The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)
“Margaret, is it you?” she said, her eyelids fluttering.
“It is.” Mustering a smile, Maisie bent to kiss her forehead. “Do you feel any better, Mama Beth?”
She roused a weak smile, but did not answer directly. “How fares the household today?”
“All is well there.”
She squinted at Margaret. “You appear thoughtful. You have something else on your mind, child?”
Could she even broach the subject? I have to.
Maisie nodded. “I’m afraid I must burden you with my personal concerns, and I must ask you some questions that might be difficult for us both.”
Beth studied her face for some time, then looked at her with sympathy and with love. “I knew you would come to me when you were ready to ask.”
Her response, so simply stated, so knowing, buckled Maisie’s legs. Tears quickly dampened her cheeks. “I’m so sorry for what I must say. I feel that I’ve been foolish and blind.”
“Hush, child. You are no fool, and Cyrus is clever at concealing his true plans.”
Maisie wiped away the tears. How much did Beth know? “How long have you guessed his plans for me?”
“I don’t think he intended to become quite so obsessed with you, not when you first came to us. That came later.”
Maisie nodded, relieved. “You must believe me, I never thought of him...in that way.”
“I know that.” Beth lifted her hand from the bedcovers, seeking Maisie’s.
“Oh, Mama Beth, I’m so grateful for your understanding.” Maisie grasped her hand and bent to kiss it. These past few weeks witnessing her declining health had been difficult enough, without the need to broach this painful subject.
“I always knew that he honored your intelligence, your...special abilities.”
Maisie lifted her head
. Cyrus had always told her not to reveal her craft in front of anyone but him, stating that not even his wife knew.
Beth smiled weakly. “You thought I didn’t know?”
“Cyrus told me you didn’t.”
“Cyrus tells us all what suits him. I knew. When I wanted a child he told me of the poor orphans, the ones left behind after their parents were put to death. He said it would be easier to find a child I might keep under such circumstances.” Beth had a faraway look in her eyes. “I was later told we could have adopted a child here in London, and soon enough I realized that he was nurturing that magical side of you. Perhaps I should have intervened, but I could see how you flourished under his guidance.”
“I have, and I am grateful for that, but I cannot be what he wants.”
“No, I see that now.”
Maisie was startled, for the comment revealed Beth hadn’t been sure, that she perhaps wouldn’t have said anything if Maisie hadn’t broached the subject. That twisted the knife a little bit more.
“I hesitate to say it,” Beth continued, “but I think perhaps Cyrus is afraid he will lose you, and by making you his bride he might keep hold of you.”
Maisie’s thoughts raced. She recalled that when she had turned fifteen he’d talked about how her magic would transcend all that had gone before when she was made a woman, by a man. She shut her eyes, because she saw it now—saw his face again as he’d said those words to her. She also saw how he’d protected her until this time, how he’d turned away potential suitors and discouraged her from spending time with people her own age. It was because he was the one who intended to introduce her to her full potential. Cyrus wanted to be her only lover.
Beth’s eyes had misted, and Maisie knew that in her heart this woman was every bit as betrayed as she, if not more so. “Tell me, Mama Beth. I sense your troubled thoughts.”
“It is not how I thought things would end,” she whispered. “But you must know something else. It would not be fair of me to conceal from you the wickedness in his soul.”
Darkness seemed to crowd in around them.
Maisie swallowed down her trepidation. Beth was trembling, and it was so uncharacteristic that Maisie knew not if it was from her illness or from fear.