Abby the Witch (33 page)

He'd said
goodbye to the Princess in a formal fashion, bending down on one
knee and kissing her hand. She had almost exploded with excitement,
something he would have found quite cute before he'd gone back in
time. But now he was finding the usual admiration of women somewhat
hallow. It was simply getting in the way of being affective.

The Princess
had mumbled something about him coming back to the Palace soon, and
he'd smiled in reply. He wanted to keep his options open, but he
also wanted to get out of the Palace for a bit. While it was true
that whatever secret both he and Abby had to find may be in the
Palace, he needed sometime away, a moment to convince her that what
he was planning was the best possible action for the both of
them.

The Palace and
the future could wait for now.

He found her
finally, leaning against the main wall separating the Palace from
the rest of Bridgestock. Charlie was by her feet licking himself
quietly. The cold night wind was howling past them, bringing a
salty gust of sea air and chilling the back of his neck.

She was
standing there in a thin dress without a shawl or jacket, her back
pressed against the wall – she must be freezing. 'Abby,' he called
to her as he took off his jacket.

She looked up,
eyes hooded with unmistakable worry.

'Abby, you
must be freezing,' he draped his jacket over her shoulders before
she could protest.'

'I hadn't
really noticed,' her voice had that distant quality again. It was
painfully easy to tell when she was thinking. The rest of her shut
down and she peered into the distance lost in her own world.

'Your lips are
blue!' he put out his hands to rub her shoulders, but dropped them
to his sides, too awkward to go through with it. 'I think we really
need to get in out of this wind.'

'And go
where?' her voice was blank.

'I…
technically I am allowed to stay at the Palace tonight….'

'What are you
suggesting?' she looked up at him slowly, not bothering to pull his
jacket closer to her, just letting it drape limply from her softly
shaking shoulders.

'I,' he put
his finger up to his collar and loosened it. 'I simply mean we
should find a warm place to discuss what we do from
here.'

'Oh.'

A moment
passed and Pembrake became aware of a softly croaking cricket off
in the grass somewhere. Abby was being very quiet….

'Look, Abby, I
really think you should come in out of the cold. It seems too late
to journey all the way to Martha's tonight.'

'Too
late?'

'You're lips
are blue, Abby – they're actually blue! Would you please just come
in out of the night?' He put out a hand to shepherd her, but she
did not seem to want to move.

'I'm not going
back into the Palace with you,' she looked up at him, 'if you still
want to do what it is that you wanted to do before.'

It took him a
moment. 'Look we'll discuss it inside, just come in with me.'

'No,
Pembrake,' she shrugged off his hand, 'I won't.'

'Abby,' he
clenched his teeth against the biting wind and her infuriating
obstinacy. 'You are going to freeze out here!'

'Better to be
cold and right than warm and wrong.'

'Abby.'

'Pembrake.'

'Abby, please
don't do this, just come inside.'

'Pembrake, please don't do this. It won't work. You'll just
end up dead and I'll be stuck here alone.'

He swallowed
at the shivering emotion behind her eyes. 'If I don't do it, then
what future will I have anyway?'

'One with m-'
she stopped suddenly then took a breath, 'a sure one.'

'I don't want
to be certain, I want to be happy. I want us to be
happy.'

She looked up
at him again, most of her hair having escaped from her bun and
cascading around her face like tendrils of crinkled ribbon. Her
grey eyes were flickering in the bright light of the full moon, her
dress shiny and almost reflective like a deep pool of water.

She was quite
beautiful Abigail Gail, witch of Bridgestock. When she wasn’t
pretending to be angry, when she wasn’t pretending to be distant,
when she wasn’t pretending to be old. It had just taken him a very
long time to see through to what was underneath.

'Abby, I…' he
wasn't sure of a thing was he? His world seemed to change before
him like a mirage, constantly shifting, constantly wavering. Things
he thought sure of were melting before him.

The leaves of
the trees that hung over the wall were rustling in the breeze. But
it was strange, he realised as he almost unconsciously took a step
forward, strange how they seemed to slow down as if time itself was
drawing to a stop.

He leant down.
She leant forward.

'Abby!'

They broke
apart.

'Oh, Abby, yoo
hoo! I thought I saw you over here girl!' it was Martha and she was
trotting along the wall towards them, 'Oh there you are!'

Pembrake
fussed with the cuffs of his shirt.

'What you two
doing then?' Martha bustled all the way up to them and put her
hands on her hips and continued to peer excitedly as if she were
looking at exotic animals at the zoo.

'I'd say you'd
be cold out here wearing that flimsy dress there, Abby, but you
look quite warm really…' Martha slowed for a moment, her eyes
narrowing obviously. Watching Martha think was like watching a
children's actor. Every thought or word was accompanied by its
equivalent action.

'I'll give you
one guess,' Charlie piped up suddenly, his voice absolutely
brimming with sarcasm.

Martha sucked
in the largest breath the world had seen and it seemed certain she
would pop. 'They weren't about to kiss, were they? Oh I didn't just
interrupt that, did I?'

'Thankfully,'
drawled Charlie. 'You prevented me from having to bite them.'

Martha
squealed and clutched her hands to her face. 'Oh what a rotter I
am! What a terrible thing to interrupt! I'm so sorry!'

She was so
terribly sincere it sounded like she'd killed his dog.

He cleared his
throat and scratched his head. 'Martha, is there something you
want?'

Martha had
that crazed romantic-look in her eyes, and it was insanely off
putting.

'Oh, oh, yes,'
his words were apparently breaking her away from whatever fantasy
she was playing out in her head, 'I just came to tell Abby that
she's welcome to stay at the Palace tonight, what with the Ball
going late and all, and the fact I won't be finished here too late,
and what with her wanting to get to bed early and all, because
she'd probably tired and all, you know?'

Pembrake shook
his head and tried to follow. 'I think…. Yes, that's a
great idea.'

Martha nodded,
'I thought you'd like it,' she winked worryingly.

'But we aren't
going home?' Abby was clutching his jacket close now. 'But-'

'Don't worry,
child, I've cleared it with the ladies in the kitchen – it's all
alright with us. I've made you up a room in the servant's quarters.
You are my guest, my dear – no one's going to mind.'

'So we aren't
going back to your house then?' Abby's voice had a cute little
waver.

'No, dear,'
Martha stretched her arms out, 'you're staying right here with him
tonight.'

'Oh my.'

Martha was
brimming with enthusiasm. 'Oh this is just perfect, dear. It'll
take us staff a while and a bit to clean up after this party – so I
won't imagine I'll be getting you back to the house until
oh… late afternoon.'

'But won't I
be in trouble if I stay at the palace?'

'Depends on
what trouble you'd be wanting to court, dear,' she winked
again.

Pembrake
winced.

'But, I…' Abby
looked at him, and it was clear what she was thinking. She thought
he was going to off the Colonel the first chance he got and be in
prison by the morning. He wasn't that stupid. 'I just think we
could get into trouble,' she finished weakly.

'Oh don't
worry, dove. What's meant to be is meant to be. And you might be
finding you like that kind of trouble.’ Martha actually stage
winked. ‘Now,' she took a huge step backwards, 'I will just leave
you two to finish what you were doing, and you come to the kitchen
when you're done doing-'

Pembrake
cleared his throat so loud that he sounded like a fog horn.

Martha
sauntered off laughing merrily.

'Look, I'm
following her; I don't want to have any part of this.' Charlie
trotted off after Martha, leaving just the two of them.

'We should… go
inside,' he said after a moment.

'I guess so,'
her eyes were darting around like minnows in the shallows.

'Yeah.… But
you won't, um, do anything tonight?'

His cheeks
went slightly red. 'Oh… ah – no, I won't do anything regarding my,
ah, plan for the future. Not tonight.'

'That's
good….'

'Yes,' he said
clumsily.

'Okay… well we
should go inside then.'

'Yes… I guess
that would be a good idea.'

She nodded.
'Okay.'

'We'll go
inside,' he repeated stupidly, 'right.'

They both
walked off towards the castle.

Never in his
life had Pembrake felt quite as awkward as he did now. But somehow
he found a way to smile.

Abby grabbed
at her blanket and pulled it further up until it was flush under
her chin. Being in bed was bliss. Yes, there was no chance that she
was going to get any sleep tonight, but that wasn't the point.
She had been freezing out there.

Charlie nudged
closer to her, purring away.

She stared up
at the ceiling, wide-eyed and possibly in shock. She'd never been
in shock before, not that she'd known of anyway, but neither had
she ever felt like this.

This was so
new.

Her and
Pembrake had parted ways once they'd walked up to the kitchen
doors. They hadn't spoken much on the short walk there. Which was
good; she would not have been able to talk at all if pressed.

Once they'd
reached the door, she'd offered him his jacket back, but he
wouldn't let her give it to him. He insisted that she take it for
the night. She hadn't bothered to fight that.

Then they'd
stopped at the door. There hadn't been too many people around, it
had almost been like it was just the two of them again.

Pembrake had
placed his hands into the pockets of his pants and had moved around
a bit, shuffling his feet against the gravel.

Abby gripped
the blankets tighter until her knuckles grew stiff.

Pembrake had
appeared to be on the verge of saying something, or doing
something, perhaps.

'I… will see
you tomorrow?'

'Yes,' she'd
squeaked, rocking backwards on her feet. 'I… guess you will.'

He'd nodded.
'You should get inside,' he'd pointed behind him, 'because you look
so cold.'

'Oh yes.'

That had
appeared to be that, so she'd moved to walk past him, trying to
concentrate very hard on walking.

'Abby,' he'd
reached out a hand, ‘one last thing.'

Oh how those
simple words had sent a shiver down her spine.

'Y-yes?'

'I…. I'll see
you in the morning… and we… will discuss things from there.'

'Oh.'

That was
it. Whether that was all he had meant to say, she did not know. But
after that they had gone their separate ways.

It was very
hard to admit this, Abby realised, but she had… wanted something
else.

Her cheeks
burned at the very thought of it.

But she would
see him tomorrow, right? There was something in that….

In the morning
Abby woke to find nothing in particular. What had she been
expecting? Nothing, she convinced herself as she rose. She did not
have a mounting sense of expectation, the back of her neck was not
itching, nor had her heart settled into an elevated rate.

She made her
way through the kitchens to meet up with Martha. She wasn't looking
for breakfast particularly, just someone to talk to. Someone other
than Charlie, that was, who seemed happy to tell her she was an
idiot every time she opened her mouth. Apparently he did not want
to talk about Pembrake, but she tried to assure him that she had no
intention of discussing the Commander.

She just
wanted to talk.

So she walked
into the kitchens looking for a friendly face. It was busy as usual
with chefs, kitchen aids, and maids dashing about. So busy, in
fact, that Abby quickly found herself overwhelmed. She tried to
backtrack but bumped into something. 'Sorry!' she mumbled, turning
quickly.

'You're
alright,' a man dressed in simple clothes holding onto a bowl of
what appeared to be chocolate icing, nodded at her kindly.

'Sorry,' she
repeated again, there was something strangely familiar about the
man.

He nodded
again, appearing to swallow a smile. 'Ah, you said that already.
It's still okay.'

'Oh… good,'
she realised she was staring at him strangely, but he was just so
familiar.

'Yes?' The man
proceeded to lick the end of his spoon.

He was older
than Abby, though not by much, perhaps in his late 20s. He was
fairly plain-looking by most standards. He didn't have a chiselled
jaw line, nor a droopy fringe. He didn't have muscles popping out
from under his shirt, nor did he hold himself like he was a coiled
spring.

He seemed
normal. His smile wasn't bent up at the edges, he didn't look up at
people from under his eyebrows, nor did he allow his eyes to
smoulder. He looked honest and genuine and his smile was… warm.

'You're
staring at me a little,' he pointed at her with his spoon.

'S –sorry. Oh
I… well you just look familiar, that's all.'

'Oh. Well as
long as that's all it is, we can sort that out.’ He hooked his bowl
under one harm and held out his free hand. 'Prince Patrick.'