Bewitched by a Miss, page 7
Cordelia glanced over to Damon, cheeks flushed. If he could guess, she was embarrassed, for which he couldn’t blame her.
“It is of no consequence.” His mother waved a hand in dismissal. “I am comforted that if they did not share the events with you, Lord Lynwood, they shall not share them with anyone else.”
If he were Lynwood, Damon would demand to know what they saw as soon as they returned home.
Damon knew that she was upset over being spied upon, but her concerns could have been addressed in a more pleasant manner. If he didn’t say something now, it was likely that neither Lynwood nor Miss Cordelia would speak to him again and Damon didn’t want to spend the next three years in Bocka Morrow, living next to neighbors who would rather avoid his family than be on friendly terms.
“My mother wished to have you here because of her concerns. I, however, wished to invite our neighbors to tea and pleasant conversation,” he assured Lynwood then looked to his mother. “There is no reason to hide within Nightshade Manor or be isolated for the length of time that we are required to be in residence.”
“Damon,” his mother warned.
“You’ve nothing to fear from Lynwood or his family,” he insisted.
“We shall discuss this later,” she warned.
He would not be taken to task and resented her attempt to do so. “You may discuss it all you wish but I do not share your concerns.” With that he stood. “Miss Cordelia, would you grant me the pleasure of your company in a stroll about the gardens.”
His mother pulled back with her mouth open in shock. Damon wasn’t certain if it was because of the near argument that he’d had, or his abrupt change in asking Miss Cordelia to walk with him.
He wasn’t even certain why he’d done so, other than he wished to rescue Miss Cordelia from his mother.
Miss Cordelia placed her cup and saucer on the table and stood. “I would like that very much, Lord Bentford.” There was no longer any pleasantness to her tone and Damon expected she was doing her best to hold her tongue.
Cordelia wasn’t certain what to make of the conversation between Bentford and his mother, but it was clear that the purpose of the tea was not for neighbors to become acquainted. In fact, Cordelia was quite certain that the woman hated her. Had Bentford not said anything, it’s likely Lady Chandos would have warned and threatened Cordelia and Edward to hold their silence then have them removed from the property. Not even when she was a child had she been talked to in such a tone and it was all she could do not to give Lady Chandos a piece of her mind, then leave before being asked, but she’d not embarrass Adam, nor did she want to be a poor influence for Edward.
As she allowed Bentford to escort her to the terrace, Cordelia took in slow, deep breaths through her nose and blew them out through a small opening between her lips as she imagined the tone of Lady Chandos and her words evaporating, or turning into water and mist, flowing over her shoulders, down her arms and dripping off her fingers. She then settled on her center, knowing that which had happened could not be changed in the past and only reflect in the future if so allowed.
Settled, she glanced about as they stepped into the sun and was rewarded with the breathtaking sight before and around her. Cordelia took it all in as she turned slowly. To the side were gardens, brilliant in their various hues and colors from the leaves to flowers. Just beyond was a grove of trees, the ground dotted with wildflowers that preferred the shade and had an almost mystical draw. She wished to wander in and see if she might discover a fairy.
Before them were stone steps that led down to another terrace, with walks curving away on each side as well as another set of steps that led to the beach at the end of their cove. Everywhere there were bushes, flowers and grass until the land met the sandy white beach at the water’s edge.
“This is lovely,” she murmured and adjusted her bonnet to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun off the water.
“Shall we?” He gestured to the stairs.
Edward and Miss Ianthe rushed past them, and practically ran down the steps, which wasn’t such a surprise given they were children. They didn’t stop until they reached the edge of the water and Cordelia suspected their conversation was much like the day before, given Ianthe had her hands shoved in her pockets and Edward was gesturing in a rather defensive manner.
“Your brother wasn’t disturbed by the possibility that my niece may be a witch,” he said quietly. “Most don’t believe such exist.”
Was he going to try and convince her that what she’d seen with her own eyes hadn’t actually occurred?
“This is Bocka Morrow, Lord Bentford,” she stated. “Little disturbs us.”
This seemed to take him by surprise.
“The fact that there may be a witch or two is hardly a concern. Well, unless they are bent on evil, then it is an entirely different matter.” If he thought to challenge her, she would return the same.
“If you are insinuating that my niece may be evil, I can assure you that is not the case,” he returned with a hint of anger.
“I meant no insult, Lord Bentford,” she quickly added. “Simply stating a concern of all residents when someone new arrives to our village.” Would she be forced to defend herself to Lord Bentford now? He’d not taken her to task yesterday. In fact, he had seemed rather nice, and Cordelia wasn’t certain if she had misjudged him then, or now.
“I apologize for my mother’s behavior.”
Cordelia glanced up to determine if there was sincerity in his brown eyes.
“She has valid concerns and fears others might learn that a witch lives here.”
Cordelia nearly snorted.
“It’s a matter we do not take lightly.”
Even though she’d only recently learned, it was likely she was one of few who had not already possessed such knowledge. “I’m certain that you don’t.”
“Perhaps I should explain.”
Did he not think she took him seriously?
Bentford abruptly turned toward her. “I am going to share another secret with you, Miss Cordelia, and hope that I can trust you.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t imagine what it would be.
“It will help explain why my mother is so unyielding in protecting the family and keeping people away from Nightshade Manor.”
Now she was intrigued, especially if it explained the cool greeting from Lady Chandos. “I promise, I will hold your secret.”
Bentford said nothing else, and Cordelia feared that he might have changed his mind in confiding in her. Instead, he led her on a path of flowering bushes and plants, unlike any garden she’d ever seen. There was nothing ornamental as one encountered on other estates, but it was quite delightful in its design, which was no design at all. Just dirt paths with stepping stones that wandered in different directions and around an array of flowers and bushes.
“It’s my mother’s garden, and those who came before her,” Bentford offered as if he could read Cordelia’s mind, which he could not.
“The plants serve a purpose, and not for their beauty or pleasure. Some are also quite poisonous.”
It took a moment and then she realized that these plants were for spells and magic. Did Brighid have a similar garden and was that where she gathered plants for her teas? It was a question she’d like to ask but likely never would.
“Now that we are where no one can hear us, I’ll explain my mother’s worry,” Bentford said as he led her to a wooden bench beside a Witch Hazel bush. Rather appropriate she believed.
“My brother and his wife were killed three years ago.”
“My brother told me,” she said.
“Did he tell you why or how?”
“Only that they were murdered.” She looked up into his brown eyes. “I am very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He blew out a breath. “Someone had discovered that my sister-in-law was a witch. Witchfinders murdered them.”
She knew there was such a thing, but there hadn’t been a concern in Bocka Morrow for years and Cordelia had hoped that they no longer existed. “I am so very sorry,” Cordelia said for lack of any other words. “Ianthe’s parents?”
“Yes, and two other daughters, who you saw eating berries. They are Nephele and Clio. They do not know the how, but they were told the why.”
Her heart and chest ached for his loss, and the daughters who had become orphans. No wonder they feared outsiders learning their secret, for which Cordelia could hardly blame them.
“That is why my mother is so fearful for the girls and why they come here when it is time to get their powers.”
“Get their powers?” she asked, rather confused. “Aren’t they born with them?”
“Yes, but a binding ceremony is performed before they can even crawl,” he answered. “It was a practice begun generations ago because infants and young children do not know better and if they accidentally use their powers in front of the wrong person, it could not end well for the family.”
“Witchfinders,” she confirmed.
He nodded.
“And Ianthe is just now getting her powers.”
“Yes. The binding begins to release when a female comes of age, which is usually between the ages of twelve and fourteen, and then they must learn to control the power.”
Goodness, when a witch received her powers was about the time…Had nobody considered the added danger of an emotional girl at the most confusing time in her life also getting magical powers? Who had thought that was a good idea? Of course, she couldn’t mention something so personal to Lord Bentford.
Then she realized he said females. “What of the sons? Are their powers bound as well?”
Bentford shook his head. “Only females with Drakos blood are witches. The males are not.”
“I’d not realized.” Had Adam known?
“Nightshade Manor is also for the protection of others,” he continued. “Powers are unpredictable, and it is safer if nobody is around who could be harmed.”
“Harmed?” Cordelia asked in alarm. “She’s with Edward right now. Is he in danger?”
“No,” Bentford chuckled. “Unless he dislikes insects. Ianthe has managed to make several appear at once. Yesterday she caused the entire nursery to be filled with grasshoppers.”
“Grasshoppers?” It wasn’t funny, but she found herself wanting to laugh. “Edward has no objection to insects,” she assured him with a chuckle.
Perhaps she hadn’t misjudged Bentford at their first meeting, and he was far more likeable than his mother. Further, she understood his need to protect his nieces, especially after what had happened to Ianthe’s parents, but he also needed to know the truth.
“The fact that you come from a family of witches is not a secret, Lord Bentford.”
Chapter 8
Damon could only stare at Miss Cordelia as the words reverberated in his mind. “Not a secret?” he questioned.
“According to Adam, all of Bocka Morrow is aware so you needn’t hide.”
Bloody hell!
He considered that it was a possibility given how long his family had lived here, and he knew that it was no secret to Lynwood, but the confirmation that their secret wasn’t one at all was unsettling.
Were they even safe here? If an entire village knew, then word could spread and eventually reach a witchfinder, who would no doubt come here directly.
“Do you fear someone will speak out of turn? That someone may tell your secrets?” she questioned with concern.
Of course that was his fear. Had she not been listening when he explained why his brother and sister-in-law had died. “Yes!”
“You needn’t,” she explained calmly.
As Miss Cordelia was not a witch, she wouldn’t worry. Or maybe she didn’t think there was a threat since witches did live in the community that hadn’t been threatened.
How could Miss Cordelia begin to understand? Or maybe she wasn’t as knowledgeable about these matters as she assumed. His entire life had been spent keeping the truth about the female members of his family a secret.
“Who are the other witches in Bocka Morrow?” he asked.
Miss Cordelia smoothed her dress over her legs. “I’m certain your mother can give you their names, but I will not.” She’d not looked at him when she answered, which made Damon wonder if she truly did know anything.
“Ah, so you don’t know.” Perhaps there was simply an assumption in Bocka Morrow without facts. Even so, it could be dangerous to his family.
“If I were at Nightshade Manor for any purpose other than to be taken to task for spying and for what I witnessed, I wouldn’t even mention the word witch in your presence, Lord Bentford.”
Her cool tone nearly matched his mother’s from earlier.
“You should be aware that we do not speak out of turn, especially about something that could be dangerous to the residents of Bocka Morrow,” she added. “I was shocked and scolded Edward yesterday because he knew better than to ever even whisper the word witch, yet he had.”
“Not even if asked directly?” They may not claim to gossip but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t answer if asked if there were any witches about.
“We’d deny the existence,” she answered without hesitation.
“You’d lie?” he asked.
“As a rule, I do not lie.” She sniffed. “However, to protect someone from another who has evil in their heart, I would not hesitate to say whatever is necessary.”
He blinked at her.
“From the time we are old enough to understand, and when children were being scolded for lying, there has always been one exception for all who live in Bocka Morrow. We are never to admit to any magical occurrences, or people who may be magical. Secrets need to remain kept, even if we must tell a falsehood to protect another or explain away something that may be witnessed by an outsider as questionable or unusual.” She smiled. “There have been people who have come here out of curiosity, hoping to see a mermaid, or a ghost, or what have you. We all make light of our reputation until the visitors leave feeling like fools.”
Damon may be able to trust that Miss Cordelia would lie to protect his family, but could he trust that all Bocka Morrow would? He looked to where Edward and Ianthe were walking away from the edge of the cove and up a small hill and toward shade trees. Would Edward? “We are very protective of my nieces.”
“I am trying to assure you that the people of Bocka Morrow are protective as well. I may not have witnessed their power, but my sister would be dead without three witches intervening,” Miss Cordelia explained. “Because of that incident, their names will never pass my lips. Further, if it were anyone else asking, and I’d not witnessed what your mother did, I’d call you daft for thinking witches exist, as would anyone else.”
As much as he hoped it didn’t put his family in danger, Damon decided to accept her word on the matter. For so long as he could remember, Brighid had run the apothecary, though it was owned by Maevis. Both were witches, and they’d lived here longer than he’d been alive without danger.
This area of Cornwall had been chosen specifically because of its magical properties, and not just the land, but the community.
Stories were told to him when he was a child of his ancestors coming from Greece to establish a home, the welcome from the people of Bocka Morrow and the safety the village offered.
His mother may think nobody knew their secret, but they did, and always had. Either she’d forgotten the stories or chosen not to believe them, but Damon knew his family was safe here and he needn’t fear someone may say something to put his family in danger.
“Is it true that there are ghosts, mermaids and pixies in Bocka Morrow?” Bentford found himself asking.
“Are you testing my loyalty to the village?” she countered.
“No.” He chuckled. “I apologize if you feel as if you have been interrogated and understand if you don’t wish to answer.”
“You’ve spent your life protecting others,” she said quietly. “I understand your hesitancy to put faith in strangers.”
“As with you, from a very young age we are taught to hide the truth,” Damon admitted.
“You are safe in Bocka Morrow,” she promised.
“You are still not going to answer my question, are you?” He grinned down at her. “Are there really ghosts living in Castle Keyvnor, as well as pixies and mermaids in Bocka Morrow?”
“And witches,” she added.
He turned more fully toward her. “What have you seen?”
“Me? Nothing.” She chuckled though it was rather sad.
“Nothing?” he questioned in surprise. “Then maybe none of it really exists.” Though he hoped they did. He’d been fascinated by the possibilities when he’d been a child. It wasn’t until he was older that Damon appreciated the danger to anything or anyone possessing magical abilities.
“Adam encountered a rather murderous ghost at Keyvnor that tried to kill Charlotte, his wife,” Miss Cordelia clarified. “They weren’t married at the time but wed soon after. My oldest sister, Diana, was pestered by two ghosts who roamed the grounds of Keyvnor last summer. She has since married and moved away. Miranda, another older sister, used to visit with Uncle Jonathan in the attics of Hollybrook Park. She was the only one who could see and talk to him.”
“Uncle Jonathan?” Damon asked with a frown.
“Yes, He died in 1769 when his ship crashed on the rocks,” Cordelia explained. “Adriana claims to have encountered mermaids and Edward sees pixies.” She drew in a breath and shrugged. “Until a few days ago, and only because I’d climbed a tree, I’d witnessed none of the phenomena that the rest of Bocka Morrow takes for granted.”
She said it in such a way that it didn’t matter, but Damon had a feeling that deep down, it mattered very much to Miss Cordelia.
“Before you assured me that all of Bocka Morrow knew our secret, I had assumed only Lynwood knew.”
“Why?” Cordelia asked, thankful that he didn’t wish to discuss the fact that she’d not seen anything magical.
“I knew Cadmus had told him,” Bentford admitted. “The two were good friends from when they first arrived at Eton, especially after the summer we were here and the two spent hours exploring.”
