Chapter Twenty-Three

“T his is where you live?” Frances asked, surveying the rectangular stones wedged in the dirt. Her new friend, Elspeth, held Frances’s hand in her thin, bony one.

“I used to live here. Do ye see the shape of the house? That was the kitchen, and that the hearth.”

Frances could imagine it when Elspeth pointed out the rooms. “It was a very small house.”

“My sister and I dinnae need much. We lived here together.”

“Where is your sister now?” Frances asked, looking up at her.

“Come sit over here, child. I’m too old to stand about this long.” Elspeth motioned to a pile of rocks. “This used to be a wall,” she said, settling herself on one of the rocks. Frances climbed up next to her, swinging her feet. She had forgotten Harriet back at the inn. Hopefully, Joshua would look after her doll.

“Where is Papa? You said he would be here.”

“Och, he will be here soon. I have no doubt,” Elspeth said. “But ye asked about my sister.”

Frances nodded.

“I loved her verra much, even though she was not always nice or kind.”

“Was she sad?” Frances asked. “Mama Genevieve says that sometimes when we are sad or tired it makes us misbehave.”

Elspeth smiled, and Frances studied her crooked teeth.

“I believe she was sad, child. We were verra poor and hungry and cold, but we had each other. At least, we did. She died. Do ye ken what that means?”

Frances nodded. “My mama and baby brother died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Frances looked down and brushed at a drop of water on her coat. “I thought if I believed hard enough, Mama would come back for me. But Papa said once someone is dead, they are gone forever.”

“Yer papa is correct. Nae even the strongest magic can bring back the dead.”

“Papa says Mama is in the kingdom of God, and that kingdom is where dead people go if they lived a good life here on earth. Do you think your sister is in the kingdom of God?”

“I dinnae ken, child.”

“Is your sister under the ground? My mama and baby brother are buried in the churchyard at Lilacfall Abbey. Papa says we can put flowers on her grave to remember her.”

“Ye dinnae need flowers to remember her, though, do ye? If ye close yer eyes and think of her, ye’ll remember her well enough.”

Frances closed her eyes, and Elspeth was right. She could see her mother in her mind. She recalled her soft golden hair and her pretty blue eyes. The way her voice sounded when she sang a lullaby, and the scent of her when she embraced Frances. When she opened her eyes again, Elspeth had built a fire.

“Ye’re shivering, child. Come warm yer hands.”

Frances hopped down from the wall and stood by the fire. It was warm, and when she watched the sparks fly up into the sky, she was surprised that the sky was dark.

“How much longer until Papa comes?” she asked.

“Och, nae long now. He’s on his way with the other two and their women. Look over there. They come. Just as they did that night.”

Frances pushed her spectacles up on her nose and squinted into the rapidly falling darkness. She could see people approaching, and she raised her hand and waved. She heard her name, and the next moment, Mama Genevieve had scooped her up and was hugging her so tightly Frances could barely breathe. It reminded her of the way Mama had hugged her sometimes, and even though she missed Mama, she was so glad Mama Genevieve loved her.

Papa was saying something angry to Elspeth, and Frances turned her head to look at him. “Papa, Elspeth said you would come. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Then Papa lifted her into his arms. He always smelled so nice, and he was strong enough to pick her up and put her on his shoulders. He didn’t do that this time, though. He just hugged her tightly and said, “I love you, Frances. I was so scared I wouldn’t find you.”

“I’ve been right here, Papa. Waiting for you.”

He pulled back and looked at her. “Go back to the inn with Genevieve now. Stay beside her. Promise me.”

Frances nodded. Then Papa kissed her cheek and set her down. Mama Genevieve took her hand and led her away. She almost forgot to say goodbye to Elspeth. She turned back and waved, and Elspeth waved in return, before turning to face the fire.

*

Rory waited until the women and children were away before rounding on the witch’s sister. “How dare you touch my daughter? If you ever so much as look at her again—”

The woman called Elspeth held up a hand, forestalling his words. “How else was I tae catch yer attention? The three of ye were wandering like lost sheep at the school when ye were meant tae come here. Must I do everything for ye?”

Rory stared at her, his head still reeling from terror. He didn’t know what had frightened him more—the knowledge that Frances was with the witch’s sister, or the experience of walking back down the path he and the other men had taken that fateful night all those years ago. But Elspeth was right. This was where it had all begun. The spot where they had been cursed and doomed.

The decrepit hovel was no longer standing, but he could see the outline of where it had once been. Was he just imagining it, or could he still see the stain of whiskey on the gravel and dirt? He didn’t imagine the roll of thunder in the distance, though. A storm was coming.

“You might have sent word to us,” Henry said, “instead of using a child to lure us here.”

“Och, I dinnae hurt her. Ye should ken by now that I’m nae threat tae ye. All I’ve tried tae do is help.”

“If you really wanted to help,” King said, “you might have stopped your sister from cursing us. Do you know what’s happened to me—to all of us?”

Elspeth pulled her ragged shawl closer about her frail shoulders, and then she looked at King and Henry and Rory one at a time. “I could nae more stop her than I could the three of ye coming here and taking the cask of whiskey. Still, I did what I could for ye. Dinnae think I havenae paid for it. I am nae a powerful witch, not like my sister. The spell I cast for ye took the last of my strength. I havenae long left.”

Rory swallowed, knowing she was telling the truth. She was so thin and bony, the skin of her face almost transparent. Her hair, thin and white, blew about her face. It might have once been a lovely face, but now it was haggard, the dark bruises under her eyes showing how tired she must be.

He sighed. “We owe you our thanks, then. Somehow you made sure each one of us received the spell you cast. We’re here now. What do you want from us?”

“A decision, nothing more. As I said, I havenae much time left. I want tae end this before my time comes.”

“What sort of decision?” King asked.

She stared at him, her pale eyes eerie in the firelight. “Ye’ve read the spell. It’s clear enough.”

“I beg to differ,” Henry said. “I don’t understand at all.”

“Then let me repeat it for ye. Let me say it as I did that night.” She lifted her hands, the sleeves of her shawl falling back to reveal veined, bony arms. But there was still power in her body and in her hands as she thrust them toward the sky.

“Procure petal of flower, dash of dust of thefae.

Combine now in this goblet, please if youmay.

Hear me now, great goddess of good andlight.

Take mercy on these children. Ease theirplight.

Lose they may all they holddear,

But open a path to clean thesmear.”

Now she paused and looked at Rory.

“If true love they find, they may return to thestart.

Changed, they may offer a sacrifice of theheart.”

“What does that mean?” Rory asked. “‘True love and a sacrifice of the heart’?”

The witch lowered her arms. She was visibly trembling now. “If ye have found true love, then the curse my sister laid on ye can be reversed.”

“I believe I’ve found true love,” Henry said. “Why haven’t I had my properties and my wealth returned?”

“Because you haven’t made a sacrifice,” Rory said, looking at the witch. “Isn’t that right?”

She nodded. “Ye”—she pointed at King—“may have your titles and lands returned tae you. Ye”—she pointed at Henry—“may have the properties and wealth ye lost returned tae ye. And ye”—she pointed at Rory—“ye, who have suffered the most, may have your wife and child returned tae ye. But ye must sacrifice the love ye’ve found.”

“What sort of sacrifice?” King asked. “If you think I’ll lay Violet on a stone table and slit her throat—”

“Nay. Not that sort of sacrifice. It will be as though ye never met, and ye’ll remember nothing of the tragedy or yer true love. Yer life will return to the way it was before yer thirtieth birthday. All ye had then will be returned. Yer loves, assuming they are true love—for it willnae work if they are not—will never ken ye.”

“That’s impossible,” Rory whispered. “You can’t bring people back from the dead.”

“Ye have one day to make yer decisions,” she said. “Return tomorrow and give me yer answer.”

Thunder boomed again, and the wind whipped down from the mountains. The fire seemed to flicker and leap, and when Rory looked again, the witch was gone.

“I hate how she does that,” he muttered. “I know it’s some sort of illusion, but it’s unsettling.”

“You’re the only one of us who met her before today,” King said. “Henry and I had our parts of the spell passed along by others.”

“I can’t say I’m honored to be singled out,” Rory said, looking up at the sky and the fast-moving clouds. “My head is pounding. If you two weren’t here, I’d have given myself up for mad hours ago.”

“You’re not mad,” Henry said. “At least, not any madder than King or me. If what she says is true, we need to decide before this time tomorrow what to do.”

“I still don’t know that I believe any of this,” King said. “How can she stop my father from committing treason or the Lords from voting on the bill of attainder?”

“And how will she convince the Marquess of Shrewsbury to give me back the title to Carlisle Hall or my town house, not to mention the dozens of other men to whom I’ve lost hundreds of pounds?”

“Hundreds?” King said, one eyebrow raised.

“Thousands, then.”

“Hundreds of thousands,” King said, pretending to cough.

Henry ignored him. “Rory, you’ve always believed in these curses and witchcraft more than we. Do you think she can bring Harriet and your son back?”

Rory looked at the sky again. “I don’t know. We three doubted the witch could curse us to lose everything we cared for when we turned thirty. Can it really be only coincidence that that’s the day Harriet died?” He looked at King. “Or your birthday was the day your father was found guilty, or your birthday was the day you lost the last of what you owned? That’s an incredible coincidence.”

“I suppose we could assume anything is possible,” King said. “If what she says is true, I’d give up Violet and the boys and my title and lands would be returned to me.”

“Would you want to give them up?” Rory asked.

“I suppose I won’t even know that I did give anything up. Violet will not remember me, and I won’t ever know about her.”

“Which means we can’t seek them out after our old lives are restored,” Henry said. “I won’t remember Katie, so I can’t go find her and make her fall in love with me.”

“I’d never be able to make Violet fall in love with me again,” King said. “It was practically impossible the first time.” He looked at Rory. “What about you? Do you think Genevieve is your true love?”

“Are you even in love with her?” Henry asked. “You swore after Harriet that you’d never fall in love again.”

Rory sighed. “I wish that I’d kept that vow, because then I wouldn’t have to make this decision. If I didn’t love Genevieve, there would be no chance for me. But I do love her, and yes, I do think she’s my true love—whatever that means.”

The fire was dying now, and the sky was growing darker. Stars appeared, a new one every time he looked.

“This decision is not that difficult for me,” King said. “As much as I’d like to have my titles and my lands returned, I don’t care for them half as much as I do for Violet and Joshua and Georgie. My answer is no.”

Rory glanced at him. “What if I hadn’t promised to give you money so you might leave Seven Dials?”

King narrowed his eyes. “It would still be no, but I’d be annoyed enough to plant you a facer.”

Rory held up a hand. “Just speaking hypothetically. I’ve already written to my solicitor on your behalf.” He looked at Henry. “What about you?”

“I rather enjoyed my life before. Now I have tenants and crops and leaky roofs to worry about.”

“At least you’re still a duke,” King pointed out.

“That’s a definite advantage, but I’ll be an impoverished duke if I don’t make a go of things at the keep in Carlisle. And yet…” He stared off into the fire, and Rory met King’s eyes. King made a face indicating he had no idea which way Henry would go. But Rory thought he knew. Yes, Henry had a title and money, but he’d been consumed by his addiction to gambling. For the first time in years, Rory could see that something other than cards or the rattle of the bones mattered to his friend.

And that something was his wife.

“I can’t give up Katie,” Henry said, confirming Rory’s assumption. “I may sound like some lovesick poet, but I’ve never felt love before. And she’s given me more than love in return. She gave me back my dignity and the chance to earn back my pride. I’d be a fool to go back to my life before.”

King and Henry looked at Rory, and he blew out a breath. “I don’t know what to do. I love Genevieve and the chance I have now to be a real father to Frances. I don’t want to lose either of them, but if my giving those relationships up mean that Harriet and my son—” His voice broke on the word, and he had to clear his throat and take a moment to swallow the lump rising in it. “If I can bring Harriet and my son back, don’t I have an obligation to do so?”

“It’s an impossible decision,” King said. “Sacrifice your son and your first wife—and I know your marriage was difficult, but you loved her once—for the woman you love and who loves you.”

“It’s more than that,” Henry said. “I see something in you I haven’t seen since before you married Harriet. You’re happy, Rory. You’re content.”

“But is my happiness all that matters? We’re talking about the lives of two innocents who died because of my mistakes. How can I refuse the witch’s offer?”

King clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to make the decision now. It’s late. We’ll walk back to the inn and talk again in the morning.”

Rory agreed. Henry smothered the fire, and the three of them walked back to the inn. The warm light from the windows beckoned them in, and as soon as they entered the public room, they were engulfed in warmth, the mouth-watering aroma of fresh bed, and embraces from their wives and children. Rory lifted Frances into his arms and pulled Genevieve close. But she drew back and frowned at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ll talk later,” he said.

“You must be hungry. We made sure to have supper waiting.”

“Can I sit beside you, Papa?” Frances asked. “I don’t want to go to sleep yet. I’m not even tired.” She stifled a yawn.

“You can sit next to me,” he said. “And you’re staying in our room tonight. If you think I’ll let you out of my sight anytime soon, you had better think again.”

She giggled. “I love you too, Papa!”

Rory squeezed her tighter.

*

“Is she asleep?” Rory asked, and Genevieve glanced at Frances and nodded.

“She was exhausted. I hope you’re not too angry with Joshua, and I had a long talk with Frances about not going off with strangers.” She sat on the bed and slipped her boots off, wiggling her toes before rolling her stockings down.

“I’m not angry at all,” he said. “I can hardly expect children to be any match for a witch.”

Genevieve sucked in a breath. “You still think she is a witch.”

“She said as much herself.”

Genevieve didn’t think saying a thing made it true, but there was no point in arguing. Rory obviously believed she was a witch. Arguing with him wouldn’t accomplish anything. “What else did she say?” she asked. “Whatever it was upset you.”

He nodded and tugged his coat off then bent to remove his boots. Genevieve pretended to be busy unfastening her bodice, but her hands were shaking. What if he wouldn’t tell her? Would he shut her out again? “You don’t have to tell me,” she said, having stripped down to her chemise and stays. She couldn’t force him to confide in her. If he wasn’t ready, then she would have to be patient.

“I want to tell you,” he said, and she all but sagged with relief. “I just don’t know how.” He was in his shirt and breeches now, his shirt partially untucked and hanging down, the neck open in a V at this throat.

“Come here,” she said. “Let’s lie down. You’re tired, and so am I. Somehow, it’s easier to whisper secrets in bed.”

“I can’t argue with that.” They finished undressing, she in her chemise and he in his shirt, and climbed into bed. Genevieve blew out the candle, and Rory opened his arms to her. She settled against his chest, her head over his pounding heart. For the first time since learning about this wretched curse, Genevieve felt fear. Did it really matter if she believed in the curse? Rory did, and plainly it frightened him. Genevieve had her own scare today when Frances had gone missing, and she could thank the witch for that as well.

She held Rory tighter, wishing she could make all the pain he’d endured over the years go away.

“The witch is dying,” he said.

Genevieve sat up. She didn’t want to feel relief, but she did. Perhaps they would finally be rid of curses and spells.

But Rory was still tense and rigid under her, and in the flickering firelight, she saw his jaw was set. “Go on,” she said, placing her hand over his heart.

“She says we’ve run out of time. Tomorrow, we must decide about the counter-spell. If we’ve found true love, the curse can be reversed. The reversal requires a sacrifice, and that sacrifice is you.”

“Me?”

He nodded, his brandy-colored eyes dark and full of pain. “The witch can make it so that the tragedy on my thirtieth birthday never happened. But it means I’ll never meet you, never marry you, never love you.”

Genevieve’s heart twisted. She hadn’t realized she’d wanted to hear that he loved her. The thrill of pleasure was short-lived as the meaning of his words became clear. “You can save Harriet and the baby, but you have to give me up.”

Lightning flashed outside the window, and she saw his drawn face clearly as he nodded.

Genevieve wanted to laugh and deny such a thing—the return of the dead—was possible. Ten minutes ago, she would never have believed it possible, but something about the way he looked, the sudden chill in the air, and the growl of thunder in the distance made her shake. Perhaps she had gone as mad as the rest of them, but the impossible seemed very possible tonight. And why not, when the witch had managed to find all three men and deliver a spell, to lure them to Scotland, to steal Frances away… What couldn’t she do?

She met Rory’s gaze, and it pleaded with her for understanding and forgiveness. She saw love in his face too. His mask had been cracking little by little these last few weeks, but now it was gone.

Genevieve wished she could drop her mask as well. She wished she could tell him she loved him back and tell him… Well, that was but a suspicion. She pushed all her feelings away. No hope for them now. “Then this is goodbye,” she said, forcing herself to blink away the tears stinging her eyes.

“Genevieve—”

“No,” she said quietly. “There’s really no decision to be made. Your friends lost material things, but your wife and child…”

He looked away, his gaze on the window where rain now tapped against the glass. “I wish there was another way,” he said.

“Will I remember you and”—her voice caught, and she had to swallow before going on—“and Frances?”

“The witch says you won’t. It will be as though we never met.”

She nodded. “That’s not so bad, then.” She would never realize the love she was missing. She’d go back to her life as a governess, and as for the life growing inside her—if she was correct and she was with child—that would be as though it had never happened as well.

“I’m sorry, Genevieve,” he said.

“No.” She kissed his face, trying to take the anguish away from his expression. “You have nothing to apologize for. There’s no other choice. I wouldn’t allow you to choose differently.”

“I wish I hadn’t dragged you into this. I should have stayed on the Continent, stayed away—”

“I don’t regret the time we have together,” she whispered. “I’ll never regret it, and I believe that even if my mind doesn’t remember you, some part of my heart always will. I’ll always carry some part of you with me, Rory.” That was as close as she would come to telling him she loved him.

“I love you, Genevieve,” he said, and kissed her tenderly. “I’ll always love you.”

*

The next morning, Frances hopped on the bed and began walking Harriet over Genevieve’s arms. Genevieve opened one eye and, seeing the pillow beside her empty, opened the other and sat. “Where’s your papa?”

Frances shrugged. “He kissed us goodbye, and when I asked where he was going, he said he needed to visit Elspeth and would be back. I asked to go with him and told him Elspeth is my friend too, but he said I must stay with you. You don’t remember him kissing you on the cheek before he left?”

Genevieve shook her head. “How long ago?” Perhaps she could still catch him, kiss him one last time.

Frances appeared to think. “I heard the horses’ hooves on the stones in the yard, and it was still raining. It’s stopped now, though,” she said. “Can we go outside after we break our fast?”

Genevieve nodded, wondering how much time she had left with sweet Frances and wishing, with all her heart, she’d told Rory she loved him.