The Scottish Witch by Cathy Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

wanted, Chattan. I fear the risk of losing any contact with her.”
    Harry studied his friend. The man appeared done up, and yet Harry could have sympathy only to a point. He rose from the table. “I shall return and help you, but I must go.”
    However, before Harry could leave, a servant entered the room carrying a silver salver bearing a letter. “Colonel Chattan, we found this on the front step. It is addressed to you.”
    “Left on the front step?” Monty said. “Did they knock on the door? The dogs didn’t make a sound.”
    “They were all in here, sir,” the servant said. “You know how they are during the dinner hour. And we didn’t hear a sound from outside. It was by chance we looked outside and found the letter.”
    Harry took the letter. It was addressed to “Chattan.” The stationery was thin and cheaply made. He broke the wax seal, unfolded the letter, and what he read changed everything:
    Meet me at the Great Oak, tomorrow, midnight.
    Fenella

Chapter Three
    B ecoming a witch was no easy trick.
    Portia obviously couldn’t dress as herself. She would not want that scowling Englishman to know who she was. She also needed to convince him she was a witch—but how did a witch look?
    She could wear rags like Crazy Lizzy did, but she decided she didn’t want to be that sort of witch. And she knew she would have to do something to hide her face.
    After finishing her tasks around the house, she disappeared to her room to give proper consideration to her costume. She had excuses ready in case her mother or Minnie asked questions, but they weren’t necessary. Her mother had deemed today would be one of “those” days, which meant she would not come downstairs at all.
    And Minnie was still mourning the loss of Mr. Tolliver. She had cared deeply for the man. Portia had tried to buoy her spirits the night before but her sister was disconsolate.
    “You will see him at the Christmas Assembly,” Portia had said. The desired invitation had finally arrived the evening before and their mother had been very pleased after remarking on the poor form in delivering invitations at such a late date. Apparently, the kirk committee had a bit of a spat, so all the invitations had been late. Most in the valley assumed they would be invited, so for most the lateness didn’t matter.
    Not so Lady Maclean.
    However, now she was happy and insisting that Minnie would be the belle of the ball.
    Portia hadn’t involved herself in their discussion. She was too busy plotting how to be a witch. But she had taken advantage of the messenger and had asked him to deliver “Fenella’s” letter to General Montheath’s residence. The lad had been happy to comply for a small coin and even pleased to be sworn to secrecy.
    Over supper, Portia smiled at Minnie. “With this invitation, you now have the opportunity to talk to Mr. Tolliver and explain that Mother does not speak for you.”
    “Shouldn’t he know for himself?” Minnie asked. “Shouldn’t he have cared enough for my opinion to speak to me himself and express his concerns?”
    Portia didn’t know what to say to those charges, and her silence was damning.
    “I don’t want a man in my life who is like Papa,” Minnie said. “He treated Mother as if she was just a chair in the dining room. I expect far more respect.” With that very sage declaration, Minnie left their table. When Portia went up to her room, she heard crying as she passed her sister’s door.
    Was it any wonder then that Portia threw herself into becoming a witch?
    With the money she received from the English Chattan, they could even return to London, although Portia would resist the idea, or they could provide a handsome dowry for Minnie that would make Mr. Tolliver wish that he had been more steadfast. So becoming a convincing witch, or at least one worth three hundred pounds, was very important.
    Owl helped. The cat lay on her bed and served as an audience as Portia tried on one outfit after