by Cheryl Holt
“That’s fine. Please come in.”
She urged Clara to continue on ahead of them, then she and Mr. Boswell followed. He leaned in and murmured, “We shouldn’t talk in front of the girl.”
“Her name is Clara.”
“I know.”
He smirked in a manner that made Joanna eager to slap him. Mutt had been off in the forest, and he loped up. When he saw Mr. Boswell, he skidded to a halt, and he growled viciously, his hackles up.
Clara rushed over to pet him, and she said, “He doesn’t like you, Mr. Boswell, and he usually likes everyone. Isn’t that funny?”
“It’s absolutely hilarious,” he tightly replied.
Joanna wasn’t sure Mutt would let Mr. Boswell pass on by. What if he lunged at Boswell? What if he nipped flesh or ripped his trousers?
She said to Clara, “Why don’t you play with Mutt for me? Mr. Boswell and I must have a private conversation. I’ll shout for you when we’re finished.”
“I’m never permitted to listen in on adults,” Clara complained.
“I’ll tell you about it after we’re done.”
Clara was too polite to quarrel. She snapped her fingers at Mutt and gestured to the woods. The dog hesitated, as if he didn’t want to leave Joanna unprotected, and Joanna had to admit she wasn’t keen to chat with Boswell.
Whatever he intended to impart, it could never be to her benefit.
“Go,” she sternly commanded Mutt, and she motioned to Clara. Clara marched off, and Mutt reluctantly obeyed and trotted after her.
After they vanished, Joanna opened the door and entered the house. She could have guided him into the parlor to the sofa, as if it was a social call, but she was fairly certain there would be nothing social about it. She stepped to her left, to her kitchen. She pulled out a chair at the table, indicating he should sit, and she took the chair across from him.
He peered about, scrutinizing the room, as if wondering how much money he could get for her possessions if he sold them.
“I’m trying to recollect if I’ve ever been in this cottage before,” he said. “If I have, I can’t remember.”
“It’s been a good spot for me.” Joanna offered naught more. She stared at him, waiting for him to mention his purpose.
He snickered and asked, “How much do you charge to cast spells?”
“I don’t cast spells.”
“Why can’t you oblige me?” he mockingly inquired. “I’d love to have you turn a few people into toads.”
She imagined it was his idea of a joke, and she scowled with exasperation. He viewed himself as being very important, but there was no chance his ego would be stroked in her kitchen.
He finally realized it and said, “I’ll come straight to the point.”
“I appreciate it. I assume your message is dire.”
“Not to me, but I don’t suppose you’ll like it very much. Captain Ralston has been recalled to duty. He departed yesterday.”
“Oh.”
Somehow, she managed to exhibit very little emotion, but at the news, she was so shocked that he might have physically punched her.
She’d been planning to sneak away from Ralston Place, but so far, it had been mental wrangling. She hadn’t accepted the notion that she’d never see Jacob Ralston again. She struggled to hide her distress.
“It was very fast,” Mr. Boswell said, “but then, he’s a navy man. He’s used to a brisk change of circumstance. He thrives on it.”
She had to exhibit scant interest in Jacob. “Is there a reason I’m being notified? I’m barely acquainted with Captain Ralston, so his arrangements with the navy are none of my concern.”
He laughed in a cruel way. “Yours is a humorous attempt at innocence, Miss James, but unfortunately for you, you have no secrets from me.”
“Meaning what?”
“Roxanne Ralston is the Captain’s fiancée. You’re aware of that fact, aren’t you?”
“I dare say the whole neighborhood is aware of it.”
“Well, she is aware too—of your affair with him.” Joanna would have refuted the allegation, but he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s futile to pretend. She caught him creeping home at dawn, after he’d spent the night with you. She confronted him, and they had quite a discussion about you and what a trollop you are. I regret to inform you that their comments weren’t flattering.”
Joanna bristled, enraged that Jacob would gossip about her, but especially with Miss Ralston. “Fine. I won’t deny an affair. Why are you here? I wish you’d just tell me.”
He didn’t explain though. He studied her with lechery in his expression, his rude, prurient gaze roaming across her bosom. “Personally, I couldn’t care less if he’s dabbling with you, and it’s clear why he’d pick you over her. You’re sweet and malleable, and Roxanne is hard as nails. Any man in his right mind would tup you rather than her.”
She leapt to her feet. “That’s enough. I don’t have to listen to that sort of disparaging remark in my own kitchen, and I won’t be insulted by you. Let me show you out.”
He didn’t budge though, but waved to her chair and said, “Sit down, sit down. There’s no need to fly off the handle. I was complimenting you.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Sit, Miss James!” he said more vehemently. “I must clarify my purpose.”
They engaged in a staring match, and she might have stomped out in a huff, but it was obvious—if she didn’t allow him to bloviate—she might never be shed of him.
She plopped down. “Get on with it, and if you abuse me again, this conversation is over.”
He sneered with satisfaction, as if she’d behaved precisely as he’d expected, and her dislike for him soared. Over the years, there had been terrible stories about him, and she suspected every dastardly tale was most likely true.
“I’ve brought a message from Miss Ralston,” he said. “As you might imagine, she is not keen to have you loitering on the property and tempting her fiancé.”
“I have never tempted Jacob Ralston, and if you presume I could, then you don’t know him very well.”
“We’re not playing semantic games, Miss James. He’s besotted with you, but he’s about to wed Roxanne. You’re not stupid, so I’m sure you understand the problem this creates for her.”
“I understand it, and I’m sorry his conduct has upset her. I hope you can understand that I have absolutely no power over how he acts.”
He nodded. “Yes, Jacob can be very obstinate, but we’re not talking about him. We’re talking about you and how you will fix this fiasco.”
“I’ll make the situation easier on you and admit that I’m overwhelmed by the Captain’s attentions. I grasp that they can never benefit me, so I have already decided to move away.”
“Have you? What a nice surprise. We don’t have to argue then. When will you depart?”
“In a few weeks. I will tell people we are heading to Bath for a holiday, but we will travel in the other direction.”
“Why the other direction?”
“As you mentioned, Captain Ralston is besotted, and he’s very stubborn. If I flee without his permission, I’m afraid—on his next furlough—he’ll track me down and force me back.”
“You’re impressing me more by the minute. You know Jacob so well too! You must have spent some time becoming acquainted. It can’t all have been rolling around on a mattress. You must have chatted occasionally.”
“You’ve insulted me again. Are we finished?”
“No, for there’s an issue with your schedule. You have to leave immediately.”
“Define immediately.”
“Today. By tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“I can’t be prepared that fast.”
“More’s the pity then, for you see, I’m leveling this section of the woods
. I’ll be torching this meadow at dawn, so if you’re not gone, your possessions will be burned to the ground along with the building.”
She hadn’t wanted to show any reaction, but tears flooded her eyes. She couldn’t abide cruelty, and she’d lived in the small house since she was fourteen. It wasn’t grand or fancy, but it was her home and had been for ten years.
It represented her connection to her Aunt Pru who’d been wise, kind, and cunning. Pru had taken her in and raised her after the shipwreck in the Caribbean. Joanna had been a bewildered orphan who’d needed a patient, tender parent, and Pru had enthusiastically stepped into that role.
She’d taught Joanna her family’s ancient secrets, but she’d also taught her more pragmatic skills: how to persevere, how to thrive in difficult circumstances, how to brace for hardship, and it had arrived.
“I’ve distressed you,” he said, and he smirked. “It’s a waste of effort to weep. I have a heart of stone, so it won’t do you any good.”
“I would never cry in front of you. You’d enjoy it too much.”
“I would. Now then, I’ll be abundantly clear: You are to leave, and you are to keep going until you are far, far away.”
“I will. I swear.”
“You are not to slither back. If you suffer adversity in your new locale, you are not to write to Jacob Ralston. You are not to ever contact him for any reason.”
“I figured that out on my own.”
“Your little niece can’t remain in the area either. Not with Miss Ralston about to wed Jacob.”
“I especially realize that.”
“Have you any documents that prove her maternity? Letters? A birth certificate? Anything like that?”
“No,” Joanna lied, her gaze firm.
“Have you any information about her father?”
“I know it’s you—if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You are a very forthright person, Miss James, which is refreshing. It makes our negotiation so much easier.”
“Are we negotiating?” she inquired.
“No. I’m threatening you.”
“There’s no need to threaten me. I told you I plan to go. You’ve simply speeded up my schedule.”
“Yes, but the wheels are spinning in your head. You’re a female, so you’re naturally duplicitous.”
“I’m sorry you view me that way.”
“If you tarry, I shall summon Vicar Blair from over in the next parish. Have you ever heard of Vicar Blair? He’s a very pious, very rigid preacher. He wouldn’t like to discover that you practice magic. He’d feel compelled to stop you.”
“I don’t practice magic,” she futilely insisted.
“He has a nasty attitude about young women who don’t behave as they ought. He’d be delighted to call you out as a witch.”
“This is the modern age, Mr. Boswell. Everyone has agreed there are no witches.”
“Vicar Blair thinks there is. I’ll set him loose on you. Could you bear to have a vicious priest breathing down your neck?”
She inhaled slowly to calm herself. “I see your point.”
“Jacob is my great friend—like my very own brother. Every boon I enjoy, I’ve received from him. If there is ever the slightest hint that I am a father, I will get even.”
“The news doesn’t surprise me. You have a reputation as a very vindictive fellow.”
He grinned, proud of the charge. “You should be advised, if I have to lash out, it won’t be against you. It will be against the girl.”
“Her name is Clara. If you can brag about how you’d retaliate against your daughter, you should at least be able to speak her name.”
He didn’t take her bait, didn’t jump into an argument about Clara. Instead, he said, “It appears we’re in complete accord. Will you depart this afternoon?”
“I have to pack, so it will have to be in the morning.”
“It has to be by dawn. At sunrise, I’ll be here with men and torches.”
“Yes, I’m certain you will be. You’re not the sort to jest about it.”
She stood, and he stood too, and he leaned in, as if he might touch her indecently. She braced, refusing to lurch away, being positive he was trying to frighten her. But she wasn’t scared of anyone.
She glared at him, daring him to proceed, and as she’d suspected, he was a coward deep down. He was the first to look away.
She wanted him out of her house. It was still hers for a few more hours. She marched by him, went to the door, and flung it open. He dawdled in the kitchen, notifying her he wouldn’t blithely obey. After he believed she understood his authority, he sauntered over and walked by her.
“Don’t linger in the morning.” He was determined to have the last word. “I don’t wish to fuss with you ever again.”
“I have no wish to fuss with you either.”
“We tolerated you for too many years, and you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
He would have strolled off, assuming he’d put her in her place, but she never bowed down. Before he realized what she intended, she grabbed his wrist, turned up his palm, and traced several signs in the center with her finger.
He jerked away as if she’d scalded him.
“What the bloody hell was that?” he demanded, and he frowned at his hand as if pagan marks might have been branded into his skin.
“I don’t usually level curses,” she told him, “but I’ve made an exception for you.”
“You little shit! What have you done?”
“None of your dreams will come true. You’ll lose everything because of me: your job, your income, your fancy house. If my magic is powerful enough, perhaps even your life. You’ll never have a wife or any other children, but for Clara. Your male parts will shrivel and quit working. You’ll end up poor, alone, and despised, with Jacob Ralston hating you most of all.”
She thought he might strike her, but apparently, she’d terrified the big bully. He laughed in her face, but it was a nervous, anxious laugh.
“You’re a charlatan.” He struggled to sound brazen, but failed. “You prey on the weak and the gullible. No rational person would ever listen to you. I don’t plan to.”
“We’ll see if I’m a charlatan. We’ll find out if I have any power.” She displayed another gesture, one she invented and that didn’t mean anything, and she hurled it as if it could land on him. “Best keep glancing over your shoulder, Mr. Boswell. Who can guess what ill-wind might be blowing in to knock you down?”
“You deranged witch. I ought to sic Vicar Blair on you after all. It would serve you right.”
He huffed off, and she went inside and peeked out the curtain, watching as he leapt on his horse and cantered away. She was delighted to note that he was in quite a hurry too. He might scoff and deride her as a fraud, but he was in no mood to discover what else she might do.
She smirked with satisfaction, figuring he’d worry about her curse every minute of every day for the rest of his sorry life.
Clara was asleep when a loud noise outside awakened her. She popped up on an elbow and glanced around her bedchamber. Was it Mutt? Had he barked a warning? Or had he cried out with dismay? A man might have cursed too.
She cocked an ear toward Joanna’s room, but she hadn’t stirred, so it must have been a dream.
She drew the covers up to her chin and tried to doze off again, but her mind was awhirl, and she couldn’t relax.
After Mr. Boswell had left, Joanna had sat her down, and they’d had a serious, adult conversation about many topics Clara would rather not have had clarified. Over the years, she’d occasionally asked Aunt Pru and Joanna who her parents had been, but they’d always claimed they possessed no details.
But Roxanne Ralston and Mr. Boswell were her mother and father, and to her great consternation, they were demanding she leave Ralston Place. S
he was faced with their total disregard. It was such a cruel, unfair blow.
Joanna had debated whether to lie about what was occurring, but in the end, she’d decided Clara had to understand the gravity of what had transpired.
They had to be gone by dawn, and they’d spent the evening packing their bags. Joanna had been prepared for just such an event, so she’d known what they needed. It had merely been a matter of grabbing the appropriate items and stuffing them in satchels. It had happened so fast that it didn’t seem real.
She must have fallen back to sleep because, suddenly, Joanna was shaking her, panic in her voice.
“Clara! Get up!”
Clara was befuddled and, drowsily, she inquired, “What’s wrong?”
Then she smelled smoke. Fear made her pulse race.
“There’s a fire in my workroom,” Joanna told her. “Come! We have to flee the house—while we still can.”
Joanna yanked off the blanket, and Clara leapt out of bed. Luckily, they were dressed and ready to depart, so they wouldn’t have to head out in their nightclothes. Joanna handed her her shoes, and Clara plopped down on the edge of the mattress to tug them on, but Joanna clasped her wrist and pulled her up.
“You can put them on in the yard,” Joanna said, and they ran out to the hall and down the stairs.
As they reached the bottom, the smoke was thick and heavy. Her eyes watered, and she began to cough. She couldn’t see the door. It was dark and hazy, and she was completely disoriented, but somehow, Joanna led her over to it.
It was an effort to wrestle with the security bar, to lift it off and toss it away, then they staggered out. Joanna guided her to the gate so they were a safe distance away, and when Clara turned to stare, the roof was ablaze. Flames were visible in the thatch.
“Stay here,” Joanna said.
“Where are you going?” Clara asked with alarm.
“I have to fetch our satchels or we’ll have nothing. Don’t worry. They’re right in the parlor.”
“I don’t think you ought!”
Joanna didn’t heed her though. She simply dashed away.
