The Herbwitch's Apprentice Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Ireen Chau

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  First ebook edition March 2021

  Cover design by Ireen Chau

  Cover illustration by Ireen Chau

  www.ireenchaubooks.com

  For Esme

  1

  I was almost certain our neighbor was a witch.

  Witches, they say, must be avoided at all costs. Some can turn you to stone with a glance. Some can conjure lightning and fry you on the spot. Some brew foul poisons day and night, hoping to slip them into your supper. When you’re dead, they’ll chop you up and use your flesh in their wicked alchemy.

  They didn’t roam the kingdom anymore, of course, and I had never seen Julianna Alderidge brew poisons or turn people into stone. But there was no doubt she was a wicked creature I avoided at all costs.

  I just wished my stepmother would stop inviting her to tea parties.

  Julianna’s laugh rung across the lawn. “Mr. Sternfeld, you are a riot!”

  Cedric Sternfeld said something inaudible, his pearly smile a stark contrast to his dark skin. Julianna dissolved in an explosion of giggles.

  He was a rather handsome young man, but compared to his wealth, his face was inconsequential. The neighborhood girls stuck to him like caramel on a toddler’s tooth the second he moved in across the street.

  None more so than Julianna. No doubt she would have hosted a welcome event in her backyard if my stepmother hadn’t done it first.

  “Does she think he’ll marry the girl who laughs at everything he says?” I grumbled to Genevieve as Julianna giggled for the thousandth time. I didn’t need to turn to know my stepsister was smiling.

  “He just moved in, Amarante,” Genevieve said, setting her sketchbook and charcoal onto the grass. The dappled light beneath the apple tree made her blond hair glow. “She’s only being friendly.”

  I didn’t think it took more than a pretty face to impress a lord’s son, but I hoped for his own sake that Mr. Sternfeld wouldn’t fall for Julianna’s perfect curls and milky complexion.

  “Or she’s waiting to pounce once his grandfather passes,” I said.

  Genevieve coughed. “Amarante!”

  “Rumors have it he’ll inherit a good mass of land from Lord Gideon Sternfeld.”

  Genevieve gave me a reproachful look, but her lips were twitching. “Since when do you listen to rumors?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, Gen. Stepmother is the biggest gossip in the neighborhood.”

  My stepmother, Lydia, was too busy playing hostess to notice we were huddled beneath our apple tree, away from the guests. Most of the neighborhood families had shown up this morning with their daughters in tow. Several of them swarmed Lydia now. Only the top of her impeccable updo was visible behind the heads of our neighbors, who were no doubt complimenting her for organizing such a lovely reception.

  Genevieve started sketching again.

  I sighed. “Do you ever stop drawing?”

  “We’re in hiding, remember?” Genevieve said. The arched windows of our house took form on the page. “There’s nothing else to do.”

  “Didn’t stepmother tell you to pick gowns for the Season?”

  “I’ll do that later,” she said. “I have a month before it starts.”

  “And you’re sure you want to go this year?” I asked, picking at the embroidery on my skirt.

  “Yes, Amarante, for the fifth time. I’m already eighteen. The youngest girls attending are your age.”

  I blew a strand of brown hair out of my face. “Ridiculous. I cannot believe they’re asking for marriage at sixteen.”

  “They are not! The Season is a coming-of-age celebration,” Genevieve said. “That is all.”

  “It’s frivolous and overrated.”

  The scratching of charcoal stopped. “Really? Then how come I remember you dancing in the parlor with a bed sheet tied around your waist, pretending you were at the Debutante Ball?”

  My cheeks burned. “Keep drawing, why don’t you?”

  “Admit it. You can’t wait to attend next year.”

  I stomped the grass beneath me. “I’d rather kiss a toad!”

  “Perhaps it’ll turn into Prince Charming,” Genevieve said in a singsong voice.

  “Gen!”

  Before Genevieve could tease me further, Julianna approached with Cedric Sternfeld at her arm. I prayed she hadn’t overheard our conversation. The last thing I needed was another rumor about me, this time kissing toads.

  I savagely took a bite of my raspberry tart. Our cook, Theodora, always baked the most heavenly pastries, but Julianna’s presence soured the taste. She looked infuriatingly pretty in a lilac sundress and her chestnut hair twisted back.

  “If it isn’t Amarante and Genevieve,” Julianna said in a faux-cheery voice. “Why haven’t you joined the rest of us in welcoming our new neighbor?”

  I tried not to scowl as Genevieve and I stood and curtsied to Mr. Sternfeld.

  “Apologies, Mr. Sternfeld. Amarante and I merely wandered off,” my stepsister said. “I hope you won’t take offense.”

  Mr. Sternfeld bowed. “Not at all. You’re Madam Lydia’s daughters?”

  He had a friendly baritone voice and a kind gaze which lingered on Genevieve a beat longer than customary. So he was impressed by pretty faces. Hopefully he had enough sense to choose the right one.

  “Indeed. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sternfeld,” Genevieve said.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Genevieve,” he said with an easy laugh. “I cannot thank your mother enough for such a warm reception upon moving in. Your backyard is lovely.”

  “Our gardener does a fantastic job with the roses,” Genevieve said with a demure smile. A hint of pink stained her cheeks.

  Julianna’s grip on Mr. Sternfeld’s arm tightened. “Didn’t you fall into the rose bushes one year, Amarante?” she said. “Madam Lydia almost had that gardener Rhonda fired.”

  “Her name is Rowena,” I said stiffly. “And it wasn’t her fault I fell.”

  “The thorns scratched your face horribly.” Julianna looked up at Mr. Sternfeld with a pout. “Scratches are awfully unattractive on a woman’s face, aren’t they, Mr. Sternfeld?”

  He had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Not at all, Miss Julianna. I find them to be great conversation starters.”

  I fought the urge to laugh at Julianna’s reddening face.

  Mr. Sternfeld flicked his gaze about, as if searching for another topic. Genevieve’s sketchbook caught his attention.

  “You draw, Miss Genevieve?” he said brightly, picking it up from the grass. She had nearly finished the sketch. It depicted the lawn and several figures, one of them Mr. Sternfeld himself.

  “A little,” my stepsister said.

  “A lot,” I corrected. “She’s been drawing for ages.”

  Genevieve elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Masterful!” Mr. Sternfeld exclaimed. “Tell me, how did you render these forms with so few strokes?”

  “Well, I used the broad side of the charcoal to block out the shadows—”

  “I doubt Mr. Sternfeld wants to hear about your amateur techniques, Genevieve,” Julianna said. She snatched the sketchbook and tossed it over her shoulder. “My mother hired a famous Aquatian artist to paint my portrait. Now his work is truly masterful. I would love to show you, Mr. Sternfeld.”

  Mr. Sternfeld cleared his throat. “Thank you, Miss Alderidge, but I’m afraid I’ll be busy.”

  “Why is that? Will you be attending the Season?” Julianna said eagerly.

  “I won’t. But my sister Olivia will,” he said. “I’m chaperoning her.”

  I hadn’t heard about Mr. Sternfeld having a sister. Probably because she wasn’t the one with the inheritance.

  “Is your sister here too?” Genevieve inquired.

  “Ah, yes. She arrived last night, but Olivia is deathly timid,” Mr. Sternfeld said, easing his arm out of Julianna’s claws. “New places scare her.”

  “Poor dear,” Julianna crooned. She inched closer to him. “It must be so difficult for her.”

  I rolled my eyes at her poor attempt at compassion.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Genevieve said. “I always find strange places more bearable when I have a friend. Perhaps Amarante and I can meet her sometime.”

  Mr. Sternfeld beamed. “Now there’s an idea! How would you like to join us and Grandfather for dinner next week, Miss Genevieve? You too, Miss Amarante. And your mother, if she deigns to join us.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Genevieve said.

  I nodded, knowing that Lydia would force us to go whether I liked it or not.

  “I’d love to meet your sister as well, Mr. Sternfeld,” Julianna said, batting her eyes.

  “Apologies, Miss Julianna. Our dining table is rather small,” he said. “Perhaps another time?”

  Julianna was fuming when Mr. Sternfeld went off to tell Lydia about the dinner plans. My stepmother would be elated. After all, this was an auction and Mr. Sternfeld, the poor man, was the prize cow we ha
d just won.

  “Well, Genevieve, I reckon you’re proud of yourself?” our witch of a neighbor said.

  “Pardon?” My stepsister looked taken aback.

  Julianna’s heeled shoe smashed into Genevieve’s sketchbook. “Don’t act innocent. Mr. Sternfeld is soon to become a lord. You ought to give up. He will never marry a commoner’s daughter.”

  I clenched my fists. “Take that back, Julianna.”

  She merely huffed. “That is a horrid gown you have on, Amarante. Did you raid your mother’s closet? Oh, I forget. You don’t have one.”

  Before I could spit out an equally venomous remark, she sneered and stalked away.

  “Oh, Amarante! How could she?” Genevieve exclaimed.

  “Insulting us in our own home! She gets nastier by the day,” I said. “And look what she did to your drawing!”

  The sketch was now crinkled and stained with Julianna’s filthy footprint. Genevieve frowned and brushed it off with her sleeve. “I wonder why she’s like this. Hardships of her own, perhaps?”

  I scoffed. Only Genevieve would be concerned about Julianna, who basked in her own sense of superiority because her mother was a dame and her father was a wealthy courtier.

  I was more concerned with how to punish her.

  A shriek of laughter came from the children playing a few feet away. A boy was chasing his friend with a handful of dirt from the rose bushes, which Rowena had recently fertilized. I grinned.

  At the front of the garden, Lydia tapped her glass with a fork, beaming from ear to ear. No doubt Mr. Sternfeld had just invited her to dinner. I took the opportunity to slip off.

  “It is an honor...no—a privilege, to welcome a new member to our neighborhood, Mr. Cedric Sternfeld!” my stepmother announced.

  The guests gave a polite applause as Mr. Sternfeld stepped up. I ducked behind a dense rosebush with pale yellow blooms. The boy chasing his friend now sat on the grass, kneading the dirt in his hands. I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Mind if I take some of that?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Much obliged.” I pinched the dirt between my fingers and emerged from the bushes.

  My stepmother was still speaking, praising Mr. Sternfeld’s charm and good manners and how he would do wonders to liven up the neighborhood. Julianna sat at the table nearest to my spot at the bushes, her fingers inches away from her tea. It was strongly brewed, perfect to conceal something of similar color.

  I sprinkled the dirt into my palm and began picking out the roots and gravel.

  “Psst! What are you doing?”

  I looked down. A couple of ginger-haired boys stared at me from the bushes, their cheeks flushed apple red. They were Tessa Donahue’s brothers, Frederick and Teddy.

  Tessa, a dear friend of Julianna’s, lived a block away. She was in charge of her brothers today since their parents were absent. Unfortunately for her, the boys were the most rambunctious scamps on the block.

  “There’s a witch in our midst,” I said to them, flicking away the last piece of root. “And I’m taking her down.”

  The two exchanged a glance. Fred gave me a gap-toothed grin and thumped his chest. “We can help.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you up for the task?”

  They nodded.

  Lydia eventually concluded her speech and the guests applauded. Julianna began chatting with Tessa, who incidentally was sitting beside her. Neither of them noticed me huddling with the Donahue brothers, or giving dirt to Ted.

  “Got it?” I whispered.

  “Got it,” they chorused.

  And then chaos ensued.

  Fred darted out and snatched Julianna’s straw hat, tearing off the ribbons and crepe flowers. Julianna shrieked. Tessa’s face grew as red as her hair.

  “Fred! Stop that at once!” Tessa bellowed.

  “Catch me if you can!” Fred sang.

  They ran after him. The guests gaped as Fred fled, leaving a trail of shredded ribbons behind him. Julianna’s scream was now shrill enough to shatter glass. Ted burst from the bushes and sprinkled the dirt into Julianna’s tea, stirring it in with a grimy finger.

  Seeing the mission complete, Fred abandoned the ruined hat and dove into the marigolds along the fence.

  “You wretched little—ack!” Julianna stumbled over her hat and crashed into the lawn, bringing Tessa down with her.

  Tessa squealed as her hands skidded across the grass. “My gloves!”

  “Your gloves?” Julianna screeched. “My hat!”

  Lydia rushed over. She looked horrified, her impeccable updo now in disarray. “Good heavens! Girls, are you alright?”

  “I am not!” Julianna pounded the grass with her fist. “That horrid boy tore up my hat! The duchess gifted it to me on my sixteenth birthday!”

  “T-the duchess?” Lydia stuttered. “Duchess Wilhelmina? The hostess of this year’s Season?” She paled when Julianna nodded.

  Tessa whimpered. “How much was it, exactly?”

  Julianna shot her a glare. “It was priceless. You ought to keep your brothers on leashes, Tessa.”

  Mr. Sternfeld, who had been watching with an unreadable expression, finally walked over to help Julianna to her seat. She began sobbing unabashedly onto his shoulder and raving about how awful small boys were. Tessa trailed meekly behind them.

  “Do calm yourself, Ms. Alderidge,” Mr. Sternfeld said.

  She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “Oh, Mr. Sternfeld. I am so distressed!”

  The gentleman chuckled. It sounded forced. “Why not have some tea to settle your nerves?”

  I smiled.

  Julianna took a sip of tea.

  And spat into her handkerchief with an ear-splitting scream. Specks of dirt marked her teeth.

  “Tessa! Your brothers will pay for this!”

  Lydia came over with Fred in tow. He was covered in marigold petals and dirt but looked immensely pleased with himself. I gave him a wink.

  “Mr. Donahue, apologize to Miss Julianna at once,” my stepmother said.

  Fred merely smiled.

  “You destroyed my hat and put dirt in my tea, you awful boy!” Julianna said, sobbing hysterically. “You will pay for this!”

  Lydia’s frown deepened as she looked at Fred. “You put dirt in her tea?”

  “I didn’t. Ted did.” The boy jutted his chin to his brother.

  “Your parents will be hearing about this,” Lydia said, glowering at each boy. “Both of you will be punished severely.”

  I almost felt bad for the brothers, but only for a second.

  Ted pointed at me. “She told us to do it.”

  2

  “You have ruined this family, Amarante!” Lydia said for the third time that evening. She blew her nose into her handkerchief as Genevieve gently patted her back. I continued working on my embroidery.

  It had been two days since the Great Tea Scandal. My stepmother was still livid though I had personally apologized to the Donahues and Alderidges per her orders.

  Fred and Ted were punished to spend twice as much time on their studies, but I still wanted to give the little scoundrels a good shake for exposing me. Tessa merely stuck her nose in the air and harrumphed, as if she had been the one to drink fertilized dirt.

  Julianna and Dame Patricia Alderidge, of course, were both furious. That was no loss to me. I was never on good terms with either of them. But Lydia fell into hysterics when Dame Alderidge declared the end of their friendship.

  “Mama, please,” Genevieve said. “It was those boys who stirred up all this trouble.”

  My stepmother shot me a glare. “I raised you for the better half of your life and this is how you repay me,” she said, sniveling. “Patricia won’t acknowledge me. She’ll tell everyone at court what a horrid stepdaughter I have. And Genevieve! Oh, my poor, dear, beautiful Genevieve! Your name will be dragged down with this scandal!”

  Genevieve and I exchanged a look. She was trying not to smile. “This hardly counts as a scandal, Mama, and I am sure Dame Alderidge has other people to gossip about.”

  “She gossips about everyone. Everyone!” Lydia wailed.

  I wanted to remark that Dame Alderidge wasn’t a very good friend, but held my tongue.

  “And Mr. Sternfeld. Oh, Mr. Sternfeld is sure to take back his dinner invitation.” Her words were muffled as she buried her face into her handkerchief again. “The tea party was supposed to be in his honor. And you ruined it!”