Page 90 of A Most Forgettable Girl

The witch cast her eyes up to the ceiling and rocked back onto two legs of her chair. “Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, then came crashing back down again onto four. “Is’t possible, my lad, that you forgot to breathe when you were so caught up in the act?” she demanded forthrightly.

“I’m sure that can’t be it,” Gunnilde said with a frown.

“Yes,” said James.

“Yes, it’s possible?” the witch enquired, pouncing on his reply.

“Yes,” he agreed. “My breath was coming faster and faster as we...went. It got to the point where I could scarcely draw it. I was too...distracted.” He cast a furtive glance at Gunnilde. “My focus was elsewhere.”

“Well, there you have it,” said the witch, slapping a hand down on the tabletop. “If you only breathe out and don’t breathe in, folks pass out. It stands to reason.”

Gunnilde’s open mouth snapped shut. “That can’t be it!”

“I expect it was,” said the witch. “You put his head in a spin, and he forgot how to function. It’s more common than you’d think. They’re simple creatures at the best of times. You need to remind him next time.”

“Remind him to breathe?” Gunnilde sounded incredulous.

The witch nodded. “To fill his lungs, calm down a bit, and pace himself.”

James knew he should feel annoyed, but instead he merely felt relieved he wasn’t going to have to eat powdered frog spawn, or something equally foul.

“So...you do not think it is something we need to be unduly worried about?” Gunnilde persisted.

“Not at all,” the witch assured her off-handedly. “It’s a bit unusual but some are like that. A surfeit of lust, that’s all he suffers from, and you’ve cured him of that already.”

Mistress Fern’s turn of phrase seemed to alternate wildly between coarse and polite, James thought. Suddenly it occurred to him that she might well be doing an impression of an older and less polite woman. Mayhap she was merely an apprentice witch.

“A surfeit of...?” Gunnilde repeated faintly.

“He got a bit too worked up, that’s all. He’ll be fine once you’re both accustomed to the way of married life. If you do it enough times, he will build up a resistance and be able to withstand the pleasure in future.”

James brightened. Perhaps the witch knew what she was talking about after all.

“And you don’t think we should trouble to consult a physician just to be doubly sure?” Gunnilde asked conscientiously.

Mistress Fern snorted. “By all means, if you want him to blather on about balancing humors. All a physician is going to tell you is that unwarranted abstinence is to blame and that the excess seed has built up and weakened his heart.” Gunnilde turned pale and the witch waved a dismissive hand. “Pay no regard to their foolish ways. I can tell you now his heart is strong and healthy as a horse.”

“Well, that is a relief,” James decided. “And I have no intention of consulting a physician to be told celibacy is to blame for weakening my constitution.”

“Very sensible,” Mistress Fern agreed. “Besides, you’re not celibate anymore, are you?”

“No,” he agreed. “Decidedly not. Now, as to payment...” He reached for his pouch and tipped out some coin into the woman’s palm.

“Very generous,” the witch said cheerfully, reaching for her cloak which was draped over a nearby chair. “I’ll leave you to it. I wish you joy of each other.” She gave him a nod, shook Gunnilde’s hand, and swept from the room without more ado.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a witch before,” James observed.

“What, never?” Gunnilde looked stunned. “Not even in the country?”

He shook his head. “My mother does not hold with old-fashioned ways. Would you say she was fairly typical of the type?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Do witches never curtsey?”

“No,” Gunnilde answered. “Not in my experience. They don’t acknowledge man-made hierarchies. I’ve only ever seen one curtsey to magpies.”

“I see,” he pondered. “Curious.”

“I rather liked her. I do hope she is right about your heart, James.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out,” he replied swiftly. He extended his hand to her. “Shall we, Lady Wycliffe?”