Witchstruck by Victoria Lamb Page B

witch.’
    I raised my eyes to her face at that. Knew me for a witch, did she? I considered a few spells my aunt had taught me, methods of ensuring a person’s silence. But they were all dangerous and could easily go wrong. I knew Elizabeth would never forgive me for working magick against her faithful lady-in-waiting.
    Although I had stayed stubbornly silent, my expression must have betrayed my anger. Blanche made the sign of the cross , as though afraid I might turn her into a toad at any moment.
    ‘Don’t look at me like that, Devil’s child.’ She saw my involuntary movement, and her face twisted with malice. ‘Oh yes, I remember the gossip about your mother. Cat Canley was a witch too, though she knew better than to flaunt it at court. But she was too friendly with poor Lady Elizabeth’s mother, and look what happened there. Queen Anne suffered a terrible death, her head struck clean from her body!’
    ‘That was not my mother’s doing,’ I said coldly, struggling to control myself.
    ‘Perhaps not.’ Blanche Parry levelled a shaking finger at me, her voice a vehement whisper. ‘But the same will happen to you one day, Meg Lytton, if you keep encouraging my mistress in the dark arts.’
    A tide of red moved across my vision, and I could no longer see Blanche Parry; she was just a dim figure against the sunlight. The herb basket tumbled to the floor, spilling bay leaves across the narrow sandy path. I raised my hand, pointing at Blanche with stiffly outstretched fingers, and vaguely heard her shriek.
    But before I could speak the words, a familiar voice cut across my rage like a dash of cold water, shocking me back to myself.
    ‘Meg?’ It was Alejandro, suddenly at my elbow. ‘What’s this? You’ve dropped your basket. Here, let me help you.’
    Blanche Parry had backed away into a privet hedge. She stood now, covering her face with her apron and blubbering. ‘Witch! Witch!’ She raised her head to Alejandro and gasped, ‘You saw what happened,
señor
. She was going to put a spell on me.’
    ‘I saw nothing,’ Alejandro said sharply. He bowed to her formally. ‘Give you good day, Mistress Parry. I must take Meg back to the house, for Father Vasco has urgent need of her.’
    ‘Father Vasco?’ Blanche echoed blankly, staring at him over the edge of her apron.
    ‘Some robes that need mending before tonight’s Mass. Bedingfield will spare none of his servants for the task, and I have no skill with a needle and thread. Forgive me, Mistress Parry. My master is waiting.’
    Alejandro pushed the herb basket back into my arms and led me away from the garden, his hand firm on my shoulder.
    I was still trembling with rage when we reached Father Vasco’s dark little room at the top of the lodge. Alejandro gestured me inside and shut the door. There was nobody there. He threw back the shutters and the tiny room was flooded with daylight.
    I stood blinking. ‘Where is Father Vasco?’
    ‘In the chapel,’ Alejandro said calmly.
    ‘But you said—’
    Silently, he indicated a pile of old robes on the bed behind me. I sat down beside them and began to turn over the robes, hunting for rips and tears as though my life depended on it. At least it gave my hands something to do while I cooled my temper.
    ‘What was all that about?’ he demanded. ‘What did you think you were doing, behaving like that in broad daylight where anyone might have seen you?’
    ‘Mistress Parry insulted my mother,’ I muttered.
    Alejandro drew a sharp breath. ‘Did she indeed?’ I looked up to see him nodding, very sombre today in a plain shirt and hose, his dark jacket unfastened. He leaned back against the wall, watching me. ‘Then I can see how you might have lost your temper with the foolish woman. But that is still no excuse for working your . . . your . . .’
    He could not seem to bring himself to use the word. ‘Magick?’ I suggested.
    ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘For working your magick against her. You cannot be too