Page 22 of Magic Touch
"Were they friends?" My mother never mentioned Betty Ware in any way that would indicate a liking for the woman. She snapped with anger whenever the coven was mentioned, and after a while, Father never broached the subject.
She looks at me with passion in those blue eyes. "Oh, yes. The closest of friends during their childhood."
"What happened to separate them? Was it father?" My chest aches with the idea that Mother lost her coven and her best friend.
Prudence gives a long sigh. "In a way, it was. Connor O'Dwyer was very handsome and charming. When Louisa Shepherd met him, she fell in love, and so did he. Her family was against the match, as she came from money, while he had none. Even with witches, it's thought best to stay with one’s own rank." She frowns. "Determined to have Connor, Louisa went back to Ireland with him, and they married. When she learned she was with child, they returned to England. I think she hoped to be welcomed back. It was a naive hope. By then, Betty had come to lead the coven, and she was angry with her old friend for abandoning England. Many had died in battles during the years your mother was in Ireland. Betty blamed Louisa for those deaths. It was a bit harsh, but Betty was headstrong. She refused to allow a man into the coven, and your mother refused to rejoin her sisters without him."
"Did Betty believe my father would turn to the dark?" I want to cry, but hold it in. My mother had been selfish, but if she had not, I wouldn't be here.
"I don't think she did. It was more that your mother had left, and she was angry and hurt. Your father was known to be a good man. He might have added to the coven. When you were still a small child, perhaps three, the coven was attacked by a dark witch. He killed three witches and dumped their bodies at the door to the coven house."
I gasp. "I never heard this."
Prudence pats my knee, and Simon reaches out a paw to touch her hand. "You are not in the coven and have missed much of its history. Betty was too proud. Rather than ask your parents for help, she devised to burn the dark witch herself. Her heart was true, but her power wasn't up to the task. When she performed the spell, she set herself and part of the coven house ablaze and nearly died. She was never the same after that. She had no power and remained sickly until she died last spring."
Sitting forward to hear every word, William asked, "What happened to the dark witch? Who defeated him?"
"He is not defeated, my boy. He lives." A weary breath pushes from Prudence as she watches out the window. We pass through a village.
"Why didn't he destroy the coven?" I ask, despite my worry that this story is taking its toll on Prudence.
Turning, she locks her sharp blue gaze with mine. "The coven survives because your mother and father came, and cast the dark witch away. They didn't have the power to destroy him, but they hurt him, and for twenty years now, he has not returned."
Confusion and anger wash over me. "And even after that, the coven wouldn't let my father in?"
"I had hoped the tragedy, along with the risk your parents took on behalf of the coven, would have brought the O'Dwyers home. It was my most passionate wish. But too much time and bad feelings had come between them all. I begged your mother to petition for reentry, but she wouldn't. I beseeched the sickly Betty to extend an invitation and bring them home, but she was like steel. So, they never found peace in their friendship or their witchcraft, and both suffered."
The carriage falls silent for a long moment.
William says, "That is a very sad story. Is the daughter as unwavering as the mother?"
I can't tell if he's asking Prudence about Sara Beth, or if he's asking me if I would rather die than bend.
Prudence shrugs, then saves me from having to reply. "Time will tell."
Chapter
Seven
WILLIAM
The quaint white cottage with brown trim comes into view. "This looks quite nice."
"I think you will find it more than adequate for our needs." Prudence smiles. "I have always loved being here and often wished I could stay in the country."
Samuel slows the carriage and stops at the front door. A girl of perhaps fifteen rushes from the cottage, and stops at the narrow path of white stone that leads from the two steps to the drive.
I jump down and help the ladies out.
When the girl sees Prudence, she runs into her arms. "Great Mother, I have missed you."
"Brianna, my girl. You're so grown I hardly recognize you." Prudence hugs the girl tight and kisses her cheek."
Prudence makes the introduction. "Sir William Meriwether and Miss Esme O'Dwyer. This is my granddaughter Brianna Bishop."
"Granddaughter?" I ask, shocked.
Laughing, Prudence says. "A few generations removed, but too many great-greats makes me feel old."
