Chapter Twenty –Three
Sarah sat on her narrow bunk with her arms locked around her knees. "We did not make a good choice, Julie," she whispered to the empty cabin. " 'Tis a cargo ship on which I sail and I am the only passenger . . . the only woman." Weak with exhaustion, for she was too frightened to sleep, she struggled with memories from the past. Each dip and sway of the boat dredged forth the horrors of her last sea voyage. And although the captain had assured her she was free to move about on the deck, she had only to close her eyes to feel the ropes that had once bound her hands and feet. Twice, a knock had sounded at her door, making her heart pound in fright, but each time the cook had brought her food, her stomach had protested violently from the mere smell of it. A suffocating darkness threatened to consume her every time she closed her eyes, so she sat, watching the sway of the small lantern that hung from the beams overhead.
"What have I done, Nick?" she cried silently, for her tears were long since spent. She tried to think of her home in Salem, of how happy Samuel and Elizabeth would be to have her back. She tried to mentally list the chores that would command her attention. Would she weed her garden first or walk over to Samuel's to retrieve her cow and goat. His letter had said they were at his farm now so he could better care for them. She thought about sleeping in her own bed, but found no comfort, for, as always, her mind returned to Nick.
Sarah's head dropped to her knees. Was he relieved she had departed? Had he found the golden bracelet and her note of farewell? She remembered the way his dark eyes would dance in amusement when she misunderstood a local expression and how patient he had been in explaining. She could feel his arms about her and the gentle way he had held her . . . touched her. "How am I going to live without your smile?" she whispered brokenly.
"You won't ever have to."
Sarah's head snapped up. She hadn't heard the door to her cabin open, but the rich male voice was very real. Her eyes focused and her heartbeat tripled."Nick . . .?" her voice was hesitant, for in truth she had imagined him standing there too many times to count. "Are you real?"
His heart ached at the sight she presented, huddled in the corner of her bunk, clearly terrified of everything that was happening. Relief washed through him, then turned to anger that she had taken such a chance. "If you wish, madam, I would be more than happy to throw up your skirts and paddle your bare backside for pulling this ridiculous stunt. Then you'd know how very real I am."
She would have risen to meet him halfway, but she hadn't eaten since coming aboard and she was afraid she'd fall at his feet. She lifted her hand to beckoned him closer.
Nick needed no invitation as he dropped beside her on the bunk and pulled her roughly onto his lap. They stared at each other in wonder and then they were locked in an embrace. For long, satisfying minutes they rocked together. Nick pressed his face to her neck, feeling the silky softness of her hair brush against his cheek. She had always been of slight form, but now she felt positively frail within his arms and silently he cursed himself for the pain he had caused her. Never again, he vowed, pulling her closer still.
"I love you," he said against her hair. "I love you more than life itself. When I realized you had gone, it was as if a piece of me had been cut away."
Sarah luxuriated in the sound of his words. The words she had so longed to hear. Burrowed close against him she felt the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms. Her fingers touched the corded muscles of his neck and she felt the violent pounding of his heart against her breast. Her lips curved into a smile when she realized it matched her own.
"I love you, too," she whispered against his throat. "You bring the sunlight to my day and the smile to my heart, but how did you get here? How ever did you find me?
"Julie told us what she had done." As Sarah felt him shudder, her arms tightened about him.
"Don't be cross with Julie," she said gently. "She was trying so hard to help me." Reluctantly, Sarah pulled back so she could better see his face. "But how did you get here? We've been almost three days at sea?"
An ironic smile touched his lips. "You had the good sense to run away on one of my own ships," he said, placing light kisses across her forehead and reserving his judgment of Julie for another time. "I am the one who charted the course, so there was a hope we could overtake you. But when I think of all that could have gone wrong . . . You must promise me you'll never do this again."
Sarah smiled and shook her head. "I’m so sorry . . ." Nick placed a finger across her lips to still her words.
"I was wrong to think that you had tried to manipulate Gran, and I said things in anger that hurt you deeply. Now, I can only beg your forgiveness."
"You already have it." Sarah ran her trembling fingers across the troubled brow of her proud husband. "Nick, don't be angry with Agatha. Whatever she did, she did out of love."
Nick reached into his pocket and withdrew the water-stained letter. "Did you ever read this?" he questioned. "The letter Danvers handed to you right after we were wed?"
Sarah shook her head.
Nick opened the paper and placed it in her hand. "It's from Gran," he said quietly.
Sarah's eyes scanned the wrinkled paper, and her eyes welled with tears when she looked back up at Nick. "She wanted me to be your wife," she said in amazement.
Nick smiled. "Gran thought I was moving too slowly and decided to speed up the process. This was her way of forcing my hand."
Sarah looked down at her lap. "I know you didn't want to marry me, but . . ."
"Sarah Townsend Beaumont," he said, gently brushing strands of hair from her pale face. "Will you do me the honor of truly becoming my wife?"
For Sarah a ray of hope blossomed. "I would give you all the shares without marriage," she said solemnly.
Nick took a deep breath. "I know that now. But I find the only thing I truly want is to have you for my wife."
If she could have loved him more it would have been at that moment. Sarah reached up and her palm touched his unshaven cheek. "I love you." Her voice was soft, but clear. "Know that I will never lie to you. Although you won't always wish to hear it, my lips will never willingly tell you a falsehood."
He pressed a kiss to her palm, then gazed deep into her violet eyes. "But I must confess to a falsehood. The night of the storm, when I said I took you without love, I lied. You have been deep in my heart from the first moment I watched you pull the weeds from my garden. You are my wife, my heart, my soul." His voice quivered. "I want you in my life to share my life because I can't imagine living without you."
Sarah closed her eyes and pressed her body to the warmth of his. "I love you with every breath of my being," she said simply. When their lips met again, their kiss was flavored with the salt of her tears.
"No more of this," Nick chided gently, using his thumb to trace the pale skin under her eyes. "You're with me now and you're safe."
"Nick . . ." Sarah's voice trembled. "Would you take me home to see my family? I know it's far and I know you're busy. But my need to see them face-to-face is great. I want them to meet you, to see the man who has claimed my heart. Also, as my husband . . ." She tasted the word on her tongue. "As my husband, you would need to put your name on the land I own."
Nick thought of all the dangers that might await them, but the look on her face was one he could not deny. "If I agree," he said slowly, "it can only be for a day or two at most."
Sarah's eyes brightened. "I don't care if it's only for an hour," she sighed. "I just need to hug them both and let them know how happy I am so they will cease their worry."
Nick felt his heart constrict and wondered how he was ever going to tell her that they suspected her of witchcraft. "If we're going all the way to Salem," he challenged, "you are going to need to get your strength back."
Sarah flung her arms about his neck. "Thank you, thank you," she cried, scattering kisses about his face.
Nick's body ached to take her, but he knew he must wait. "The captain tells me you haven't
been able to eat anything." His voice was tender, and Sarah felt a deep contentment wrap around her. "Have you been sick as well?"
She nodded slowly, ashamed to admit her weakness. Nick placed a kiss upon her brow and then rose from the bunk with her in his arms. "I'm taking you up on deck" he explained. "The fresh air will do you good, and once we get some food into you, you'll feel much better." Nick paused in the threshold of her cabin looking down at her and his eyes grew intense. "If I didn't think you would collapse, I'd take you here and now. But sometimes the deed is all the sweeter with the waiting." He placed a chaste kiss on her lips."
"You're a wicked man, Nicholas Beaumont," she said smiling.
"And tonight I'll prove that for sure, Mrs. Beaumont," he promised.
Up on deck, Sarah was relieved to find that Nick had been right. The motion of the ship seemed less pronounced and the fresh air revived her. She was delighted to find Chris aboard, then embarrassed to be the center of so much attention. Nick rarely left her side and she had only to look as if she was in need for someone to come to her aid. A pallet was made for her so she might sit in the sunlight and then a blanket appeared to cover her legs. She managed to eat a mug of soup, and was delighted when her stomach seemed pleased with the offering.
The sun slipped below the horizon and Nick carried her back to their cabin, but she was asleep before he could place her in the bunk. Undaunted, Nick eased the clothing from her body and then joined her under the covers in the narrow space. Pulling her close against him so her head rested on his shoulder, he marveled at the rightness of it all. "I've spent nights in passion and found not half the satisfaction I feel just to hold you in my arms," he whispered to her sleeping form. "It has always been difficult for me to let people get close to me, but I never realized how alone I was until you came and filled my life and then left me. If it was meant to be, so that I might have you, I know now that my lifetime of searching has been more than rewarded. Never will I turn from you. And when my time on earth is ended, yours shall be the name that comes with my last breath." His declaration complete, Nick closed his eyes and joined Sarah in sleep.
The days aboard the ship soon established a comfortable pattern. Sarah rested and under Nick's watchful eye, soon regained her strength. Long naps in the sun and constant food to tempt her appetite soon had the color back in her cheeks. But the nights of passion that she shared with Nick in their narrow bunk were the true reason for the smile that never left her lips.
More than a week had passed before Nick sat her down on a secluded part of the deck and, with Chris at his side, told her of the happenings in Salem. She had remained wide-eyed and silent. Her tears didn't start until he spoke of the death of her friend.
"But Rebecca was so frail," she sobbed against her husband's chest. "Why would anyone say such terrible things about one so pure of heart? How could they do that to a woman of God?"
Nick held her close as she cried, but his eyes met Chris's over her head. He had decided nothing could be gained by telling her Beckett's fears concerning her family and he was more than grateful when Chris agreed.
They had laid their plan carefully. Nick would get rooms for them in the ordinary while Chris traveled to the Village. Once there, he would entice Sarah's brother to return with him without mentioning Sarah's name. Sarah would have her meeting, then, with any luck, they would soon be back at sea.
They hand-selected men from the Merry Weather to join them on the Good Providence, while the captain of the Merry Weather was instructed to sail nearby but not to dock at Salem Harbor. If their plans went awry, his ship would be their backup. Information was passed in hushed whispers, and all but Sarah knew the plan.
On the last day of August, Salem Harbor came into view. Sarah hugged the rail as excitement raced through her. It seemed to take so long to cover the last bit of ocean and her patience threatened to snap as she watched the ship slowly maneuver itself closer to the dock.
Nick stood at her side on the quarterdeck as they waited for the ropes to be secured. Her face glowed with anticipation as she held his arm. Before them lay the confusion of the marketplace. Carts filled with oranges and apples stood between barrels of cargo. Local fishermen unloaded their day's catch, and the air about them grew ripe. Undaunted, Sarah's smile never wavered. She had pushed the news of Rebecca's death to the far corner of her mind and suddenly she couldn't wait to be home again. And now, when thoughts of spending the night in her own bed pressed forward, they brought a contented smile to her lips.
"Better be careful, madam," Nick said, taking her arm and indicating it was time for them to leave the ship. "If you continue to look at me like that, I shall postpone our departure until I can have my way with you below decks."
When they reached the boarding plank, Sarah turned to gaze at her husband. Her hand reached up to cover his heart. "I know you did not want to bring me here," she said quietly. "But that you would put my wants above your own . . ." Her voice shook with emotion, but she was determined not to cry on such a joyous occasion. "I will spend my life trying to think of ways to thank you."
Nick placed his large palm over hers and pressed tightly. "You are my wife. Your welfare comes before my own, and no thanks are necessary. Still, if you truly wished to please me . . . " He bent close and whispered desires that made Sarah's cheeks grow bright with color.
"People do that?" she replied in awe as he turned her back to the boarding plank.
Nick's laughter rang out and did much to relieve the tension of the crew. "I'll show you tonight," he promised with a wink. Then they were standing on the pier of Salem Harbor.
"The village is about a two-hour ride inland," she said. "But I'm afraid I don't know where the livery is." Her eyes scanned the ordered chaos that surrounded them as they walked.
Chris stepped close to Nick's side. "I don't like this," he said. His words were for Nick alone as he gestured toward the docks. An unusual silence permeated the air. No shouts came from impatient captains anxious to be at sea, though many hands moved about loading cargo. No merchant called, enticing the buyer to sample his wares, yet many were about. Only the rats seemed impervious to the strained atmosphere, and their scurry and squeal could be heard as they fought over each scrap carelessly tossed to the ground.
Nick's eyes took in the unnatural scene and he was glad to have Chris firmly planted on Sarah's other side. Instinctively his hand tightened on hers.
"Captain Beaumont?"
Startled to hear his name called in the murky silence, Nick paused, stepping slightly ahead of Sarah. Chris moved to his side, effectively blocking Sarah from view as they watched a tall, well-dressed seaman cross over to them.
"Forgive me for interrupting your passage, but are you not Nicholas Beaumont?"
Nick nodded slowly, and then it dawned. "Sebastian . . .?" He hesitated. "Sebastian Hawthorne?"
"Yes, you old seadog," the man pumped his hand vigorously.
Nick stepped aside and urged a confused Sarah forward. "My sweet, this is Sebastian Hawthorne. He was one of the best captains who ever worked for Beaumont Shipping. Sebastian, may I present my wife, Sarah Beaumont, and our friend, Christopher Carlson."
Sarah smiled as the men shook hands. "Captain Hawthorne, you no longer work for Beaumont Shipping?"
Hawthorne tipped his hat and smiled. "No, madam. Thanks to your husband's clever mind for business, I was able to make my fortune. I have two ships of my own now that sail out of Salisbury."
"And is it business or pleasure that brings you to Salem, sir?" Chris asked.
They watched in amazement as the captain's face turned pale. "I have one last matter of business to settle and then I shall leave Salem forever." His voice was as cold as stone. "A madness has gripped this town, Nicholas. Look closely to those you hold dear."
Chris glanced about and realized that many on the docks had stopped their business and were now standing, watching them.
"The children from the village of Salem were here just this morning s
earching for more witches," Hawthorne said softly. "Goings-on the likes you've never seen before. And when the absurd spectacle was over, another fifteen were arrested."
"Oh, no," Sarah cried, pressing her hand to her lips.
"But what of the magistrates?" Nick demanded. "Do they just stand by and allow such madness to happen?"
Hawthorne slowly nodded his head. "Even now, adults from the village are sniffing through the streets searching for any of the children they might have missed." He looked over his shoulder and immediately grew uneasy from the attention they were getting. "I have rooms at the ordinary but three streets over," he said quietly. "Let us retire there where we can speak more freely."
Nick gave a slight nod of agreement. He, too, had sensed the growing undercurrent of tension. They had taken only a few steps when they were approached by a very nervous harbormaster
"State your name and your business," he demanded sharply.
"Nicholas Beaumont of Beaumont Shipping in the Virginia Colony," Nick replied easily. "My wife," he nodded toward Sarah, "and my business associate, Christopher Carlson."
The man relaxed slightly, for the name of Beaumont Shipping was well known along the waterfront. "And you, sir?"
"Captain Sebastian Hawthorne. I work for Mr. Beaumont."
Sarah's head snapped up with surprise, but she remained silent. Why had the man lied, she wondered? Did he not want the harbormaster to know of his own good fortune, or had his words to her been the lie?
She looked up at her husband. His eyes were dark and blank, but neither he nor Chris offered words to contradict the captain's story.
The harbormaster waved them on their way and Sarah felt the tension relax slightly in Nick's body as they followed Captain Hawthorne from the docks. Her own excitement grew as they traveled down streets that carried names she remembered. It mattered not that nothing else was familiar; she was almost home now, and that fact alone made her step grow light.
The ordinary was in view when a shrill scream pierced the air causing Sarah to clutch Nick's arm with a start. Turning, she found her sister-in-law Elizabeth Wittfield, descending from a horse-drawn cart.
Sarah's heart swelled with joy. She had thought it would be another day at best before she would see her home, her family. But the fates had delivered Elizabeth to her here and now. Before Nick could even realize what was happening, Sarah had darted across the street to greet her sister.
"Elizabeth," Sarah cried with excitement. "I'm home!"
Elizabeth screamed again, a bone-chilling scream that compelled everyone within earshot to come running.
An arms' length away from embracing, Sarah stopped short. Elizabeth was cowering away from her, pressed back against the cart and shaking in fear.
"Elizabeth," she said gently. " 'Tis I, Sarah. Didn't you get the message I sent?"
Elizabeth shook her head wildly. Her eyes scanned the crowd, coming to settle on the magistrates who had rushed to her aid. "She's a witch," she screamed, pointing her long, thin finger at Sarah.
The crowd about the two women drew closer, effectively blocking Nick. Fear ate at him as he struggled to get to Sarah. But Captain Hawthorne grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Wait," the man hissed. "The magistrates are there. Be still or we shall all be arrested."
Nick struggled to remain calm, while his heart demanded he rush in and save her. "What will they do?"
"Watch," Hawthorne whispered. "Watch, but say nothing."
"Elizabeth . . ." Sarah's voice began to tremble. "Don't you remember me? 'Tis Sarah."
"I know you well, you whore of Satan!" Elizabeth screamed. "You're a spawn of the devil, and a murderer besides."
Sarah shook her head in confusion. "Elizabeth, I never killed anyone. I was kidnapped from my bed. I was thrown into a ship and sold into bondage."
"Murderer," Elizabeth shrieked. "Sold into bondage, you say, when you wear a dress like that?"
Sarah looked down at her plain black velvet gown and knew she had erred greatly. She had completely forgotten how quick her Puritan neighbors were to condemn the unusual. "Elizabeth, 'tis the way they dress in Virginia."
"Virginia or hell, what be the difference?" Elizabeth's voice gained conviction. "You practice sorcery and killed your own brother."
Sarah felt her knees grow weak. "Samuel is dead?" she stammered as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. "It can't be."
"This is enough," Nick spat. "She doesn't need to listen to this. Chris, get back to the ship and tell them to be ready to weigh anchor."
"No," Hawthorne demanded, causing Chris to halt midstride. "I've seen it before and you'll lose her forever if you follow that plan. Trust me, I know what I am about."
Nick gritted his teeth. Every nerve in his body was taut with anger. But he stilled his motion and prayed Hawthorne was right.
Elizabeth's tortured laugh ended on a sob. "You killed him as sure as I am standing here. You took the shape of a sleek black cat, and when Samuel went to tie you in a sack, you bit him. Your body might have landed in the river, but not before you sank your poison into him."
"Elizabeth, I loved Samuel. I would never do anything to hurt him."
"He was tortured by your evil presence," Elizabeth hissed. "His skin burned with fever and his mind saw you at every turn. Yours was the name he cursed, Sarah Townsend," she screamed hysterically. "Yours was the name he finally called from his deathbed."
"But he was my brother. I loved him," Sarah cried softly, unable to contain her tears.
"Love," Elizabeth spat. "You know not the meaning of the word. We took you into our hearts and home and you repaid us be giving my babies to the devil and killing your own brother. I condemn you, Sarah Townsend. You are a witch from the blackest part of hell and I'll have no part of you. You should be hung."
"That's right, I saw it too."
Stunned by the news of her stepbrother's death and the vicious words that had been heaped on her, Sarah turned mutely toward her second accuser.
Ann Tate, their widowed neighbor, slipped closer to the shaking Elizabeth. "I heard Samuel Wittfield condemn her with his dying breath. And I was there when she turned into a cat for the first time so many months ago. While her brother and this good woman prayed for her safe return, she's been flitting about the countryside doing the devil's business."
"No," Sarah insisted, shaking her head as tears coursed down her pale cheeks. "I was kidnapped and taken to Virginia." Desperately her eyes searched the crowd for Nick.
" 'Tis of no consequence," Ann spat. "With my own eyes I watched you change into a cat, and with my own ears I heard your name on your dying brother's lips. Thomas Hawkins, did you not just tell me this morning that your cow's been acting queer?"
The man took a tentative step closer. "That it has."
"And you Jacob Potter," Ann called. "Did you not say that just yesterday the gate to your yard broke when you pushed it open?"
"Aye, that it did" came the reply.
"Then who do you think has been doing this evil mischief?" Ann challenged feeling the hysteria building, feeling the power of control. "You are a witch, Sarah Townsend, unfit to breathe the same air as good, God-fearing people."
"Hang the witch," the shout began. "Take her to the gallows now."
The magistrates quickly stepped forward, and two grabbed Sarah's arms. "There'll be no haste in this matter. She'll have a trial like all the rest."
"Hang her" came the chant. "Burn the devil's mistress."
Nick turned to the captain. "I don't care what you say, this madness has gone too far. I'm getting Sarah out of there right now." He never saw the meaty fist that connected with his jaw, and as his legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground, a blinding light filled his head until the darkness came to consume him.
Sebastian Hawthorne hoisted Nick easily over his shoulder and turned to Chris, who stood with his mouth still agape. "He would have rushed in and only succeeded in being arrested. I'll take him aboard my ship the Fleetwood. You follow
them," he gestured to the magistrates that now tugged at Sarah's arms, "Follow from a distance and don't speak to anyone. When you know which jail they put her in, join us as quickly as you can."
Chris could do no more than nod, for the captain had already turned and was striding down the street with Nick's limp body dangling from his shoulder while the crowd, with Sarah at its center, moved in the opposite direction.
Sarah's eyes frantically searched the growing sea of people. Her heart pounded with fear more terrifying than she could have ever imagined. "Nick!" she screamed desperately as they pulled her roughly down the street. "Nick!" But in the multitude before her, the face of her husband was nowhere to be found.
Nick woke to mind-shattering pain and the memory of Sarah in danger. Valiantly he tried to sit, but the ground beneath him swayed with a sickening motion.
"Easy, friend, easy." A hand braced behind his back gave him support, and Nick grimaced with pain as his body shifted upright. He was not on the ground after all, but on the deck of a ship, he realized as his eyes began to focus. His head throbbed, his jaw ached, and when he saw Sebastian Hawthorne kneeling beside him, her remembered all.
"You bastard." Nick pulled away and tried to find his feet. "You let those bloody fanatics take my wife." He stood too quickly and, as his head spun, he lost his balance and crashed to the deck again.
"They have my wife, too," Hawthorne said quietly. "I plan to get her out and sail on the morning tide, but I need your help. If we work together, they can both be saved; if not, then we gamble with the lives of those we hold most dear. I'll be in my cabin if you'd care to talk." He tossed down a leather flask that Nick managed to catch. " 'Tis brandy" was all he said before turning away.
Nick pulled himself against the rail and this time when he managed to stand, he did so slowly and his head stayed attached. The fiery bite of the brandy seared his throat, burned a path clear to his stomach, and did much to ease the painful throbbing in his head. He took one tentative step and then another. Fierce determination seeped into his being and he straightened his body further. Sarah was in jeopardy and she needed him, but first he needed answers. An air of danger surrounded him as he slowly made his was to Hawthorne's cabin.
Hawthorne looked up when Nick flung the door open. "Come in," he invited. "I apologize for striking you so hard. My mate was a bit overzealous with the nine pin."
"And were such theatrics necessary?" Nick snapped angrily, touching the lump that had already formed on the back of his head and then gingerly rubbing his aching jaw.
Hawthorne nodded toward a chair and then made a grand show of lighting his clay pipe. A faint cloud of blue-gray smoke haloed his head and his eyes scrunched against the sting. "More than necessary," he said quietly. "Your life depended on it. As I told Carlson, if you had rushed forth and tried to take your wife by force, the magistrates would have arrested you, too."
"Surely I could have reasoned with them."
"No damn it." Hawthorne jerked to his feet and began to pace. "You couldn't have. What must I do to make you understand that there is no reasoning with these people? They see witches at every turn. Don't you see? They are not struggling to find the truth. Damn it, man, they don't even want to hear the truth."
Nick took the offered chair and pulled it closer to the small table. His anger had turned to fear for Sarah's safety and he knew he'd not rest until he had her back again. "You said they took your wife, too?'
He watched Hawthorne's face contort with pain. " 'Tis been over a month since they took my Jenny." The man slumped back in his chair and drank deeply from his mug. "When I saw you this morning, I knew you were my last hope."
Nick leaned forward. "Tell me everything, that I might understand better."
Hawthorne looked into his mug and saw the bright, laughing eyes of his wife and his own eyes filled with tears. "At first I thought it a grievous mistake. My Jenny was not witch, and we'd been at sea for nigh on two months." Unashamed, he let the tears well in his eyes. "We had landed only that morning. Jenny pleaded with me to take her off the ship for a while, and she's always such a sweet little thing, I couldn't refuse her. We were standing near the blacksmiths admiring a crate of oranges when a cart full of children careens around the corner. I think their pony has run off with them so I rush to stop the cart. A crowd follows and within minutes one of the children has pointed to my Jenny and screamed she was a witch. Jenny was snatched away and taken to jail."
Nick felt a cold dread coil deep within his middle. "Could you do nothing?"
Hawthorne stood and began to pace again. "I went to the harbormaster, but he sent me to the locals. I found where they had taken her and asked to see the charges leveled against her. My God, they filled three pages. I explained as calmly as I could that there must be some error. We had just arrived that morning. For a while I thought the magistrates on my side. If there was a misunderstanding, they wished to get to the bottom it. The produced a girl, Abigail Williams, the minister's niece. When they asked her how it was possible that my Jenny could be guilty of the crimes listed against her when she'd been with me at sea, the girl faltered not one second. She turned her eyes on me and said clear as day that my Jenny's specter did the damage and was I trying to cover for the works of the devil. I waited for the magistrates to set her down and then tell me that Jenny was free." Hawthorne rubbed the tears from his eyes. "But it never happened. They believed the child. They believed that my kind, sweet Jenny traveled about the countryside, as a spirit of all things, doing the devil's mischief and I wasn't aware of it. It didn't take long to see that whatever the child said those in authority took as gospel, and any who disputed them were standing in the way of justice. So I came back to my ship alone."
"Each day I go to the trials hoping to find some flaw, some error that can be called forth to free my love. But the days go by and I find nothing."
Nick placed his hand on Hawthorne's shoulder and squeezed hard. "Have you seen her at all? Does she fare well?"
Hawthorne sniffed and tried to regain his composure. "They've let me visit her twice, for just a few minutes each time. It breaks my heart to see her in the squalor they call a jail, and they've cast her in irons. They've cast all the supposed witches in irons." He turned to Nick with desperation shining in his eyes. "You have to help me. I'll go mad if they do anything more to her. And I don't know how to get her out."
"Where is Christopher?'
Captain Hawthorne drew himself erect and wiped his last tear from his face. "I sent him to follow your wife. I've seen it happen enough times – the crowd will follow her to one of three jails. Tomorrow or the next day, she'll be brought before the magistrates and accused of her crimes. They'll ask for her plea." Hawthorne laughed hoarsely. "If she claims to be guilty and offers to repent, they'll set her free."
"What?" Nick gasped.
Hawthorne nodded. "But if she professes her innocence, she'll be cast in irons and taken back to jail to await her trial." The man shuttered. "Too many have already lost their lives at Gallows Hill. I'll not let my Jenny be one of them."
Nick rubbed his hand across his aching forehead. "But if we could get word to her to plead guilty, then all would be saved."
Hawthorne smiled sadly. "You're not of the Puritan faith, are you?" he asked. Nick shook his head and the man continued. "I had the same thought," he said slowly. "But when I begged Jenny, she would hear none of it. 'I am innocent and I'll not say elsewise. I'll not admit to seeking the devil's company, Sebastian.' she said. 'I'm a good Christian woman and I'll not denounce God to save my mortal life, so speak no more of it.' " Hawthorne shuddered visibly. "So now you know the problem, tell me Nicholas Beaumont, how are we going to find a solution?"
Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) Page 27
