Sea Witch Read online

  Sea Witch

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Copyright

  One

  Snow hung like lace across the stark branches of the trees, covering the fields with a white silence that was almost alarming, so profound was it.

  Inside the coach, I was sheltered from the keen wind, but the cracked and faded leather of the seat carried a chill that seemed to penetrate even to my bones, so that no amount of rubbing of my wrists could produce any warmth.

  The horses slipped again, making small, nervous sounds as they encountered the icy patches on the road.

  ‘Good thing when this journey ends, miss.’

  The only other passenger in the coach smiled at me. He was large and red of face, and I had stared at him so long throughout the journey that I felt I knew him well.

  I smiled. ‘I expect you suffer worse conditions when you are at sea.’

  He inclined his head in agreement, flattening his greying moustache with the tips of his fingers.

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed I do, but the sea is my element.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I never could abide being shut indoors.’

  I found myself shivering a little, and even though the man had been very pleasant company, I found I had a feeling of mistrust every time I met his eyes.

  I glanced covertly at him, trying to discover what it was that repelled me. Perhaps it was the shifty look about his eyes, or the way he rubbed his fat hands together incessantly. In any event, such speculation was a foolish waste of time; soon I would alight from the coach and never see him again.

  As if in answer to my thoughts, the horses swung off the treacherous roadway and came to a quivering stop outside the lamplit entrance of a coaching inn.

  ‘Are we there?’ I asked rather stupidly.

  The man could not possibly know my destination, so how could he answer my question? Nevertheless, he did.

  ‘No, we are not at Swantown yet. Allow me to help you down. Careful where you place your feet; the ground is hard with ice.’

  I stood for a moment shivering in the easterly wind. ‘How much further is it, have you any idea?’

  He took my arm and hurried me indoors.

  ‘Only about ten more miles. Don’t fret; we’ll be there before nightfall.’

  He settled me before the glowing fire and brushed the snow from his hat.

  ‘Would you allow me to bring you something, miss? A hot toddy perhaps?’

  It really was kind of him to be concerned. I smiled and nodded my head.

  ‘I would be very grateful, thank you.’

  After all, I told myself, he was old enough to be my father, and I had no reason in heaven or earth to suspect his motives.

  He stamped across the room, calling loudly for the landlord. Left alone, I stared into the bright heart of the fire and, unbidden, memories rushed in.

  I could again see my grandmother, her eyes sharp and bright like the jet beads that edged her silk apron. I had loved her very much; she was the only family I had ever known. Together we had lived in the mellow rambling house, deep in the quietness of the countryside. It was a peaceful life, and if sometimes I became a little restless, a swift gallop on my favourite grey across the soft rolling fields would quickly dispel any excess of energy.

  A coal fell into the hearth, and I suddenly drew back my petticoats, looking around me, suddenly self-conscious about the tears that burned my eyes. Crying would help nothing; my grandmother was gone, laid to rest in the black soil next to her husband.

  ‘Here, miss, drink this; it will set you up a treat.’ He towered above me, so close that I could see the red veins stand out across his cheeks.

  ‘Never let it be said that Daniel Perkins left a lady like you to fend for herself.’

  ‘Thank you; it is very kind of you.’ I sipped the hot drink with enjoyment.

  He remained standing before me, and I reached for my reticule with a hand that shook.

  ‘Please, how much do I owe you?’ The situation was becoming a little embarrassing.

  Perkins flung back his head and laughed. ‘Independent little thing, aren’t you?’ He brushed my hand aside. ‘I’ll not take money from you. I still have some sense of chivalry.’

  He did not take a seat beside me, for which I was grateful. I was in the mood to appreciate a little solitude, so I held out my hand formally.

  ‘I’m Catherine Llewellyn. Thank you so much for looking after me; I really do appreciate it.’

  He took my hand briefly, seeming somewhat out of countenance. With a last uncertain glance at me, he departed to sit on the other side of the huge fireplace.

  It was a relief to sink back in my chair and close my eyes. The journey had been a long one, and I ached to my very bones.

  I was almost asleep when I heard the sounds of movement around me. Quickly I rose from my chair, drawing the warmth of my cloak around me.

  ‘We are setting off again, miss.’ Perkins took my arm, and I found myself resenting the gesture. ‘It would not do to be left behind, would it?’ He smiled, revealing dark stained teeth, and I hastily averted my eyes.

  Outside, I gasped a little as the cold air took my breath away. The sky was overcast, the clouds low as if heavy with rain, and I climbed quickly into the comparative warmth of the coach.

  ‘The last part of the journey now, Miss Llewellyn.’ Perkins seemed determined to engage me in conversation, and I nodded without replying.

  ‘Don’t look so downcast,’ he said. ‘You will soon be at home with your folks.’

  I could think of nothing to say. I pretended to be absorbed in the gathering dusk outside the windows, wondering ruefully what sort of welcome would be waiting for me at Langland Hall.

  A feeling almost of panic took possession of me, and I pressed my hands together to stop them from trembling. My cousins would no doubt resent me; why should they welcome me? We had not met for many years, not since I had been a child about five years of age.

  Garth and Jonathon Llewellyn – their very names sounded hostile to my ears. I would have remained in Grandmother’s house had she not insisted it was not fitting or even safe for a young girl to live alone.

  Tears burned my eyes. The old country house would be sold by now. Strangers would walk through the rooms that were beloved and familiar to me, while I would have to become accustomed to a new home reluctantly provided for me by my kinsmen.

  It was almost a certainty that my elder cousin would resent me. On his shoulders would fall the responsibility of being guardian to a spinster of eighteen summers.

  I did not really look like a spinster. I studied my reflection in the windows of the coach. Dark red curls escaped from under my bonnet, and my face, though ordinary, was not ugly. I had dark eyes like Grandmother, except that mine were over-large for my face, so that I seemed to be an innocent with no more intelligence than a new-born chick.

  I closed my eyes, deliberately shutting out thoughts of what the future held in store for me. I was a little warmer now, because of the drink no doubt, and soon tiredness got the better of me and I drifted off to sleep.

  I opened my eyes with a sudden pang of fear to hear the driver shout directions outside the now stationary coach. His voice rang out eerily in the sharp night air, and I shivered.

  I stumbled outside into the icy coldness of the street and took the heav
y bag the driver handed me.

  ‘Anything more, miss?’ He was trying to be kind, but I could see he would have his hands full dealing with the restless horses.

  ‘Nothing, thank you,’ I said with a composure I was far from feeling.

  I looked around me eagerly, expecting to see a carriage waiting to take me to my new home, but the road stretched away like a ribbon, deserted and dark.

  I moved about a little, unpleasantly aware of the coldness that nipped my face and hands unmercifully.

  ‘You seem somewhat lost, Miss Llewellyn; can I be of any assistance?’

  Perkins loomed at my side, looking large and familiar, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘I was expecting to be met by one of my cousins,’ I said, despising myself for the catch in my voice. ‘I am making for Langland Hall; do you know it?’

  ‘Of course.’ He waved his hand toward a towering mountain that crouched menacingly over the town. ‘There, right on top of the mountain. You would never make it on foot.’

  There was a coldness inside me, anger that my own kin could submit me to this ordeal.

  I moved my bag to my other hand, uncertain what course to take.

  ‘Perhaps I could find a room in Swantown for the night.’ I spoke with little conviction, I could hardly expect anyone to put himself out for me at this time of night.

  ‘Left you standing here, have they?’ he said abruptly. ‘The Llewellyns never did concern themselves over much about other people.’

  ‘I am sure it has been an oversight on someone’s part,’ I said quickly, trying to hide the dismay his words had caused me. ‘Probably I am not even expected until tomorrow, I never was very good at organising.’

  I stared into the darkness for what seemed a long time, and Perkins remained silent.

  ‘I must walk,’ I said firmly, although I was trembling at the thought. ‘There seems nothing else to do.’

  ‘I would not advise it, miss.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The mists come down very sharply at times, and the paths along the cliffs are unsafe even in daytime.’

  I was close to tears. I could no longer feel my feet. They seemed frozen solid, and drops of snow fell at intervals from the front of my bonnet.

  ‘You had best come home with me, then,’ he said at last. ‘You won’t find a palace, but at least you will be warm and dry.’

  My gratitude was inordinate as I followed him quickly along the icy street, and I berated myself for being uncharitable about his eyes.

  He seemed to be leading me toward the harbour, which was no surprise really, because where should a captain of a ship live other than on the seafront?

  We passed an ale house, and lights from dozens of candles spilled out onto the street, together with the songs of men somewhat the worse for drink.

  I shuddered a little, glad of the company of Perkins. He was forging along at such a pace I could hardly keep up with him.

  I don’t know how long I walked the narrow twisting streets, smelling of salt with the tang of the sea, but I could actually hear the voice of the waves breaking rhythmically against the shore when we at last stopped and mounted three small steps that led to the home of Daniel Perkins.

  Inside it was warm and cheerful, shining with brass and copper and cosily curtained against the cold night air. A young girl about my own age put down her sewing and rose to her feet, surprise written all over her face.

  ‘Where is your mother, Sarah?’ Perkins moved toward the fire, holding his hands to the blaze. He did not wait for an answer to his question, which was just as well, as the girl seemed disinclined to make one. ‘Go fetch her!’ he said sharply. ‘Tell her we have a guest who will need a bed for the night.’

  I sat rather uncomfortably in the chair he drew forward for me. The girl left the room, but not before I saw a flicker of hostility in her pale eyes.

  Mrs Perkins was a neat woman, almost birdlike in the fastidious way she stepped across the room and took my cloak from me.

  ‘I do not wish to cause you any trouble,’ I said quickly. ‘I would be quite happy to pass the night in this chair before the fire.’

  Her glance washed over me almost as if she didn’t really see me sitting there. Without a word, she moved to the fire and ladled steaming soup into a bowl. She served me first and then saw to her husband.

  ‘The young lady is making for Langland Hall,’ he said, pleasantly unaware that his wife and daughter both stood watching me as I ate the tasty soup.

  ‘It is kind of you to concern yourself with me,’ I said, trying to break the rather strained silence. ‘Perhaps sometime I can repay your hospitality.’

  The woman stared at me; her round, almost bulbous eyes searched my face.

  ‘I am never likely to go up to the Hall,’ she said quietly. ‘The Llewellyns are too grand to entertain the likes of us.’

  She stared defiantly at her husband. ‘My Daniel works one of Master Garth’s ships. Did you not know?’

  ‘I did not,’ I said evenly, ‘though why that should stop you from paying a visit to the Hall I do not see.’

  She sniffed a little impatiently. ‘I would have something to say to Garth Llewellyn that he might not like.’

  ‘Be silent!’ Daniel Perkins spoke quietly, but I felt my nerves tighten at his tone.

  When the meal was finished, he rose from the table and stretched his arms above his head.

  ‘I will go on up to bed,’ he said to his wife. ‘See that the young lady is made comfortable for the night.’ His voice held a warning note, and his wife nodded quickly, anxious to placate him.

  She led me through a narrow passageway, holding a flickering candle high, and I shuddered as I glimpsed the quick movement of some small creature along the stone floor.

  ‘You will be all right in the parlour, miss,’ Mrs Perkins said quietly. ‘I’ll bring you some warm blankets; you can sleep on the couch there.’

  I sighed. ‘I am more than grateful; it is very kind of you to go to so much trouble.’

  She dipped her thin neck in a bird-like motion and left the room lit only by the one small candle. Wearily I sat down, pressing a hand to my aching brow.

  I became aware that someone was watching me, and I looked up quickly to see Sarah staring at me with insolent thoroughness.

  I must have looked like nothing on earth; my skirt was crumpled, and strands of untidy hair fell across my cheeks.

  ‘They are not real brothers, you know,’ she said so suddenly that I was taken unawares.

  ‘What?’ I said stupidly. ‘Whom are you talking about – my cousins?’

  She nodded slowly and paused to chew a fingernail.

  ‘The same father but different mothers. Poor Mr Jonathon is a bastard.’

  I flinched at her choice of words, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘How do you know all this?’ My voice was sharp, but though she glared at me for a moment, she answered my question promptly.

  ‘My father told me all about it.’ Her pale eyes observed me coolly. ‘They haven’t got much money, you know.’

  There was an assumption in her voice that I would be disappointed by her news, but I smiled inwardly. Not only had Grandmother left me well provided for, but she had made a more than generous bequest to each of my cousins, on one condition only: that the money be administered by me. There was no apparent reason for Grandmother’s caution, but she had been a shrewd woman, and I had no doubt that she knew what she was doing.

  I had no intention of divulging any of this to Sarah, however. There was a brief silence while she waited to see what I would say, and then, with a toss of her yellow curls, she turned and left me alone.

  After a few minutes, during which I sat shivering in the half-darkness, Mrs Perkins returned with some rough wool blankets which I took gratefully.

  Once I lay down on the lumpy couch, my eyes began to close, and in spite of my discomfort, I immediately fell into a deep sleep.

  It seemed only a few minutes later when someone
knocked on the door, but when I opened my eyes, the grey fingers of dawn were creeping across the room.

  ‘Come along, Miss Llewellyn.’ Perkins stood framed by the doorway, his face red. ‘The snow has gone, so your journey should be an easy one.’

  I made an attempt to tidy myself and went into the welcome warmth of the kitchen, where Mrs Perkins was busy with breakfast.

  ‘I have borrowed a horse for you,’ Perkins said. ‘You can have the animal sent back when you reach the Hall.’

  I nodded gratefully and followed him outside; obviously there was to be no food for me that morning.

  ‘Here she is.’ He pulled at the reins, and the animal’s head drooped dismally. ‘Jezebel may be old, but she is sure-footed.’

  I was still smiling at the incongruous name when Perkins helped me to mount. He handed me my bag and then slapped the horse’s rump so that she set off at a slow amble along the cold wet road.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I said quickly, ‘and thank you for everything.’ But my words were in vain. Perkins had already returned to the house and had closed the door on me with a finality that was a little disturbing.

  The mare picked her way carefully along the slippery cobbles and then out onto the winding mountain road. At times the track wound dangerously near the sheer edge of the cliff, and as I looked back, I could see the proud curve of the bay hedging the small town I was rapidly leaving behind.

  On the water, tall masted ships dipped and rose again on the incoming tide. The view pleased me, and I swung Jezebel around in order to have a better look at it. I pulled hard at the reins and suddenly felt myself slipping sideways. I think I cried out, and then I hit the ground with a bump that knocked the breath out of me, landing perilously near the cliff edge.

  Shakily I forced myself to rise and quiet the frightened animal. Someone must have been very careless with the girth to allow it to slacken in such a way. I bent to the mare’s steaming flank and saw with horror that the girth had not simply worked loose; it had been deliberately cut.

  I looked down at the steep cliff face and shuddered. I might easily have gone over the edge if I hadn’t taken it into my head to turn back to look at the view.

  The crazy idea popped into my head that someone had attempted to murder me. Then I told myself not to be so hysterical and foolish. Who could possibly want me dead when I did not even know anyone in the town?