Latchet. “There’s the woman you wanted to have teach the children! A fine coven of young witches and warlocks we’d have, if we let that creature loose on them!”
Mrs. Latchet began to cry.
Donner spoke soothingly. “No harm’s done yet, ma’am, for I’m here with this strong young man to take her safe back to Ireland, and no one—child or adult—a penny the worse for it, if we get her away quick and quiet!” she added darkly.
“I’ll call the constable—” began Martha Tilley self-righteously.
“I’m sure Your Honor’s good sense and kindness will prevail,” interrupted Donner hastily. “We none of us want to bring any more trouble on Lord Elsingham, do we, now? Just take me to the poor creature and Mr. Bart and I will do what is needful.” She looked encouragingly at Martha Tilley.
That dame snorted angrily. “She’s sought sanctuary with the Vicar. The old man’s besotted with her.”
“Oh, no! The poor old man! He is the first victim of her evil spells. Now if some few of us could go quietly and take her away before she does more harm—”
“She isn’t there any longer,” announced Mistress Latchet, wiping her eyes. “Polly Bradley, who’s been her abigail, went home to her father’s farm this morning. She stopped by to see me. Crying she was, because her dear Mistress Radcliffe had gone away in the night.”
“Gone away!” Donner’s face was ugly with disappointment. “Does no one know where she is, then?”
Martha Tilley narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “If she hasn’t left the neighborhood—and the young man said he’d watched who got on both stagecoaches—then there’s one place left where she may be . . .”
“Where?” Donner controlled her impatience.
“At the Manor. If she’s Lady Nadine, that’s her own place, isn’t it?”
“Is Bennet there?” demanded Donner.
“Yes, she is. She got here two nights ago, on the late coach.”
“Then Nadine is there, in hiding!” announced Donner. “For, much though I hate to tell you this, ma’am, but I guess such a clever woman as yourself will soon figure it out. Nadine has had Bennet in her power for weeks. It was them practicing witchcraft in Lord John’s London house that started the whole thing. He caught them, Lady Nadine and Bennet, casting a spell in front of the new portrait.”
“The portrait!” gasped Martha. “But that came down last week from London, and one of the gardeners told us he helped a footman to hang it yesterday at Mistress Bennet’s orders!”
“God ha’ mercy!” ejaculated Donner, putting on a wide-eyed expression. “Then there’s no time to be lost, indeed. ¼Tis certain they’ll be at their wicked deeds this very night!”
“What shall we do?” faltered Martha. The whole thing was getting too alarming. “The Manor—his lordship—we can’t just break into the Manor—!”
Donner kept herself under tight control. “True, true, dear clever woman that you are! You’ve put your finger on it. We can’t break in, but I am Lady Nadine’s nurse and keeper, and his lordship has instructed me to convey her safely to Ireland, where the poor soul may have treatment in peace and quiet. And his lordship’s not at the Manor. He’s still in London.”
This latter intelligence removed most of Martha’s qualms.
Donner pursued her advantage. “Now you being such a sensible woman, and a leader in the village, as anyone can plainly see, will help me explain the problem to the men, and we’ll all go peacefully and find the poor mad girl. I have her medicine here—” she patted her leather reticule, “and as soon as she has it, she’ll come quiet as a lamb.”
Martha Tilley was remembering last night’s fiasco. “Perhaps it would be better, ma’am, if you was to go alone.”
Donner, still holding her smile, shook her head. “Bennet’s no better than her slave, and will do whatever the witch tells her. I may need help to get the medicine into her before she casts a spell on more honest folk. Like she has on little Polly,” Donner added, looking at Mistress Latchet.
That good woman’s face hardened. “Nothing must hurt Poll,” she said fiercely. “She’s like my own child, and her mother my best friend!”
“Then we’d better get the witch away,” advised Donner sternly, “or there’s no saying what dreadful things she’ll make innocent folk do. She’s already bewitched the Vicar and Bennet and Poll, that we know of.”
This was more than enough for the two women. Lady Nadine’s name was notorious, even in this small village so far from London, and the women were ready to believe the