I opened my mouth to protest when Brigid’s fire stirred unexpectedly in my core. Frowning, I pressed a hand to my abdomen. That’s odd...Not since I was first learning to master my gift had it ever come to life unbidden.
Susanna’s expression softened. “Don’t fight it, Selah. Love is a powerful feeling, and can be a bit overwhelming at first. Just follow your heart, and you’ll not go wrong.” She patted her belly. “Perhaps by next summer it’ll be your own babe coming into the world.”
I gulped hard as more fire nipped at my ribs. For heaven’s sake, what is wrong with me? Jumping to my feet, I wrapped my arms tightly around my midsection. “That last wine didn’t agree with me. I...I should probably be going.”
We were standing so close, it was impossible to escape her penetrating look. “You are looking a bit warm in the cheeks.” She chuckled softly to herself as I followed her back into the sitting room.
Chapter Nine
The Witch’s Bottle
Henry brought the carriage to a stop at the head of the stone walkway that led up to Brighmor’s front door. Gracefully alighting from his seat, he walked around to help me down.
“How are you feeling?” he asked with real concern.
I drew in a deep breath. “Much better. The night air did me good.” Along with no more unexpected visits from Brigid’s fire. The initial panic had subsided during the ride home, and I now attributed the entire episode to a fit of nerves brought on by the combination of Susanna’s mistaken observation and too much wine.
As the servants had neglected to leave any lanterns burning outside, Henry offered his arm for me to better negotiate the flagstones in my heels. “In that case, are you up for a game of chess before bed?” he asked.
I smiled at the suggestion. “Yes, I would. But be warned, I’m feeling rather lucky tonight—”
My right foot unexpectedly cracked against something hard, sending me sprawling forward. Fortunately Henry grabbed me by the waist and set me back on my feet before any further damage could be sustained, like my face slamming into the stone steps.
“Damnation!” I cursed, temporarily forgetting any semblance of manners due to the sharp pain radiating through my toe and up into my leg. It didn’t take an expert healer to know there was considerable damage that would be grieving me for some days to come.
“Are you hurt or just angry?” Henry asked with a mix of concern and amusement as another oath escaped my lips.
“Both!” I snapped, irritated by his tone. My foot could not bear weight without redoubling the pain and I carefully lowered myself onto the first step. Once situated, I stared into the darkness, hoping to identify what had tripped me. “Can you see what I kicked?”
“There’s nothing here,” he said, staring at the walkway. “Most likely you tripped on an uneven stone.”
“That’s impossible. My father was meticulous about keeping that path entirely level.”
Mrs. Ryan must have heard our voices—or my rather vociferous exclamations—for she stepped outside holding a lantern. “Have you been hurt?” she asked.
“Only a stubbed toe,” I said, downplaying my injury. “Mrs. Ryan, will you give Henry your light?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She handed over the lantern.
It took but a minute for Henry to find what had caused me to stumble. “It’s what I thought. This stone here is raised slightly higher on one side.”
“No,” Mrs. Ryan said, before I had a chance to repeat myself. “The late Master Kilbrid would not have allowed it. When my mistress was a young girl and first learning to walk, she tripped right here and knocked herself senseless. Her father was so angry that he fell into a rage and ordered every stone to be torn out and put in anew. Ever since it has been kept as smooth as the kitchen table.”
“That may be,” Henry said politely, “but this stone is what caught Selah’s foot.”
Without my having to ask, Henry got down on his hands and knees for a better look. From my seat on the step I watched him try to wiggle the stone back into place. This tactic soon proved futile, and giving up, he lifted the stone altogether to see what was impeding his efforts. Placing it to the side, he moved the lantern closer and then ran his fingers over the wet ground. “The dirt has been recently disturbed.”
My thoughts turned at once to the vague memory of an animal scratching about while I slept, and I peered up at my bedroom windows. As Henry began pushing the loose dirt aside, I tried to find some reason behind this newest development. “No animal could have moved that stone,” I said. “Well, maybe a bear, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would a bear want to bury something under the walkway? Have you found anything yet?”
“Yes, I’ve got something,” he said at last, lifting a small bundle from its hiding place. “And it isn’t the work of any bears.”
I strained my eyes as he brushed away the remaining dirt, revealing an exterior of oilcloth bound up with twine.