Читать книгу The Beauty of the Wolf - Wray Delaney - Страница 29

XXI

Mark me well – nothing good will come of my curse. I made sure of that when I cast it. If it had not been for the hem of my dress I would have no interest in this affair other than to hear of the death of Lord Rodermere at the hand of his beauteous son.

Alas, by her hem was she brought here to watch and watch she did as Thomas Finglas was dragged by Sir Percival as he might a reluctant schoolboy, through the long gallery and up the spiral staircase that led to the chamber at the top of the tallest of the turrets.

‘If you want your freedom, Master Finglas,’ said Sir Percival, ‘then I advise you to conjure a rational explanation of what befell Lord Rodermere. Until you do, you will remain here as his physician.’

Those words gave the sorceress satisfaction and she left Thomas to his fate. In truth she cared little for humankind whose minds perpetually worry at their days and whose actions bring naught but destruction upon our world. Her spirit is not one given to melancholy. It is an emotion that belongs to man, along with endless regret.

The Widow Bott had given her a desire to see this young Lord Beaumont. It would surprise her not if she too had fallen under his spell for such beauty was designed to have the power to awaken desire in all those about it. The sorceress wondered, though, why the old witch was not wise enough to know this and thought she must remember the dire consequences beauty has had on plainer mortals. Once, not that long ago, the widow had searched out the sorceress with a request from a gentlewoman of these parts who owned a fine house and fine horses but felt her looks to be her one tragedy. She asked if she might not be given a potion to make her beautiful. Being less bitter then than the sorceress is these days she could see the folly of such a wish and told the widow to advise against it. But the gentlewoman paid a higher sum to have the widow ask her again and the sorceress granted it. And then such was her beauty that it awoke evil in the hearts of all the good women of her acquaintance who turned against her and their jealousy was to be her death.

The sorceress judged that beauty in a young man would have the same potency as beauty in a woman. Impatient to find the boy, hither and thither she went and she heard the conversations and the thoughts of the household. Few of the servants remembered Lord Rodermere and those who did recalled him with no fond memory nor had a good word to say about him. All had heard stories of his debauchery and none doubted that he was a tyrant. There was not a young woman high born or low who had been safe from his lustful advances. The sorceress relished blowing on the dust of these old tales. She whirled them up on the winds of gossip so that by the afternoon there was not a settled mind to be found in the House of the Three Turrets. All wondered what was to become of their master, Gilbert Goodwin and his new wife, Mistress Eleanor Goodwin, of young Lord Beaumont Thursby and Lady Clare. The question weighed heavy in their hearts.