I fear he has not forgiven me for being the first to touch the elemental world. That moment still seems to disturb him, and he is searching for a way to be the leader in our “game” once again. For instance, he was pleased by a portion of the Book’s teaching that he came across, and read the passage aloud with great relish.
“You must heede that it is only the Females of our Way who align themselves with the forces of their chosen Element and thus become Mystic Sisters….
“So this explains it, Agnes,” he said eagerly. “I must reach the Elements by other means. Listen!
“Yet Men may also achieve muche knowledge and wisdome by following the Mysteries and the Rites. A Male of our kind, who is called to a deep and subtle Power, may build around him a Coven of Sisters who will serve him as their Master. Through the energy of his Aura, he may reach out to their Elemental Powers. In this way the traditional rule of the stronger sex may bee restored, but all must be used for the Common Goode.
“That is what I must do, Agnes; don’t you see?”
I laughed and said I would not serve him and that he would have to look elsewhere for his throng of sisters to obey his every whim. “You are spoiled enough with everyone’s attention,” I teased. “And besides, I do not wish to have a master.”
“But one day you will marry, Agnes, and maybe soon. You know that your mother has plans to take you to London next year to make a great match. Will you not promise, according to your church, to obey your husband? Will he not become your master and your lord?”
“Then I shall not marry,” I said lightly.
“Are you sure? Is there no one you could give your heart to?” He moved closer to me and touched my face gently, so gently that it was like a feather falling on snow. My heart was beating like the wings of a trapped bird, and I half wished that he would kiss me, and yet part of me was afraid. I forced myself to laugh.
“I told you, I wish to be free.”
But perhaps deep down I was not telling the whole truth. We have been so much together these past weeks, yet we are not the same as we used to be. We are no longer children. When he studies the Book with hungry eyes and is not aware of me, I secretly watch him, trying to understand what has changed in him since he went abroad. The angle of his pale cheek, the dark silk of his hair, the line of his shoulders—all this moves me in some strange way that I barely understand. I feel that I would do anything for him, whether it is right or wrong, good or evil. I am afraid that if I allowed myself, I would be swept away by the force of his presence and I would lose myself in him.
Papa has been so good to let me see S. without a chaperone, allowing him this privilege as an old friend of the family. But I confess that I no longer see him simply as a brother. When we are apart it is his face that I see in my mind; it is his voice that calls to me on the wind over the moors; it is his touch that I crave.
What would my dear father say if he knew the truth about what we are doing with our time? Or if he could guess what thoughts are swirling through my head like a storm?
Sixteen
I
replied to Dad’s letter with false cheerfulness. Yes, I’m fine; Wyldcliffe is amazing; I’m working hard. I conveniently forgot to mention roaming around the grounds at midnight, although my conscience told me that Dad would not be happy if he knew the truth. I kidded myself that my meetings with Sebastian were only a bit of fun, not worth making a fuss about.
Although I knew I wouldn’t get another letter back from Dad for ages, I couldn’t help waiting for the mail each morning, hoping for some sign that the outside world hadn’t completely forgotten me. I got a scribbled postcard from a girl who had been at my old school, but that was all. Nothing from Frankie, of course.
But one morning, when the October mist hung over the lake, there was a letter. The writing on the cover was thin and curved, and I knew in a flash that it was from Sebastian. It couldn’t be from anyone else. We had been meeting nearly every night, talking endlessly about…oh, everything—nature and history and philosophy and the places we wanted to see and the books we had read. But I noticed that he never talked about his family.
Books, stars, journeys, sonnets…One night Sebastian had laughingly promised to write me a poem. Perhaps that was what the letter contained. My heart seemed to bang about inside my chest as I reached for the envelope. But someone else put a hand on it first.
It was Helen.
“Hey, that’s my letter!”
“Do you like poetry, Evie?” she asked, with that unnerving blank look on her face.
“I…What?” Surely she couldn’t know about Sebastian?
“They say words can be dangerous. I’d take care if I were you.”
Then she walked off, and Celeste pushed in front of me.
“Evie Johnson’s got a letter? Who on earth would want to write to you, Johnson?” She snatched the envelope from my hands. I tried to grab it back from her, but she quickly passed it to Sophie, who tossed it India, and soon a whole crowd of laughing girls was throwing it about among them, twisting and dodging out of my reach.
“What is all this noise?”
At the sound of Miss Scratton’s voice they broke away and stood in a circle around me. I was red-faced and furious.
“They’re trying to take my letter!” I sounded like a sulky ten-year-old.
“It was only a bit of fun, Miss Scratton.” Celeste smiled, handing her the envelope. “Mrs. Hartle always says it’s important to be a good sport.”
Miss Scratton beckoned me over to her. She glanced down at the curling black writing. “Who is this letter from, Evie?” she asked.
“I…I don’t know. A friend.”
“A friend you don’t know? How very odd.”
“A friend from home,” I lied.
“Very well, Evie, here it is.” She seemed reluctant to hand me the envelope. “Try not to make such a scene in the future. You would do well not to draw attention to yourself.”
I was too angry to listen. I was getting the blame for making a scene when it had been Celeste’s fault. I stormed out and stomped down the corridor to our classroom.
It was empty. I threw myself down in my seat and tore the letter open.
My dearest Evie,
It was so good to see you last night. Well, you asked for a poem, and here it is. Read it, and forgive me for not being able to express myself better.
Sebastian.
On the other side were some verses. I began to scan them eagerly.
My Lady Eve,
Whose heart is kind,
Can soothe and heal
This restless mind…
“Hey, Evie, are you okay?” I jumped and looked up. It was Sarah. For once I wasn’t pleased to see her. I quickly folded the letter away. “I heard Celeste was being a pain.”
“It was nothing.”
Sarah looked at me searchingly, just as Miss Scratton had.
“Evie…” She hesitated as she sat down next to me. “I know this sounds a bit odd, but I get the feeling that something’s going on with you. Are you in any kind of trouble?”
“I’m perfectly okay. I just want to be left alone for five minutes without everyone prying and staring like I’m some kind of freak.”
“You’re not alone, though, are you? I can tell.”
“You can’t tell anything about me! None of you!” My frustration with Wyldcliffe blazed out of control. “Life’s great for you, with your horses and your family and your money and your ‘I’m not like them.’ Well, you’re not like me either! You don’t really know anything about me or my life, so just leave me alone!”
As soon as I had spat out the words, I regretted them. Sarah looked hurt, and gathered up her books to sit at another desk. The rest of the class began to come in. I flashed a pleading look at Sarah, trying to show I was sorry, but she deliberately turned the other way and started to talk to a girl called Rosie.
Everything I did at Wyldcliffe seemed to go wrong.
Seventeen
S
arah didn’t bother to come near me after that. I felt bad, but I was getting good at hiding my feelings. I ignored her and she ignored me. I told myself that I was finished trying to make friends at Wyldcliffe. Instead I got through the days like a zombie. Gym, assignments, choir, grades—none of it mattered. My life was at night, in those precious moments with Sebastian.
I no longer dreamed of Laura. I didn’t have any more fainting attacks, or weird “visions” of the redheaded girl either. It seemed as though now that I had someone real in my life I could live without fantasies.
“Wait for me!”
We raced across the wet grass in the moonlight. Sebastian ran effortlessly ahead and reached the ivy-covered wall that marched around the Abbey’s grounds.
“Cheat!” I panted as I caught up with him.
“How was that cheating?” He laughed.
“Your legs are longer than mine.”
“You can hardly blame me for that!”
“Anyway, why are we here?” I asked, trying to get my breath back.
“We’re running away. We have to climb over the wall.”
He grasped hold of a thick vine of ivy and pulled himself to the top of the wall. Then he reached down to help me up.
“I’m not sure about this,” I said in a sudden fit of conscience. It was bad enough to be out at night, but if anyone caught me leaving the grounds…
“Please, Evie.” He was suddenly serious. “I need to talk to you about something important, but I have to get away from here first. I swear you won’t get into trouble. I’ll take care of you.”
He whistled softly, and his black mare appeared like a shadow from farther down the lane. A few moments later I was perched nervously on the horse’s bare back.
“You’ll have to hold on to me.”
I slipped my arms around Sebastian’s waist, acutely conscious of his lithe body next to mine. The horse began to pick its way delicately down the lane. I closed my eyes and breathed in Sebastian’s presence, trying to convince myself that this was actually happening. Everything seemed like a dream: the great black horse, the stars, the shiver that ran through me when a strand of Sebastian’s dark hair blew across my face. I’ll always remember this, I thought. Whatever happens to me, I’ll never forget this moment.
We began to climb the sloping moor.
“Where are we going?”
“To the old watch tower. They say it was part of a fort in Saxon times. It’s even older than the Abbey’s ruins.”
We rode on farther, passing a couple of lonely farmhouses in the dark. Everything was empty and still. It was as though we were the only two people left on earth, immortal wanderers in a silent land. Finally Sebastian came to a halt at the top of a rough mound circled with stones.
“Here we are.”
I was disappointed. I had been expecting a high tower with walls and arrow slits, like a castle from a fairy tale, not just a bare hill and tumbled rocks.
“But there’s nothing here,” I said as Sebastian helped me to dismount.
“The fort would have been built in wood, so it disappeared long ago. But before that this was probably a temple, or a holy place.” He threw himself down onto the heather and looked out over the sleeping valley. “In ancient times people worshiped the sun and moon and the elements. A hilltop like this would have allowed them to get closer to their gods. It was a place of power.”
“I’ve never thought about all that stuff before,” I said. “It’s as if you can’t get away from the past at Wyldcliffe.”
“You can never get away from the past, wherever you go,” he said bitterly.
“Sebastian, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He smiled up at me, his eyes clear and bright again. “Nothing’s wrong when you’re with me.” He patted the ground invitingly. “Come here.”
I sat down. Slowly, questioningly, he put his arm around me and drew me to him. The most wonderful sense of warmth and peace stole over me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, my heart dancing like a newborn creature.
“Oh, Evie,” he breathed. “My Lady Eve. Now, at this moment, I am happy.”
“So am I,” I whispered.
He held me tighter, and murmured, “I want to remember it like this: you and me, far away from the Abbey and its past. Just one moment to remember…whatever happens next.”
I don’t know how long we sat there in silence. There was no need for words. I was with Sebastian, and it was enough just being together, looking up at the stars, like the people from thousands of years ago. As we sat there, a wind blew up and the clouds changed and eventually it began to rain.
“I could have stayed like that forever.” I sighed.
To my surprise, Sebastian’s face darkened. “Have you really thought about being stuck in one place forever? It would be like being in prison.” He stood up and walked away and began to speak in a low voice, stilted and unnatural, as though he had rehearsed what to say. “I said that I needed to talk to you, Evie. You’ve been such a good friend. I’ll never forget it. But after tonight—after tonight I don’t think we should go on seeing each other. It’s too much of a risk for you.”
The ground seemed to slip underneath me.
“But if I’m careful they’ll never find out at school….”
“It’s not just the school. This whole thing—it could be dangerous for you.”
“You mean you’ve had your fun, and now I can go back to my dreary little life,” I exploded. “Is that it?”
“No! I’m trying to think of what’s best for you. Please believe that. But there are things in the past, things I’ve done that I regret.”
“I don’t care!”
“But I do.” He groaned. “And you would if you knew.”
“Then tell me,” I pleaded. “At least tell me the truth.”
Sebastian’s face was sickly white in the starlight. “I can’t.”
I had been so happy just a few minutes ago. Now I felt like an outcast. Sebastian had shut me out, and the pain was almost physical. The rain lashed down. I started to run over the moor.
“Where are you going?” Sebastian called after me. “You’ll get lost.”
“What do you care?”
“Evie!” he cried. He caught up with me. “Don’t go like this, Evie. Let me take you back to the school.”
“So that we can shake hands at the gates and say it’s all been great fun? If you really don’t want to see me again, it’s easier if I just go now.”
“I do want to see you. Of course I do. I just don’t want to mess up again. Not with you. I want to keep this as something perfect. And I’m trying—for once—not to be selfish, not to just take what I want without thinking about the consequences. I’m trying to do the right thing, but it hurts so much!”
My anger melted like spring frost.
“Sebastian,” I said gently, “I’m not like you. I don’t expect things to be perfect. And I’m not obsessed with the past. This is a new day, a new life. You can’t go around burdened by old mistakes forever.”
“It wasn’t just a mistake. I hurt someone very badly.” He spoke in an expressionless voice.
“Was it that girl you told me about?”
He nodded.
“These things happen. Don’t make it worse by hurting me as well.”
“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care for you more than…more than I could ever say.”
My heart lifted. He cared for me. That was something.
“Then don’t say that we can’t see each other,” I pleaded. “Nothing bad will happen. I trust you, Sebastian.”
“But perhaps you shouldn’t. Sometimes I think you’ve been sent to me, and sometimes I think I am just telling myself what I want to hear. I don’t know anymore. I just know that I am trying to do the right thing for you, Evie.”
“How can you be sure what that is? Didn’t you say to me that we can’t see what’s going to happen in the future? Every s
ingle day is a risk. Being alive is a risk. Well, I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”
He hesitated, then looked at me gratefully. “Are you sure? Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
“So we can still be friends?”
I took his cold hand in mine. “Sebastian, I’ll always be your friend.”
But as we rode back to the school in the wind and rain, I knew that I wasn’t quite telling the truth. I wanted to be more than Sebastian’s friend. Oh, I wanted so much more.
Eighteen
T
his is not up to your usual standards.” Miss Scratton frowned, handing back my report on William Blake. “I want you to go to the library after supper and do it again. And you really must stop yawning, Evie! It’s extremely impolite. You’ll have to go to bed early, at the same time as the younger girls, if you carry on like this.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Scratton,” I said meekly. The truth was that I was incredibly tired. Missing two or three hours’ sleep every night to see Sebastian didn’t exactly make me feel eager for academic work. Trying to concentrate on the book of poems in front of me, I read, In what distant deeps or skies / Burnt the fire of thine eyes. But the only eyes that burned in my memory were Sebastian’s.
Eventually, the lesson crawled to a close. “Put your books away, girls. I have something to tell you. We will be visiting Fairfax Hall next week as part of our research on the nineteenth century. Some of you may have been there already, but for most of you I imagine it will be a new experience.”
Everyone looked up eagerly.
“What is it like, Miss Scratton?” asked Celeste, looking primly enthusiastic.
“Fairfax Hall is a perfectly preserved example of a Victorian country house. It is not as big or imposing as Wyldcliffe, but fortunately the Fairfax family kept the house largely untouched since it was built. The Hall was passed down through various cousins and distant relations until the Second World War, when such large houses became no longer practical. When the last owner died the house stood empty. It has only recently been opened as a museum, thanks to the splendid efforts of our local historical society.”
Immortal Page 8
