Nelly Dean

by Alison Case

  ‘Will you help him?’

  ‘I will help tha both. But it will be difficult.’

  ‘I will pay you …’

  ‘I don’t mean for me. It will be difficult for tha. Tha must put thy whole heart into it, no matter what happens. And it will frighten thee.’

  It was true then! Elspeth was a witch! I felt as strange then as the farmer must have, when he saw the actual Brownie before him.

  ‘I am ready to do anything,’ I said.

  ‘Go then for now.’ As she spoke, Elspeth was taking down a jar from a crowded shelf, together with a small piece of paper from a store of them weighted with a rock. She reached her hand into the jar, and put a few generous pinches of its contents onto the paper, folding it into a neat packet. I watched intently, imagining that I saw the means of Hareton’s salvation before me.

  ‘Take the babe to Emma Dodd again today,’ she said.

  ‘But I don’t know if she …’

  ‘She will. Bring her this,’ she handed me the little packet, ‘and tell her it is from me. She will know what it is, and she’ll help thee a few more days, for my sake.’

  ‘But after that?’

  ‘Come back tonight, after dark, as soon as you can get away. Tell nobody of this. Nobody. And bring a lantern – the moon is waning, and there’ll be but little light.’

  I nodded solemnly, my heart pounding. ‘Of course,’ I thought, ‘this work must be done in darkness, and in secret.’

  ‘And what must I bring?’ I asked, imagining eye of newt, the finger-bone of a suicide, or God knows what.

  ‘Thyself, and the babe, and thy purse.’

  ‘I can pay you now,’ I said, relieved, and beginning to extract it from my bosom.

  ‘No, bring it with thee tonight.’

  So I bundled Hareton into his shawl again, bid Elspeth goodbye, and set out on my long walk to the Dodds’ cottage, in the strangest jumble of triumph and self-doubt, hopefulness and dread, that I have ever experienced.

  The summer evening felt endlessly long as I waited for nightfall. Hindley had already left, for what was now his routine of nightly drinking at the nearest inn, but I needed to wait for the children and then Joseph to go to bed before I dared leave the house. I only hoped my return would not coincide with Hindley’s. As soon as all was quiet, I crept downstairs and prepared the lantern we used for night calvings and the like, then covered it over until I should be clear of the house, softly unlocked the door, shushed the dogs, and set out on the path that led by Elspeth’s cottage. It was a familiar one, fortunately, for the moon had waned to a nail pairing and shed but little light. I met with no mishap before I was over the rise and it was safe to unswathe the lantern.

  In truth, I was a good deal frightened by what I was doing. There was the fear of being found out, of course, as I imagined trying to explain to Hindley why I had sneaked out of the house with his heir in the dark of the night. But I had greater fears about what lay ahead. Was Elspeth really a witch? And if she was, what forbidden arts would she use to give me what I asked for, and at what cost to me or the child? The story of the Brownie and the farmer was only one of a great many my mother had told me, the burden of which was always that all those who attempted to wield magic to their gain invariably came to a bad end. The local clergy’s teachings had been simpler, but hardly more encouraging: all such arts were dismissed as ‘superstition’, harmful only in duping the credulous, and luring them from the surer hands of true religion and medical science. True, I had the Kenneths’ warrant for Elspeth’s general run of practice being competent and above chicanery, but this was clearly outside the general run, undertaken only under strong pressure and long reflection – and under cover of darkness. In short, I don’t know which I dreaded more: that she could really work magic, or that she couldn’t, and my errand was in vain. But I was desperate, and willing to grasp at any straw.

  When I came nigh the cottage, I saw a candle glimmering through the window that told me Elspeth was awake, and waiting for me. She must have heard my footsteps, for before I could knock on the door I heard the sounds of her undoing the latch, and then the door opened. She was the same Elspeth I had met in the morning, but lit from below by the lantern, her face looked stranger, and more sinister. My heart pounded.

  ‘I’ve come, as you asked,’ I said, speaking softly, for Hareton was asleep.

  ‘So tha has,’ she said, as quietly as I. ‘Come in and sit down.’ She took the lantern from my hands as I entered, and put out the flame, so that the room was lit only by the candle on the table. ‘You’ll need this for the walk home,’ she said.

  I sat down at the table, which had a number of items ranged around the candle. I saw two small pots of the sort she put her salves in, an earthenware jug that looked to hold about a quart, a mug with some milk in it, a cloth bag, a yellow lump I took to be beeswax, and a tangle of thread that, on closer inspection, proved to be a jumble of embroidery silks in a variety of colours. It was a puzzling array, but there was nothing obviously sinister in it, at any rate. I sat down cautiously.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘It’s mostly what tha’ll do that matters. I can only give tha what tha needs, and get tha started on it.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Binding the child to tha.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The mother that birthed him is dead and gone, and he pines for the milk she could ha’ gi’en him. Naught else will save him. So we must make tha his mother, and he thy babe. Then the milk will come to tha, and tha canst feed him thyself. Give thy whole mind to what I’m telling thee, for it is no easy thing we are going to do.’

  I nodded solemnly. Had she told me that morning that this was her plan, I would have dismissed it as an impossibility, but now, in the dark, the low timbre of her voice and the strange shadows from the candle seemed to have cast a spell already, that made anything seem possible.

  ‘First, tha must pay me.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘A gold sovereign.’

  It was a large sum, by Elspeth’s standards, but I was prepared for that. I pulled out my purse and dug out some coins, but the two or three sovereigns I had were not among them. I laid out four crowns instead. ‘Will this do?’

  ‘Tha has no sovereign?’

  ‘I do, but this is the same amount,’ I said, puzzled.

  ‘Tha cannot pay for a binding with broken coins, lass. I must have only the one.’ So I emptied the whole purse and pulled from the pile the brightest of my sovereigns to give to her, then returned the rest to my purse. She took it and held it close to the candle to examine it, turning it over and over before tucking it into her bosom.

  ‘That will do,’ she said, then pushed the jug towards me. ‘Drink this.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘As much as tha canst. It’s not full.’ I picked up the jug, and found it was less than half full. I uncorked it and took a cautious sip. It was some kind of herbal tea, sweetened with honey, strange tasting but not unpleasant, with a hint of liquorice and a peppery aftertaste that felt warm in my mouth after I swallowed it. I took a deep breath. Either I must trust Elspeth, or give up on the child, that much seemed clear. I tilted up the jug and drained it.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, tha’ll bring the jug home with thee empty tonight, and every morning tha’ll make up a brew to fill it, with a level teacup full of what’s in the bag here boiled in a quart of water for as long as tha wouldst soft-boil an egg. Be sure to mix up the herbs from the bottom of the bag through to the top before you scoop them, so none of them settle out. Then take the pot off and let it cool with the herbs in it before tha strains it into the jug. Tha may add honey or sugar or whatever tha likes for the taste, only excepting wine or liquor. Drink it throughout the day, spacing it out so that tha takes the last of it just before bedtime. Is that clear?’

  I nodded and repeated the directions back to her.

  ‘Very well. Now on to the next thing.’ She re
moved the cover from the smaller of the two pots, and pushed it over to me. ‘Work this into thy teats five times a day.’ I flushed, not being accustomed to discussing that part of my anatomy, but nodded. ‘Let me see thee do it,’ she said. I flushed deeper.

  ‘Do I really need to?’

  ‘Do as I say.’

  The salve appeared to be a familiar mix of butter and beeswax, infused with something aromatic. Rather hesitantly, I undid my tucker and gingerly dabbed a bit of it where she had said.

  ‘Not like that. Work it in.’

  I made a further attempt, but it did not satisfy her, for she reached over and kneaded that tender point with a roughness that made me gasp and pull back. The shock disturbed Hareton, and he woke up and began crying.

  ‘Like that,’ she said. ‘Tha’ll feel a stab straight to thy belly, when tha does it right. I told thee it would not be easy. Now gie the child to me, and do the other one.’

  I did as she asked, shuddering against the queer pain it brought, and feeling very near to tears.

  She jiggled Hareton calmly until his cries settled into a low whimper. Then she opened the other pot and passed it to me. It was a sort of golden cream colour, but a little translucent, and it wobbled like a jelly – it looked like nothing I knew, and after my recent experience I was rather dreading learning its use.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s summat the bees make to feed their grubs. Not honey, but summat else. They make but little of it, and that not all the time. I had to open every hive I have to gather this much, and tha must guard it like gold – nay, more than gold, for when it’s gone, gold itself wouldn’t buy thee any more. It goes on thy teats too, but tha needn’t work it in – it’s for the child.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Come, it’s clear enough. Tha must put it on thy teat, and let the child suckle it off. About a teaspoonful, a little at a time, half on each breast, every time he is hungry. It won’t fill his belly, so tha must go to the sugar-water after, and still get him to Emma Dodd each day, for another three days yet. But do this first, always, and get four or five spoonfuls a day of this into him by that means. After he’s suckled, work in the other salve – not before as we did today. Now, then, let me see tha do it.’

  I took a fingerful of the strange mixture and smeared it onto my breast. Then Elspeth handed Hareton back to me, and I put him to my breast to suck, as I had seen many a mother do. He fastened on and sucked lustily. It hurt, especially on top of Elspeth’s rough treatment, but there was something pleasant to it also, and altogether, between the drink, and the salve, and the sight of the babe with his tiny fist resting on my breast, it was the strangest thing I had ever felt. Elspeth nodded her satisfaction.

  Hareton soon finished what I had put on, and then Elspeth gestured me to do the same on the other side, and so, back and forth, one more time. While I was doing that, she reached over and pulled a few hairs from the scant supply on Hareton’s head, and three or four from my own head also. I watched as she twisted two separate skeins of hair, each with a mix of Hareton’s and mine. These she stretched out into two parallel lines on the table. Then she picked up the bunch of silks and brought the candle close, and I saw her working it with her crabbed fingers, with surprising delicacy, to disentangle and pull from it the colours she wanted. Two strands of red, and two of white, were added one each to the skeins of hair on the table. She then got up and fetched a saucer from the cupboard, which she placed between the two piles. She handed me the cup of milk, and I took it with my free hand, the other still holding Hareton to my breast.

  ‘Take a small sip of the milk, but dunna swallow. Only swish it around in your mouth, and then spit it out into the saucer.’ I did as she said. Hareton finished, about then, and looked ready for sleep, so I began settling him more securely into my shawl. Before I was done, though, Elspeth came over with a little tin spoon and collected a bit of his spittle, which she mixed with the milk in the saucer. One at a time, she picked up each of the white threads and ran them through the mixture in the saucer to wet them. Then she wiped the saucer clean, took out a needle, and held its point in the candle flame. I eyed the red threads. It was not hard to guess what was coming.

  ‘Gie me thy thumb,’ she said. She pricked it hard, and I cried out in spite of myself. Then she squeezed several good-sized drops of blood into the saucer, where they formed a small red pool.

  ‘You’re not going to do that to the babe?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Not like that,’ she said, wiping off the needle and holding it in the flame again. ‘We’ll need only a wee drop from him. He’ll scarcely feel it.’ She was as good as her word, and soon one bright drop of Hareton’s blood joined mine on the saucer. Elspeth stirred it with the needle, and then ran each of the two red threads through it before returning them to their piles. Then, one at a time, she took up each of the two piles, made a knot at the top, and braided the red, the white, and the hair together. I was astonished at how dextrous she was – she was bent double over the threads, and I could scarcely see the fingers move, yet the braided chain emerged from them with surprising speed. The whole time she worked, she was mumbling to herself, but I could not make out any of what she said. I sat spellbound. Between the tea, the salve, and Hareton’s nursing, I felt the strangest tinglings and disturbances all over my body, and that, combined with the oddness of being secretly away from home at this late hour, and Elspeth’s eerie form in the dim candlelight, had lulled my usual sensible scepticism to sleep, and left me firmly believing in the power of Elspeth’s magic.

  When she was finished, each chain was a little less than a foot in length, and fixed with a knot at either end, and an inch or two of loose thread trailing beyond that. When she was done, she handed them to me.

  ‘What are these for?’ I asked.

  ‘One for thy wrist, and one for the babe’s. His will have to go twice round. That will seal the binding.’ I took one of the chains and pulled out Hareton’s wrist to begin.

  ‘Not now, child! The binding canna happen here. I haven’t that sort o’ power. Tha must ask the stone for that.’

  ‘The stone?’

  ‘Aye, what they call Pennistone Crag. I can get tha ready for it, but the stone itself must bind thee. It’s always been that way.’

  I must have looked as confused as I felt.

  ‘Does tha know the stone?’

  ‘I was there many times as a child – not so much since.’ I felt my face burn as I spoke, remembering the circumstances of my most recent visit, but if Elspeth noticed, she said nothing of it.

  ‘Then tha knows it is a powerful place.’

  ‘I know there are some … beliefs around it. Like that couples who go through the gate will get married in a year. But I have good reason to believe that an empty superstition.’

  Elspeth snorted. ‘Marry! Is that what they told thee? Ah, that’s what comes of growing up with the gentry. They never teach what anyone in a cottage could ha’ told thee. Folk don’t go to the stone to make marriages, lass. They go to it to make children.’

  My heart seemed to stop. I went cold all over. Elspeth eyed me appraisingly.

  ‘And I’m guessing that’s how tha got the bairn tha lost. Am I right?’ I nodded. ‘Poor lass, tha was sorely misguided, that’s sure. And tha’s paid heavily for thy mistake, too. But tha must see, now, that the stone is a powerful thing.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘What must I do?’

  ‘Tha must offer payment to the stone, and make thy request, then spend the night there with the babe, in the fairy cave. Tha’ll have to wait three more days to go there, until the night when the new moon first shows in the sky – tha can’t do this sort o’ magic on a waning moon. Full would be best, and gie thee more light, too, but beggars can’t be choosers: the babe canna wait so long as that, and a new moon is next best – tha’ll have the whole of its waxing after, to help bring up the milk, and that’s no bad thing, either.’

  ‘How much do
I pay?’ I asked, pulling out my purse, and assuming that this was only a roundabout way of claiming more money for herself.

  ‘Put thy money away, child – I’m not the stone,’ she snorted, ‘and it won’t be money that’s needed either, the stone don’t want that, not from thee, anyway.’

  ‘What does it want, then?’

  ‘Tha must work that out for thyself. Now hold thy tongue and listen. When I’m done tha may ask all the questions tha please.’

  I nodded, and Elspeth proceeded to give me very detailed instructions for all I should do – except in the one particular of payment. There were so many details, I took out a pencil and asked for paper to make some notes, but she bid me put it away, saying I must keep it all in my head. When she was finished, she had me repeat it all back to her. I did so, while she corrected two or three little inaccuracies that had crept in.

  ‘Now repeat it again.’

  This time I got it all right.

  ‘Now again,’ she said again.

  ‘But I thought I got it right that time.’

  ‘That’s so. And I’ll have thee get it right two more times, before I let thee leave. Then on the walk home tha must repeat it to thyself seven more times. That makes ten,’ she said, spreading her fingers wide, ‘one for each finger of the hands, and then tha’ll have it grasped tight, and it can’t slip from thee.’ And she clenched her fingers together and mimed pulling something to her chest. ‘That’s my mother’s saying, and everything I learned from her I learned that way, for she could neither read nor write.’

  ‘When I have done all that, how will I know if it has worked?’

  ‘Tha’ll know. Tha’ll feel the milk in thy breast.’

  ‘How long will it take? Will I feel it right away?’

  ‘If tha’s done everything just as I say, the milk will come with the morning sun, if not before. There will be little enough, at the start, but it will come in stronger a few days after.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t work?’

  She shrugged. ‘Tha asked for my help. This is what I have to give thee. If it fails, tha must look elsewhere. But I’ve watched thee carefully: thy bond with this child is strong already. It will work.’