her coat was dripping and strands of her hair were glued to her cheeks.
Annis was waiting for her. She shot to her feet the moment Harriet appeared, and she held out her hands for the umbrella. “Are you cold? Such a surprise, this storm, after the hot weather.”
Harriet handed over the umbrella as she stepped up into the folly. “Thank you, Annis. No, I’m not really cold, just damp.”
“I thought you might not come. Walking through those woods in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm—you’re a brave woman.”
“Not so much brave as cautious. I say a cantrip for protection at such times. I’ll teach it to you.” She had, in fact, recited it several times on her long walk.
“I would like that, Aunt Harriet,” Annis said. “Here, let me take your basket.”
Together they laid out the ingredients for the electuaries, prepared them, and rolled the remedies into tiny balls of herbs and honey. Annis had to block the wind so the candles would continue to burn. They laid their charms between them, Annis her moonstone, Harriet her amulet. Harriet spoke her cantrip, and this time Annis spoke it with her. They watched, side by side, as the ametrine responded. Even the moonstone glowed, silvery layers rippling beneath its surface. When Annis replaced her choker around her neck, she caressed the stone with obvious pride.
Harriet folded the electuaries into a fresh handkerchief. “You may feel ill again, if Frances is still trying.”
“I’ll be fine,” Annis promised.
“I hope James keeps this one down.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Harriet repacked her basket and took up the umbrella in preparation for the long walk back to the Four Fishes. “Was James better today? Did he come to dinner?”
“He did. Dinners are terribly grand there, everyone wearing evening dresses and masses of jewels. James wears a dinner jacket.”
“Did he seem recovered?”
“He was pale. Rather quiet. But if I’ve been sick, I feel that way, too.”
Harriet looked out to the dull shine of the nighttime sea under the gradually clearing sky. It would be nearly dawn by the time she reached the village. “And your stepmother?” she asked.
“The same as always, I suppose. I don’t pay much attention to her.”
Harriet turned back to her, saying gravely, “You should, Annis. A witch willing to wield the maleficia is dangerous.”
“But I’m protected now, aren’t I? The remedy worked.”
“It’s not over yet. Take the electuary as soon as possible. And as you walk up to the hall, speak this cantrip:
Mothers and grandmothers, guard my way
Every night and every day.
Let no danger me befall,
Nor evil catch me in its thrall.
She made Annis repeat it, and Annis said, “Why do cantrips rhyme?”
“They’re easier to remember if they rhyme. Remember, don’t take off the moonstone.”
“I won’t. Thank you, Aunt Harriet.”
“Rest well, child. Good luck.”
Annis flashed her a quick smile and dashed up the slant of the lawn toward the hall. More slowly, feeling every one of her years, Harriet set out to walk back to the Four Fishes.
24
Annis
Annis popped the electuary into her mouth the moment she was safely in her room. She put on her nightdress, but she left the choker around her neck, and as she lay back on her pillow, she touched the moonstone with her fingers. It felt warm beneath her fingertips. She wondered if, after lying neglected in her jewel case for so long, it was pleased to be coming back to life. The weight and smoothness of it reassured her, and this time she fell asleep quickly, not waking until Velma came in.
“Velma,” she said sleepily. “Have you seen my stepmother this morning?”
“That Frenchie said she went out early. For a walk, she said.”
Annis bolted upright, a tremor of anxiety speeding her heartbeat. James needed to take the electuary, and soon. She had no doubt Frances would repeat her rite as soon as she could. Was perhaps doing it even now.
Obviously she had taken her remedy in time, because she felt no ill effects at all. But poor James—a repeat of yesterday’s misery was not to be thought of.
“I need to dress, Velma,” she said. “Hurry. And stop calling Antoinette ‘that Frenchie.’ I’ve told you before.”
“Sorry, miss,” Velma said, without the slightest sign of compunction.
Annis glanced at the clock. It was eight, and breakfast would be served in half an hour. Could Frances perform her rite before that time? Surely she wouldn’t dare miss breakfast a second day in a row. “Hurry, please, Velma,” she said, as she took her seat at the dressing table. “Just