‘When will that be?’
‘In a few days. Until then, use these as I directed, and you should see an improvement.’
I went to my cupboard, where I kept the doctor’s letter, and took out a small cloth bag of coins, handing it to her.
‘What’s this?’
‘The first month in advance. How much do I owe for the herbs?’
‘Nothing.’
She held the weight of the bag in her palm, letting the coins slide around. The sound reminded me of Richard, and I glanced towards the door. I had not told him or James how much I was paying Alice – that could wait until later, until I grew bigger and he could see her tinctures were working. Then he could hardly protest.
I saw her out, waving from the top of the stairs, and went back to my chamber to rest. Usually I had to pluck my dark hairs from the pillow and toss them in the fire, met with the anxiety that eventually they would all fall out and I would be bald as an egg. What else would this child take from me? They made fine wigs these days, but a woman’s hair was as much an asset as her clothes and jewellery, and one that could not be removed. If Richard did not desire me already, with my growing belly and grey skin, he certainly would not without my thick black hair that used to be shiny as a raven’s coat. When I met his sisters I’d envied their soft golden heads. But black was an expensive colour, difficult to dye and maintain. Black meant wealth and power.
I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my hand over the pillow, but no black threads showed on the white. Alice must have removed them. I lay down, closed my eyes and let the lavender carry me to sleep.
CHAPTER 7
From the very start of our marriage, Richard took pride in showing me off. At parties, I would shine under his companions’ gazes like a jewel in candlelight, always meeting his eye for approval and finding it, and shining brighter.
I was looking forward to dinner at Roger’s, and shining more brightly than ever now Alice’s tinctures were working. I was glad, though, that she had not seen me pacing my chamber, building the courage to go down to the kitchen and repeat her instructions to the servants. My mother said I always cared far too much what people thought, but really I cared far too much what people said, especially when my back was turned. Thoughts were private, rumour was not, and as mistress at Gawthorpe I knew I was the subject of both. The cook listened to me with one eyebrow raised when I showed her the dill for the butter, and scattered the camomile leaves on to the scrubbed wooden table. But listened she had, and a cup of warm milk infused with sweet camomile was delivered to my door at night, and a special butter dish brought for me at dinnertime the next day, and for the first time I felt quite fond of the staff. Richard was still sleeping in the next room, so I hoped to shine so brightly at Roger’s that the truckle bed would remain undisturbed.
Friday arrived, and at eleven o’clock we were ready to ride to Read Hall. The days were longer now, and even if we stayed at the Nowells’ all afternoon it would still be light by the time we left. I did not much like riding at night, when the edges of the forest couldn’t be seen but could be heard shivering and straining from their roots like hounds on leashes. I had been ill for so long I couldn’t recall the last time Richard and I went out visiting together, so I put on one of my favourite dresses of dark blue, embroidered with exotic birds and beetles, and a tall silk hat, with my riding things over the top. I decided to save telling him about the missing horse for another day, because it would no doubt spoil the evening. I was determined nothing would.
‘Ah, the two turtledoves.’
Roger greeted us in the great hall, handing us each a glass of sack. He was dressed finely but retained an element of the countryman about him in his black velvet suit and soft boots. His wife Katherine made straight for me in her gown of black lace with fine gold embroidery. She was hatless, and her dress was cut very low. I was younger than her daughter, but we had mutual interests in fashions and London, and the best clothiers in Manchester and Halifax and Lancaster.
‘What news at Gawthorpe? We have not seen you in such a long time – Richard said you were quite ill. I hope you are recovered?’ Katherine said once we had done the necessary complimenting of each other’s clothes. Her emerald drop earrings shimmered in the candlelight.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Yes, I was confined for some time but now I am better, thank you.’
‘Roger said you went hunting with them not long ago? I was surprised – all that mud spoiling your things!’
‘Yes, although Richard blamed me for driving the quarry away with my voice – hunting is perhaps not the best opportunity to talk with friends.’ I smiled.
‘You are always welcome at Read – although we are a chamber short at the moment.’
‘Oh?’
‘I will leave Roger to tell you at supper.’
At that moment one of the men in the party turned and I saw it was Thomas Lister. He caught my eye and gave a polite nod.
‘Mr Lister was not long at Gawthorpe, on his way to Yorkshire,’ I said.
Shrunken old Nick Bannister, the former magistrate of Pendle, also stood with Roger, Thomas and Richard, cradling his cup to his chest.
‘And Roger persuaded Nick out of his confinement with the promise of a few fat birds and barrels of sack,’ Katherine added warmly, before asking us to sit.
Thomas Lister was on my left and Nick Bannister on my right, with Roger, Katherine and Richard opposite.
‘We must separate the turtles or they will be crooning at one another all night,’ Roger said with a wink.
I smiled, and imagined the effect that announcing these two turtledoves slept in different rooms would have.
The first course was brought out: a spread of mutton pies, fallow deer pasties, and ham and pea pottage. Roger waited for everything to be set down and served before he spoke.
‘Now,’ he said as we picked up our knives, ‘as you will all know, I have been investigating a series of crimes in the Pendle area. What some of you may not know is further arrests have been made after some deeply disturbing interviews.’ He moved in his chair and indicated for a servant to top everyone’s glasses with wine. ‘You may remember I told you of Alizon Device, the girl who performed witchcraft on John Law the pedlar? It satisfies me to report she is now safely in gaol with her family, so the innocent people of Pendle are no longer at the mercy of the Devil’s work for the time being.’
‘Her family are in gaol too?’ I asked.
Roger nodded slowly. ‘Her mother, grandmother and brother all confessed to witchcraft and popery. Many lives have been lost to the Device family – they have eluded the eyes of the law for too long.’
On my right Nick Bannister spoke for the first time in his dusty, wheezing voice.
‘It is a coincidence, is it not, that Device sounds like Devil?’
Laughter broke out at the table and I waited to speak.
‘What did they do?’
‘Oh …’ Roger waved a casual hand. ‘A horrible medley of things: dolls made of clay, spells, curses. Each of them has their own familiar spirit, which is proof enough.’
‘You saw their familiars?’ I asked, recalling that he had never seen Alizon’s with his own eyes.
‘I did not need to. I know they exist. John Law described Alizon’s – the dog. Her mother Elizabeth also has a dog named Ball, and her grandmother has kept one for some twenty years. For two decades she has had a pact with the Devil, carrying out his work across the county.’
‘But if you cannot see them, how can you know for certain?’ I asked.
There were a few beats of silence as everyone chewed and swallowed around me. Roger regarded me.
‘The Devil only appears to those he recognises to be his servants. They let their animals suck blood from their bodies – does that sound like a harmless pet to you? Do you let your dog do that, Fleetwood?’
‘Roger,’ Richard said coolly, ‘I will set my falcon on you and it will suck your blood.’
Everyone apart f
rom me laughed.
I took up my knife and moved the food around my plate, but the fatty mutton made my stomach churn.
‘What news of the Preston woman?’ Katherine asked Thomas Lister, who always needed coaxing into conversation.
He sat up a little straighter at the mention of his servant, clearing his throat.
‘It was a blow when she was acquitted.’ He spoke quietly, swilling the wine in his cup. ‘But I am sure she will be back before she knows it.’
I was not sure I had heard him right.
‘Back where?’ I asked. ‘Surely you would not have her back at Westby if you thought she had killed a child?’
He set down his cup and dabbed his small mouth with a napkin.
‘At the next York assizes.’
I looked around at the other guests.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘Jennet Preston murdered my father.’
The table went silent. The only sounds were the wind at the window and the flames roaring heartily in the great fireplace. The other guests appeared to be as confused as I was. Roger sat back and gave Thomas a paternal nod, as though he had laid bare some deep truth.
Richard spoke. ‘Your father died four years past.’
Thomas fixed his eyes on his plate, his small frame rigid.
‘I did not tell anyone of the words he spoke at the time he died,’ he said softly. ‘My mother and I both heard him. He was terrified out of his wits.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of Preston. My father on his deathbed cried out: “Jennet lies heavy upon me! Preston’s wife lies heavy upon me; help me, help me!”’ For this part he raised his voice into a high, excited cry. Everyone at the table was silent, and his ringing voice echoed around the high walls. ‘He bade us shut the doors, all the doors in the house so she could not escape.’
‘She was there?’
‘Her spirit was there. He could see it, I know. After his death she was brought to my father’s corpse and it bled at her touch.’
‘The surest sign of a witch,’ Roger said with confidence.
‘But,’ I began, ‘if this did happen four years ago, why is she only being brought to the assizes now? And was brought for something else last month?’
Thomas looked to Roger.
‘Last week, on Good Friday, when all of us good citizens were praying, a party was gathering,’ Roger said in a slow, revealing way. ‘And when all of us were fasting, as is the Lord’s wish, this party was feasting on a stolen mutton. It took place at a miserable dwelling called Malkin Tower, the home of Alizon Device’s grandmother, Old Demdike. And one of the party was Jennet Preston.’
‘Preston is acquainted with the Device family?’ Richard asked.
Roger nodded once. ‘Because she is a witch. And what did they speak of at this gathering, other than comparing their familiars and blaspheming the Lord Jesus, for whom they should have been fasting? Why, they spoke of young Mr Lister here.’
‘Why?’
‘Preston was plotting to kill him,’ Roger said simply.
Next to me, I could feel Thomas Lister shaking. He began touching all his cutlery and crockery, moving them and lining them up in a meticulous design.
Roger went on. ‘That is not the only thing they spoke of. The lot of them were gathered to discuss a plot not dissimilar to the one that almost unseated the king from his throne not so long ago.’ He leant in, his teeth shining in the candlelight. ‘They planned to blow up Lancaster Castle, where their kin are held. To set them free.’
‘How do you know this?’
Roger tapped his nose and, folding his handkerchief neatly in his place, pushed back his chair to rise.
‘Allow me to introduce my most valuable witness.’
He left the room, and a little gasp went around the table when he returned with his wide, bear-like grip around the small shoulder of a little girl.
She strode with him into the room and they stopped short of the table. She could not have been older than nine or ten, and had a pale, pointed face with wide, clear eyes. Mousy hair straggled from her cap, which was newly starched, and although her pinafore was tied tightly, her simple wool dress drowned her. She was not afraid to look each of us in the eye, and when her bold gaze came to me I could not look away. What I found disturbing was that she was neither afraid nor impressed, her expression as smooth as a painted portrait.
‘This,’ Roger announced, ‘is Jennet Device.’
‘A popular name among their kind,’ wheezed Mr Bannister.
‘Mr and Mistress Shuttleworth, Mr Lister, allow me to introduce you to my source of all knowledge. Jennet has been helping Mr Bannister and me with our investigations. She is Alizon’s sister.’
I saw Katherine glance quickly at the girl with an expression both suspicious and fearful. She looked as though she would put another person between them if she could.
I turned to Mr Bannister and whispered, ‘She is staying here at Read Hall?’
‘Indeed,’ he breathed. ‘In one of the children’s old chambers.’
I wondered what Roger’s grown-up family would think of that – I barely knew what I thought of it myself. The witch was Alizon’s own sister? Nobody was speaking, and the way they were looking the Device girl up and down made my skin crawl, so I spoke.
‘Hello, Jennet,’ I said. ‘How are you finding Read Hall?’
‘Right nice,’ the child rasped with a strong accent.
‘And how long will you stay?’
‘She will stay until the trial date is set at the summer assizes.’
Katherine made a small noise. ‘August? Roger, she will really stay for that long?’
‘Where else would you have her go, Katherine? Her family is at Lancaster gaol and there they will remain until they are called before His Majesty’s Justices.’
His words did not seem to disturb Jennet in the slightest; she continued to look around at the guests and the room itself, her wandering gaze absorbed by the portraits, the panelling and family shields on the wall. She had surely never seen such things in her life, nor a fireplace as great as the one that towered above her, nor food so plentiful.
‘Will you have some of our second course, Jennet?’ asked Roger. ‘We have roast chicken and beef, and bread, and some butter that was made this morning.’
Jennet nodded eagerly and was seated at the end of the table next to Katherine, who appeared no less uncomfortable. Though a trace of a hostess’s smile played on her lips, it did not reach her eyes. Her earrings glittered.
‘Jennet was at Malkin Tower on Good Friday and has told me all that was said – including the plot against Preston’s master here,’ Roger declared as he returned to his seat. ‘There were quite a number of people present that her brother James told me of, and Jennet has confirmed all the names on the list. We work well together, do we not, Jennet?’
The child was eyeing the half-finished food at the table, and I could not help but glance at her every few seconds. Her head was so small I imagined Roger could crush it with one hand. She did not appear at all affected by the incarceration of her entire family, and I could not decide if that chilled me or made me pitiful.
The second course was brought and Roger and Richard talked of other things that interested them: the price of salt; what their cattle fetched at market. Jennet ate like a wild animal, with grease smeared all up her face and hands. I was still watching her when I heard Richard tell Roger he had ordered a gun, which made me look around sharply.
‘A gun? Richard, you did not tell me that.’
Richard glanced at Roger.
‘Fleetwood, I hardly think I need consult you,’ he said. ‘Unless you have an expertise in flintlocks I know nothing of?’
The table tittered, and I flushed.
‘Won’t it go off in the house?’
‘Not if it is handled correctly, which it will be,’ Richard said in an insolent way.
He turned more directly
to Roger, indicating the subject was closed.
I tried to speak to Thomas on my left but he was acting very strangely and would not make eye contact: I think the presence of the child frightened him. Katherine squirmed next to Jennet and did not speak to her once.
Before long the topic came back to Roger’s witch hunt.
‘Let us speak of it away from the child in case it should give her nightmares,’ Roger said. ‘Jennet, go up to your chamber and I shall send for you in the morning.’
The little girl slid sideways from the table without even removing her chair, she was so thin. She made no noise as she left and the moment she had gone, it was easy to believe she had never been there at all.
Roger turned back to us and grew confidential.
‘Her mother was beside herself when she found out the child had handed them over. I thought she would go mad before my eyes.’
Mr Bannister burped beside me and pardoned himself, covering his mouth with a brown-spotted hand.
‘She is a sight for sore eyes, Elizabeth Device,’ he said. ‘She’d give you a fright if you saw her: one eye set up in her head and the other looking right down at the floor.’
I felt as though a bucket of icy water had been thrown over me. I stared dumbly at Mr Bannister, and he mistook my disbelief for fascination.
‘She does sound like something from a comedy play, but I’m not being fanciful. How she has three children by two men I’ll never know.’
My mouth was dry as sand.
‘Where do they live, the Devices?’
‘Just outside Colne. A horrible, damp hovel is Malkin Tower. How folk live like that I don’t know.’
CHAPTER 8
‘This will not be pleasant. You will need a strong stomach.’
Alice took up one of the items she had set on the dresser in my chamber: a knife that folded in on itself, encased in a horn shell. For a terrible moment I thought she meant to perform surgery on my stomach, but she saw my expression and her scowl softened.
‘I will breathe your veins,’ she explained. ‘It is the only thing for too much blood.’
The Familiars Page 8
