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For a moment I wonder if he’s talking about Cyrus or himself. “Either way, it was a stupid thing to do. Do you really think I care about honor and justice so much that I would see you maimed or even killed? What happened after you left the other day?”
“It was stupid,” John agrees. He rubs his jaw, which is bristled with golden stubble, not meeting my eye. “I met Cyrus at his inn, convinced that I could reason with him. He made outlandish claims about you and your family, and told me that unless I agreed to break it off with you he would publish them.”
I suck in my breath, not even daring to ask what details Cyrus might have divulged.
“It became clear that he wasn’t going to listen to reason, or even to accept money, and that’s when he proclaimed his love for you and suggested a duel.” John gives a humorless laugh. “Never in my dreams did I imagine that I would agree to a duel, but in that moment I thought that if I gave him that much, he might be satisfied. I just... I suppose the more I saw of him, spoke to him, the more I hated him and my reason abandoned me. He spoke as if you had shared some special bond. Whether it was true or not, I was jealous.”
Stunned, I search for words. “John, all I want is you.”
“I want you too,” he says quietly. “But I know what you would do to protect your family, and it made me sick that a man like Cyrus could hold that against you, bending you to his will.”
“You thought I would marry him after all that? I promised you that I wouldn’t do anything without you.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was still scared of losing you.” He slants a sidelong glance at me from behind shy lashes, and I curse my shoulder that I can’t get up and throw my arms around him, burying my head in his neck.
He clears his throat, as if determined to change the subject. “I brought you something.” He reaches into his waistcoat pocket and produces a book. “I saw you reading the second volume, and thought you might like the next one.”
He watches me with apprehensive eyes as I take the book.“Ivanhoe!”
“You don’t have it, do you? I can send it back and exchange it for something else if you—”
“I don’t have the third volume, and I’ve been dying to read it.” I lean over, ignoring the pain, and kiss his cheek. Now I can finally learn Rebecca’s fate, and if she is spared the stake, absolved of the charges of witchcraft. “Thank you.”
We slip into silence again, me hungrily flipping through the crisp pages, John watching me and rubbing at his jaw. “Lydia,” he finally says, “what happened yesterday?”
My fingers freeze on the page. I swallow back the urge to lightly ask him what he’s talking about. I have to tell him at some point, it might as well be now. Putting aside the book, I sit up as straight as I can against the pillows. “There’s...there’s something I have to tell you.”
He casually leans back, lacing his hands across his stomach, but the intensity of his gaze is anything but casual.
I swallow again, looking everywhere around the room but at his expectant eyes. “I... I should have told you along with everything else the night you came over, but I was scared. Scared that you’d change your mind.”
“Maybe you don’t know me so well if you think there’s anything that could make me change my mind.”
I don’t point out that only moments ago he confessed his fear that I would change my mind. It goes both ways, the misgivings, the fear that what we each feel isn’t shared by the other. That our story might not have a happy ending.
I look down at the book in my hands, studying the pattern embossed in gold on the cover. “Yes, well, the thing is I can hardly accept it myself.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“I don’t think so. You see... Well, you know those stories you read, the ones about the early days in Salem and all the women who were hanged? I always thought they were lore, myths. But it turns out they’re real.”
John looks surprised. “The witch trials? Of course those happened. I don’t understand.”
I shake my head, impatient. “No, I mean the reasons for the hangings.”
I can tell from his expression that I’m not making any sense. I take a deep breath but there’s no way to say it without sounding insane, so I just come out with it. “I’m a witch.”
I shyly raise my eyes to gauge the effect of my words. John doesn’t move a muscle, just continues watching me with unnerving blankness.
“A witch,” he repeats tonelessly. “I see.”
“But I never use my...my powers,” I hurry to explain. “Well, except for when they seem to take over on their own. The other day, the duel, that was the first time I had any control over what I was doing. My mother gave me a book that explained what I’m capable of. It made certain...episodes in my life make sense. But there’s something about this place that brings them out too, I think. Though, there was that time with Cyrus too in Boston and...” I’m running my tongue in circles, losing him again with each revelation. I swallow, nervously tracing my fingers along the edge of the book. “It doesn’t matter. I wish you would say something.”
John rakes his hand through his hair, leans forward like he wants to say something and then leans back again. “That evening at the pond, when you screamed it was almost as if the water...?”
I nod, relieved that he’s at least asking questions and not bolting for the door. “That was me. I didn’t know what was happening at the time, and I still don’t know exactly what I did, but yes.”
Silence, and then, “I didn’t realize that witches existed outside of nursery rhymes and history books.”