*This is the Fantasy novel I’m posting here for free, one chapter every Friday. If your conscience troubles you getting something for free, do hit the donate button on the right side and down. Anyone donating more than $6 will get a non-drm electronic copy of Witchfinder in its final version, when it’s published.
There is a compilation of previous chapters here and I will compile each new chapter there, a week after I post. When the novel is completed and about to be edited the compilation page will probably be deleted.
Oh, this is in pre-arc format, meaning you’ll find the occasional spelling mistake and sentence that makes no sense. It’s not exactly first draft, but it’s not at the level I’d send to a publisher, yet*
For previous chapters, look here: https://accordingtohoyt.com/witchfinder/
The Fear Of Darkness
Nell looked at Gabriel as he proclaimed his willingness to take down fairyland if that was what it took to bring his youngest half brother back. For a moment, for a brief breath, she caught a look in Seraphim Ainsling, Duke of Darkwater’s face, as he looked at his half-elven sibling, nominally his valet. She didn’t know what that look was. It might be surprise or awe or fear.
Nell knew, however, with absolute certainty, in that moment, that Seraphim hadn’t known the details of Gabriel’s ancestry. He might have known Gabriel was half-elf but not that he was what could be termed a prince of fairyland, nor why he’d left fairyland. And he definitely hadn’t known how strongly Gabriel felt about elves and the king of fairyland.
It was just a moment, and then Seraphim looked away, his eyes half-lidded, hiding his expression, and is face went back to the impassive, reserved look she’d seen on it before.
Training, she thought, as though it were a novel idea. The man had been trained to hide his feelings. He’d been trained to behave impeccably in public. He’d been brought up to fulfill his role and his role required that he follow a protocol in public and show nothing of his inner thoughts or feelings and, particularly, show no doubt no fear and no pain.
Once having realized that, she could detect things in his expression: pain mostly, and tiredness. Though he looked alert and aware, she realized there were fine lines at the corner of his mouth, as from holding his features unnaturally serene against suffering. And his shoulders were held too square and straight, as if he were afraid they’d sag under tiredness. And his hands held the head of the walking stick far too tightly.
She looked at him until she caught him giving her a long side glance, and then she looked at her feet. She hadn’t yet decided what to tell him. What could she let the Darkwater’s know about her origins, her work, her involvement with Antoine, let alone her involvement with Sidell? What and how much did they need to know? And how much would endanger them? She didn’t know enough to know what she could tell and to whom before they became targets for the secret service.
Now that Antoine was dead – something that didn’t seem quite real, yet – she didn’t even know how much of what she thought had happened since she’d landed in Avalon was true, and how much had been a lie perpetrated on her. The idea that Antoine would try to kill Darkwater made no sense. Certainly not when Antoine was supposed to be in a dungeon, his life dependent on her good behavior.
Once more, she caught the Duke of Darkside’s glance on her, and she looked down at her feet. The Darkwaters talked around her. It seemed as though they had little more thought than she did on how to rescue someone from the clutches of elves, and on this she had very little to hide from them. She’d had some idea that elves were real here, and their magic here, as opposed to being – as on Earth – mere legends and rumors. But she knew nothing else. She’d heard of treaties between the two realms, but had never sought to inform herself of the details. Her assignments had been among humans.
It seemed as though the conversation was winding down when Gabriel said, “I will speak to my mother.” From the way he set his jaw after saying it, the quick, concerned glance Seraphim shot him, and the more openly concerned and pitying look given him by Caroline, it was obvious that this was neither an easy nor a safe task, but no one said anything to dissuade him. The Dowager Duchess said in a tone of someone who relieves her mind, more than someone who says something that needs saying, “We must get Michael back as soon as may be.”
And Gabriel said, automatically, as though he’d been asked whether he intended to wear clothes outside, “Yes, Your Grace, of course.”
Then Darkwater’s voice rose, composed, forceful, “Miss Felix?”
She looked up at him. She remembered the charade the two brothers had played for the benefit of Darkwater’s mother, and now she wondered if the Dowager Duchess had yet realized there was more to the two of them than they’d been letting on? Or if she’d known it all along? Or if she just now noticed that Seraphim’s wastrel ways, his dissolute living were, at most, a mask upon his real activities? Or perhaps not, Nell thought. Seraphim wouldn’t be the first man to be both heroic and a libertine. The two were so far from being opposed character traits that it wouldn’t even be that unusual. She must remember that when dealing with the two brothers, no matter how much she admired their courage and mutual loyalty. Until she could find a way to make it back to her native world, she must play by Avalon rules, and by Avalon rules her reputation was both valuable and easily lost, so she must keep undeserving males at bay. “Your Grace?” she said a trace of reserve in her nature.
Darkwater’s glance slid sideways at the Dowager Duchess. So, she either didn’t know of the two brothers’ full adventures or Darkwater thought she didn’t know and wished to protect her. She watched as he frowned slightly, then shook his head as though to himself. “There is absolutely no reason for me to ask you questions tonight, he said, though I will have to ask you. I beg you to hold yourself at our disposal. It’s been a very long… few hours for me, since I woke up, and I don’t believe I can stay awake and speak with any semblance of rationality for much longer. I would enjoin you not to teleport anywhere. We would prefer not to fish you out of the trout pond again.” He glanced at his sister. “Caroline, if you would take Miss Felix to the blue room, on your floor, and arrange for it to be made up for her use. Miss Felix, I shall see you at breakfast.”
Nell understood it as what it was: dismissal. She didn’t try to argue it. She knew enough of this world to know that Dukes weren’t argued with. She guessed even that she was being got rid of so they could speak privately, which was probably the point, too, of having Caroline leave with her. As the youngest female, she would be protected by her older brothers, though Nell guessed that not much escaped Miss Ainsling’s shrewd eyes.
The girl opened her mouth and said, “But Michael–” and must have read something in Darkwater’s look, because she stopped her protest and said, “Yes, Seraphim,” and bobbed a curtsey, then waited while Nell did likewise.
Nell followed her down a series of broad passageways and down two grand staircases, before Miss Ainsling opened her mouth to say, “I despite my older brother. My older brothers I should say, since it’s no use their pretending Gabriel isn’t one, as his story made perfectly clear.”
“Despise?” Nell said.
“Oh, yes. They are so stuffy and full of their own consequence. And the way they try to keep me from doing anything, simply because I’m a girl and young is not to be borne. Do you have any brothers, Miss Felix?”
“No,” Nell said. Then sighed. “That is, I don’t know. I was adopted, you see.” And then she thought in terms this world would understand. “I was a foundling, I mean. Abandoned. I don’t know my true parentage.”
Caroline Ainsling sighed. “Oh, that’s lucky.”
Nell must have made some sound – some gasp – in reply. She wasn’t aware of it, but Caroline Ainsling laughed, a brief burble. “I mean, you must understand, that growing up as the Duke of Darkwater’s daughter, and then sister, I was forever being judged by what they did and how they behaved. I understand papa was terribly shocking, and Seraphim is in a good way to being so. And then when Papa… That is, after Papa died, everyone looked at us with pity and wonder, and you know, we were the center of attention, and we could not shed it. I often wished to just go somewhere and hide, but of course, there was nowhere where I wasn’t known. Michael is lucky because he can hide out wiht his machines, as it were, and abstract himself from the real world, but I…” She shrugged. “I shouldn’t be speaking of these things. I am conscious of my good fortune in having a family and a position in society. And I should worry only about recovering Michael, safe and sound. I am a wretch. But so I’ve always been.” And she sighed again, though there was a theatrical element to her chagrin.
But wretch or not, despite her young age, Caroline Ainsling was competent at mustering the staff to make the room assigned Nell very comfortable indeed. It wasn’t – of course – by any means a room such as she’d have had on Earth. There was no bathroom attached. The watercloset – Caroline said, lushing slightly as she pointed – was down the hallway. There was a basin and a hewer of water from which it could be filled, the hewer perpetually renewing, Caroline said, with warm water. And the bed was made with clean freshly aired sheets, and the bedspread was velvet and soft.
Nell suspected that were it seen by daylight and not soft magelight, the room would look shabby. She remembered stories of Darkwater financial difficulties, and she remembered shabby fabric and worn furniture. But by magelight this room looked luxurious.
When all was ready and the servants retreated, Caroline said, “And Seraphim will want to talk to you, of course, which is a great bore. But I’ll have the maid wake you with tea in time to get you down for breakfast in the morning.” And then, as though realizing for the first time that Nell remained in her wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket. “What fools men are. No one gave you time to change.” A self-conscious smile. “But then, neither have I.” She gestured towards the closet. “There is a night dress and robe in there which should fit you. And there are many dresses from which you can choose, come morning. Mama used to keep many in different sizes in all the rooms assigned to ladies. I understand when Papa was alive, we had many house parties, and ladies would slip into the pond or tear their flounces or… there you have it. One of them should fit you. If not, ring the bell and tell the maid what you need and it shall be found. A maid will be sent to dress your hair for breakfast.”
Nell started suspecting the Darkwater house was far more formal than she was prepared to endure. Then she thought that, perforce, it must be. After all the man was a duke.
A moment later Caroline was gone, saying, “I shall have hot chocolate brought to you. You must be very uncomfortable in those soaked clothes. Do you need a maid to help you undress?”
Nell assured the girl she didn’t, and as soon as Caroline was gone, undressed herself quickly and laid out her clothes by the fire, to dry. They were, of course, ruined, but she could wear them to return to London, she supposed.
She had just dressed in a nightgown and dressing gown, both of which smelled faintly of mothball, when there was a scratching at the door. The hot chocolate, Nell thought, and called out, “Come in.”
The door opened, but what came in had never been a maid. She saw him first in the mirror, very pale, his eyes half-lidded a lingering smile in his pale lips. She turned around and said, “Antoine!”
