with parliament?”
“I’ve not been neglecting my post if that’s what you’re asking. When I’m needed, we transport to the city.”
“We?”
“Tabbi and I,” replied Stuart.
“So now it’s Tabbi?” asked Margaret.
“Will you put aside your insecurities and listen to what I’m saying before you pass judgment,” Stuart admonished.
Margaret took a deep breath and nodded, not lifting her eyes from the inside of her cup.
“As I was saying, Tabitha and I have been training for the past several-”
“Training? Have you lost your mind?”
Stuart stood, rounded the desk, and raised his hand above the chair in which Margaret sat.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
Before she could reply he muttered a word that sounded vaguely familiar to Margaret. Without warning, the chair lifted from the ground until she was eye level with him. Her mouth dropped open. She grasped the arms of the chair and the teacup dropped to the rug. Margaret leaned over the side expecting to see someone lifting the chair from beneath, but she could only see the shadow the chair cast on the floor.
Finally, she regained her voice and whispered, “Enough.”
Sensing her fear, Stuart slowly lowered the chair to the ground. Margaret was breathing rapidly, her hand clutched her chest. Stuart bent to reassure her, and she recoiled fearfully.
“Everything I’ve told you is true. Every word, “Stuart said. “Tomorrow you and I must take leave. There is much to be done and very little time in which to do it.”
Stuart pulled her close and held her until the tension ran out of her body. Eventually she fell asleep in his arms, and he carried her to bed.
Margaret’s eyes opened. Above her were the crimson drapes that cascaded over her four-post bed. A dream, she thought. Relieved that she hadn’t lost her mind completely, she sat up and walked to the window. James must have rekindled a fire in the bedroom, she thought as she passed the roaring flames and pulled back the drapes.
Outside the ground was covered in a blanket of snow. The sky was overcast and threatened more precipitation in the near future. She could hear voices approaching in the hallway behind her. She turned as she heard a diffident knock at the door. James poked his little head into the room before she could acknowledge her visitor. He smiled at her and ran into the room.
“Is it true, is it true?” he asked fervently, dancing with excitement in front of her.
“Is what true, darling?”
“Am I going to stay with Auntie Dez?”
“Auntie Dez? What are you talking about?”
“Father said I am going to stay with Auntie Dez for a while.”
Her head began to pound. She didn’t recall discussing any of this with her husband. Margaret despised Stuart’s sister, which made the situation all the more worse. She turned as James ran off excitedly down the hall. As she looked out onto the courtyard bathed in early morning light, Margaret suddenly had a flashback to the events of the previous night. Her hands began to shake. She thought about the chair and surmised it must have all been a dream.
By the time she arrived in the breakfast room both James and his father were seated over a table piled with food.
Accustom to a simple cup of tea and slice of toast for breakfast, Margaret asked, “Why the feast?”
“We will need our strength,” Stuart replied.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Margaret made the connection between what she had been told last night and her husband’s statement. The forefront of her mind, however, decided to take control and push this thought away. She sat at the table.
“What’s this about your sister?”
“It’s all been arranged. She left a day early because of the weather, so she should be arriving sometime this morning. She and James will head back to her cottage after the weather breaks.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me she was coming to visit?” she asked.
James crumbled pieces of bacon over his eggs, taking little notice of the conversation going on around him.
“Someone must watch James,” he replied. “Someone we trust.”
She found it odd that he called their son James. Usually he was known as The Boy when his father talked about him.
“We’re perfectly capable of watching our own son,” she replied, burying the thoughts deeper still.
“Have you forgotten everything I told you last night?” Stuart asked.
“And what is there of that nonsense that I need remember?”
Frustrated and in no mood to argue in front of their son, Stuart stood, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and climbed the stairs without a word. Margaret decided that if everything she remembered had actually happened, she would not only ignore it, she would also refuse to take any action involving it. She was raised in a very intolerant family. Their beliefs were strict and unquestionable. If her mother had heard the nonsense spewing from her son- in-law she’d go mad. Magic indeed.
James soon followed his father up the stairs, leaving Margaret to finish her breakfast alone. An hour later Stuart came thumping down the stairs with two overstuffed saddlebags. Margaret, who had been reading by the fire, gave him a piqued look as the bags crashed to the floor.
“I packed your clothing as well,” he said. He waited for her to reply but she silently went back to her book. “I saw my sister’s sleigh turning down our lane. She should be here momentarily.”
Again she made no effort to act.
“Margaret, we will be leaving shortly,” he said sternly.
She let out an exasperated sigh, closed her book, and stood to confront him.
“We will be doing no such thing,” she said.
“If I haven’t been clear, allow me to clarify now. This is not an option. We are going.”
He turned and walked across the hall toward the front door. Margaret didn’t know what to do. She’d never heard her husband speak to her in such a demanding tone. Immediately she attributed it to this other woman. Whoever she was, Margaret considered her a threat that needed to be dealt with immediately. This reason alone moved her to act. She took a resolute breath, bid her son farewell, and then made her way to the stables.
When she arrived, Stuart was strapping the bags to his two best horses, Archos and Noch. He mounted Archos, the larger of the two, and looked at his wife, who watched in disbelief.
“What about the carriage?” she asked.
“The carriage will not travel where we are going, my dear,” he said enthusiastically.
“But I am not dressed for a long ride.”
“We will stop before long, and you may change. I must insist that we get moving. Mrs. Ogilvy will be expecting us shortly.”
She cringed at the sound of her name. This Tabitha Ogilvy had filled her husband’s head with nonsense. She mounted Noch and followed her husband’s lead, ignoring the stable master’s greeting as they continued down the lane. Her mind was set on proving this woman a fool so she could return to her normal life as quickly as possible.
Stuart turned Archos off the lane down a small trail, its edges barley visible beneath the blanket of snow. After miles of gradual decline, the snow receded and the trail became steep and rocky as it wound into the forest then down toward the sea. As they entered the forest, the biting cold of winter lifted and Margaret began removing the blankets she had layered over her shoulders shortly after their departure. The trail flattened and widened as it rounded a bend, revealing a small cottage overlooking the sea. Smoke drizzled from the chimney. The heavy mist from the ocean kept the air wet and cool. They dismounted, and Stuart led the horses to a small stall at the far end of the path while Margaret looked around. The small shanty, as she would have called it, was positively quaint, although she would have never admitted it. Each window contained beautifully arranged flower boxes. The small
