Betrayal (7 page)

T
he snow had thawed overnight and the country lanes had turned into mud-spattered slush. Most of the girls in my class complained about wet feet and cold fingers during the long morning walk to the village church and back, but I had other things on my mind.

Sarah and I were going to ride to Uppercliffe Farm that afternoon, and before our visit to the farm, I was going to have the first of the riding lessons that Dad had arranged. To be truthful, I wasn’t crazy about being on horseback again.
Horses are unpredictable, aren’t they? It’s dangerous….
I had tried to shrug off Harriet’s silly comments, but my stomach had begun to flutter with nerves. Although I could sit on a pony and jog over the moors, I didn’t really know how to ride properly. I hoped the teacher wouldn’t
expect me to gallop, or jump, or do anything fancy. I wasn’t afraid of swimming in the roughest seas, but I hadn’t been brought up around horses and I would never be entirely comfortable with them.

After lunch, I went up to the dorm to change, pulling on the smooth new jodhpurs and shiny riding boots that Dad had given me at Christmas. I felt for my necklace under my sweatshirt.

“Agnes?” I hesitated. “Agnes, tell me, am I doing the right thing? Should I take it to Uppercliffe?” The thin curtains around my bed stirred, as though blown by a breeze from the moors, and I heard the echo of a sigh. Then there was silence, except for the urgent beating of my heart.

Sarah would be waiting. I had to go.

I swung out of the dorm and clattered down the marble steps and reached the second floor, where the staff quarters were. Miss Scratton was locking the door to one of the rooms. She looked up and saw me, then beckoned me over.

“I hear you are going out riding with Sarah? She made a request last night for you to ride over the moors together this afternoon.”

“Um, yes…”

“Be careful that you don’t stay out too long. It’s getting colder again, and I believe that more snow is on its way.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Miss Scratton.”

“I understand that your grandmother’s funeral took place over the holidays,” she said, quiet and grave as usual. “Death is very hard for the young. Let me know if there is anything we can do.”

She seemed to look at me with genuine pity in her cool, intelligent eyes. For a moment, her kindness threatened to unnerve me. Part of me wanted to talk to her, tell her all about Frankie, and to be soothed and comforted. I felt confused by the image I’d had of Miss Scratton in my dream, reaching out to grasp the Talisman. It didn’t fit with this apparently concerned teacher who stood in front of me. I forced myself to smile calmly.

“Thank you. But I’m okay.”

“I have no doubt of it,” she replied softly. “There is an ancient saying: ‘The heart grieves, but the wise man does not seek out the dead.’ Remember that, Evie. Don’t—”

Just then, Miss Dalrymple emerged from one of the second-floor rooms, smiling and nodding and dabbing the corner of her mouth with a tiny lace handkerchief. “Going riding, Evie? Splendid! I’m sure Miss Scratton here could give you some good advice. She’s a marvelous horsewoman,
quite marvelous.” The fussy, overbearing teacher smirked as she bestowed her compliment. “Indeed, Miss Scratton’s advice on any subject would be invaluable.”

A flash of irritation seemed to play across Miss Scratton’s narrow features, but she smoothed it away. “What nonsense! I haven’t ridden for years. You’d better get along, Evie. And as I was going to say, don’t run on the stairs.”

I made my way out of the building and across the stable yard. What had Miss Scratton been about to say? Don’t what? It had nothing to do with running on the stairs, I could have sworn. And how much had Miss Dalrymple overheard?
The wise man does not seek out the dead….
Had Miss Scratton been talking about Frankie—or about Sebastian? But that would be impossible, unless—unless what? If she were one of the Dark Sisters and knew about Sebastian she would hardly want to give me advice. I kicked a pebble across the cobbles and shoved my hands in my pockets, deep in thought.

“Hey!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I had walked straight into a tall, athletic-looking boy. He was about eighteen years old, with corn-colored hair and an amused expression. I stepped back and drew breath. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“It’s okay, no worries.” The boy smiled. “I love being
treated as though I don’t exist. Invisible man, that’s me.”

“No, it wasn’t that. I mean, I know who you are,” I babbled. “You’re…um…Josh, aren’t you? And you—”

“Help out in the stables, yeah. Don’t worry; you can walk into me anytime.”

I blushed, though I didn’t quite know why. Josh, on the other hand, seemed to be entirely at his ease.

“Well, I’d better go,” I said idiotically. “Mustn’t be late for my riding lesson.”

“No,” he said, smiling again. “Well, I hope you enjoy it.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I hurried over to Bonny’s stall and saddled her up with fumbling, inexpert hands. I was surprised that Sarah hadn’t come to help me, but I guessed she would be along soon. Struggling with the last buckle, I finally got the saddle and bridle on and led Bonny out through the yard to the practice paddock that lay beyond it. Sarah was already there, fussing over a quiet gray horse that was tethered to the rails, and talking to Josh.

Sarah looked happy and animated, and I felt that I had never really seen her so clearly before. I hadn’t realized how pretty she was. With a stab of surprise, I saw that the glow in her eyes was because of Josh, and the next moment blamed myself for having been so stupid as to not notice
something so important about my best friend.

At the far side of the paddock Harriet was shivering alone in the cold, looking like a kid who had no one to play with. She had evidently ignored my advice about trying to get to know her classmates. I sighed. I really didn’t want her watching my first efforts with the riding instructor. And although Sarah might be delighted to see Josh, I wasn’t that keen on his seeing me making a fool of myself with my beginner’s efforts. Why had I ever agreed to these lessons?

Sarah turned and waved to me. “Hey, Evie, are you all ready?”

“I guess so. Where’s this Mrs. Parker, or whatever her name is?” I grumbled. “She’s supposed to be here right now.”

Josh straightened up. “I’m Mrs. Parker,” he said with a grin. “At least, I am for the moment.”

I must have looked confused, as he explained, “Judith Parker is my mom. She gives the horse riding lessons here at Wyldcliffe, but she sprained her wrist a couple of days ago. So you’ll have to put up with me.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got my basic teaching certificates. I won’t let you break your neck.”

“Oh, okay then,” I said ungraciously. I led Bonny into the practice ring and scrambled up onto her back.

“No, not like that. Let’s start right from the beginning.” Very patiently, he showed me how to mount properly, how to sit up straight but relaxed, and how to grip the pony’s sides with my knees.

The hour flew by. Josh was a good teacher, and when he got up onto his gray horse to demonstrate something, I couldn’t help noticing the grace and confidence of his supple body. At one point he had to correct my posture and I felt his hand, warm and strong in the small of my back. And all the time I sensed Sarah watching Josh with her steady gaze, and Harriet watching all of us like a starving child….

I was glad when the lesson ended.

“You’ve done well,” said Josh. “I think we’ll make a horsewoman of you eventually.”

“I just want to stay on and not make a complete idiot of myself.”

“Oh, I think you can do better than that.” He smiled as I dismounted. “Much better.”

“Josh! Where have you been?” An angry voice cut across the damp, cold air. “I’ve been waiting for you to saddle Sapphire for me forever!”

Celeste was staring at us indignantly from the path that led to the stables.

“You could try saddling her yourself, you know,” snapped Sarah. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

“My father pays full livery fees,” Celeste fumed, “and I expect—”

“It’s okay; I’ll come and do it,” Josh said. “Evie’s lesson ran over a bit, that’s all.” He turned to me and said, “Same time next week?”

“Mmm, yes, I mean, if your mom’s arm isn’t better.”

He gave me an amused look, a gleam of admiration in his eyes. “Oh, I think she might have to rest it for quite a while.” Then he began to stride away after Celeste, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to Sarah. “See you around, Sarah.”

For a fraction of a second Sarah looked disappointed by his casual manner, but she hid it almost instantly with a cheerful smile. “Yeah, see you.”

We set off for Uppercliffe Farm, both lost in our thoughts. I trotted cautiously on Bonny, while Sarah rode confidently on her other pony, Starlight.

“So have you known Josh long?” I asked, as we left the school gates behind and began to climb a narrow path that wound over the moors.

“Three or four years, since I started at Wyldcliffe. Josh was always hanging around the stables, doing jobs for the old groom who used to be here. He still thinks of me as a pony-mad kid.” She flashed me an odd look. “I’m not the kind of girl guys notice. I’m not like you.”

I felt uncomfortable, as though I had trespassed on something private. I tried to think of something to say. “He seems a really good rider.”

“One of the best,” Sarah replied, her face lighting up again. “He’s done tons of shows and competitions, but you need money to take it seriously. So he helps his mom with her riding school and works at Wyldcliffe. I think if he can’t do riding professionally he wants to study to be a veterinarian. He’s…well, he’s a nice guy.” She stopped herself, then frowned. “I don’t know how he can put up with the attitude he gets from people like Celeste. He’s not a servant, and she’s not a princess, whatever she might think. He’s worth a million times more than she is.”

She suddenly urged Starlight on and went ahead over the wet ground. I hadn’t heard Sarah talk like that before. Why hadn’t I noticed before the warmth in her eyes and the light in her face when she spoke to him? I tried to remember the times I had seen her and Josh together last term. He had been down at the stables, I remembered,
always with that same laid-back smile and athletic grace under his scruffy riding clothes, but I hadn’t seen him showing any special attention to Sarah. Perhaps he did still think of her as a kid, or perhaps he felt that the Wyldcliffe students were off-limits, too stuck-up and snobby to be interested in a stable boy. Whatever the reason, I could see clearly now that Sarah liked him, and was suffering over it.

I hoped I had been mistaken about the admiration in his eyes when he had looked at me. I wasn’t interested in Josh and I would hate to upset Sarah. It probably hadn’t meant anything, I told myself.
Forget it.
Getting to Uppercliffe was all that mattered. I urged my pony to keep up with Sarah, and as I jogged over the wintry hills, the Talisman knocked against my heart.

U
ppercliffe Farm. It was hardly more than a ruined cottage, tucked away on the lonely hillside and overgrown with rough grass and nettles. The wind swirled over the drifts of snow that still lay here and there. It was easy to imagine what it must have been like in the old days: miles away from anywhere, the only sounds coming from the birds and the bleating of sheep. Here at Uppercliffe, Lady Agnes had concealed her greatest treasure—little Effie with the auburn curls, Agnes’s daughter, and my great-great-grandmother.

Sarah and I slipped off our ponies and walked up to the tumbled remains of the house. The sign of the Talisman, the precious heirloom, had been scratched in the stone above the door many years ago. This seemed a fitting
place to hide it. I prayed that the coven wouldn’t think of searching for it there. I was pretty sure they didn’t know of Agnes’s connection with the old farm.

“We’ll find a good hiding place inside,” I said.

“Okay, but be careful; the ceiling has mostly fallen in and there are still some timbers that look a bit dangerous.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised. I walked under the door’s stone archway and into the ruined house. All at once a halo of blinding light dazzled me and my stomach heaved as though I were falling from a great height. I blinked and when I opened my eyes again, I was standing in a low parlor. A stout woman in a long skirt was bending over a smoky fire. I knew who she was. It was Martha, Agnes’s old nurse, who had lived at the farm long ago. She wiped her face with her apron and turned to rock a wooden cradle, where a baby with a wisp of bright hair was fast asleep, wrapped in a homespun blanket. Martha sang softly as she rocked the baby; then she looked across to the corner of the simple room, where Agnes was sitting at a small table, writing in a black, leather-bound book. It was her journal. I had read every word of it under Sebastian’s anxious gaze as he had tried to explain the tangled web that connected all of us: Agnes, Sebastian, Effie, and Evie.

Agnes broke off from her writing and looked straight up at me, and I saw recognition in her eyes.

“I’m here!” I tried to call out, but the words wouldn’t come. “I’m here!” Then I woke from the spell, moaning, “Here, here, here…”

“Is this where you want to hide it?” Sarah asked in a worried voice. “Do you mean here?”

Without realizing it, I had crouched down in the far corner of the crumbling house, where Agnes had been sitting at the table. I was clawing at the cold earth with my bare hands.

“Yes, here,” I said, panting. “Here, this is the place….”

“Wait, Evie; Helen will be here soon,” Sarah urged. She moved closer to me and put her hand on my arm. “Did you see her just now? Did you see Agnes? Does she think we’re doing the right thing?”

“I don’t know. I only know I have to dig here, in this corner….”

Outside, one of the ponies neighed in alarm, and I thought I heard the sound of hoofbeats. I got up shakily and went out to see what was happening, hoping to see Helen. But it wasn’t her. I immediately tensed up, on the alert. This wasn’t supposed to happen right now.

On the far side of a dip in the moors a couple of Wyldcliffe girls on horseback were talking to two other riders. The strangers weren’t wearing proper riding clothes, just sweaters and torn jeans. One of them looked like a young girl of about eight or nine on a shaggy pony. An older teenage boy, maybe her brother, was riding bareback on a piebald horse. He slithered down to the ground and stood protectively by the girl. He looked sullen, as though the conversation had turned into an argument. Sarah came and stood next to me as I watched them.

“That looks like Celeste and India. I hope they don’t come poking around here.”

“But who are they talking to?” I asked.

“They might be local kids.” Sarah frowned. “Or maybe…Yes, Josh said that some families had arrived at the travelers’ camp on the other side of the village, that patch of waste ground beside the road. I think these two must be from there.”

“You mean they’re…” I hesitated. “Travelers, you said. Do you mean Gypsies?”

“I guess so. I’d love to talk to them if we get the chance one day.”

Sarah was very proud of her Romany blood and kept a precious photograph of her long-ago ancestors next to her
bed. But Celeste didn’t seem very friendly toward the two young strangers.

Just then she spoke to them angrily and then jerked her horse’s head around and cantered away, followed by India on her leggy, nervous-looking chestnut. The boy shrugged and spoke to the girl, then jumped up on his own horse with amazing quickness and strength. They didn’t look anything like the romantic notions I had of Gypsies, but they seemed…I don’t know, tough somehow, part of the landscape, less groomed and polished than the Wyldcliffe students with their expensive gear, but more at ease. They began to move off.

“Come on,” I said, “let’s get out of sight.” I pulled Sarah back into the ruined cottage. “We can’t waste any more time. If Helen has been held up, we’ll have to start without her.”

I went back to the spot in the corner where I had been digging and tried to scrape away more of the earth. A few moments later, the air swirled and grew bright, and Helen seemed to step out in front of me, as if blown there like a leaf on the wind. I was getting used to her appearing from nowhere like that.

“Are you okay?” Helen asked. “You look kind of upset.”

“It’s nothing; don’t worry,” I said. “But there are other riders out on the hills. We think we’ve found the right place, but we mustn’t be seen.”

“I’ve brought a spade and some other stuff,” she said, showing me the rough canvas bag she had slung over her shoulder. “I took it from the gardener’s shed. I’ll keep watch if you want to do the digging.”

But I was still shaking too much to be of any real help. I had seen Agnes, here in this abandoned house, and I couldn’t brush off the sense that something bad was going to happen. The words I had heard her speak in the grotto came rushing back to me, and I felt sick and dizzy.
Follow my way…they are coming….

“I’ll do it if you like,” said Sarah. I nodded gratefully and tried to get my breath back as Sarah crouched on her knees in the corner and explored the ground. The old floorboards had rotted away, and she was feeling the bare earth as though caressing something precious.
Earth for Sarah…

“There’s something under here,” she said excitedly. “I can feel it in the earth, calling to us. Pass me that spade.”

Deftly, Sarah began to remove the top layer of soil; then she threw the spade to one side and began to scrape the earth carefully with her fingers. Something broke
away from the mud and she lifted it out.

“It’s an old box,” Sarah said, rubbing the dirt from its sides. “You open it, Evie. It must have belonged to the people at Uppercliffe once.”

She passed the black box to me. It was made of tin and rusted over. There was no lock, only a crude clasp to fasten it. I pulled it open with a jerk.

“Wow,” breathed Sarah. A scent of rose petals rose from the little box, dry and dusty, but still sweet.

“They must be so old,” said Helen. “And what’s that?”

I lifted out a soft linen pouch and felt inside it. My fingers closed on something hard and cold. It was a small, battered gold locket, strung on a bit of ribbon. I fumbled to open the locket. Tucked inside was a single curl of red-bronze hair, soft and fine like a child’s.
A little girl with bright curls, sitting on the doorstep at Uppercliffe…

“It must be hers—Effie’s,” I said in amazement.

“Martha must have kept it in this box, in a safe place under the floorboards,” said Helen. “But why was it left here for all this time?”

“Perhaps when Martha died it was forgotten about,” Sarah replied, examining the locket carefully. “We’ll never really know.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd,” I asked eagerly, “that we’ve
come here to hide one necklace and we find another one? Is that just a coincidence?”

“I’m not sure I believe in coincidence,” Sarah said quietly. “Perhaps Agnes wants you to wear it. Why don’t you put it on?”

I unclasped the Talisman and tied the locket in its place. For a moment I stayed quite still, waiting.

Nothing happened.

What had I really expected? Visions? Omens of disaster? An apparition of Agnes telling me that I mustn’t let go of the Talisman, even for a minute? But there was nothing. Nothing bad was going to happen.

“So, are you ready. Evie?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Slipping the Talisman into the linen pouch, I laid it on the papery rose petals and shut the box with a snap. Then I pushed the box back into the ground and covered it with the black soil. Sarah smoothed the place where the earth had been disturbed and replaced the stones.

“There,” she said. “Let the earth hide it well.”

“Let the Talisman lie in peace,” said Helen, and she made a sign in the air with her hands. “Let the earth hold it and our memories guard it and the winds blow lightly over it. Let it sleep quietly until it is needed.”

I said nothing. Soon, I vowed, I would come back to claim it, when I was powerful enough to wield the Talisman and work a miracle. Until then, the battered little locket hanging around my neck was some kind of comfort.

Helen left us, in the same strange way as she had arrived. Sarah and I rode quietly back to the school. By the time we reached the stable yard and dismounted, my legs were stiff with cold. I took Bonny back to her stall while Sarah went to look after Starlight. My body ached after the long ride. I began to brush the mud from the pony’s wiry coat.

“Hi, there,” said a voice behind me. I turned and saw Josh, a harness slung over his shoulder and a piece of straw stuck in his hair. “I thought I’d see how you made out riding over the moors, as you’re officially my student. Not too exhausted?”

“I’ll survive.” I smiled at him, yet felt strangely self-conscious. “My muscles are complaining a bit.”

Josh stepped closer, letting Bonny nuzzle his hand as he offered her a bit of broken carrot. He looked at me curiously. “I get the feeling you’re not that wild about learning to ride,” he said. “Do you mind if I ask why you’re having lessons?”

“It was my dad’s idea,” I said. “I think he felt it was the proper Wyldcliffe thing to do.”

“You don’t seem like the typical Wyldcliffe girl.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m here on a scholarship. If Celeste and her friends had their way, I’d be doing chores in the kitchen.”

“Oh, Celeste.” He shrugged and laughed. “I wouldn’t take much notice of her. So where did you go this afternoon?”

“Across the moor,” I said, reluctant to tell anyone where I had been, but Josh didn’t seem easily discouraged.

“Did you get as far as Uppercliffe? There are some good rides up there.”

“You know Uppercliffe?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course,” he answered. “My family has lived around here forever. We used to own the farm at Uppercliffe years and years ago.”

My heart jumped. Another connection. Nothing was simple at Wyldcliffe; nothing was quite what it seemed. I didn’t know what to say, but before I had time to decide, a girl called Julia Symons burst into the stables. “We’ve all got to go to the dining hall right away,” she said importantly. “Miss Raglan wants everyone there immediately.” She hurried off and I could hear her calling, “Everyone to
the dining hall!” A bell started to ring in the distance.

“You’d better go,” Josh said. “I’ll finish this for you.” He gently took hold of the brush I had been using on Bonny’s coat and our hands touched for an instant. “See you next week?”

“Um, yeah…thanks…”

I turned and fled. Was this the news we had been waiting for? Was Mrs. Hartle alive or dead?