To Kill a Kettle Witch (Novel of the Mist-Torn Witches) (24 page)

That afternoon, Malcolm came to her and asked her to go riding. She didn’t wish to go, but also didn’t see how she could refuse. They saddled up and rode toward the quarry at a walk.

“I made the worst mistake of my life in marrying your aunt,” he said. “I was so drawn to her love for me, for her passion, but I was a fool. I should have married a woman with dignity, someone more reasoned with self-control, like you.”

Anna stopped her horse. It was wrong of him to be saying these things to her. It was inappropriate. “Forgive me, Uncle. I’ve forgotten that I promised to help Mother plan the menu for dinner.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, and accompanied her back to the stable.

Dinner that night was the usual strained affair with Siobhan staring at Malcolm, and Malcolm chatting away lightly as if nothing was wrong. Anna counted the days until their visit would be over.

The next afternoon, however, she vowed to try to distract her aunt. They had tea together in the dining room, and then Anna said, “Auntie, come out to the rose gardens with me and help me choose the best blooms to decorate the table. You have such an eye for roses.”

For once, Siobhan seemed to reflect at least a shadow
of her former self and nodded. In years past, no one could create table arrangements like Aunt Siobhan. The two women walked out into the passage and then down through the servants’ quarters.

“I think a mix of white and pink,” Anna said. “Or do you think yellow?”

A door opened up ahead and she was not paying much attention until she saw Cora, a young maid, perhaps seventeen, whom her mother had recently hired.

“Cora, what are you doing here at this time of . . . ?”

The girl’s hair was down and her dress was partially undone. At the sight of Anna and Siobhan, she clutched the front of her dress, turned, and fled down the hall, vanishing into another room.

Anna was perplexed, but Siobhan shot forward, shoving the first door back open and looking inside wildly.

Anna drew a sharp breath as she followed her aunt’s gaze. Malcolm stood there buttoning the front of his shirt.

“Here?” Siobhan whispered. “In my sister’s home?”

Malcolm gave her a warm smile. “Lost a button,” he said, holding up the bottom of his shirt. “Came here for help.” He turned the smile to Anna. “Nice girl, that Cora. Sewed a new one on for me.”

For a second, he was so calm and friendly and sincere that Anna could almost believe he’d lost a button and come looking for help. Then she remembered Cora’s hair and undone dress.

How could he stand there and smile as if he were speaking the truth?

“Unfaithful,” Siobhan sobbed, tears of hate and rage
and love in her eyes. She tore out a handful of hair. “For once tell the truth! For once don’t hide behind your lies.”

“My dear, calm down. I lost a button. That is all.”

“In my sister’s home,” Siobhan whispered. “This . . . this is too much.”

Turning, she ran down the other direction, down the passage, back toward the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Anna studied Malcolm a moment longer and he said no more. Then Anna continued onward, going out to the rose gardens for air. She wished Tobin were here, but it was now late summer, and he was home helping his father and brother to check the progress of the grapes in the fields.

That night, she wondered how she’d be able to make it through dinner. Everyone began gathering in the dining room at the expected hour, but Siobhan didn’t appear. More time ticked past.

Finally, Anna said, “Perhaps we should check on her? Mother, will you come with me?”

She didn’t wish to go alone.

“Of course.”

Anna and her mother went upstairs. Siobhan and Malcolm were always in separate guest rooms now. Anna’s mother went to the door of Siobhan’s room and knocked.

“Sister? Are you well?”

There was no answer. After a brief hesitation, Anna’s mother opened the door and gasped. Then she cried out, “No!”

Anna ran forward and looked at the scene inside the room.

There was so much red.

Siobhan lay on the bed with both wrists slashed open. Blood had saturated the comforter and mattress.

Slowly, Anna walked past her mother into the room. Siobhan was dead, her eyes open, and a scrawled note lay on the pillow above her head.

My love was unfaithful. Ever unfaithful.

Perhaps this was the only way she could think to punish him.

*   *   *

They buried Siobhan in the rose garden, and everyone agreed to say she caught a fever and died quickly.

Anna agreed to keep to this lie if only to protect Jenelle from ever learning the truth.

Malcolm left right after the burial.

When Tobin learned of Siobhan’s death, he left his father’s fields and came riding to the manor. Only then did Anna allow herself to weep. She told him the truth.

“Oh, Anna,” he said, holding her. “I’m so sorry.”

After crying until she had no tears left, she somehow felt a little more like herself. She hadn’t been able to eat, but Tobin got her to drink some tea with milk.

He was a good man.

He had to go home the next day. For grape growers, late summer and early fall were busy.

The days passed, and each one got a little easier, but Anna would never forget the sight of her aunt on that bed, dead by her own hand, brought to such depths by obsessive love. To Anna, love seemed to be either the most healing emotion in the world or the most destructive.

Thankfully, her love was one of light, and she’d never allow it to become destructive.

Every day, she put fresh roses on her aunt’s grave.

In early autumn, several weeks before the wedding, a maid came to her room while she was dressing for dinner.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, miss, but your parents want to see you in your father’s study.”

Anna’s father had taken a small room on the main floor as his private chambers with a desk and all his papers. He rarely allowed anyone in there. From what she understood, most men didn’t like anyone else inside their studies.

Puzzled, she went downstairs and found both her parents standing behind his desk. She knew them well enough to see that beneath their calm veneers they were both excited.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

“Sit down, my dear,” her father said.

He never called her his dear. She sat.

“I think you know that Malcolm’s brother, Kristoff, the prince of Yegor, is ten years his senior?” he began.

She nodded and tried not to wince. It hurt to be speaking of Malcolm.

“Did you also know that Kristoff has no heir and his wife is long past childbearing?” he asked.

She didn’t, but what did that matter to them now?

“Kristoff’s health is failing, and he’s not expected to live much longer,” her father continued. “Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes, of course. When he dies, Malcolm will be
named prince of Yegor.” This conversation was uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help adding, “What does that have to do with us now?”

“Malcolm has asked for your hand,” her father answered.

For a moment, Anna didn’t think she’d heard correctly.

But her mother clasped her hands to her breast. “My dear, you will be princess of Yegor.”

Anna felt the floor shift beneath her feet. “I cannot marry Malcolm. I’m engaged to Tobin. The wedding has been planned. He’s begun repairs on the cottage.”

Her father waved one hand. “That is nothing. Tobin is a boy of no rank. His father will understand, and there will be no retribution.” He smiled. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile. “You will be princess of Yegor. Do you know what that will mean for our family?”

“And his treatment of Aunt Siobhan doesn’t concern you?”

“Your aunt was mad,” he answered. “I’m sorry to say it, but she was. I never saw any fault on Malcolm’s part.”

Though Anna somehow managed to remain composed, her face must have shown a hint of the shock and nausea she felt inside. Her mother said quickly, “I can see you are nearly overcome, my darling. And who wouldn’t be? Go up to your room, and I’ll be up directly.”

Anna fled. Instead of going to her own room, she ran to Adrienne’s.

Her sister was nearly ready to go down for dinner,
but she whirled from the mirror when she saw Anna’s reflection. “What’s wrong?”

“Mother and Father want me to marry Uncle Malcolm. He’s asked for my hand.” She had trouble breathing as she choked out the words.

“What?”

Their mother appeared in the doorway, looking in.

Adrienne turned on her. “You can’t be serious? He’s our uncle! Twenty years older than her.”

“There is no blood connection between them.”

“He is a seducer of women.”

Their mother looked at her as if she were simple. “Yes, and that is his only vice. He does not gamble. He does not drink to excess, and he never once laid a hand on my sister in anger no matter how she provoked him. For a nobleman, his virtues are almost beyond compare.” She exhaled. “Do you truly think mine is the only bed your father has visited over the years? It’s time you both grew up.”

“You want me to marry Uncle Malcolm?” Anna asked.

“Stop calling him that. He’s no longer your uncle.”

“But you want me to marry him?”

“I want for you to be the princess of Yegor and to enjoy all that goes with such a title. You have no idea. When you’re older, you will thank me.”

Anna looked at the floor. She couldn’t fight both her parents. She didn’t know how.

*   *   *

Two days later, a message was sent to Tobin’s father, breaking the engagement. That same afternoon, Anna
and her parents left the manor with a retinue of guards, traveling to Yegor.

Anna wasn’t even allowed to tell Tobin good-bye.

She didn’t speak much along the journey. She tried not to let herself think.

They arrived at the keep in the evening, and it looked much the same as when she’d visited the place as a girl. Malcolm might soon be prince of Yegor, but for now, he was his brother’s vassal. He met them in the courtyard and kissed her hand when she dismounted.

“I will make you happy,” he said.

He did not smile or tease her or make jokes, and for that, she was grateful. They entered the keep, and he announced dinner would be served as soon as they’d had time to wash and change from the journey.

“A magistrate will be here tomorrow to conduct the ceremony. It will be a quiet affair.”

Anna said little at dinner and flushed with embarrassment when her father asked Malcolm about his brother’s health. She was confused when Jenelle did not join them. The Janvier children had all left the nursery and joined the dining table by the age of six.

“Where’s Jenelle?” she asked toward the end of the meal.

Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t know. With her nanny, I expect.”

After the meal, Anna asked directions from a maid, went upstairs, and found the girl. She was alone on the floor of a room, playing with a doll.

“Jenelle?”

The child looked up but didn’t speak.

“I’m Anna.”

“You will marry my father?” Jenelle asked.

Anna went in and sat on the floor. “Yes, tomorrow.”

“Do I have to call you Mother?”

“No, not if you don’t wish. Call me Anna if you like. Did you know I am your cousin? Your mother was my mother’s sister.”

Again, the child didn’t answer, and Anna reached out. “May I see your doll? She’s lovely.”

She played with Jenelle for an hour and then put the child to bed herself.

*   *   *

The next afternoon, after breakfast, a magistrate arrived at the keep, and a short ceremony was conducted in the dining hall. Anna’s parents acted as witnesses, and she insisted that Jenelle be allowed to attend.

The six of them had dinner afterward—the magistrate being the only outside guest.

Anna tried not to think of the wedding she’d planned with Tobin . . . of the flowers and cake and musicians.

That night, several serving women led her to a large chamber with a four-poster bed. She was undressed and a white nightgown was slipped over her head. The women left.

A short while later, Malcolm came in.

Again, thankfully, he didn’t try to make light of this or pretend all was well and that they were a normal, happy bride and groom on their wedding night.

“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” he said. “But I am beyond grateful that you have agreed to be my lady.”

She never knew what to think of the words that came from his mouth. At forty, he was still alarmingly handsome—or most women would find him handsome. Coming to her, he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth.

She didn’t feel the spark she felt with Tobin, but neither was she as repulsed as she’d expected.

He led her to bed, and she endured what followed with as much grace as she could draw from inside herself. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he’d not expected much of a response.

“Trust me,” he whispered. “I swear I will make you happy.”

Her parents left for home the next day, and Anna began her life as a married woman.

*   *   *

Over the years, Siobhan had let the household of the keep fall into a sorry state, but this proved to be a lifeline for Anna. There was much to be done, and if her mother had taught her anything, it was the proper running of a household.

This kept her almost too busy to think on other matters in those early days.

She interviewed and hired more servants. The overworked, understaffed cook was a woman named Helen, and Anna employed her counsel when it came to hiring more kitchen help. As a result, she won Helen’s undying loyalty.

Throughout all this, Anna kept Jenelle with her,
sometimes asking her thoughts on certain matters. The girl began to open up slightly from the interaction and attention, and she was soon Anna’s shadow by choice.

Rooms were cleaned.

Tapestries were beaten.

The lauder was inventoried and restocked.

None of this was lost on Malcolm, who often offered silent expressions of gratitude. Anna made certain Jenelle joined them for dinner every night, and he never objected.