve messed up—I mean, it did work—that’s the problem: it worked too well! And I think it’s still working now; the dress is still stretching…” She trailed off, seeing the expression of disbelief in James’s eyes.
“Your dress is still stretching?” James frowned and looked her up and down dubiously. “By magic?”
Caitlyn heard the scepticism in his voice and felt a stab of disappointment. So in spite of what he had said to her that day in the cow shed, James didn’t really embrace her witch identity—otherwise why would he doubt her?
Then she felt contrite. She was being unfair. It was understandable that James would still struggle to accept magic as a reality when he had spent a lifetime believing in science, and she herself hadn’t been able to demonstrate any magical ability in front of him. But she would change that now—she would reverse the spell in front of him and then he would have to believe her!
“I’m going to try to fix it. I’m going to reverse the spell,” she told him. She took a deep breath but before she could close her eyes, the Study door swung open.
Amelia stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s this man at the front door! He’s demandin’ to see Minerva Chattox an’ he won’t go away—”
An angry male voice sounded from the other side of the manor house, carrying clearly through the open Study doorway.
“Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”
James hesitated and glanced at Caitlyn once more, then turned and hurried out of the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Caitlyn paused only long enough to hastily reverse the stretching spell and make sure that the dress was short enough that she could walk without tripping, then she ran after James. She arrived in the main foyer to find Mosley the butler forcibly trying to restrain a man from pushing his way into the house.
“Sir! I must object! This is a private residence—!” the butler was saying as he grabbed the man’s arms and tried to hold him back.
“I know she’s here!” the man growled, struggling to free his arms and nearly punching the butler in the face. “You can’t hide her from me!”
James walked up to them and cleared his throat loudly. The butler looked up. His normally immaculate suit was dishevelled, his hair tousled and his tie askew, and he looked mortified.
“Sir, I’m terribly sorry for the disturbance! Really, there was no need for Amelia to trouble you, and she ran off before I could prevent her. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this—”
“That’s all right, Mosley,” said James with a smile. “I don’t doubt your efficiency, but perhaps I can save you some aggravation.” He turned to the man and said courteously, “Can I help you? I am James Fitzroy and this is my home.”
Faced with James’s quiet authority, the man calmed down slightly. Disentangling himself from the butler, he made an attempt to straighten his own clothes and smooth back his hair.
“Lawrence Ford,” he said curtly, holding a hand out to James. “I’m a lawyer and a resident of Tillyhenge. My wife and I moved here last year. I live in that new development at the edge of the village.”
“Oh yes, I know the one.” James looked at the man enquiringly. “I believe you wanted to see someone?”
“Minerva Chattox!” Lawrence Ford spat out the name, his face growing red again. “That thieving fraud! That lying cow! I heard that she’s staying here as your guest and I must say, Lord Fitzroy, that I am disgusted with you! I cannot believe that you would show that woman hospitality—”
“Mr Ford.” James held a hand up. “I think you have been misinformed. Miss Chattox is staying at the Manor, that is true, but it is not in the capacity of a normal guest. The police would like to ensure that she does not leave the area until they can complete their investigation, so Miss Chattox is remaining here—under my watchful eye, so to speak.”
Lawrence Ford shook a fist. “Then let me go to her! I’m going to give her a piece of my mind! She conned my wife, filled her head with all sorts of nonsense, and convinced her to pay several thousand pounds—”
“Mr Ford,
” James cut in, his voice polite but firm. “If you are unhappy with Miss Chattox’s professional conduct, it may be best if you make an official complaint to a Trading Standards office or perhaps take up the matter with an ombudsman—”
“Don’t try to fob me off with that official bollocks!” the man snapped. “It’s taken me all day to track her down and I’m not leaving until I see her!”
“Sir! I must ask you to control yourself,” said Mosley indignantly as Lawrence Ford thrust himself aggressively towards James. The butler reached out to restrain Ford.
“Get off me!” snarled the lawyer, rounding on Mosley and giving him a violent push.
The butler staggered back and would have fallen if James hadn’t caught his arm.
“That’s enough!” said James. He eyed the lawyer coldly. “Mr Ford, whatever your grievances with Miss Chattox, it does not give you the right to come into my home and abuse my staff. Such behaviour certainly will not induce me to sympathise with your cause. In fact, I must ask you to leave immediately or you will be forcibly removed from the premises.”
