“Surely not.”
“I think so,” he said.
We had crossed the hall and mounted the dais. There was a door there which led into the small dining-room and sitting-rooms which we used when we were alone, for fashions were changing and in households like ours only on special occasions did people dine in the hall with all the servants seated below the salt.
We looked into these rooms and we were not very successful with the clues. I think our minds were not on the treasure hunt.
We mounted the staircase and went along the gallery. Fennimore sat down in one of the window seats and drew me beside him. He lifted the candle and looked into my face.
Then he set it down and said: “Linnet, there is something I have to say to you.”
My heart began to beat very fast because I knew what he was going to say and I wanted to stop him. I wanted him to wait until I had grown farther away from that night at Castle Paling. I wanted to know whether it would be possible for me to cast it right out of my mind, to forget it so completely that it would seem as though it had never happened. Until I knew, I did not want Fennimore to say what was in his mind.
He went on: “I am so happy that your parents and mine are going to work together. I admire your father so much although I am so different from him and I think he would rather I was more like he is.”
“Why should he wish that?”
“Because he is so adventurous and has led a life of great daring.”
“I gather he has not always acted admirably.”
“He is a bold captain. The Queen has complimented him. He is the kind of man who has saved this country from the Spaniards. That is why it seems so wonderful to me that he should now be ready to fight another campaign … a campaign of peace.”
“It is not necessary surely to be aggressive to succeed.”
“I do agree with you. But what I want to say to you is this. Our families will work together. Linnet, from the moment we first met I felt drawn to you. If your father had not joined with us, it would have made no difference to my feeling.”
I must stop him quickly. He must not go on and ask me to marry him … yet.
I put out a hand helplessly and he took it.
He raised it to his lips. Memory stirred within me. I could feel hot hard lips on my skin. Was I ever going to forget?
How gentle he was, how tender. I needed tenderness. What would I not have given if I could go back two months … My mother had said: “We will go by road, it is not such a long journey.” And I had been excited at the prospect. Then the scene in the inn and that nightmare moment on the road and later … that oblivion which was not quite complete and the experience which I had had no will to resist.
If only it had never happened.
He kept my hand in his. “Our families wish it, Linnet. That makes me so happy. It will be so right for us … You will not be far away from your home. Your mother will visit us. So you will not be parted. I know your love for each other.”
“Please don’t go on, Fennimore,” I said.
“Why not, Linnet? Surely you know that I love you. I believe you care for me …”
“I cannot say,” I stammered foolishly. “I must have time. It is too soon … I am not ready.”
“I should have waited awhile. You are so young and so innocent …”
I was glad that he could not see the deep flush in my cheeks. I was trying to suppress those flashes of memory. Had I been doing that ever since?
He was contrite, eager not to distress me.
“My dearest Linnet, we will say no more. I have been too rash. I should have waited, prepared you. I did not realize how little you had understood. We will leave this matter and I will return to it later on. But I have made my feelings known to you. I should have prepared you. I will ask you again soon,” he went on. “And Linnet, will you promise me to think about this?”
“I will think about it.”
“You see, my dearest, you and I could be so happy together. We shall have this wonderful project in common. I remember how it excited you when I first talked of it. Our families will work together. We shall be together. You see how it is.”
“Yes, I see how it is. Fennimore, you are so good and kind. Give me time.”
“You shall have time, my love,” he said.
“I promise you I will think about this, but as yet …”
“Of course,” he said, “as yet it is too soon. I have been foolish, Linnet. I have hurried you. Never mind. Think of what this could mean. I swear that I would do everything in my power to make you happy.”
I stood up. “Please, Fennimore,” I said, “let us now play this game and try to find the treasure.”
He said softly: “Our treasure will be in each other, Linnet.”
I shivered again because I was afraid. I longed to be the girl I had been before I had spent a night at Castle Paling. I wanted to be young and innocent and in love with Fennimore. But I was unsure how to act—unsure of everything, of whether I loved Fennimore, of whether I could marry him, and most of all what happened that night when Colum Casvellyn had half-drugged, half-awakened my senses and made a woman of me while I was still a child.
I tried to think of the treasure; I succeeded a little since I was able to solve some of the clues.
We almost won, but Carlos and Edwina who had chosen to hunt together were the victors.
My mother was watching me intently.
I knew she was disappointed that she could not announce my betrothal on that night.
The next day we took down the decorations, carried them out to the fields and ceremoniously burned them. Christmas and New Year celebrations were over for twelve months. This time next year, I thought, I shall be so far away from the night at Castle Paling that it will be no longer constantly on my mind.
The whole household was present at the burning. It was a custom that everyone should have a part in it for to stay away could bring ill luck. It was when the blaze was dying down that we heard shouting in the distance and one of the servants said: “’Tis old Maggie Enfield. They be hanging her this day.”
I knew Maggie Enfield. She was a poor old woman, almost blind, and her face was disfigured by numerous ugly brown warts. She was known as a witch in the neighbourhood and lived in a tiny cottage which was little more than a hut. We used to take food and leave it outside her door. My mother sent this not because she was afraid of what might happen to her if she did not but because she had real sympathy for the poor old woman.
A few years ago she had been known as a white witch. She grew certain herbs in the patch of land round her cottage and brewed concoctions which had cured many a sickness. She had produced love potions too; and she did what was called the “fast”. If she fasted for several days and sat silent in her cottage she brought all her powers to bear on a certain object. She had been known to discover lost articles. If a sheep or a cow strayed away people went to Mother Enfield and paid for the “fast” and almost always she could discover the spot where the animal could be found.
But witches—be they white or black—lived dangerously, for they could never be sure when people would turn against them. Farmers who suffered a run of ill luck with their stock, parents whose children died unexpected and unexplained deaths, women who were barren, any could be put down to a witch’s actions; and when people raged against their own ill fortune it seemed to soothe them to wreak the anger they felt towards fate against some human victim.
So it had come to this for poor Maggie Enfield. I had heard whispers. Jennet had told me. Somebody’s baby had been born dead; someone else had a disease among his cattle. Maggie Enfield had been seen passing the cottage where the baby had died and had been caught looking at the cattle.