The Familiars

by Halls, Stacey

  ‘Barbara?’ I called to the large-framed cook at the table, brushing pies with egg yolk.

  She had not noticed me enter, and my voice was so small in the clangs and clatters of the room, one of the younger servants had to fetch her. I passed on Roger’s request, and she went off to the larder to fetch some things to wrap in a parcel. As usual, the kitchen was busy with purpose, and I watched various servants roll and chop and brew. As she handed me a warm folded cloth stacked with cold pies and meats, I lingered for a moment.

  Then I said, ‘Thank you for carrying out my instructions with the herbs so well. The butter is delicious and the camomile milk sends me straight to sleep.’

  A smile swept her red face.

  ‘You are most welcome, Mistress. I am glad to see your cheeks fattening. We are almost finished with the herbs you gave me, so I can ask James to order more?’

  ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘I will have my midwife bring more.’

  I thanked her and turned to go, but she said, ‘Mistress, is it true the witch child is at Gawthorpe today?’

  ‘If you mean Jennet Device, she is a guest of Roger Nowell’s.’

  A few of the servants nearby had their ears pricked.

  ‘I have no mind to look at her,’ Barbara went on. ‘They say she is the Devil’s daughter.’

  ‘I am sure there is no truth in that.’

  ‘I’m sure Mistress knows what she is doing opening the door to such folk, but I hope she doesn’t bring a curse to this house. Just this morning the milk began to turn. Fresh from the farm, it was.’

  Wishing to end the conversation, I nodded again and made to leave, but Barbara called me back at the door, her voice raised.

  ‘That midwife of yours,’ she said. ‘Where’s she from?’

  Impatient now, I replied, ‘Colne.’

  Barbara’s mouth turned down at the corners.

  ‘I ain’t never seen her before, and my sister’s a midwife. You might have asked down here if any of us had someone to recommend.’

  ‘Yes, well, it was Alice’s idea to introduce the herbs to my diet, and they are working very well.’

  The tips of my ears were hot, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck. Did servants usually question their mistress’s hiring decisions? Did they advise on whom to invite into the house? I held up the parcel.

  ‘Thank you for this.’

  I tripped on the way out, causing stifled laughter to ripple through the kitchen. By the time I reached the hall, I was flustered and irritated, my goodwill towards the household soured once again. The two men were standing now, clearing the papers between them. Jennet was crouched at the fireplace, looking up into its corners – she could have stood inside comfortably, like I could in the fireplace at Barton when I was her age.

  ‘This is the list for Nick Bannister,’ Roger said, separating a sealed document from the sheaf in front of him. He tossed it on to the table. ‘I have a copy at Read, but as I’m away he will call here to collect it.’

  Richard nodded, sliding it towards himself and tucking it into his waistcoat.

  ‘I shall leave it with James.’

  ‘Don’t get too close to that fire, Jennet,’ Roger warned. ‘Fire is for stew pots and heretics, not children.’

  ‘And witches?’ the child asked.

  ‘In His Majesty’s homeland they are thrown on the fire. I am of the opinion that England should follow in Scotland’s lead, but unfortunately the penalty here is the rope. Perhaps His Majesty can still be persuaded to change his mind. Now, we must be on our way to Lancaster.’

  She shot up. ‘To see Ma?’

  Roger glanced at me, indicating I hand him his parcel of food, and I crossed the room.

  ‘Your mother is still at the inn, where they don’t allow children. Thank you, Fleetwood.’

  ‘What about Alizon? And Grandma?’

  ‘They are there, too. You will see them before long, in a grand room in a castle with lots of important people who will ask you questions about them. And you remember what to say, don’t you? Everything we talked about?’ She nodded, taking the cloth parcel from him and unfolding it to stuff a fistful of pie into her mouth. ‘This one has a belly bigger than her eyes. Well, we’ll be on our way.’

  Richard saw them out, and I watched Jennet follow them into the passage, quick and soundless as a shadow.

  Alice was sitting quietly by the window in my chamber when I returned, looking out at the hills.

  ‘Sorry I kept you in here so long,’ I said, closing the door behind me. ‘I hope I’ve not held you from your work at the alehouse?’

  She shook her head. ‘I start later on. Did I hear a child’s voice?’

  I licked my lips, deciding.

  ‘My friend Roger Nowell brought a child named Jennet Device. Her family is awaiting the assizes at Lancaster, accused of witchcraft.’

  I watched her face for a flicker of recognition, but none came – her face was blank and smooth.

  I waited a beat, then said, ‘Do you know them?’

  She stood, brushing down her skirts and tucking the chair back against the wall.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t.’

  I’d lost count of the nights Richard had slept in the room beside mine, so much that waking up alone was beginning to feel normal. Thanks to the lavender tincture on my pillow, I hadn’t had The Nightmare, and my hair had stopped falling out at such an alarming rate. I found Richard eating breakfast in the dining room, and took my seat opposite him, accepting a roll and some honey and breaking it into pieces.

  ‘Richard,’ I said once the servants had left the room. ‘I have been feeling much better lately. Might you consider moving back to our chamber?’

  He read his correspondence for a moment or two longer, then looked up.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I said I am feeling much better, and I wish you would join me in our chamber. I haven’t been ill in almost a fortnight.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news.’

  When he continued reading and chewing, and it became clear he would not respond, I remembered something that had bothered me that morning.

  ‘I can’t find my ruby necklace, the one you gave me when we had been married a year.’

  Now I had his attention, and he folded the letter he was reading and tucked it beneath his plate.

  ‘Oh? Where do you keep it?’

  ‘In the cupboard in the wardrobe. I looked for it last night and again this morning, and seem to have misplaced it. I can’t remember when I last wore it.’

  His grey eyes were thoughtful.

  ‘Your midwife spends a lot of time up there, does she not?’

  ‘She does, but she would not have taken it.’

  ‘Would she not?’ he asked lightly. ‘Does she have plenty of her own?’

  I put a tiny piece of bread into my mouth and swallowed.

  ‘I know she would not. I trust her.’

  ‘You seem to trust her much more easily than Miss Fawnbrake.’

  ‘I will go and look again.’

  I pushed my plate away and left before he could protest, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of doubt that plucked at my thoughts like a needle. I turned my rooms upside down that morning, and looked in all the guest chambers and cupboards that I had keys to. Although my most precious jewellery was locked away, I kept the keys in a vase on the mantelpiece in the wardrobe – not the most discreet of hiding places. The rest of my jewellery was as it should be – my favourite opal rings, the velvet and pearl choker, the emerald drop earrings given to me by my mother on my thirteenth birthday.

  Hot and bothered, I went downstairs to ask the chambermaids if they had seen the necklace recently, when I heard a commotion. At the last turn of the staircase, I almost bumped into Richard flying towards me, looking thunderous.

  ‘Have you found it?’ he demanded.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘That necklace was my father’s sister’s,’ he fumed. ‘He gave it to me when she d
ied. It’s an insult to his memory; it belongs in the family.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I faltered, but he shook his head. That’s when I noticed the servants flocking out of doorways and passages towards the hall, throwing us nervous glances.

  ‘Come with me; we will put an end to this.’

  He took my hand and pulled me in the same direction, and I was alarmed to find the entire household gathering beneath the high ceiling: fifteen or twenty people, plus one I was not expecting.

  ‘Alice!’

  She glanced over at me, and her face was anxious. In her hands she had a parcel tied with string: more herbs, as she had promised to bring when I told her the kitchen was low. There were high spots of colour on her cheeks, and her golden hair fell more untidily than usual around her face, as though she had hurried here.

  Richard had left my side and was climbing the narrow stairs up to the minstrels’ gallery. Clearly he was about to make an announcement.

  ‘My wife has informed me a precious ruby necklace has gone missing,’ he declared. ‘This is the first time anything like this has happened at Gawthorpe, and I am loath to suggest one – or some – of you might know its whereabouts, because you are a loyal staff.’ As I watched him speak, sweat pricking at my armpits, I felt several pairs of eyes on me. ‘There is every possibility it has been mislaid, but Mistress Shuttleworth has assured me she has checked every usual place. Now, that necklace was given to my father,’ he went on, his tone melting from stern to appealing, which always made the servants melt in turn. ‘It is very important to me that we find it. I will ask the chambermaids to carry out a thorough sweep of the rooms, and everyone else their usual habitats. This time tomorrow I would like it placed in my hands. I will ask no questions when it is.’

  A few of the servants straightened in response – he’d even called the stable boys and carter in, I realised. Why not the farm apprentices, too? I thought in exasperation. Then I noticed someone had raised a hand: Sarah, one of the bolder chambermaids, who liked to bask in Richard’s approval. And who, I’m sure, took delight in the fact he was sleeping alone, and possibly even imagined going to him in her stockinged feet at night.

  ‘Sarah?’ Richard nodded, indicating she speak.

  ‘I’m sure you know those of us who’ve worked here such a long time would bring anything we found to you or the mistress straight away,’ she said. ‘So maybe you should look at those who haven’t worked here so long.’

  A ripple of interest broke across the room – half surprise, half amusement at her brevity.

  ‘What makes you say that, Sarah? Might you know something you wish to share?’

  Richard’s tone was inviting. I imagined them alone together, then pushed the thought away. He was a good businessman, skilled at getting the deal he wanted. Nothing more.

  I glanced at Alice, who was shifting her weight on her feet. She was not looking at Richard, but directly at Sarah. Her eyes were hard, and there was a flush of colour in her cheeks.

  ‘All I’m saying is,’ Sarah chattered on in her girlish, broad accent, ‘it might not be a coincidence that someone new starts working here and two minutes later the mistress’s jewellery goes missing.’

  The two or three young girls standing next to her shone with barely concealed glee.

  ‘The saucy baggage!’ muttered an older voice from over my shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, Sarah, that’s enough. While there’s no need to throw accusations around, I trust my household’s loyalty in the main. Some, however, could be more demonstrative with their allegiance.’ Did Richard look pointedly at Alice? He began to move towards the staircase. ‘I will leave it with you. Remember, noon tomorrow, that necklace will be back in Fleetwood’s possession. That is not a request.’

  As the hall filled with chatter and the servants filed out, I went to Alice and took her arm.

  ‘Will you come upstairs?’

  She shook me off.

  ‘I don’t think I will.’

  She shoved the package into my arms. The scent of herbs and lavender drifted up, but now the strength of the mingling scents made me feel sick.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I have brought the things as you asked. I can’t see what else I am needed for.’

  ‘The parlour, then. I will have the kitchen send up some—’

  ‘No, thank you. I need to go to the Hand.’ Her voice had lost all its softness.

  The hall was quiet now, with the last footsteps squeaking in the passages. Richard’s ancestors watched keenly from their portraits on the walls.

  ‘I hope you don’t think I was accusing you of theft.’ I tried to coat my words with ridicule, but it came out as pleading.

  ‘You have nice jewellery, but I’m not sure any of it would suit me. I trust you aren’t in need of my service any longer?’

  ‘Pardon? Alice, no, you can’t leave. I know you didn’t steal it.’

  Do I?

  I remembered her closing the drapes around me after she drew my blood. How, an hour after I left her, she sat thoughtfully at the window in my chamber with her straight back and fine angular features, as though she was posing for a portrait. And buried beneath was another thought: what did she do with my blood? There was a whole bowlful of it, and when Richard demanded to be let in, it was gone. Had she thrown it on the fire? I’d heard no sizzle of burning liquid, no stench of scorched blood. Now was not the time to wonder; Alice was watching me, and I knew my face betrayed my doubt.

  ‘I must go,’ she said coolly. ‘I cannot work where I am not trusted.’

  And before I could move, she had slipped into the passage. By the time I reached it she was at the front door, hauling it open and flying down the steps, barely avoiding a collision with the figure dismounting his horse at the bottom.

  ‘Mistress Shuttleworth!’ said Nick Bannister, turning to watch Alice’s narrow form grow smaller.

  ‘Mr Bannister,’ I managed to say, catching my breath.

  I felt as though I was coming apart; something terrible had happened, and I had no idea what to do about it. Over a stupid necklace that meant nothing to me!

  ‘You look as though you’ve had a fright – who was that woman?’

  The magistrate approached hesitantly, placing a wrinkled hand on my arm where the feam had been driven in. The wound smarted at his touch, and I pulled away, stammering my apologies. In just a few days the injury had almost sealed itself into a neat scar the shape of a crescent moon.

  All I could see of Alice now was her white cap bobbing towards the edge of the forest. As usual she had not gone to the road via the outbuildings, but straight into the trees.

  ‘Mistress, are you quite well?’

  I sighed, and felt the chill wind creep its fingers down my gown. My stomach pushed at my corse; it would not be long before I could no longer wear them.

  ‘Yes, quite well, thank you, Mr Bannister. Have you come to see Richard?’

  ‘Only if he is available. I am here to collect a message Roger left when he was here last.’

  ‘Yes, I know it. I will find it for you.’

  I’d heard Richard say he’d leave it with James, but I would not fetch him; I did not even want to look at him. Nick followed me into the house and I instructed a passing servant to see to his horse. James’ study was only a few steps from the front door, and he was out for the day with the bailiff. As though sensing I was upset, Puck came to me, pushing his wet nose into my hand.

  ‘Forgive me, Mr Bannister, what is it I am looking for?’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Shuttleworth knows its whereabouts—’

  ‘No. I can help you,’ I said, more sharply than I could help. ‘Richard has done enough for today.’

  I pushed open the door and went to the large desk in the centre of the room. James kept a neat office, with only a jar of quills, a single bottle of ink and a neat stack of parchment on its surface. Behind the leather chair was a shelf containing several bound household ledgers, dating back twenty years to when Richa
rd’s father first began to keep the Shuttleworth family records. I searched the stacks of letters organised and filed in some unknown method, remembering how James had brought me the neat parcel of correspondence about my failed pregnancies. Another rage was burning inside me: Richard did not think it prudent to inform me of my impending death, and now he had removed from the house the only person I could trust to save me. I realised I was shaking, and hot tears were blurring my sight. I sniffed, and Nick Bannister cleared his throat.

  ‘Fine beast you have, Mistress,’ he said.

  I wiped my eyes and scanned the shelves once more, finding what I needed: the letter sealed in wax with the Nowell crest. I turned it over to find Nick Bannister’s name written in Roger’s cursive script, and handed it to the shabby old man stroking my dog.

  ‘Thank you.’ He nodded. I know I had made him uncomfortable, and he was looking for something to say. ‘Nasty business, this.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘These Pendle witches. Trust Roger to root them out, though. I doubt he shall ever retire from the king’s service. I said to him: “Roger, have this last hurrah and then live comfortably. Let some young blood take over, like your Richard.” He trusts your man, you know. Hopes he’ll carry on his work one day, as Justice of the Peace.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said dully.

  ‘Roger doesn’t do things by halves – he’s not content with sending a whole family to trial, oh no. He wants the glory days back; he wants his name in the London pamphlets. I swear he’s after a knighthood. He is already known at court, but he won’t stop there. You know him as well as I.’

  I wondered how far Alice had got – whether she had reached the alehouse yet. Should I have gone after her?