Bewitched by Sandra Schwab

effective.”
    Spell? Bentham thought, his wits scattering like a flock of birds before a sparrow hawk. Surely this could not be true! Who had ever heard of such a thing?
    Vague memories stirred, of half-formed rumors at university-about Bourne, of all people! Of course, Bentham hadn’t given a fig’s end to such tales. Preposterous!
    But this… this …
    And yet, didn’t the stranger seem to know Bourne? Dear heavens, in what wickedness had he become embroiled?
    “It will have to be hidden somewhere among the stairs in the house,” the other continued. “Rawdon Park is an old building, or so I’ve heard, and it should not be difficult to find a dark spot, a nook or cranny on the stairs.” He threw Bentham a look, who hurried to nod.
    “On… on the stairs.”
    “Exactly.” Carefully, the glass was put back and the second brought forth for Bentham’s inspection. Murky water swirled inside, and amidst the water swam a fat, black worm that looked almost like a leech. “This…” The stranger tapped the glass, and immediately the worm swam toward him. As it reached the glass, it opened its eyes.
    Bentham shrank back in his chair. They were enormous, these eyes, and they seemed to grow until they looked almost human.
    The stranger chuckled softly. “Such a beauty. Tell your daughter to let it loose in the lake.” He looked into the glass and his voice rose and fell in a hypnotic singsong. “Such a beautiful, beautiful lake Rawdon Park has. With ducks and water lilies and golden fish. Such a lovely, lovely place for our little beauty here. So much space to grow large and strong.”
    “It will grow?” Bentham asked in horrid fascination.
    “Oh yes.” The stranger turned to him. “Quite large. It would be better if your daughter stayed away from the lake after she has planted our little present there.” He shook the glass slightly, and the thing inside closed its eyes and became a small, innocent-looking worm again. “Now to the third…” The glass was put back and then the last one was presented to Bentham.
    “A shriveled plant?” Bentham frowned.
    “It looks like it, does it not? It has to be planted in the gardens, in a dark forgotten corner, where it can grow roots undetected.”
    But what harm could a shriveled plant do? Bentham leaned forward. “And then?”
    The other ran his gaze over the plant in the glass. “Now that, my dear Mr. Bentham, is something you really do not want to know.”

Chapter Six
    It was, Amy mused, quite amazing how quickly time passed when one was having fun. She thoroughly enjoyed choosing presents for the members of Sebastian’s family and she never tired of having him tell her about them. There was his brother Richard, the current Earl of Rawdon: “Truly, you’ll have never met anybody so suited to country life than good old Richard,” Sebastian said with a crooked grin. “There’s nothing he likes better than roaming the Rawdon lands with his dogs all tumbling around his heels. I daresay, I can’t even remember the last time I saw his boots not caked in mud. Can you imagine?” He glanced down at his own polished boots and gave an exaggerated shudder.
    Laughing, Amy gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow. “Oh, stop it, Mr. Stapleton! I swear if you continue in this fashion you will make me believe you are the vainest peacock.”
    “And you can’t stand vain peacocks?”
    “Oh, I absolutely detest them,” she said blithely. “If you continue, I fear I will have to break our engagement immediately and create a dreadful scene in poor Mr. Williams’s shop.” She bestowed a beaming smile on the tobacconist, who did his best to hide his amusement over their banter. “You would be terribly scandalized, Mr. Williams, would you not?”
    “Oh, dreadfully so, miss.” He even managed to keep a straight face.
    “See?” Amy turned and batted her lashes at Sebastian, who gave a rueful sigh.
    “Pity. We will take the tabac de neroli , Mr. Williams.” Turning his