Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins (29 page)

Clement poured more alcohol into his glass
and drank it down, “My father owns this town. Nothing is going to
go wrong,” he slurred.

Jeremiah let out a hard laugh,
“
Everything
is going to go wrong! Listen to yourselves. You
are planning to kill an innocent girl simply because she rejected
you, and you have the audacity to believe that you will get away
with it . . . I want nothing to do with this,” he shook his head as
he stood to leave the table.

The oldest man stood and pulled a long sword
from his waistband, “He will talk if we let him go,” he growled, as
he brandished his blade about the room.

Clement put his hand on the wrist of Sutphin,
who held the point of the cutlass upon Jeremiah's throat, “He is
still our friend. Put that bloody thing down,” he swayed.

Zachariah came out of the shadows holding
rope in his hands, “I am afraid that you will have to stay here,”
his tone was oozing with condescension as he advanced toward
Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was shorter than the other boys
were, but he was broader and much stronger. They would not bind him
without a fight.

“You are all despicable,” Jeremiah roared in
anger as Zachariah moved in.

He pushed hard against Zachariah; shoved him
back into the other men, and he bolted for the steps that led out
of the cellar. Clement rebounded and sprung at Jeremiah, but he was
anticipating it and threw a handful of cellar dirt in Clement’s
eyes. The boy stammered backward and Jeremiah kicked him hard in
the stomach before he bounded up the steps.

He had almost reached the top step and was
grasping for the doorknob, when two hands caught his ankles. It was
Sutphin. He had maneuvered under the staircase, climbed up onto
barrels that were stored underneath the stairs, and stuck his hands
through the gap between the steps. The despicable pirate pulled
Jeremiah's feet out from under him. Jeremiah flailed to steady
himself, but Sutphin pulled even harder, causing the boy to lose
his balance.

He tumbled backwards down the steps and a
loud
thud
resonated throughout the dank cellar. The brave
young man's body fell limp against the dirt floor, his head
surrounded by a halo of dark red liquid. He was dead.

I awoke covered in sweat and screaming.

“What is it child?” Martha asked
breathlessly. I had startled her out of sleep.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but even as I
struggled to remember, the images were quickly fading away.

I shook my head, “I, I . . . cannot
remember.”

“What was the dream about?” Martha
pressed.

“I don't know,” I said through tears, “but it
was horrible. I can still feel it. It was so sad and terrible.
Martha, something bad has happened . . . I know it.”

Martha pet my hair, “Dear child, it was
probably a dream of the Lenape girl. Please try to sleep. Tomorrow
is an important day.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Late Afternoon

My mother stood behind me and brushed my hair
as Martha laced up my stay, or as Greer would say,
'corset.
'
I found it hard to breathe, and held onto my bedpost as I felt my
ribs caving in toward each other.

After my mother had brushed my hair
thoroughly, she started to roll my hair high onto the crown of my
head. She pinned pieces of my hair as she went and then pulled two
long curled strands around either side of my neck, letting them
fall over my shoulders.

My garnet necklace sparkled in the mirror as
I reached up to touch it. Martha then applied powder to my face and
rouge to my cheeks and lips.

I slipped into my dress. It was crimson red
silk and on the corner of my cape, right above my shoulder, my
mother had sewn on my holly and ivy embroidery. Looking at it now,
I realized how beautiful it was and why my mother had insisted that
I take great care in sewing it. The dress was adorned with black
lace that accented the cuffs and bodice. In contrast, the corset
was a dark cream color as was the underskirt. I was not expecting
my mother to make such a mature dress for me. I felt beautiful.

“Thank you so much. This is the most
beautiful dress I have ever seen,” I said, as I reached for my
mother's hand.

“You look stunning Aislin,” my mother kissed
my cheek, “You are all grown up.”

Martha dabbed her eyes with my dressing robe,
“You look like a queen. I can't believe it . . . I remember when
you were born. You were so little . . . and loud,” she laughed.

I could not stop looking in the mirror. I
felt as though I was staring at a different person. I wondered what
Greer would think, and I felt my heart start to flutter.

“The carriage is here,” my father called up
to us.

My father opened the front door for me and
escorted me to the carriage that was waiting in front of our house.
I felt my heart beat fast as we reached the carriage door, but when
it swung opened my exhilaration quickly shifted to confusion and
disappointment.

“Hello Miss Aislin. I will be your escort
tonight,” Jack jumped out of the carriage to greet me.

I looked back at my father, “Where is Greer?”
I demanded.

My father grimaced at my question and looked
down at his feet, “Greer was preoccupied tonight. He sends his
regrets, but arranged for Jack to be your escort.”

At that, he lifted me into the carriage,
leaving Jack to scramble in after me. I thought I was going to cry
and was trying not to ruin all the work that my mother and Martha
had done with my hair and makeup.

Jack handed me a kerchief, “I am delighted to
be your escort tonight…and I am sorry that you are disappointed
about Mr. Ruthven.”

“It is not your fault. I was not told that
Greer would not be with me, and I guess I am a little bit hurt. But
I am glad for your company,” I added the last part out of
kindness.

In truth, I just wanted to go home—and the
night had not even begun.

My words seemed to lift Jack's spirits and he
started whistling as we rode along to the Governor's mansion.

“Have you seen Abigail since her wedding?” he
asked me when he was finally out of song and the silence had become
too stifling.

“No,” I replied, “Have you?”

“No.” Then he started whistling again.

********************

The carriage pulled up to the front steps of
the estate and Jack hopped out first. He then offered me his hand
and guided me passed the guards that stood on either side of the
stairway.

The house was grand. It stood three stories
high and had an expanse that could fit my home in it at least ten
times. Its brick structure seemed to glow a reddish hue as the
guards' lanterns cast light upon it. Music was pouring out of the
house and laughter was carrying through the air, as candlelight
danced in every window, making the home look as though faeries had
enchanted it. This was a Christmas Ball, and evergreen garland was
wrapped around the four white columns that framed the entrance,
while holly berries and mistletoe adorned every single
banister.

We walked up the great steps and a doorman
dressed in a grey uniform, held the large doors wide open for us,
“Good evening. May I have your invitations please?” he sniffed
haughtily.

Jack handed him both of our envelopes, our
names were checked and crossed off, and we were admitted into the
beautiful house. As soon as we crossed the grand threshold, the
fragrance of bayberry candles and evergreen sprigs filled the air.
The warmth of numerous fireplaces kept the home comfortable and
inviting.

Jack's mouth twisted into a slight smile,
“You look lovely tonight Aislin.”

“Thank you, Jack. You look very handsome as
well.” He did look very nice in his powder blue silk dress clothes,
and I imagined how lovely he and Abigail would look together. She
would love to see Jack in such fine attire.

We stopped at the cloakroom, and Jack hung my
cloak and his jacket next to each other. The narrow room was
crammed tight with at least one hundred cloaks and coats. The sweet
sound of the violin was pulling us towards it, and through the
archway that led into the main hall of the home, we could see
couples dancing the minuet.

Jack offered me his arm, but as we went to
move into the ballroom, a hand pulled hard on my wrist and yanked
me backwards. Jack stopped abruptly as Zachariah and his band of
conspirators stepped out of the shadows.

“Well, my dear Aislin, you look lovely
tonight,” he said in a mocking tone, while leaning in to kiss
me.

I pulled back and slapped his face as hard as
I could. I glanced back and noticed that Alden and Clement were
restraining Jack.

Remembering that ever since they were tots
these boys always traveled in a pack of four, I observed that
someone was missing,

“Where is Jeremiah?” I demanded, recollecting
how, in his own way, Jeremiah had stood up for me at the
tavern.

Zachariah stammered at the question, “He had
an accident,” he replied abruptly.

At these words, Clement and Alden seemed to
winced, and a faint memory tugged at my mind. A sickening feeling
swept over me as I began to remember my dream from the other
night.

“What did you do to him?” I pressed, as
Zachariah tried to pull me away from the gaze of party guests.

“Well, let's just say that we had a
disagreement and in the end . . . I won,” he said flatly.

I turned my attention to Alden. He was
looking away from me, refusing to make eye contact.

“How could you hurt him?” I choked out the
words in a disgusted tone.

The boys twitched, but did not release their
grip on Jack.

“We didn't mean to . . . it was his own
fault,” Alden growled back at me.

“Shut up,” Zachariah hissed at his
friends.

“Let us go,” I yelled.

He was determined to get me outside, and was
not loosening his hold on me. The music and the crowd had
sufficiently drowned out my screams. No one was going to help
us.

Zachariah turned his attention to Jack, “So
you too are in pursuit of my sweet Aislin's hand?” hatred seeped
through his words.

Jack did not reply. Instead he struggled hard
against the two boys that held him in place.

“You should know Jack, that our precious
Aislin in not pure. No, see I have already had her. She is
mine
.”

“Liar!” I snapped at him, “I would never give
myself to you. I would rather die then have your vileness near me!”
I did not even care who heard, “Now let us go!” I bellowed.

Zachariah leaned his cheek upon my head and
wrapped his still bandaged hand around my corset. “No, no Aislin. I
think it is a much better idea for you and me to take a walk in the
woods. You remember how much fun that can be, don't you?”

He took his free hand and brushed my neck,
his fingers landing on my necklace. My vision from Samhain came
back to me, of him pulling my necklace from me, and it shattering
on the floor, the magic protection broken.

I felt panicked, but I thought of all I had
learned at Martha's in the past few days. I recalled that Zachariah
always carried a flint in his pocket. I concentrated on it and then
started to smell something burning.

Zachariah yowled in pain as he realized his
breeches were on fire, he and his friends relinquished their grips,
and went to pat out the smoke. As they did so, Jack and I seized
the opportunity to escape into the crowd.

“Just remember Aislin, you are mine and I
would warn you to not go about dancing with anyone else tonight,”
he called after me, as we fled into the ballroom.

“What happened back there?” Jack asked, wide
eyed and looking to me for answers.

“Oh, I uhh . . .” but it did not matter. I
did not have to finish my sentence. Jack's gaze was transfixed on
the dance floor, as was mine. There, in the midst of dancers, was
Abigail with her new husband.

Amongst the beauty of the scene before us, of
the women in their colorful gowns twirling like flowers upon a
still pound, amongst the men in their finest clothes and the sound
of the sweet instruments, they appeared as complete opposites. He
looked as old as she did young, and he looked as miserable as she
did happy. She was wearing a beautiful pink and cream silk gown. He
was in royal blue silk with gold trim and lace coming up at the
collar. I thought of Greer's comments regarding this man, and I
knew he was right. Indeed, Sutphin looked very much like a captain
of a pirate ship.

I watched as he forcefully led Abigail across
the dance floor, pushing and pulling her in harsh maneuvers as
though she was a rag doll. Her focus was on ensuring that everyone
noticed them, while he seemed to be noticing every other woman that
passed by. Finally, Abigail saw us, and her expression went for
pompous to outright rage.

I had not even thought of the way Abigail
would react to seeing Jack and I together. After all, it was not as
if we were interested in each other.

The minuet ended, and they went back to the
table where the rest of the Marthalers sat. She glanced back in our
direction. Her cheeks flushed bright red in anger and then she
pulled her attention away and ignored us, doting upon her new
husband. We watched as she went to kiss his cheek and he threw up
his arm to block her, pushing her chair away from his and in the
process, jolting her neck backwards.

“Not in public,” he growled at her.

Abigail cast her gaze downward and did not
say another word. As she fanned herself, the lace from her sleeve
moved upward and a dark purple bruise peeked out.

Jack, seeing the marks upon her, lurched
forward ready to tackle the horrible old man. I grabbed his
arm,

“That is her husband. There is nothing we can
do,” I whispered, reminding him of our powerless state.