Witch from the Sea

“The time comes, Linnet, when mothers and daughters must part.”

“And you wanted me to marry Fennimore that we might always be quite near.”

“Not only that, Linnet. I wanted it because I felt that Fennimore is a good man who would be kind to you. I longed to hear you say that you were betrothed.”

“So might we have been but for that night.”

“Your father must not know. I fear that man. I feared him when he strode into the inn. I had an uneasy feeling that he was going to bring some evil to us. When we left the inn that morning I felt such an immense relief that it seemed out of all proportion to what had happened. Now I understand it. If we had only taken a different road.”

“You can always say that of life, Mother. It is always a matter of taking the wrong or the right road.”

“Now we must be sure to take the right one. I’m glad you have told me, Linnet. Together we will find the solution to this. But there must be little delay. No one here must know that you are pregnant. It is early yet.” She calculated swiftly. “It is not yet two months. If we go to my mother we must do so within the next month.”

“What will my father say?”

“We shall have to be very careful with him. He is expecting an announcement of your marriage to Fennimore. He will not understand this sudden desire to go to London and may well oppose it. That could delay us. You know his impatience. Now he has decided to throw in his lot with the Landors he wants you wedded and providing him with grandsons to continue with the business when they come of an age to do so. It is the best way, Linnet. In fact I think it is the only way. You might of course tell Fennimore. He would be discreet. No one can blame you. And who knows he might be ready to marry you.”

“I couldn’t, Mother, not with the child.”

“You would grow used to the idea. Perhaps it would be best.”

“Please do not tell him.”

“We will not act rashly although we must not delay too long. This has been a terrible shock and I need time to think. Dearest Linnet, I do not want you to go to my mother. To lose you would break my heart, for I should see so little of you and we have been together all your life. Yet it seems to me the best solution, unless of course Fennimore …”

“I am so relieved that you know,” I said. “It seems so much easier to bear now.”

“We will find a way out, darling,” she said. “Together we will find the way.”

The way was found for us. A few days after I had told my mother, Colum Casvellyn came to visit us. I was in my bedchamber sewing a button on one of my gowns when Jennet came in very excited.

“He’s here,” she said. “He’s come to call.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The one who rescued you and brought you back.”

I felt my knees tremble.

“This can’t be so.”

“Oh yes, ’tis so, Mistress. He rode into the courtyard like as though he were master here and he leaped down and shouted to one of the grooms who stood gaping at him. Then he saw me and he said: ‘Go tell your mistress, your young mistress, she has a visitor.’”

“You are sure it is this man?”

Jennet blushed in that foolish coy way as though she were a young girl instead of an experienced woman in her forties.

“Oh yes, Mistress, there be no mistaking him.”

I said: “Bring him into the winter parlour. I will join him there.”

She was off with all speed. I thought: I should find my mother. It would be better if we saw him together. But no, I wanted to see him alone first. I wanted to test my feelings for him.

I could scarcely wait to reach the winter parlour. He was already there, standing with his back to the window, legs apart in that arrogant manner which was characteristic of him and suggested that he was the owner of everything in sight.

“Good day to you,” he cried, smiling broadly. He strode towards me and taking both my hands drew me towards him and kissed me on the mouth.

I flushed hotly and drew back in dismay.

“Coy?” he said. “Reluctant? Oh no, not after all we have been to each other.”

My heart was beating so fast that I could not find my voice. I was filled with uncertainty. I had never felt this overpowering emotion before. It was a hatred, I supposed; but I was not entirely sure.

He looked at me intently. “I came to see how matters stood,” he said.

“I do not understand you, sir.”

“After such pleasure as we shared there could be results. I was anxious for your health.”

“How could you know …” I cried.

His eyebrows were raised; his eyes lighted suddenly with pleasure.

“’Tis so,” he cried. “’Tis so indeed.”

He tried to take me by the shoulders but I stepped back sharply. “By God,” he cried. “I knew it. You were meant to bear sons, I’ll swear. I sensed it that night at the inn. You and I together …” Then he threw back his head and laughed loudly. It was the laughter of triumph.

I stood back still farther. I wished that I had called my mother to come with me.

“You are sure?” he asked.

“I have told my mother.”

His eyebrows were raised again. They were thick, bushy and very arched.

“What says she?”

“You must be gone,” I said. “I never want to see you again.”