The First Midnight Spell Read Online Free PDF Page B

he was near. Sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she would see Pru looking at her almost pityingly; Pru knew her too well to think she had so quickly become indifferent to Nat and given up her dreams of loving him. But Pru only thought Elizabeth was being brave. Nobody suspected the truth, not even when the first rumors began that Rebecca Hornby had taken ill.
    â€œWord was they were to marry this summer,” said someone walking by as Elizabeth slopped the pigs. “Nat would’ve brought her back here well before the fall. Now her parents say she’s too fragile to think of marrying for a while yet. Not until she gets better.”
    Hearing that sent a shiver along Elizabeth’s spine. Yes, she’d cast the spell. Yes, she’d wanted Rebecca gone, out of Nat’s life, and out of Elizabeth’s way forever. But it was one thing to do that, another to hear the stories of a girl around her age wasting away from fever.
    She’s not dead, Elizabeth reasoned. I didn’t cast a spell to kill her. She’s just weaker, that’s all. What happens after this is out of my hands.
    Besides, maybe this would be enough. Nat left town less often now, as he couldn’t expect to see Rebecca. Maybe he would forget about the girl from so far away. Elizabeth cast her spell to steal beauty often, now—not so much that the other witches might notice, but enough to be sure that Nat did. His eyes sometimes sought her now even when she hadn’t cast the spell. Wasn’t that proof that he was beginning to put Rebecca Hornby out of his thoughts?
    Sometimes Elizabeth even felt generous. Once Nat had fallen in love with her, once they were set to be married and all the world knew it, Elizabeth could undo the spell on Rebecca. She’d set her free, let her get well again and marry some other boy who would no doubt make her happier in the end. Nobody would ever be the wiser, and no lasting harm would have been done.
    Everything was going perfectly—except that it was taking Nat so long to fall in love with her. Looking at her from time to time was one thing (and very pleasant to see), but it would take more than the occasional glance to make Nat her husband.
    So she tried a few more things, not all of which had anything to do with witchcraft. Elizabeth made sure that her family sat near the Porters in church. She laughed at anything Nat said that might be considered a joke. She played with her young cousins more than usual, and on the common green, so that Nat might see how much she loved having fun, or realize that she would make a good mother.
    Then she went to Widow Porter and asked for extra instruction. “Aunt Ruth is a fine witch, of course.” Elizabeth kept her eyes modestly cast down the entire time. “But she has daughters of her own to care for, and besides, I wish to learn more than she has time to teach.”
    â€œI believe you have a greater appetite for your learning than your aunt has ever possessed,” Widow Porter replied. “As you say, she’s a fine witch, but you are something else altogether, child. There is such power within you.”
    See? Elizabeth thought. I’m worth making an exception for. Make sure I marry your son, and your granddaughters will be the most powerful witches in generations.
    After that, she was invited to spend many afternoons at the Porter home. For hours, she and Widow Porter would go over more complicated spells, working together to cast them with ever-greater skill.
    â€œYou always seek the most powerful memory,” Widow Porter murmured one afternoon as they practiced. “That’s natural, but it’s not always the best thing.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t I seek the most powerful memory? Doesn’t that make the spell more powerful, too?”
    Widow Porter nodded. “Of course. But sometimes finesse and subtlety matter more than power. A hammer’s more powerful than a needle, but sometimes you