Free The Devil's Serenade by Catherine Cavendish Page B

wooden pendant on a broken necklace of thin leather. The delicate carving was of the pagan figure known as the Green Man. I stared at it in wonder. I couldn’t remember Aunt Charlotte ever mentioning anything to do with the occult and yet here she was with books of spells, magical rituals and, as for the lavender I had thought so innocently pretty, it turned out that too had magical connotations.
    I went back to the Book of Shadows and flipped through more pages of spells, folklore of the willow and potions. On the last page, I read an entry different than all the others. It was undated:
    Now he tells me I must share his bed. He has ordered me to dismiss all the other servants. We are to manage with whoever the temp agency sends us and I am to do the rest. Mr. Hargest doesn’t want any more prying eyes and wagging tongues, although how he will prevent them I haven’t a clue. It doesn’t matter to him that I am so much younger than he is and the sight of his ancient body revolts me. I will have to lie there in the dark and bear it. May the Lord and his Lady protect me.
    I flipped to the next page and the next after that, but those that weren’t ripped out were all blank. Like the diary. I wondered when she had written that sad, resigned entry, but had no way of knowing, unless I could find anything else that might give me a hint. I left the Book of Shadows on top of the desk and pulled the drawers out fully. I peered underneath, hoping I might find a secret drawer, or something wedged. Nothing.
    For the rest of the afternoon, I went through Aunt Charlotte’s wardrobe, reaching into pockets, folding her coats, dresses, skirts, and tops and placing them gently in the box. I would take them to the nearest charity shop the following day.
    I emptied every drawer of the chest under the bowl of lavender, but all I found were neatly folded underclothes and woolens. I even stripped the bed of its heavy, embroidered coverlet and lifted the mattress. Nothing.
    Eventually, I had to admit defeat. But only after I had taken down every picture and examined the frame for any hidden document. No, whatever my aunt knew about Nathaniel Hargest, or this house, she had taken with her to her grave. I hesitated before returning the Book of Shadows to the drawer, but at least I would know where it was should I need it. There was something spooky about such a thing and I was reluctant to have it in close proximity to me, however paranoid that might sound.
    * * * * *
    “I can’t go up there, Mrs. Chambers.” Pete Evans shook his head with such vigor his baseball cap wobbled.
    “Whyever not, Pete?” Charlie’s brother had been perfectly happy to come straight over when I asked him to do some more decorating for me. Now, as soon as I mentioned the second floor, his face paled.
    “I’d rather you not ask me about that. I can’t. I’m really sorry, but no. I’ll willingly do down here for you.” He looked around at the walls of the kitchen where we were standing. “I’ll do the next floor, but I’m not going up any further than that.”
    “Do you have a problem with heights or something?”
    “No. No. Nothing like that. I’m the first one up a ladder any day of the week. I just…I’d rather not talk about it. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” He inched his way to the door.
    “No, not that I can think of at the moment.” I was still trying to work out what his problem was. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind? I don’t understand what is so wrong with that floor.”
    Pete hesitated. “Look, I’m sure if you asked someone from outside the town, they’d probably come and do the job in a flash. Don’t ask anyone from around here though. Not if you don’t want another rejection.”
    So it was all down to local gossip. A coil of annoyance spiraled up my body. Temptation to make some sarcastic remark almost overwhelmed me, but what good would it have done? Pete’s mind was made up and closed. End of