"Oh, how wonderful," Fiona breathed. "Can you do this for other people falsely accused?"
Lady Mary bit her lip and looked away. "No, my dear. You see, I usurped William's authority. I dare not try it again. However, there is something else. I have been informed that the afflicted girls are now whispering about me."
"Oh, no," Fiona gasped. "No doubt they are angry because you released one of their victims. What will happen to you, my lady?"
"I know not." Mary pushed back her chair and raised her chin. "I only know this witch hunt must be stopped."
"Giles Harmon suggested that there might be a way out concerning the speed with which the warrants have been issued."
"In the mittimuses, you mean?" she answered thoughtfully. "Yes, possibly. In fact, quite likely. I shall mention that to William."
Fiona rose, aware that no more could be said except for one last plea. "Lady Mary, I cannot thank you and Sir William enough for listening to me and promising to investigate this matter. There is just one trouble—my mother may be executed before she—she can be cleared—" Her voice broke and Fiona stopped, unable to continue.
With a look of deep compassion, Lady Mary nodded and pressed Fiona's arm. But she made no further promises.
Chapter 29
Giles came swiftly when Fiona emerged with Lady Mary. He bowed to them both; the lady smiled and vanished toward her guests.
"Fiona," Giles asked softly, moving to her side, "how did it go?"
"Fairly well." She took his arm, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Let us get some food and I will tell you everything."
"A good idea." He added in a low tone, "but we'd best not tarry here too long. We don't know what lies in waiting."
He meant Blaize. A pang of fear bit deep into Fiona and she shuddered.
Giles gave her a quick glance of concern. "Sit here at this little table. I'll bring you a plate of food and a glass of wine."
"Port would be nice."
Giles looked surprised, but he returned shortly with two brimming glasses and then brought plates piled high with sliced meats, smoked fish, pickled vegetables, buttered rolls, and ruby-colored jelly.
"So much," Fiona demurred, but she ate it all and felt renewed. At last, as they sipped their wine, she rewarded Giles's patience with a detailed recital of what had transpired with Sir William and Lady Mary, including her plucky action at the Salem jail.
Giles looked thoughtful. "The lady seems to have both courage and intelligence, and Sir William is a broad-minded man of action. Together they will probably halt this madness of the witch hunt."
"But will it be in time?" Fiona worried.
"I pray it is. You have done all you could for the time being. I am sure you stated your case in a clear, straightforward manner. And coming here was a brilliant idea on your part."
Fiona sighed deeply, chewing on her lip. Had she really done enough to engage the cooperation of these two important, busy people?
Giles took her hand in his and pressed it hard. "Keep up your spirits and don't despair. I believe that very soon all will be well."
Fiona gazed into his strong, loving face. "Dear Giles, do you realize that we have changed places? You were Master Sobersides when we were sailing to America and I was the one to laugh at every problem."
"That's true. I had a grave responsibility at sea as a replacement for the ailing ship's doctor. I still have grave responsibilities in Salem, but knowing that I have your love has given me a happier outlook than I ever dreamed possible. You, on the other hand, now face the worst—" He stopped and cleared his throat. "Well, I always knew your merry nature went side by side with the deepest kind of courage."
Merry nature? How long ago that seemed! Fiona felt a rush of love and gratitude as she looked at Giles. How much harder everything would be without his help. He had risked hiding her in the secret room, aided her escape, then given her a betrothal ring and pledged his love and care forever.
She leaned across the little table and gave him a warm kiss on his lips. "Thank you, dear Giles, for everything. Now I think we should depart, don't you?"
"Yes, but first we had better bid our host farewell."
A large, boisterous crowd surrounded Sir William and his wife in the ballroom, and after trying vainly to penetrate the throng, Giles suggested they leave a message with Mr. White. "Sir William will understand our need to hurry back to Salem."
Fiona agreed, and when they had spoken to the major-domo, wraps were donned and they drove rapidly away, neither one admitting the fear of Blaize sweeping out to stop them.
Inside Samantha's home, it seemed that everyone now slept; only a few lamps still glowed softly to guide their footsteps.
Giles put his hand upon Fiona's arm. "I think we should be on our way in the darkest hour before dawn. I will leave a note for Samantha. Is there anything you wish to say?"
"Tell her that Sir William seemed sympathetic to my problems and promised to investigate the trials in Salem. I will send her a letter as soon as possible, and also give her my love and deepest gratitude."
"Very well. I will come in to say goodnight, but we will need our rest tonight."
"Of course." Grateful, she knew that Giles realized her mood was now one of somber speculation and deep concern about her mother.
Giles took her in his arms for one fierce, strong embrace, his cheek against her own. "I shall rise before dawn and bring around the wagon. Can you be dressed and ready then?"
"Yes. I'll change into the former gown that Samantha loaned me and borrow her cloak, since I have no other."
"Do you think she would mind if you took the quilt from your bed? It's apt to be a miserable, cold ride."
"She won't mind. Just explain that in the note." They parted then, Fiona going up the stairs. A restless kind of fear engulfed her, growing stronger by the minute. It almost seemed as though a juggernaut approached against which nothing could survive: She wished they could be on their way this minute, but it was true that Giles needed a little rest before the long trip with its unknown dangers.
Inside her room a lamp still burned, but its light made corner shadows all the more menacing and mysterious. Swiftly, she changed her clothes, then sank down on the bed wide-eyed… contemplating… wondering… imagining… would they encounter Blaize before she reached the secret room? Would she hear some dreaded news about her mother when they arrived in Salem? Something so terrible she couldn't bear to imagine it?
Her eyes were dry and staring, beyond the release of tears. Why was she so filled with apprehension? After all, Sir William and his lady had both been sympathetic. However, her fears seemed to be mounting as she contemplated the return trip. Why was that? Was another of her strange visions trying to break through?
To her relief, a knock came softly at her door and Giles entered, attired in his own clothes. Fiona raised her head. "Do you want to leave now?"
"No, not yet." He sank down beside her. "I just want to hold you. For a while, the evening's excitement kept up your spirits, but now I think you must be worried. Close your eyes, my dearest," he said as he stroked her forehead. "Think of happier times when you first came to Salem and our love began. Think of the daisy-strewn grass, the cool green trees, the crystal stream, the silent woods… just you and me walking, talking… dreaming."
"Dreaming…" Fiona echoed, and slept with her cheek against his chest.
When she awoke, she found Giles bending by her bed to give her a gentle shake. He wore his own leather jacket, a woolen cap upon his head. "We had best leave now, Fiona. The wagon's ready, the streets are still empty."
As Fiona slid groggily to her feet and yawned, Giles drew the coverlet from the bed and folded it. "Are you ready, dear?"
"Yes," she said, suddenly alert and eager for their departure. "No one is up yet in the house?"
"Not even the servants."
"I wonder if Blaize is still in Boston."
"I doubt it. He's probably on his way back to Salem. He is needed at the tria
ls and cannot stay away too long. I imagine he has given up the search for you."
Fiona nodded, but she couldn't overcome her sense of some impending doom. She had expended every effort on this trip to save her mother and didn't know what else to do if Phips delayed too long. She only knew she never must stop trying. In Salem she still might find some way that she hadn't thought of yet.
Riding in the cart along Boston's darkened, empty streets, Fiona huddled in her blanket. "Giles, what can we do if Sir William acts too slowly… or not at all?"
"I've been pondering the matter." Giles snapped the reins. "Oliver and I might try to bribe the jailor and effect a kidnapping of your mother when I visit her in the night. We must do something to give us time until Sir William acts—as I'm sure he will eventually. Right now, I'm concerned about your own capture, which would put you at the mercy of your enemy. That must be avoided at all costs."
Fiona looked back over her shoulder. "How can I hide in the cart? I see you've disposed of all the smelly sacks."
"I don't think they would have been enough to stop Blaize from a thorough search."
"Then what shall we do if we meet him on the road?"
"Make a desperate run for Salem and the secret room."
Fiona thought that might not succeed. If Blaize saw her with Giles, he would then have proof that Giles had aided her. Henceforth, he would track them both.
She forced her chattering teeth together and muttered, "I must try to see my mother." She gripped her hands together until the nails bit into her palms.
Giles didn't answer. His eyes strained toward the river. "I feared the ferry might not be running this early," he said, "but there it is and some people are already waiting to get on board. Thank God, I see no sign of Blaize."
Fiona craned her head in every direction, still fearful that a sinister black-clad monster would emerge. But the beach and wharf were practically deserted. Fishing boats sailed slowly along the river, heading out to sea, and Fiona wondered if Tim Rooney was among them. She would write to Samantha and ask that Betsy's dress be returned.
"I've been fortunate in the friends I've made since I came to America," Fiona said soberly. "The Harmons, the Woods, the fisherman and his wife who took me in… Samantha, so kind and generous. And mainly you, my love and comfort."
Giles threw her a swift smile. "You are an easy girl to love. And don't forget Sir William—ah, look, the gate is open. We can board now."
After they had paid their fare, Giles drew a basket from beneath the seat "I filched a little breakfast from Samantha's kitchen. Hot coffee was heating on the hob and I filled a lidded jar. Be careful not to burn your lips. I also found a cookie jar and some apples."
"You thought of everything." Fiona warmed her hands around the earthen jug, then sipped and handed it to Giles. She munched on a cookie, saying thoughtfully, "Last night, you soothed me and I went so calmly off to dreamland. Did you employ Franz Mesmer's methods?"
He smiled. "I would have told you if I had. No, I just believe in saying aloud certain soothing statements when a person is upset in order to create a relaxed image in the mind. Then, if the subject trusts you, it is fairly easy to induce a restful sleep."
"Couldn't Mesmer's technique be dangerous in the wrong hands?"
"Certainly, but nearly always you can resist, if that is what you truly want."
Fiona thought how Blaize had played upon her emotions, making her believe he was kind and attractive. She had broken his spell by thinking of Giles both times and then exerting her own will. Could she do it again? Yes, she told herself fiercely. She was secure in Giles's love and protection. Nothing could take that from her.
She didn't think Blaize would try seduction anymore. He had become an angry beast, thwarted by a mere girl. All he would want now was revenge, and in his hands, he held the means: the conviction of Fiona and her mother for witchcraft.
Suddenly, she couldn't eat another bite. Her heart began to pound. She felt hot, then cold, and a little dizzy.
They had crossed the river and Giles steered the wagon along a side road. "This way is a little longer," he said, "but not so well traveled. I think you should close your eyes, however. We will soon be passing Gallows Hill."
"Oh, Giles! Oh, no!" She clutched her heart, her throat.
The vision was upon her: the doomed procession… the awful weeping… the tolling bell…
"Oh, listen," she cried out in sudden anguish.
It was all there. Not in her mind this time. This was reality. She saw the barren hill in the early morning light, the gaunt black hanging tree, the rope, the ladder, the crowd already gathered, some sobbing, some shouting.
Five people began to mount the hill. All wore long gray hooded robes like monks, one so bent and weak, her fellows had to hold her up. Could that be Rebecca Nurse?
"Oh, no—please, God!" Fiona cried out.
"It's Rebecca," Giles said hoarsely.
Fiona sprang down from the wagon just as a small person on the fringes of the crowd turned to stare at her. Sally stood with tears streaming down her face, and when she saw Fiona, she screamed, "No, no! Go back!" She ran to meet her, tugging on Fiona's arm. "Oh, hide—don't you know your danger? He's here! Get back in the wagon."
Unable to move or think, Fiona wobbled, "Who's here?"
"I'm here," the hated voice rasped.
And Blaize stepped from the trees.
Chapter 30
In two strides, Blaize was on them, and he caught both Sally and Fiona by their arms. "Now, I've got you," he snarled, and dragged their screaming forms into the trees.
Blaize kicked Sally into a moaning huddle of pain and fear and caught Fiona back against his chest, pricking her throat with something cold and sharp that made her give a scream of terror.
"Stop!" Giles roared, crashing through the trees. "Unhand Fiona this instant. Have you lost your mind?"
"I accuse them both of witchcraft and sentence them to death," the judge shrieked gloatingly. "One step nearer, doctor, and this dagger will be plunged!"
"You would not dare—"
"I can do anything I want! I am judge and jury!"
Fiona felt her hair jerked back until her whole scalp burned. However, the pain cleared the dizziness from her mind and new strength flooded her.
"Watch out, Giles," she shrilled. "He means to kill us if you interfere." Think—think, she told herself. Get some time. There are people just down the road.
Giles teetered on his feet, opening and closing his balled fists, his face a mask of rage. "I'll call for help—there are lots of people near—"
"Fool! Didn't you see those avid faces watching for the witches' rope to swing? Would any of them leave that spectacle… especially to interfere when a judge but does his duty? I intend to have Fiona, then kill all three of you." His voice rose shrilly. "Solbaid! Come closer and hold your pistol steady."
The dagger pierced deeper into Fiona's throat and she felt a warm trickle of blood run down her neck. Her frantic gaze sought Giles's and she saw the agony on his face replaced by a hard determination. He bent and clasped a large rock in his hand. One foot went back, then he took aim—
But the dwarf leaped in front of his master with an upraised gun.
"Kill the next one who moves an inch," Blaize thundered. "First, the girl upon the ground."
The words roused Sally, and with all her might, she shrieked, "Gray! Attack!"
Gunpowder filled the air, but the shot went wild as Gray came hurtling through the trees. Blaize dropped the dagger and scrabbled to protect his throat. Screaming hoarsely, he staggered back. White fear swept the gloating from his face as he fell beneath the ravening animal. With a supreme effort, he uttered one last cursing breath, snarling at Fiona, "Your mother's dead!"
Frozen with shock, Fiona watched as growling, ripping, and tearing, the wolf dragged his hated prey out of sight among the trees, Solbaid disappearing also.
Sally crawled toward Fiona, but Giles got to her first. "Oh, dea
r God—are you all right?"
Shaking violently, Fiona clutched him. "He said—he said—my mother's dead!"
She sagged into Giles's arms. Then, mercifully, her mind went blank.
After that, for several days, the only things Fiona knew were flickering gray shadows that spoke to her in whispers, pressed liquids to her lips, and sponged her body with damp cloths.
Then one day, Fiona clearly saw the attic room and realized where she was. She noticed that the bed was now soft, piled with quilts and pillows, no longer just a cot. A nearby table bore assorted jugs, water, medicines, folded cloths. Ajar held lovely flowers in the corner.
Giles sat in a rocker, asleep, his unkempt head resting on his chest, a blanket trailing down his knees. A breath rattled from his throat and he jerked awake. His eyes stared from dark sockets, then they blazed with joy.
He stumbled to Fiona's bed and touched her with shaking hands, clasping her gently in his arms. "Oh, my beloved, you've come back to us!"
Fiona touched his cheek. "Don't cry, darling. Now I am quite recovered. I feel it. How long have I been here?"
"Several days." Quickly he raised his face from hers. "How much do you remember? The woods… Blaize… the wolf?"
A wave of horror broke upon her and she cried out, "My mother—Blaize said—"
"He lied. She lives," Giles said swiftly. "With his last breath, the monster sought to hurt you. She's still in jail, but Phips has stopped the trials and freed some of the people. Everything has changed in Salem."
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