Read Online Witch Hunt (Witch Finder 2) by Ruth Warburton - Free Book Online
Authors: Ruth Warburton
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hungry; we haven’t eaten all day. Is there anything she can have?’
‘Cook’s gone home,’ the woman said sourly. Luke pulled out another coin and she looked at it for a moment and then tossed her head. ‘But you can ’ave bread and cheese. Not down ’ere, we’re closing up. I’ll bring it up.’
‘Bread and cheese? That’s the best you can manage for a shilling?’
‘Take it or leave it.’
‘At least give us a glass of beer.’
‘All right. Bread, cheese and beer. And you’re lucky with that. The room’s the second floor, right-hand door as you come up the stairs. Don’t open the window, the catch is broke. And here, take this.’
She shoved a lighted oil lamp into Luke’s hand and Rosa followed him up the rickety stairs to the attic.
At the top of the second flight they paused for a moment, catching their breath, and then Luke pulled the key out of his pocket and set it in the door. But it was not locked – as he went to turn it, the door swung open of its own accord and they went inside, Luke ducking his head as he passed under the low door frame.
He set the oil lamp on the mantelpiece, turned up the wick and they surveyed the room.
‘I know it’s not what you’re used to . . .’ Luke said uneasily. There was no space for anything except the bed, pushed hard against the wall, a single stool that doubled as a bedside table, and a narrow washstand wedged into the alcove by the fire.
‘It’s fine,’ Rosa said in a low voice. But the only thing she could think as she gazed around the cramped chamber was how small the bed was. Smaller than her bed at home. The thought of her and Luke sharing the narrow mattress . . . She felt blood flood her face again and turned away, hoping he couldn’t see her furious blush and misunderstand it for shame or anger. She walked to the window to press her face against the cold glass, trying to cool her burning cheeks and quell the ache in her head. He’s Luke , she told herself as she stared out into the night. He is your brother . For now.
‘Rosa . . .’ Luke came up behind her, and in the dark reflection of the window she saw his hand hover over her shoulder, not quite touching. ‘I—’
‘Bread and cheese.’ The voice came from the doorway. ‘And beer.’ Rosa turned to see the landlady bang the plate down on the stool by the bed, and the tankard after it, the beer slopping as she did.
‘Thank you,’ Rosa said automatically and without thinking. Almost at the door, the landlady stopped and looked back, as if puzzled. Then she shook her head and left, banging the door shut behind her.
Rosa felt herself go hot and then cold with horror as she realized what she’d done.
‘Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry – I forgot! Do you think . . .’
‘It doesn’t matter. It was just “thank you”,’ Luke said, but his face was uneasy. ‘She won’t remember tomorrow. But we should get away as early as we can. Before dawn, if possible.’
He sat on the edge of the bed, the springs squeaking, and rubbed his face, his hands rasping against his unshaven cheeks.
‘Well, at least she didn’t stint on the bread.’
It was true. The cheese was nothing but a cracked noggin, ‘fit for the mice’, Mrs Ramsbottom would have said. But the bread was piled high and was fresh, or reasonably so. Rosa took the piece that Luke held out to her, but suddenly she was not sure if she could eat it.
Perhaps it was the landlady’s gaze, but she suddenly felt sick with the realization of what she was doing. You are alone with him, alone in a bedroom with a strange man . . . The thought made her almost dizzy with disbelief. It was against everything her mother had drilled into her – and Luke was not just a man, but a servant, a witch finder, an outwith : everything alien and forbidden.
But when she bit into the bread, feeling the taste flood her mouth, she realized how hungry she was, and she took another bite, and another, all thoughts driven out of
‘Cook’s gone home,’ the woman said sourly. Luke pulled out another coin and she looked at it for a moment and then tossed her head. ‘But you can ’ave bread and cheese. Not down ’ere, we’re closing up. I’ll bring it up.’
‘Bread and cheese? That’s the best you can manage for a shilling?’
‘Take it or leave it.’
‘At least give us a glass of beer.’
‘All right. Bread, cheese and beer. And you’re lucky with that. The room’s the second floor, right-hand door as you come up the stairs. Don’t open the window, the catch is broke. And here, take this.’
She shoved a lighted oil lamp into Luke’s hand and Rosa followed him up the rickety stairs to the attic.
At the top of the second flight they paused for a moment, catching their breath, and then Luke pulled the key out of his pocket and set it in the door. But it was not locked – as he went to turn it, the door swung open of its own accord and they went inside, Luke ducking his head as he passed under the low door frame.
He set the oil lamp on the mantelpiece, turned up the wick and they surveyed the room.
‘I know it’s not what you’re used to . . .’ Luke said uneasily. There was no space for anything except the bed, pushed hard against the wall, a single stool that doubled as a bedside table, and a narrow washstand wedged into the alcove by the fire.
‘It’s fine,’ Rosa said in a low voice. But the only thing she could think as she gazed around the cramped chamber was how small the bed was. Smaller than her bed at home. The thought of her and Luke sharing the narrow mattress . . . She felt blood flood her face again and turned away, hoping he couldn’t see her furious blush and misunderstand it for shame or anger. She walked to the window to press her face against the cold glass, trying to cool her burning cheeks and quell the ache in her head. He’s Luke , she told herself as she stared out into the night. He is your brother . For now.
‘Rosa . . .’ Luke came up behind her, and in the dark reflection of the window she saw his hand hover over her shoulder, not quite touching. ‘I—’
‘Bread and cheese.’ The voice came from the doorway. ‘And beer.’ Rosa turned to see the landlady bang the plate down on the stool by the bed, and the tankard after it, the beer slopping as she did.
‘Thank you,’ Rosa said automatically and without thinking. Almost at the door, the landlady stopped and looked back, as if puzzled. Then she shook her head and left, banging the door shut behind her.
Rosa felt herself go hot and then cold with horror as she realized what she’d done.
‘Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry – I forgot! Do you think . . .’
‘It doesn’t matter. It was just “thank you”,’ Luke said, but his face was uneasy. ‘She won’t remember tomorrow. But we should get away as early as we can. Before dawn, if possible.’
He sat on the edge of the bed, the springs squeaking, and rubbed his face, his hands rasping against his unshaven cheeks.
‘Well, at least she didn’t stint on the bread.’
It was true. The cheese was nothing but a cracked noggin, ‘fit for the mice’, Mrs Ramsbottom would have said. But the bread was piled high and was fresh, or reasonably so. Rosa took the piece that Luke held out to her, but suddenly she was not sure if she could eat it.
Perhaps it was the landlady’s gaze, but she suddenly felt sick with the realization of what she was doing. You are alone with him, alone in a bedroom with a strange man . . . The thought made her almost dizzy with disbelief. It was against everything her mother had drilled into her – and Luke was not just a man, but a servant, a witch finder, an outwith : everything alien and forbidden.
But when she bit into the bread, feeling the taste flood her mouth, she realized how hungry she was, and she took another bite, and another, all thoughts driven out of
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