The Witch Hunter's Tale(30)

“Now, George, why don’t you call for the sweetmeats?” I asked at last, and joined him in staring at my wine.

* * *

After we had finished dessert and forgotten, for the moment at least, George’s importunity, Martha, Will, and I prepared to walk home. While we waited for the servant to bring our cloaks, George joined us in the entry hall and cleared his throat.

“Lady Bridget, might I speak to you in the parlor?” He opened the door, and I followed him through.

“George, there is no need for you to apologize,” I said before he could speak. “You were trying to help me, and did what you thought was best. It is what friends do for each other. We will find a solution in the morning, but now it is quite late.”

“Er, that is not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He shifted from foot to foot as if he were anxious to use the jakes.

“What is it then?” I could hear the edge in my voice. If he thought I’d forgotten about his audacity in making me the city’s Witch Searcher, he was wrong.

“Lady Bridget, you know that I have admired you ever since you came to York. I have always held you in the highest esteem, and value your friendship above that of any other woman. And I do not think I am overstepping my bounds if I say that you truly are a handsome woman.”

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach, and suddenly I was the one who needed to use the jakes. “George…,” I started to interrupt, but he would not be stopped.

“Under the best of circumstances, we would make a powerful couple, and I would still make this proposal,” he continued. “But even if my maneuver against Joseph and Rebecca is successful, the circumstances remain most dire, for they will not give up so easily.”

He paused for a moment, and I steeled myself for what I knew he would say next.

“I think it would be best for both of us if we were to marry,” he said at last. “You, Martha, Elizabeth, and even Hannah would benefit from my protection. And I would…” He trailed off as he tried to think what benefit — beyond my wealth of course — that he would reap from such an arrangement.

“George,” I repeated, but once again he ignored me.

“I will not have an answer tonight,” he said. “Whether it is yea or nay, I will wait until you have had the chance to think about my offer at length. Please tell me you will consider it.”

I could only nod in response.

“And in the event you decline,” he said, “I trust you will keep the matter between us.” He nodded curtly and hurried from the room as if he were a guest who had pocketed the silver plate from supper.

Martha poked her head into the parlor, a puzzled look on her face.

“Later,” I said before she could even ask the question. “Outside.”

Once we were outside, however, we found conversation to be nearly impossible, for the evening had brought a gale-wind that threatened to tear the clothes from our bodies. We would have had to shout in order to be heard. We bent before the snow and wind, and trudged toward our home.

Just before we reached St. Michael le Belfrey, I thought I heard a cry from behind us, and stopped to look back. I could tell from Will’s and Martha’s reactions that they had heard it as well, and the three of us peered into the dark.

“What was that?” Will shouted over the wind. I shook my head.

“It must have been the wind,” Martha replied. “When it passes through the belfries it moans something strange. And what bloody-minded fool would be out in this if he could help it?”

I cast my eyes behind us one more time, but nothing moved save the blowing snow. “Let’s go,” I said at last, and we hurried home.

The three of us tumbled through the door, eager to put the cold wind and the terrible, distant cry—if that is what it was—behind us. Hannah took our cloaks and hurried us into the parlor where a fire burned bright and warm. “I’ll be back with some chocolate,” she said, and bustled off to the kitchen.

“So what did he need to speak to you about?” Will asked. I studied his face before I spoke, wondering if he’d known about George’s proposal before I did. It did not take him long to confess.

“I warned him not to ask you,” Will said desperately. “Not in that way.”

Martha looked between us in utter confusion. “What are you talking about, Will? What happened?”

“Mr. Breary had a second proposal for me, didn’t he, Will?” I said. “And when you came to me this afternoon, you knew what he would ask me but you said nothing.”

“Aunt Bridget, please,” he cried. “I told him he should not ask you, but he would not be deterred. There was nothing I could do!”