Witch Finder Read Online Free PDF Page B

her back and then she withdrew her hand from Sebastian’s.
    ‘Goodnight, Mr Knyvet,’ she said. Her voice was low, so low she thought perhaps he would not even hear her. But he did.
    ‘Goodnight . . . Rosa,’ he said softly, close to her ear. Then, as he straightened, ‘Do you ever ride?’
    ‘I’m – I’m sorry?’ she stammered.
    ‘I ride most days in the Row. I wondered if you were ever there?’
    ‘I . . .’ Rosa bit her lip. She had barely taken Cherry out since they had come to London. Riding in the Row just wasn’t riding – what she wanted was to gallop across the muddy fields and lanes at home, not trot decorously up and down while others cast aspersions at her shabby, old-fashioned habit.
    ‘Yes, often,’ Mama said firmly. ‘Rosa is quite devoted to riding. Her horse is lame just at the moment, but I have no doubt you will see her in the Row soon enough.’ She smiled. It should have been pleasant, but Rosa saw only her teeth and the vein that stood out in her throat. ‘Goodnight, Mr Knyvet – Sebastian .’
    ‘Goodnight, Mrs Greenwood.’ Sebastian turned and took his top hat from James, who was waiting in the doorway with his coat and cane. He raised his hat to Mama, nodded to Alexis, and left.
    Mama watched from the window as he made his way down the dark street, the thick yellow fog swirling in his wake, until it closed around him and it was as if he’d never been there at all. Then she turned to Rosa and her face was hard.
    ‘Tomorrow you will ask Clemency to send for her dressmaker, and we will fit you for a new habit.’
    In the middle of the night Rosa woke. It was very late; she wasn’t sure how late, but gone midnight. But a light showed faint and flickering beneath her bedroom door, from a corridor that should have been dark. Impossible that the servants would be up so late. And it wasn’t Alexis; she could hear his snores coming from the other end of the house.
    Gathering her nightgown, she swung her legs out of bed and stood, her heart beating in her throat. It was stupid to be scared. If it was burglars, she had more weapons than they did.
    Rosa whispered a spell beneath her breath, a charm to give herself courage. And then she opened her bedroom door.
    The corridor was dark, but she could see where the light was coming from: the study door was ajar and the glow of a candle cast a long golden streak across the threadbare hallway runner. Rosa padded closer, her bare feet silent on the soft rug. As she drew near she took a deep breath and held it, tiptoeing the last few feet.
    It was the book she saw first, open on the study table. It was bound in thick fading leather with a small brass lock and gold embossed letters that read The Holy Roman Catholic Bible . But it was not a Bible. That cover was only for the servants. Inside, beneath the lock, was something very different. Not the family Bible, but the family Grimoire, handed down from mother to daughter, with spells added by every generation, notes on poultices, scribbled additions in the margins: If rue cannot be found, then the dryed herb will serve very well, only let the mix be steep’d another night  . . .
    It was the most precious possession in the whole house – and the most private. And someone was reading it. In secret.
    Rosa flung open the door with a furious bang. Then her mouth fell open.
    Her mother looked up, her face white, her eyes wide and full of alarm. She was in her nightgown, her hair in a thick plait down her back.
    ‘Wh— Rosa!’ She let out a shaking, exasperated breath. ‘Good Lord, child. What are you doing sneaking around in the middle of the night?’
    ‘I could ask the same! What are you doing with the Grimoire?’
    ‘It is none of your business!’ Mama snapped. She slammed the book shut, flipped the brass lock. But not before Rosa had caught sight of the heading: A Silver-Tonguéd Charme – to Persuade the Reluctant to yr Course.
    ‘Mama . . .’ They stared at each other in