To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (23 page)

Mother told the story of how she had met and been courted by Anna’s father. Anna marveled that she’d never heard this story before. Away from home, Mother was more relaxed and open. Anna found herself wishing they’d taken a journey like this before.

When they reached the southern region of Droevinka, the sun shone more and the fields around them stretched as far as the eye could see. Anna had never seen so many fields of wheat or orchards of apples.

Finally, they arrived at a well-maintained, one-towered keep.

“This is your aunt’s home,” Mother said.

A single solid stone wall with a gatehouse surrounded the keep, but the portcullis was open, and the small contingent was expected.

Anna found herself looking forward to seeing her aunt and Uncle Malcolm and the new baby.

The moment they entered the keep, her excitement vanished.

Siobhan was just inside the main doors, alone, waiting for them. The change in her was startling.

Her hair hung down her back, unwashed and uncombed. There were lines in her face, and her dress looked as if she’d slept in it. Her eyes shone with a manic light.

She rushed to Anna’s mother and grabbed her arm.

“You’ve come!” she cried. “Here. Come in here.”

She pulled Anna’s mother along and without knowing what she should do, Anna followed them down a passage into a small side room, where Siobhan closed the door.

“He is unfaithful!” she hissed, sounding half-mad. “Unfaithful.”

Anna’s mother flinched and glanced at Anna. Apparently, the presence of Siobhan’s niece did not have the desired effect. Nothing had been tempered.

“And he only lies with the lowest of women,” Siobhan rushed on, “servants and maids and village girls . . . always girls, never women, rutting with them shamelessly in some back room or outside in the trees.”

“Siobhan!” Mother gasped, glancing again at Anna.

“He doesn’t come to me anymore!” Aunt Siobhan babbled on as if her sister had not spoken. “Not to me! I beg him. I weep for him. I’ve dismissed all the pretty servants, sent them packing, and I hire only ugly pockmarked women, but it does no good. He finds someone! He always finds someone but me.”

Anna stood frozen. She knew little of what took place between men and women. She only knew that she pitied her aunt and was also embarrassed for her. Siobhan seemed so small, so diminished.

Where was the woman of power who sat over a
cauldron, looked up at the sky, and called down revenge upon her enemies?

Was this the result of love? If so, Anna wanted nothing to do with it.

Giving up on attempting to reason with Siobhan, Anna’s mother instead turned to offering comfort, but this had little effect.

Dinner that night was an equally uncomfortable affair. When Malcolm walked into the dining hall, he smiled and welcomed his guests warmly as if there were nothing amiss.

“My girl,” he said to Anna, taking her hands. “You’ve grown taller and more lovely. How are your sister and brother? How is your father?”

His behavior struck Anna as bizarre considering the state of Aunt Siobhan. Was he not concerned?

At the table, Siobhan sat with him, hanging on his every word, and he appeared utterly unaware that his wife had not dressed for dinner or combed her hair and watched him with a mix of hunger, love, and hatred.

There was only one instant when she thought his obtuse manner might be a facade.

As dessert was served, Anna asked, “May I see Jenelle tonight? I should so like to see her this evening.”

Aunt Siobhan frowned. “Jenelle?”

“Yes, the baby.”

It hit Anna that Siobhan hadn’t recognized her own daughter’s name. A look of panic crossed Malcolm’s face, and then it was gone.

He smiled. “Of course, my dear. I’ll take you up myself. She’ll be in her crib by now, but you can see her.”

Rising, he motioned her follow, and they went up to the nursery.

Jenelle was just a year old, and a sweet, chubby baby with reddish hair. Anna loved her right away. Malcolm looked down at the child curiously, as if he’d not seen her in some time. They didn’t stay long that night, but Anna returned the next morning.

She came to realize Jenelle had been left in the care of servants and nannies, and for the duration of this visit, Anna was determined the child should be loved by someone from her family.

Also, as guilty as she felt about this, she couldn’t help wishing to avoid Siobhan. Several days later, she sat on the floor of the nursery, helping Jenelle to stack a set of painted wooden blocks.

A shadow passed over them, and Anna looked up to see Siobhan in the doorway.

“Come in, Aunt. We were playing with some blocks. Jenelle is a lovely child.”

Siobhan barely seemed to see the baby.

“The worst thing is that he won’t admit to anything,” she whispered, her eyes drifting. “He can almost be caught in the act, and he denies everything. It’s almost as if he believes his own innocence even after he’s left the bed of some slut. He’ll never admit to anything. Never.”

Anna sighed. “If he has done so much intentional wrong, what have you done to punish him?”

Wasn’t this what Anna had been taught as a child? That intentional wrongs must be met with swift justice?

For the first time, Siobhan’s eyes cleared, and she
focused on Anna. “That is my heartbreak,” she whispered. “I cannot punish him. I cannot.”

And then Anna understood. Not only were her aunt’s mental and physical deterioration due to her obsession with her husband, but her love for him was so strong she couldn’t punish him for his infidelities.

It was killing her.

After a week, Anna was not sorry when the visit came to an end, but upon leaving the keep, she worried for Jenelle.

The journey home was less intimate, as Anna’s mother was deeply concerned for her sister. The problem was that Anna’s mother believed all problems could be solved by self-control and that Siobhan would be fine if she simply cleaned herself up, stopped worrying about Malcolm’s affairs with a few village girls, and focused her attention on the proper running of the household.

She viewed Siobhan’s grief as weakness.

Anna knew her aunt to feel things deeply. Siobhan could no longer stop loving Malcolm obsessively than she could stop breathing.

This left Anna and her mother with little to discuss.

Upon arriving home, though, Anna found Landon, Adrienne, and Tobin all waiting for her at the manor. She was so glad to see them and begged to go back out and walk on the land right away. She wanted to wash away the visit to Yegor.

Years passed.

Anna’s life was peaceful and happy for the most part, broken only by infrequent visits from Siobhan and Malcolm. They never brought Jenelle.

Siobhan slowly seemed to descend further into madness, and Malcolm staunchly pretended that everything was well, but his polish and laughter had long since ceased to charm Anna.

For some reason, he refused to acknowledge reality.

Every time they left, Anna fought guilt over the relief of watching them go. She had once loved her aunt so much.

The summer Anna turned eighteen her parents invited her to join them in their visit to Kéonsk to the gathering of the princes and nobles. Landon would be going as well.

“You’ve grown into a fine young woman,” her father said, catching her off guard. “It’s time you met other . . . people of your own class.”

He means other men,
she thought.

Terror filled her at the thought of being handed off to some strange nobleman, and she begged to be allowed to remain at home for one more year.

“I’ll go next year,” she said. “I promise.”

Both her parents were baffled by why she would prefer to remain at home when she could be dancing and eating fine food at banquets in the company of princes and nobles, but they didn’t force her.

As they were packing to leave, Anna heard hoofbeats outside in the courtyard, and she went to see who it was.

Tobin came riding up and jumped off his horse at the sight of her. His expression was concerned, almost distraught, and she’d never seen him like this before.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, hurrying to meet him. “If your father ill?”

“My father?” He shook his head. “No, I just heard about the gathering and that your family was preparing to leave. I heard . . . I heard they were taking you this year.”

“No, I’ve begged off. I would rather stay at home.”

His expression shifted, as if she’d given him good news. “You’re not going?”

“No.”

Why would it bother him if she went to the Kéonsk gathering?

“Come and walk with me,” he said.

They headed around the back of the house, toward the rose gardens, and to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand, holding it as they walked. His red-brown hair hung down past his collar and in the sunlight, his eyes were a shade of dark green.

“You won’t be lonely while they’re gone,” he said. “I’ll come as often as I can.”

That night, in bed, Anna found herself thinking on three weeks of Tobin’s company with no other companions except for Adrienne. She remembered the feel of her hand in his, and her palm tingled.

Soon, Anna came to understand her aunt a little better. What she came to feel for Tobin was not an obsessive love, but it was strong. He came to the manor one morning, and they slipped off without telling Adrienne, riding all the way to the eastern border of the Janvier estate. He showed her his family’s vineyards. The neat rows of grapevines stretched for miles.

Standing beneath an aspen tree, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. When she kissed him back, he pressed harder, and she felt her heart jump. She loved his face and his smile and the way he got her to talk of things that mattered—things she would tell no one else.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I always have. Will you marry me?”

“I would marry no one else.”

The problem was that for him to ask for her hand, he’d need a profession or some way to prove he could support a family. She didn’t like the idea of him joining the military, as did so many second sons.

They kept their engagement a secret for a year.

The following summer, as Anna’s family began preparing for the gathering at Kéonsk, fear washed through her. They would insist she go this year. They would insist she dance with young noblemen and put herself on display for proposals.

She didn’t know what to do.

Then a miracle happened. Tobin came racing up to the manor and when she went to greet him, he drew her off alone into the stables.

“I have news,” he said, holding both her hands. “I told my father and brother about us. I was desperate for help, and they have been kind. There is a cottage . . . a large cottage with six bedrooms, down at the southern end of our estate. No one has lived there in years. It sits on four large fields of white grape vines that have fallen into a state of neglect, as white wine has been out of fashion. But it’s coming back into demand. Father says he’ll give
us the cottage and those vineyards, and my brother was glad to agree. He’ll inherit the rest of the estate.”

He gripped her hands more tightly. “Don’t you see, Anna? We will have a home and a good living.”

She did see. Even more, she wouldn’t have to leave these lands she loved. She and Tobin could build a life together here. She kissed him. Her heart was bursting.

“I’ll go and talk to your father,” he said, rushing off.

That was the part that concerned her. What would her parents say?

After Tobin left, they called her to them.

Her father’s face was not angry, but nor was it happy. She couldn’t tell what he thought.

At first he seemed lost for words, and then he asked, “Anna, is this what you want?”

She exhaled. He had asked the right question. “Yes, Father. I want it so much.”

He exchanged a long look with her mother, who appeared equally at a loss. “Then if your mother has no objections,” he said, “I don’t. I’d hoped for much greater things for you, but the Bonnays are a good family, and I couldn’t think more highly of Tobin. He’s managed to take part of the estate from his brother, and I think he has good prospects.”

This was not exactly the case. Tobin had been given part of estate, but such things didn’t matter.

“Mother?” she asked.

“If this is what you wish, I am of the same mind as your father.”

Father nodded. “You can use your dowry to refurbish the cottage.”

With joy, Anna ran to Adrienne and told her the news. Adrienne was glad and hugged her fiercely. “I knew,” she said. “I knew you’d end up with Tobin. He’s a good man, and he has always loved you.”

Had Adrienne known this before Anna?

They planned the wedding for early autumn, as Tobin and Anna would need time to make some improvements in the cottage before winter set in.

By late summer, the manor was such a buzz of activity that Anna almost forgot about a pending visit from Aunt Siobhan and Uncle Malcolm.

When they arrived, Anna hoped that discussion of the pending wedding might help fend off some of her aunt’s more painful behavior, but Siobhan had no interest in the wedding. She had no interest in anything other than her husband’s affairs.

Once again, they didn’t bring Jenelle. The poor child must be seven years old.

Thankfully, Siobhan seemed to be paying more attention to her appearance, and she wore a crushed velvet gown with her hair properly styled up on her head. But her face was lined with bitterness, and every time she got Anna alone, the conversation was the same.

“He spurns me for maids and village girls,” she would whisper. “He has not come to my bed in years. I put potions in his drinks. I cast spells. Nothing works, and I cannot live much longer without his touch.”

“Oh, Auntie, can you not leave him?” Anna said. “Can you not take Jenelle and come back here to live with Mother?”

“Leave him? No, I cannot live without him.” Her eyes drifted again. “If only he would admit his guilt just once. He lives in lies. All these years, no matter how flagrant he’s been, he claims innocence as if he’s never strayed even once.”

Anna gave up. There was no way to help her aunt.