Netherby Halls

“Ah, true, my poor ungrateful brats, but don’t let Gunther hear you speak so. After all, he went to the trouble of constructing a neat ‘surrey’, and there are plenty of blankets for the short trip to town.” Sassy laughed with them and helped see them situated as they scrambled into the wagon, before the doctor saw her deposited in his small but comfortable barouche.

The doctor’s driver clucked to his team, and the group was off.

Grateful, Sassy thought, I feel grateful, but what is it that makes me feel uncomfortable in his company? “This is just so kind of you.” She smiled and tried to make herself feel at ease. “Indeed, this wonderful idea of yours has given the older girls the courage to talk Miss Sallstone and actually got her to arrange for them to see tomorrow’s matinee.”

“Excellent. I have always thought that the theater should be introduced into the girls’ studies.” Dr. Bankes smiled at her through the darkness.

“Yes, I quite agree,” she said, looking away from his intent gaze.

“May I say, Miss Winthrop, in your drab grays I found you exceptional, but now, with your hair, your gown, you are absolutely ravishing.”

Sassy laughed amiably and told herself he was a nice man, a good man and that she should feel honored to have his attention. “You are certainly very sweet to say so.”

Suddenly he put a white-gloved finger to her chin. “Lord, woman—do you think I am sweet? That much advantage I shall not take of you. I believe in playing fair. Do you not realize that I have not done this out of the kindness of my heart? I have done this for one reason only—to one end.”

Oh, thought Sassy, suddenly wary. What was he saying? Was he about to make her an indecent proposal—for it had that sound. “To what end is that, Dr. Bankes?”

“To put you at ease with me and perhaps hear you call my name, James, which would then allow me the use of your delightful name, Sassandra—or if your prefer, Sassy.”

Relief flooded her, and she laughed merrily. “Oh yes, I do feel you are entitled to call me by my given name, … James.”

“Well then, Sassy, tell me, from where did your parents derive such a lovely name?”

“Oh, I am named after a great-great-grandmother.” She hesitated. “On my mother’s side, and I understood the name was taken from the Sassanian Empire.” She smiled warmly at him and tried hard not to think of the marquis, whose voice had been whispering her name distractingly in her ears for the last two minutes. The closer they drew to town, the more insistent became his voice. She was strong-willed, but it was difficult to ignore the hypnotic call, and her lashes fluttered as she tried to ignore the voice in her head. She tried speaking over it and added, “But as far back as I can remember everyone, even Mama, always just called me Sassy.”

“And are you?” the doctor sallied.

“When I have a mind to be,” she replied saucily and once again was swept into her mind where she felt the marquis’s presence break down her wall of defense and begin to take over.

She saw him standing in a black velvet cutaway, his black hair billowing around his handsome face, his blue eyes penetratingly and mesmerizingly looking right at her. What was this?

This was not her magic. She knew this was not her magic? What then?

The magic of her mother’s coven, trying to force her to accept what she was and what? Why would the coven now enter her life? Her mother’s family had cut them off, cut off the power of their numbers. Why now would the coven do this? No. She could not believe this was the work of the coven.

This was something else, but what?

A moment later, James gave her his hand and helped her alight to the curbing in front of the bright torch lights on either side of the Bristol Theater. The place was Tudor in design, giving one the entire Shakespearean experience as one entered through its wide doors.

The girls were in high spirits as they gathered around Sassy and Dr. Bankes and were herded into the busy crowd, where their seats were allocated.

A thrill rushed through Sassy. Her parents had often taken her to the theatre, and she had always loved the experience from beginning to end. She watched the fashionables of Bristol sashay and mingle, strut and quiz, all vivacious and ready to enjoy themselves. She smiled brightly as she gazed into the gallery and at the laughing menagerie of merchants, ladies of the night, commissioned seamen, and even some of the more genteel patrons hobnobbing and flitting about.

Air. The air from her lungs was suddenly usurped, and she stood a moment nearly gasping to regain it. Blue eyes stared across at her, and she saw that he was wearing exactly what she had seen him wearing in her mind only moments before.

The silver buttons on his black velvet glinted, as did the gold of his ring, which she had never noticed before, a most unusual ring; its design made her think she had seen its insignia before. He inclined his head to her in greeting as he slipped on his gloves and turned away.

She was suddenly and absurdly deflated that he had turned away from her. A moment later when she glanced towards his box he was conversing animatedly with a tall blonde beauty.

Sassy looked away. Something constricted in her throat, and she blinked hard as she tried to shake off the awful feeling. Honest with herself, or trying to be, Sassy looked squarely into her mind and saw the jealousy blazing there like a hoary, separate entity.

Enough, she told herself. The curtain was rising …

Shakespeare’s memorable characters Kate and Petruchio took over the stage, and Sassy was able to put aside all other thoughts as she sat forward, intensely enjoying the performance.

During intermission the girls were allowed to go in search of lemonade, and the doctor turned his attention upon Sassy, giving her a sweeping smile. She could not help but notice that his gaze lingered at her breasts before he looked into her eyes and said lightly, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely, James. How can I ever thank you for this lovely evening?”