mistress, but they do say she were a white witch.’
‘There was a witch once at Castle Paling. Have you ever heard of her?’
Ginny was startled. She looked furtively over her shoulder.
‘Why yes, mistress, everyone have heard of how she come by the sea. My granny told me. It were always remembered. She came and she went back to the Devil and came back again, and then she went back to him and was never heard of no more.’
I shivered.
‘You be cold, mistress?’
‘Someone walking over my grave, Ginny, as they say. You know the ladies here?’
Ginny was very disturbed. ‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Well, the young beautiful one is the granddaughter of that witch.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
I’m going too far too fast, I thought. But nevertheless I went on.
‘Do you think the powers are passed down … these dark powers, I mean?’
Ginny was a conspirator. Her voice sounded hoarse.
‘I’ve heard it’s so. Yes, indeed I’ve heard it said.’
‘I wonder … Here, take the dish. The posset was good and warming. I feel I could sleep now.’
She took the dish and tiptoed out. I felt like a gardener who has prepared the ground and sewn the first seeds. Now I could wait and see what crop came forth.
I felt better because I had a plan. I became obsessed by it and would awake in the night when a wild excitement possessed me and this soothed my hatred and bitterness. I could understand Homer’s saying ‘Revenge is sweeter far than flowing honey.’
I used to dream of Carlotta’s being dragged by the mob to the tree in Hangman’s Lane, and all the humiliations which would be thrust upon her. I pictured her half-naked body and lewd men watching her, and afterwards Bastian coming to the Lane and seeing her hanging there.
How wicked I am! I thought; but the hurt was so deep that I had to soothe it some way, and at the back of my mind I believed it to be only a fantasy—like a daydream when one receives comfort for indulging in a fancy that one possesses something which is unattainable.
Carlotta created a good deal of attention in a household like ours. She was so different with her airs and graces; she was exotic, and anything foreign aroused suspicions in the simple. With interest I watched the servants’ behaviour towards her. They were fascinated and a little afraid, and I did all I could to foster this fear in them. I think Ginny had talked and reminded them of that old story of the witch who had come from the sea.
Once when we were riding I saw a woman hurry away as we went by, averting her eyes from Carlotta, and I exulted because it seemed to me that the seeds I had sown were sprouting.
Bastian had left the next day. I don’t think he could bear to be in the same house with Carlotta and me together. When he left I did not say goodbye to him but kept out of the way, though I watched him ride off from one of the turret windows and saw how he kept looking backwards, for a last glimpse of Carlotta, I thought angrily.
Sometimes when I was in my room I would be frightened at what I was doing. I wanted to kill Carlotta but not in a straightforward way, since I planned that others should do it for me. It was cowardly, because I was planning it so that when it happened I could pretend it had nothing to do with me.
Then when I was with her I would say to myself: She deserves it. There is something wicked about her … something evil. I believe she is a witch, for only a witch could have taken Bastian from me, and if she is, it is better that she be removed.
Nobody could deny her beauty. It was not beauty which is a joy to behold and is the outward manifestation of inner goodness. I always thought my mother was beautiful in that way. Carlotta’s was a beauty which came from the Devil—meant for the destruction of those about her. At least, that was what I told myself.
Her mother Senara was proud of her, but I didn’t think she loved her; and I was certain that Carlotta loved no one but herself. Indeed,
‘There was a witch once at Castle Paling. Have you ever heard of her?’
Ginny was startled. She looked furtively over her shoulder.
‘Why yes, mistress, everyone have heard of how she come by the sea. My granny told me. It were always remembered. She came and she went back to the Devil and came back again, and then she went back to him and was never heard of no more.’
I shivered.
‘You be cold, mistress?’
‘Someone walking over my grave, Ginny, as they say. You know the ladies here?’
Ginny was very disturbed. ‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Well, the young beautiful one is the granddaughter of that witch.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
I’m going too far too fast, I thought. But nevertheless I went on.
‘Do you think the powers are passed down … these dark powers, I mean?’
Ginny was a conspirator. Her voice sounded hoarse.
‘I’ve heard it’s so. Yes, indeed I’ve heard it said.’
‘I wonder … Here, take the dish. The posset was good and warming. I feel I could sleep now.’
She took the dish and tiptoed out. I felt like a gardener who has prepared the ground and sewn the first seeds. Now I could wait and see what crop came forth.
I felt better because I had a plan. I became obsessed by it and would awake in the night when a wild excitement possessed me and this soothed my hatred and bitterness. I could understand Homer’s saying ‘Revenge is sweeter far than flowing honey.’
I used to dream of Carlotta’s being dragged by the mob to the tree in Hangman’s Lane, and all the humiliations which would be thrust upon her. I pictured her half-naked body and lewd men watching her, and afterwards Bastian coming to the Lane and seeing her hanging there.
How wicked I am! I thought; but the hurt was so deep that I had to soothe it some way, and at the back of my mind I believed it to be only a fantasy—like a daydream when one receives comfort for indulging in a fancy that one possesses something which is unattainable.
Carlotta created a good deal of attention in a household like ours. She was so different with her airs and graces; she was exotic, and anything foreign aroused suspicions in the simple. With interest I watched the servants’ behaviour towards her. They were fascinated and a little afraid, and I did all I could to foster this fear in them. I think Ginny had talked and reminded them of that old story of the witch who had come from the sea.
Once when we were riding I saw a woman hurry away as we went by, averting her eyes from Carlotta, and I exulted because it seemed to me that the seeds I had sown were sprouting.
Bastian had left the next day. I don’t think he could bear to be in the same house with Carlotta and me together. When he left I did not say goodbye to him but kept out of the way, though I watched him ride off from one of the turret windows and saw how he kept looking backwards, for a last glimpse of Carlotta, I thought angrily.
Sometimes when I was in my room I would be frightened at what I was doing. I wanted to kill Carlotta but not in a straightforward way, since I planned that others should do it for me. It was cowardly, because I was planning it so that when it happened I could pretend it had nothing to do with me.
Then when I was with her I would say to myself: She deserves it. There is something wicked about her … something evil. I believe she is a witch, for only a witch could have taken Bastian from me, and if she is, it is better that she be removed.
Nobody could deny her beauty. It was not beauty which is a joy to behold and is the outward manifestation of inner goodness. I always thought my mother was beautiful in that way. Carlotta’s was a beauty which came from the Devil—meant for the destruction of those about her. At least, that was what I told myself.
Her mother Senara was proud of her, but I didn’t think she loved her; and I was certain that Carlotta loved no one but herself. Indeed,
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