Trisha Telep: The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

«Yes, it does,» she replied, greatly relieved.

«But you must call if you need me.»

«I won’t be needing you,» she said. «No magic can help me now.»

«We shall see.» Merlin gave her a nod goodbye. Then, like a puff of dust, he vanished from her sight.

The next morning, when Evleen came down for breakfast, she discovered that Lord Beaumont had left for London at the crack of dawn. He would remain in London for the opening of Parliament and not return until the eve of his wedding, one month hence. Despite her disappointment, Evleen knew his departure was for the best. Having to see him now would be pure torture. She hated the thought of having to witness Beaumont’s wedding to Bettina, but for Peter’s sake, she would.

That afternoon, Peter came to the gazebo alone, without Cromwell. «My dog is sick,» he said, his pale face strained. «He’s awfully sick and I don’t know what to do.»

«Let’s go see him,» said Evleen. Together they walked to the kennel where she found the Border collie lying limp on the ground, panting heavily. Obviously the dog was in great distress. She suspected it did not have long to live.

Peter sank beside him, tears streaming down his cheeks. «Please don’t die, Cromwell,» he cried in a voice that nearly broke her heart. He gazed with pleading eyes at Evleen. «Isn’t there something you can do to save him?»

She thought long and hard. Yes, of course there was something she could do, but she had promised never to use her magic again.

But on the other hand.

What would Peter do without his faithful friend who followed him wherever he went and offered nothing but boundless loyalty and love? The poor little boy had suffered a great loss when his mother died. Now Cromwell, too?

Evleen took the boy’s hand. «Come along, Peter, there’s someone I would like you to meet.»

Peter stood next to her in the gazebo. When she rubbed the blue pebble, Merlin appeared before them. «I see you brought the boy,» he said to Evleen.

Peter gazed in wonder. One moment he’d seen a black raven sitting on a tree limb. The next, a bearded old man seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. «Are you the wizard Merlin who advised King Arthur?» he asked in an awed tone.

«Indeed, I am, son,» Merlin answered. «But I have been around long before King Arthur and his court.»

«Evleen says you can help me.» Peter told the magician how much he loved his dog, Cromwell, and would do anything to save him. When he finished, Merlin smiled down at the boy. «Go back to the kennel, son, and see how Cromwell is faring.»

Evleen watched Peter dart eagerly away. «You have my deepest thanks,» she said to Merlin.

«I am happy to oblige, but do you think it wise to break your promise?»

«It’s never wise to break a promise, nor is it wise to allow a child to suffer needlessly.»

Merlin shook his head in sympathy. «You’re a compassionate woman, Evleen, not deserving of the fate that’s been handed you. Why don’t you allow me to—?»

«No! I broke my promise once, but it’s not likely I shall do it again. As for casting a spell over Lord Beaumont, I absolutely forbid it. I hope you understand.»

«Of course.» The image of Merlin began to fade. «Until we meet again.» The next instant, a black raven spread its wings and silently glided towards the sky.

Evleen heard both a sudden cry and a gasp behind her. Dreading what she would find, she turned. There stood Lydia and Bettina, both staring at her with wide-eyed horror.

With a shaking hand, Bettina pointed to the spot where Merlin had stood. «He. he’s gone! Just disappeared. and the raven was there. I don’t know where he went. It was like magic.»

«It was magic.» Both triumph and scorn blazed in Lydia’s eyes as she addressed Evleen. «You’re a sorceress, just as I suspected all along. Now I have proof of it.»

Evleen stood mute. How could she defend herself when, in essence, what Lydia said was true? Finally she spread her palms wide. «For Peter’s sake, couldn’t you forget what you saw? It will never happen again, I assure you.»

«Absolutely not! As far I am concerned, you will never see Peter again. Come, Bettina.» Lydia took her future sister-in-law’s arm. «We must go tell Mama immediately that my brother has allowed a sorceress to live in our home.»

As they left, a joyous Peter came running through the garden, Cromwell bounding along behind him. It was worth it. Evleen knelt to put her arms around her happy young pupil and receive a lick on the face from an ecstatic Cromwell.

Alone in the drawing room with Lady Beaumont, Evleen sat stiff and straight in her chair, expecting the worst. Her ladyship sat across, lips compressed, nose quivering with suppressed rage. «I am appalled,» she began. «Both Lydia and Bettina saw you engaging in your black magic, or whatever you call it. Were they wrong? What do you have to say for yourself?»

«Not exactly wrong, your ladyship. But you see, I»—

«I shall not tolerate a sorceress in my home!» Lady Beaumont’s anger had turned into scalding fury. She leaped from her chair and started pacing. «I shall wait for my son’s return. He must make the final decision. Meantime, you are relieved of your governess duties.»

Her heart sank. «Not teach Peter? But he’s been making such good progress and I»—

«I don’t want you anywhere near my grandson. To that end, I am moving you to the servants’ floor. You will no longer be welcome in our dining room. You will take your meals in your room. I don’t want to lay eyes on you until Richard returns for his wedding, at which time I shall request he throw you out of this house, which you well deserve.» She pulled herself up, one quivering mass of indignation. «I never wanted you here in the first place. And don’t expect my son will side with you. In this matter he will do as I say.»

Any further explanation would have been useless. Evleen arose from her chair, determined to maintain her dignity if nothing else. «As you wish, Lady Beaumont.» She left the room, head held high, thankful she’d been able to choke back her tears.

In the days before the return of Lord Beaumont, Evleen spent most of her time in her tiny room on the fourth floor. With its lumpy bed, battered chest and cold, bare floor, the room in no way compared with the luxurious bedchamber she’d been forced to vacate. But in her despair she hardly noticed. She spent her time reading, or trying to. How could she concentrate on a book when thoughts of Beaumont’s passionate kiss constantly crept into her mind, when she was full of concern about Peter, who she knew must miss her terribly, just as she missed him? Was he keeping up with his lessons? Had they found a new governess? The servants kept their distance. Not one member of the family talked to her any more, so she had no way of knowing.

As Beaumont’s wedding day approached, the sounds of an increasingly busy household getting ready reached her ears. The wedding itself would take place in the nearby village church. The reception, a glittering affair with 200 expected guests, was to be held at Chatfield Court.

One sound made her cringe: Bettina’s giddy laughter often wafted up to the fourth floor, reminding Evleen that the feather-brained young woman would soon become Beaumont’s bride.

Lord Beaumont returned the day before the wedding. In her tiny room, Evleen was miserably wondering if she would even be allowed to speak to him again when a knock sounded on her door. She thought it must be one of the servants, but to her astonishment, Beaumont stood before her. She drew in her breath. «What are you doing here? I’m sure your mother would not approve.»

«I am not concerned with what Mama thinks,» he answered gruffly, shoving his way past her. «I must talk to you.»