Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

Some of the furnishings had been changed—the bedchamber which my mother and father had shared was entirely different. There were rich velvet hangings about the bed and at the windows. There was a foreign look about it. I looked into the Red Room. That had been left exactly as it always had been. I remembered all the stories I had heard about its being haunted. My mother’s sitting-room which she had used so much was also left untouched. There was her carved wooden chair and the table on which stood the rather large sandalwood writing-desk of which she had always been fond.

Senara was secretly proud that her mother instead of being a rather mysterious guest in the castle was now the undisputed mistress of it. She had previously, I think, felt something of an outsider and that was why I constantly tried to remind her that I thought of her as my sister.

The servants had changed. They whispered a lot; they were constantly crossing themselves as though for protection against the evil eye. I knew that they were afraid of my stepmother Maria; sometimes I thought even my father was a little.

I could not suppress a certain resentment. In the first place I hated to see someone in my mother’s place; in the second, I thought it had happened too quickly. Three months after she had died my father had married my stepmother; and the fact that she had been living in the castle was somehow even more shocking.

My father had never taken much notice of me. Connell was his favourite. He had little regard for girls—at least, not for his own daughter. He kept out of my way after my return almost as though my presence embarrassed him. He knew how very devoted my mother and I had been to each other.

At first Senara gave herself airs but that was very soon at an end. The friendship between us was too firm for anything to harm it. The fact that her mother had taken my mother’s place might have caused a rift in some cases, not with us. My father engaged a tutor to give us lessons because my mother had done so in the past, and he was already installed at the castle—a Master Eller—he seemed aged, but I doubt he was much more than forty-five. He was strict and serious and even Connell had to pay attention, although he hated lessons and at twelve years old thought he should have been beyond them.

Jennet had scarcely changed except that she had aged a little. I think my mother’s death had shocked her deeply. She was only a year younger than my grandmother and I knew she had regarded my mother as her own daughter. She used to go about muttering to herself and she harboured a dislike for my stepmother which she was afraid to show.

So many people were afraid of my stepmother. It was because she had come on Hallowe’en and that was the time for witches. That she was different from other people was clear. She never appeared to be angry, but if she were displeased there would be a strange glitter in her eyes which was as frightening as my father’s loud displays of temper. Everyone and everything was different. The castle seemed full of shadows. Servants were afraid when the darkness fell. Jennet, who had been so talkative and pleased with life, was no longer so. On her face was a perpetual expression of bewilderment. Once she broke down and wept. “I knew your mother when she was a baby,” she told me. “I held her in my arms when she was but a day old. Your grandmother was good to me but sharp. She lifted her hand against me more than once, but Miss Linnet …” She broke down and we cried together.

Then Jennet crossed herself suddenly and said in a hollow voice: “God help us all. That good lady’s place … my little Mistress Linnet’s place … be took by …” Then she looked over her shoulder and after a long pause she murmured, “by … by another.”

Like everyone else, Jennet was afraid of my stepmother. I wondered about my father. His eyes followed her wherever she was. I heard one of the servants say: “He be spellbound.”

Now and then I found her dark eyes fixed on me. I don’t think she understood me. She was expecting me to be resentful towards her for taking my mother’s place; stepmothers were not generally liked by the children of their predecessors. But I knew that hating her could not bring my mother back. She was Senara’s mother and Senara thought her wonderful. My misery did not take the form of wanting to blame someone. When she understood this she ignored me, and I was glad of that. She was such a strange woman. Although she had never shown affection for Senara, she was anxious for her future. She made sure that Master Eller made an educated lady of her; and she engaged a young man to teach us dancing and singing. His name was Richard Gravel and we called him Dickon. He played the lute and the virginals in such a manner as to raise the spirits or bring tears and make the heart melt; and he could dance so beautifully that when he performed it was impossible to take one’s eyes from him. Senara was enraptured by him and was eager to excel at both music and dancing. We learned country dances, morris dancing, but chiefly those which would be performed at balls and banquets. It occurred to me that my stepmother wished to make a great lady of her daughter and because I was her companion I shared in the tuition too. It vaguely entered my mind that she did not believe Senara would be in the country all her life. This training was to make a court lady of her.

But we were far from the court. Deep in my mind was the knowledge that if my stepmother desired it, so would it be. I had heard one of the servants mention that she had “The Powers”. I had never heard the expression before but I understood immediately what she meant.

But it is surprising how very quickly young people can adjust themselves to situations. Before the year was out my home no longer seemed a strange place; the extraordinary had become commonplace. It was not that I forgot my mother; I should never do that. I used to go to the burial ground and put flowers on her grave; and because it seemed unfair to leave out those other two, I put flowers on them.

There were of course several long-dead Casvellyns in the burial grounds, but these three graves were together and I was sorry for my father’s first wife, Melanie, and the unknown sailor. To set my mother’s apart I planted a rosemary bush on hers, because rosemary is for remembrance. When I planted that tree the notion came to me that my mother was not completely lost to me; she was close to me at all times and particularly so when I needed her help. Whatever the delights of heaven, she would never leave me entirely alone. I sensed her presence watching over me, guarding me from evil. It was a comforting thought and once it had come to me, it stayed with me and I began to be happy again.

Life settled down to a new pattern. Lessons with Master Eller and singing and dancing with Dickon took up a great deal of our time. We rode with the grooms; we visited Lyon Court although my grandmother never came to us, and she was never pressed to do so. I believed that she did not want to be in a household where my mother had lived, nor did she wish to see my father’s third wife. But I was encouraged to go to her whenever I wished and when I went Senara accompanied me. It was inconceivable to either of us that we should be parted. We quarrelled occasionally but we both knew that those differences would be quickly settled. We were very different in temperament. I was quiet, rather serious, not easily roused to anger and enjoyed looking after people. Senara was impatient with me sometimes, although she liked me to look after her. She was full of life, she hated lessons. Master Eller despaired of her; but she played the virginals and the lute with passion and flair; she could sing prettily and she danced so gracefully that it was a great joy to watch her. I was serious and loved books; and she would be jealous of my reading. Is that more interesting than talking to me? she would demand. I would truthfully answer that it was, whereupon she would endeavour to tear the book from my hands. Then I would try to interest her in what I read but her attention soon strayed. In spite of these differences we were very happy in each other’s company.