Martha couldn’t quite lie. “We are very well suited,” she said and set off along the path toward the street, toward people. Sane people.
He passed her and spoke walking backward. “You
“Perhaps,” she said tightly, “because we belong in different spheres and still do.”
“Ah! Your father was a canon. Did you live close to the Minster?”
The safety of the street lay ahead, but he blocked her way. “Yes.”
“And in the long years of caring for your father, did you mostly stay at home?”
“Of course.”
“That explains it, then. Faery powers can’t work in powerful Christian spaces.”
He turned and opened the gate for her. “If I try to explain, you’ll never believe me.”
“Quite likely I won’t,” she said, safe at last on the street.
“Martha, my dear, just say yes.”
She looked him in the eye. “No.”
“Come to Five Oaks.”
“No.”
“What harm can it do?”
“Said the spider to the fly.” She marched on. Aunt Clarissa’s house was in view. Martha had never been so glad to see it.
“Come to Five Oaks,” he persisted. “It will change your mind. But if it doesn’t, I’ll bother you no more. And that is a painful promise for me to make.”
Martha was struck by his sincerity and slowed her steps. “Why?”
He didn’t immediately answer and seemed to be calculating her reaction. “If you don’t marry me,” he said at last, “I will die.”
“Die of love? We hardly know each other!”
“Simply die. And not just me. Many others.”
Mad, mad, but she was suddenly unable to abandon him. If she went to his home, she would be with her mother. Aunt Clarissa would know where they went. Perhaps his father didn’t realize how sad a case he was. There might be some way to help him.
“Very well,” Martha said at last. “I will visit Five Oaks.”
He beamed, all that bright light shining, but the song came from elsewhere, as did the burst of ethereal laughter. Martha looked around even as she knew neither was anything to do with the here and now.
Was insanity infectious?
4
BY MORNING MARTHA had second, third, twentieth doubts about the wisdom of her decision, especially in light of her dreams. That one kiss had unleashed wickedness beyond comprehension, and even more vivid images of impossible things.
Mr. Loxsleigh arrived, and though he was striving to appear normal, his eyes revealed that madness still rode him. Not dangerous madness, she assured herself. What was more, he’d brought a luxurious traveling carriage drawn by six horses, which meant three postilions who would hardly allow evil.
She guessed he intended rash speed, however, and said, “We will travel only as fast as is reasonable, sir.”
He handed her into the carriage. “We must reach Five Oaks today.”
Martha paused in the doorway. “Why?”
She caught him staring into nowhere, but then he was with her again, smiling. “My impatience to see you there, Miss Darby. But my word on it, we’ll travel no faster than is safe.”
With yet more misgivings, Martha took her seat at her mother’s side, facing the horses. It was difficult to be a well-bred lady who never behaved improperly, and did not upset arrangements.
“How lovely to travel post,” her mother said. “So kind of you, Mr. Loxsleigh.”
He took the opposite seat. “It is you who are kind, ma’am, agreeing to come to Five Oaks.”
As the carriage moved off, Martha gripped her hands together. She forced them to relax. She was safe. Any other impression was a lingering effect of her dream.
Or proximity to a man. The seating put her far too close to Loxsleigh. Their knees almost touched. Unless she chose to look outside all the way, she must look at him, be aware of how he looked at her with eyes that now seemed to gleam emerald bright.
She turned away as if fascinated by the sight of the castle over nearby houses.
He said, “Our road is good according to those coming south.”
In other words, he claimed speed was safe. To prove it, as soon as they left the town the horses picked up their pace. It did not jolt over ruts, however, so Martha couldn’t reasonably complain.
Extravagantly, they halted for new horses in an hour, and then again. They would have continued that way till dark if Martha hadn’t prompted him to stop to dine at gone two o’clock. He agreed, but though he smiled and conversed, he hurried them through their meal and out again to the carriage. Even Martha’s mother commented on it.
“Is there urgency, Mr. Loxsleigh? Do you have bad news from home?”
“No, ma’am. I’m merely anxious that we arrive before dark.”
“If it becomes dark,” Martha said, “we must stop.”
He looked at her with something like rage and she shrank back, wishing there was some way to escape with propriety. He instantly smiled, so that she might have believed she’d imagined the reaction, but she didn’t.
He turned to her mother. “There’s a family legend that might interest you, ma’am, as it concerns the oldest part of Five Oaks. May I relate it to pass the time?”
“By all means, Mr. Loxsleigh.”
“Long, long ago,” he began, “an ancestor, also called Robert Loxsleigh, traveled the land, seeking to do his knightly duty and defend the weak. One night, he became lost in dense woodland despite the fact that it was a full moon. When he came into a clearing he saw a beautiful woman being assaulted by a man. He leaped from his horse, drew his sword, and rushed between them. The lady fell on his chest in gratitude, but the man was furious. He declared Sir Robert was his prisoner for entering a Faery circle under the full moon. You see the warring couple were Titania and Oberon, Queen and King of Faery.”
“As in Shakespeare!” Anne Darby exclaimed. “‘Ill met by moonlight.’ How interesting.”
“Ill met, indeed,” Loxsleigh agreed, but when he turned to Martha, that fire of intensity burned. Worse, she felt it in herself now, as if she had urgent need to race to his home, but it fought with a desperate need to turn away from the course.
“Sir Robert sought to escape, but his horse had disappeared, as had his squire and all the woodland except for the five gnarled oaks that circled him. He knew of faery ways, and knew that a mortal who invaded a faery circle at full moon was their prisoner. He believed himself lost to our world, but Titania took him under her protection and declared that he should go free, and would even receive a reward. One wish.”
“What did he wish for?” Anne Darby asked.
“Remember, ma’am, he was a truly noble knight. He asked for some talent that would enable him to help the poor and helpless even more than before.”
“Ah, the good man.”
“What talent?” Martha asked, hearing her tension make it harsh.
Loxsleigh looked at her. “The ability to find lost gold.”
“Lost?”
“Coins, salvers, jewelry.”
“Such as an earring?”
