Apologies for not updating sooner! This has been due to Real Life being a wee bit busy...I had to split this chapter, so the next one should be along a bit quicker than usual, hopefully! And to anyone still reading...thank you! Comments and reviews are welcome...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Not much further..."
"That's what you said the last time..."
Jenny and Isobel were standing in a clearing, in the middle of a small wood. Wyndam stood to one side. He turned, a look of doubt on his face.
"There's normally a bit of leeway, is this a leap year?" Jenny looked down at Isobel, who met her mother's gaze.
"Is Mr Wyndam alright, Mother?" Jenny glanced over at him.
"Depends on your point of view...Isobel. He's playing a little game with us. We'll just humour him...Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Isobel nodded, her stomach was rumbling. "Sit down there," she pointed to a tree trunk, then turned to Wyndam, who was retracing his steps, still looking round the clearing as though something was missing.
"When you're quite finished, Wyndam..." He turned quickly, a puzzled expression crossed his face.
"That's the thing, when you get over..." he caught Jenny's warning eyes, "thirty...Isobel..." he nodded to Jenny, "the brain doesn't always...I was sure it was somewhere around here...been a few years but...it's not important." Jenny sat down with Isobel, unwrapping the bread and cheese. Wyndam stood a while, before shrugging his shoulders, and walking over towards them.
"Ah! A little feast..." Jenny's eyes shot up. He smiled in return. "I should have thought about that." She passed him some of her portion, as he sat down beside her. Isobel stood up, and skipped over to the horses.
"If you told me what you were looking for, Wyndam, I might be better at finding it," she said quietly. He gave her a wide grin.
"But then it wouldn't be so much fun, would it Jenny..." He turned his gaze to the sky for a second. "That rain is going to start hammering down soon. We'd better make a move...I said I would get you back home in a couple of hours, and I will. I don't suppose you can tell prophecies? I could do with someone like that..." Jenny shuddered.
"I can't think of anything worse...I see flashes, Wyndam, nothing more."
"They frighten you, still, don't they?" He said it simply, one eye on Isobel as she petted the horses.
"Yes," she confided. "Who really wants to know their own ending...?" He smiled grimly.
"You'd be surprised...I don't suppose you can summon up doors?" She looked at him in amazement.
"No one can...I can't call up a door, out of thin air..." she said tersely. "I help people pass over...I don't have that power..."
"Don't you?" The look he gave her was speculative.
"Where do you live, Mr Wyndam?" said Isobel, through a mouthful of bread, as she walked back over. Jenny's eyes went to Wyndam's face; she'd wondered the same thing. How close were the vampires?
"Not far away...I tend to move around a lot, Isobel..."
"To get away from the mobs with pitchforks?" Jenny whispered, a sly smile on her face. Wyndam tilted his head.
"Touché, Madam," he said softly. "It's a gloomy old place Isobel, not like your home." Isobel smiled, satisfied with his answer. Jenny wasn't though. How far were they...?
The journey back to the cottage went quickly. He kept his word. He delivered them back safely to the cottage, helping them both down from their horse. Isobel patted both horses, before looking up at her mother expectantly. Jenny handed her the key to the cottage.
"Goodbye, Mr Wyndam." He smiled, watching the child walk up to the door. Jenny turned to follow, but he caught her arm. She let out a cry of pain, he'd grabbed her left wrist, the one with the wound, his wound...He released her just as quickly, a strange look on his face. Isobel spun around, alarmed at the noise.
"It's alright, Isobel. I tripped..." her daughter took her word, and went inside. Wyndam was watching her closely.
"That shouldn't be causing you pain...not now..." She looked at him warily.
"I've been...I fainted the other day...I'm just tired..." she looked away, not sure why she was telling him, he already knew about her being ill. He was studying her face carefully.
"You've only recently started using your abilities to any great extent, you've remembered a lot about your past, you're worried about the future...it's bound to have an effect on anyone's health..." his gaze drifted to the trees, another vampire was coming on watch. Jenny caught his sharp look.
"Who is that? I don't know his face." Wyndam turned back towards her.
"That is Johnson. He's been here before. He's normally much better at skulking than that..." The other vampire heard the rebuke, and pulled back into the trees. Wyndam didn't even waste a glance on him. He folded his arms.
"Anyway, a pleasant day. Is there someone who can look after Isobel tomorrow, for a few hours?" The searching look was there.
"Why?" said Jenny, her unease had crept into her voice.
"It's just another little trip, but one that I wouldn't advise you taking Isobel on. I will bring you back as soon as possible. She will barely have had time to miss you, and you will be back..." He was tempting her again, she knew, but she still had no idea what he was wanting from her, and Isobel would be safe in the village...
"I suppose I could leave her with...her friend...but not for long...I need to..." she was hesitating.
"Good, that's settled." He turned to go. "Noon, tomorrow. Jenny." He nodded at her, then he mounted his horse. The grey horse stood, still tethered to the gate. For a second she thought, if he leaves the horse...
"Ah, ah!" Wyndam wagged his forefinger. "Temptation, Jenny...I really wouldn't want to put that 'apple' in your way..." The dark smile was back as he slipped the horse's reins from the gate.
Jenny watched him ride off; a shiver ran through her, the weather was turning damp as she entered the cottage. She smiled at her daughter, who was busy setting the table. She sat down and waved Isobel to do the same.
"How would you like to see Ruth tomorrow? I have something to do; you'll just get bored..." Isobel's eyes widened.
"No handwriting? Tomorrow's a Monday..." Jenny smiled wearily.
"Just for once, yes, no learning." Isobel beamed.
"Ruth's cat's going to have kittens..."
"That's nice, sweetheart..." said Jenny as she patted Isobel's hand, but her mind was on other things. She'll be safe in the village...he hasn't hurt her...that's as much as you can ask for...
Then a thought occurred to her.
"Isobel, you haven't told anyone about Mr Wyndam have you?" Her daughter gazed up at her, curious.
"No, Mum. Why?"
"No reason...I just...I don't think that we should speak about him, outside the cottage..."
"Why?" Isobel persisted. How do I explain any of this to a child, thought Jenny?
"I don't think he'd like us to...gossip about him..." Isobel nodded solemnly. She knew better than to tell others a secret. Her mother had her sad-eyed look, that only happened when she was being really serious, or when she was really unhappy. She took a deep breath.
"No, Mum. Cross my heart, and hope to..." Jenny's eyes flashed to Isobel's. Her daughter just smiled, guilelessly.
The next day came. Jenny and Isobel left for the village. Johnson was still on watch. He nodded to Jenny, but said nothing as they passed. Isobel noticed him, as if for the first time.
"Mr Wyndam says you're special, Mum. Is that why the men have been here?" What could she tell her, thought Jenny. She didn't know the real reasons for their presence herself. He wants me here, we stay here, there is no choice in the matter.
"Mr Wyndam worries that we are not...the cottage is a bit far out...we are on our own..."
"So they are a bit like his Lordship's hunting hounds? They guard his house..."
"Yes, Isobel," sighed her mother. But with much sharper teeth...
"So I shouldn't tell anyone about them, either?" Jenny nodded placidly at her. "Just so I know, Mum." Isobel grinned.
"That is boldness, Isobel. And bold girls..."
"...end up in big trouble, Mum..." said Isobel, cheekily. She waited for the gentle clip around her ears, but instead, her mother's face stayed so still, the sad eyes were looking deeply into her own. She slipped her hand from her mother's.
"Come on Mum! I'll race you..." Jenny laughed, for the first time that day, then chased after her daughter.
Her mood had lifted a little by the time they reached the village. She rapped on the door of Ruth's cottage, Isobel's friend opened it. They could hear mewing coming from behind her.
"Bye Mum," was all Isobel said, as her mother looked on enviously. Everything is normal, she told herself. Isobel is safe here. There are people all around...
"You doing something nice?" Ruth's mother appeared, wiping her floury hands on her apron. Jenny smiled.
"I wish! No, I've to go over Pendle way..." the lies were coming so easy to her now...who was she trying to fool...she'd been lying to herself for years...she'd had plenty of practice...
"You might have another mouth to feed when you come back!" Jenny smiled again at the woman.
"Thanks for this." The woman shrugged. "No kitten, Isobel..." said Jenny, sternly.
"Aw..." was the muffled reply.
She was almost clear of the village when she saw the baker's son, by the gate to his Lordship's house. He was walking slowly as though in a dream, then he halted, a strange vacant expression on his face. Something wasn't quite right with him, Jenny hurried over to him.
"Are you..." The boy didn't respond, he fell, his knees rigid, then collapsed to one side, in some kind of seizure. She yelled out for help, kneeling down to move him gently round, stroking his face. She'd seen it happen once before, at Court. A nobleman had suffered a fit; she'd seen the court physician force a spoon between his teeth, to stop him swallowing his tongue. She grabbed a twig, it would have to do. The boy was shaking, and muttering to himself. She could hear running footsteps behind her, but she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. She looked up to see the baby boy's mother peering down at her, a malicious gleam in her eyes.
"Witchcraft..." Jenny let out a tired groan at that.
"No, it's not..." it was out before she realised what she'd said. "It's...like a bad chest, or a broken leg...he's not well..."
"Well he was fine before you went near him..." the bile was there, spitting out in the younger woman's voice.
"No, he wasn't," said Jenny, quietly.
"Oh God, Matthew..." the boy's own mother had heard Jenny's cries. She squatted down beside them, and tried to pull her son upright.
"No, leave him be, 'til it passes," said Jenny. The woman nodded, mutely. "Has it happened before?" asked Jenny, who was ignoring the young mother's glare.
"Yes," whispered the woman, "never outside...me husband...he didn't want anyone to know..."
"She cursed him..." The young mother stamped her feet as she said it, pointing gleefully at Jenny. The woman scowled up at her.
"Away with yourself, you...look to your own house, before you stick your nose in where it's not wanted...talking nonsense..." she muttered an oath under her breath.
"She..." the young mother was insistent. Her husband appeared, a drawn look on his face. A small crowd was gathering. "Come on, love. The boy's not well. This isn't helping anyone..." He led her away, she was still protesting;
"Why can't you see it? It's her..."
The boy was starting to come out of the fit, he was still dazed, but his body was relaxing it's grip.
"Mam..."
"It's alright, son. The nice lady was looking after you..." The woman looked up gratefully at Jenny. "Thank you. Especially when you didn't have to, and putting up with that...baggage...I know she's grieving but that's...will you lot get out of it..." she shooed the crowd away. Jenny smiled, nervously, her eyes kept flitting to the young mother, who was still arguing with her husband as he pulled her into their own cottage. Jenny turned her attention back to the woman.
"Have you tried him with valerian? It might help. I'll put some down to you, the next time I'm in the village." The woman thanked her again, then lifted her son up into her arms.
"They never get any lighter, do they?" Jenny smiled as the woman walked away, then she looked up. The sun was high in the sky, she'd be late getting back to the cottage...she picked her skirts up and started to run.
THE COTTAGE
Wyndam was standing, tapping his foot impatiently. Johnson saw his master's patience slipping away. He didn't envy the woman, at all.
"She definitely went down to the village? She didn't cut through the woods?" The dark edge was in his voice.
"No sir. I followed for a bit, she had nothing with her, neither did the child..." Wyndam's head swung round at that. She wasn't going to run again, he was sure of that. She knew he would track her down, and bring her back, so where was she?
He heard her, before he saw her. Her heartbeat was racing; she was out of breath when she reached him.
"You are late, Jenny." He folded his arms and stood bolt upright, his expression unreadable. She stopped right in front of him. "But no matter." Johnson gazed over in amazement at that. "Shall we get going?" There was no reproach for her lateness, nor seemingly any curiosity as to what she had been doing. Wyndam helped her up on to the same grey horse as the day before. She tried to explain her lateness.
"A boy in the village...he was unwell..."
"I knew you would have a good reason, for keeping me waiting..." There was the bite in his tone. He mounted his own horse, and leant forward in his saddle.
"Now, yesterday was a very pleasant, slow ride..." Jenny raised her head slightly, "but today I think we can go a bit faster..." his blue eyes were shining, "what do you say?" Jenny eyed him with interest.
"It is your little trip, Wyndam. How fast were you thinking?" The answering smile was cunning.
"A wager, Jenny?" There was the sharpness again. She smiled sweetly.
"I would lose, wouldn't I Wyndam? You forget, I've ridden that horse," she pointed to his black horse, "you wouldn't give me a faster horse, just in case I cut loose and headed for the hills..." He smiled back.
"Still, I think a 'let your hair down' gallop might do you the world of good..."
"And I might break my neck..." countered Jenny.
"You are no good to me dead, Jenny..." The humour was gone. "Come on. To that oak tree at the far end of the path...I'll give you a head-start..." She kicked her horse into a canter, then a gallop, but Wyndam's horse easily outran them. He waited for her to catch up at the oak.
"You were on the faster horse..." He chuckled.
"I won him in a bet at Chester. He should be fast, what he nearly cost me..."
"Just a poor sinner, eh Wyndam?" she teased. He shook his head.
"Never bet with a vampire, Jenny. I won the horse, he won the lady. Well, I say won the lady...more...he carried her off screaming..." She changed the subject.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Very direct. No nonsense. That's what I like about you, Jenny. This trip is a little different. I know what is there, or should be there. You do not. That is the test. Do you agree to come?"
"I have a choice?" He shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course you do." She glanced behind herself, at the path leading home.
"So if I turn around now...and head back to Whitekirk?" she mused. Wyndam sighed.
"You are very hard work, woman...There will be no dire retribution raining down on you, but I will be disappointed. And I think you will be, too." His face turned serious. "You want to learn more about what you can do, I want to help you fulfil that potential...where is the harm in that?" She waited a long moment before answering.
"Yes." He smiled warmly.
"Good. Shall we continue?" She nodded. "But a little bit faster..." His eyes were gleaming again.
They came eventually to a crossroads. They had been heading northwards away from the village for some time. Wyndam stared straight ahead.
"It's just up there, over the hill."
He dismounted, and helped Jenny down. They walked slowly up the hill, the horses were reluctant to follow, spooking at the slightest thing. She could feel a chill in the air. The ruins of a cottage were just visible below them, through an overgrown mass of bracken and fallen trees.
"I think we should leave the horses here, Wyndam." He looked at her strangely for a second, before nodding his agreement. He took both horses' reins, and led them to the side, tying them to an overhanging branch. Jenny stood quietly, looking all around her, then she closed her eyes, and took a step forward. She couldn't hear anything, but she could feel something, something dark, nearby. She opened her eyes, and felt drawn to her right, walking straight on, down towards the ruined cottage. Moss covered the building; the roof had long since caved in. There was such an air of despondency about the place, the very air seemed frozen. A dark soul was here...
Wyndam followed silently behind her, watching and waiting. She could see a figure crouching down among the fallen stonework of the cottage. It seemed to be searching for something. The figure stood up, then it turned sharply, as though it knew it was being observed. The figure's features were hazy, as though Jenny was seeing it through a mist. The figure was of a man, around six feet tall, with brown hair. She could feel the evil in him, it surrounded him with darkness.
"There's...nothing here..." she stammered..."Can we go?" The man seemed to be assessing her, the dark eyes taking in her own grey ones, a very dark soul...she knew what they could do to her...they hated the living...and they could do her physical harm...why had he brought her to this place?
"Please, I want to go now...there's..." she could feel the familiar chill stealing into her bones...
"...nothing here? Oh Jenny," he scolded her, gently, "add never play cards to that list...you'd be penniless in five minutes! I know you can see him...I know you can feel his hate...it's dripping off him...why are you denying what you can do...it's what you are..." his voice was as smooth as silk.
"Stop this...I want to go..." the shiver was moving down her spine. She pulled away from the man's leering gaze, backing towards Wyndam. She stopped at his side, unwilling to meet his eyes. He leaned in to her, whispering softly;
"Look at him, Jenny..."
"No...I don't want..." He softened his tone even more.
"Look closely at him..." She twisted round against her will, as Wyndam took her hand. "Look at him..." She gazed into the man's hate-filled eyes...and recognised his features, finally. The man she had seen...kill his wife...the rope Wyndam had given her as a test... She felt the rope burn against her skin as the noose tightened...she was choking again...she could feel her eyes bulge, and her brain explode...then she heard Wyndam's voice, soft and low;
"Breathe...are you going to let him win? Concentrate..." She focused on the man's laughing eyes...she felt her anger rise...then she felt the rope loosen around her neck...the laughing eyes stalled...then fear appeared in them...
"Yes...that's it..." said Wyndam, "he's the one who is scared now...use that...remember her fear...her pain..." The man was trembling now...she could hear whispers in her mind...Pull it through...open the door...that's it...
She could see another figure, so faint, it was barely visible, but it was there. A woman, watching her in astonishment. Jenny caught her own breath. A door stood in the wall of the broken-down cottage. She heard Wyndam's voice, as clear as a bell, say;
"Open the door...send him straight through...it's what he deserves..."
All her fear and anger twisted itself into one thought...
"Get you gone..." She repeated it. "Get you gone..." Then she heard Wyndam's voice again;
"Louder..." She breathed again, and yelled;
"GET YOU GONE...!"
The door swung open, the man fell down, scrabbling for purchase on the ground, but to no avail. Whatever force was on the other side of the door, was stronger, and the man was dragged backwards into the red light beyond the door, which slammed shut behind him. Jenny fell to the ground, the link broken, exhausted. She felt Wyndam pick her up gently.
"I can't..." He tilted her face towards the scene again.
"No...Look..." he said softly, directing her gaze towards the cottage. The woman's figure was becoming stronger. Another door appeared in the cottage wall. The woman smiled at Jenny, then she opened the door, a wistful expression on her face, the light behind the door was brilliant white, the light hurt Jenny's eyes.
"Go...it's your time..." whispered Jenny, tears in her eyes. The woman gave her a serene smile, and passed through the door. It vanished instantly. The air of sadness about the place seemed to lift; Jenny could feel the change in the air, the sudden warmth of the sun on her face.
"I can't call up a door? I don't have that power?" Wyndam mocked playfully.
"Don't patronise me..." She realised he was still holding her. She pushed him aside. He burst out laughing.
"I'm not...I'm complimenting you...Steady..." She felt her legs go from beneath her, the soft grass cushioning her fall. "I should have warned you...that can happen, especially at first, when you are still learning...it can drain your energy..." He helped her up, and over to the tumbledown cottage, setting her down on the wall.
"Affect my health?" Now she understood the tiredness a little better.
"Yes...but that's a good sign...it means you're strong. You'll come through it." She went to stand up, but he pushed her gently back down.
"No, stay where you are...You need to eat and drink something. I came prepared, this time..." He strode back to the horses, and untied a saddlebag. Jenny watched him attentively.
"You've known other seers...not just my grandmother..." He looked up with a wry grin as he walked back.
"A few..." He dug into the bag, removing two bottles, and laid them down beside Jenny. She reached for one, only for Wyndam to call out;
"Not that one..." Her hand hovered over the bottle.
"Oh..." She peered closely at it. The contents looked dark. "...Can you drink blood that isn't fresh? I don't think I want to know..." He smiled, his eyes gleaming.
"No...It's whisky..." He pointed to the other bottle. "That's brandy. There should be some water in here, too." He rummaged in the bag; another bottle appeared, along with some food. They sat quietly, Jenny still felt weak, the food helped a little.
"Blood has life in it...for some time after...The strength leaves it..." He stopped himself. "You really want to know?" She looked away, uncomfortable at the subject.
"But you, your kind, can...feed...without killing, can't you? You let me go..." He sighed again.
"Yes, but usually the people we feed on, aren't that happy to let us..." The irony was obvious in his tone.
"I'm just trying to..."
"What, understand?" She'd hit a raw nerve, she had angered him. "The hunger isn't something you can wish away...You can barter with it, you can fight it, or you can give in to it, and drown...but it will always win..." He stood, suddenly restless. The searing was starting to burn its way through his veins again.
"You feed...before you come near me now, don't you?" He met her eyes.
"Yes." He left out the fact that the more time she spent with him, the greater the hunger, the greater his need to feed became. He looked away first. He sat back down beside her, tensing his fingers.
"I've met quite a few seers, in my time. The supernatural interests me; it always has done, even before I was turned."
He was letting her in, just a little. She decided to chance her luck, to press him further.
"You said you are six hundred years old..." She was studying him closely.
"And a bit...yes..." He seemed happy to answer her questions, so she continued.
"You were around in battle..."
"A fair few...more than my share..." he sighed. "We tend to follow war around like..." he paused, remembering Flodden...so many bodies... "My kind are drawn to battle..." She hesitated before, continuing, watching his reactions.
"But you've known...you've fought..."
"Yes...it's a mutually beneficial relationship. We play our part, even though they aren't our wars. War covers our...natural hunger...our feeding...and there's less chance of carnage all round...it keeps us from creating more mayhem than is necessary..."
A few more bodies among the dead, who would notice, she thought. His features hardened. "Mayhem which would draw unwelcome attention to you..." she put it bluntly.
"Yes," was the curt reply. His eyes were bright, though.
"What was there, before the doors?"
"In battle?" She nodded. He pondered for a moment, before replying. "A light...sometimes...I didn't tend to hang around, you might lose your head if you stayed too long..." He raised his eyes to the sky. "It's turning cold. I'd better get you back. How are you feeling now? Recovered enough that you're not going to fall off the horse?" The dry humour was back, but he had let her in...
He dropped her as close to Whitekirk as she dared to ask. He leant over as she went to walk away.
"Do you need anything? Any money..." She lifted her chin at that. He sighed, women and their pride...
"I'm just asking a question. I imagine your healing skills don't bring in more than a few pennies, they don't have much round here..."
"I'm fine. I don't need..." Her temper was rising.
"It's not charity, you are under my protection. I don't want you dropping dead, for want of your pride. You are putting what little you do have in your daughter's stomach, aren't you?" His horse spooked, at a rustling sound from nearby. Wyndam jerked its head around, trying to settle it. A small group of people were tramping along the ridge of the hillside; the trees shielded Wyndam and Jenny from view.
"They'll have to watch that," he said quietly. Jenny strained her eyes to see what he was looking at.
"Why? They are just walking..." He laughed, mirthlessly.
"You mean you haven't seen them before? Unless I'm much mistaken, they are coming back from celebrating Mass, somewhere, yesterday..." He caught her look of surprise. "They are mostly Catholic, round here...I'll bet the good Reverend knows all about it..." he smiled darkly. "Religious tolerance...a contradiction in terms..." He rolled his eyes as he said it, spinning his horse round, pulling the grey horse along with it. "Goodbye Jenny."
She was struggling to comprehend what she'd seen and heard that day. He was after her abilities for something, that much she'd had confirmed. But for what reason? A prophecy? She laughed at the very idea. She'd never had one of those in her life, the little flashes of the future she sometimes had, they were just that, flashes, they weren't the same thing. Yet her grandmother had told Wyndam that prophecy..."If you look for her, you will never find her, she will find you..." which to be fair, she had..,
"I don't want a cat, Mum..." At least everything was fine with Isobel, she sighed.
"Why, sweetheart?" They were trudging slowly back home. Her daughter put on a petted lip.
"They nip...and scratch...I was only stroking it..." Jenny could see Harper standing, by the trees, talking to someone. She knew the familiar figure, even from behind. Wyndam, stood, his arms behind his back, answering Harper quietly. She tensed, what now? He turned at the sound of Isobel's voice.
"On you go, child, inside..." Jenny nudged her towards the door, Isobel for once, took the hint.
"Night, sirs." Wyndam turned his gaze on Jenny. Harper drifted away, out of earshot. Wyndam spoke first.
"I wanted to thank you for coming with me today. I know that it took you a great deal to trust me, understandably..." He saw a wary look cross her face. She'd worked out that each trip was a little bit longer, he was testing her trust further, each time.
"I have a final...test...The same conditions as before. You do not have to come...but I would be grateful if you did..."
"When?"
"Friday evening. You should be rested enough by then...It's quite a long ride...might be necessary to stay somewhere over night..."
"What? No...How do I explain that to Isobel? Where would I leave her? I am not your..." His eyebrows rose.
"My what?" He sighed, "you can stay in a nunnery if you want...it wouldn't stop me if I wanted to harm you...I'm just saying, it's quite a distance..." She was glaring at him. He sighed again, gritting his teeth. "I will bring you back as quickly as possible. Is there anyone she could stay with for a day or so?"
She couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't ask awkward questions. She heard Harper cough, she looked over at him, he was pointing at the cottage. Jenny swung round. Isobel was standing at the gate.
"I could stay with Mr and Mrs Burnett. She's poorly...and they have a dog..." Wyndam raised a hand, smiling.
"There, a solution..."
"Not helping, Isobel..." Jenny said, tautly.
"That's settled. Friday." He walked away. Jenny hurried over to Isobel, and grabbed her hands. Isobel cowed slightly, not understanding why her mother was angry. Jenny saw the same fear in Isobel's eyes, that she had seen in her own...She dropped to her knees to hug her daughter. She's a child, she doesn't know the danger...
"What did I do wrong Mum? You always say we should help people who ask for our help...Mrs Burnett's not well..."
"Yes, Isobel, but you think everyone in the world is...good...and kind..." She had taught her to be wary of strangers, but she had shielded her from so much...She watched over Isobel's shoulder as Wyndam rode off. "No dire retribution will rain down on you.." those words sounded hollow...
A final test...
And if she failed...
A shiver of ice ran through her...