Mary slumped into a chair and dragged her bonnet off the moment they reached home. “What’s to become of those women,” she murmured, “and poor Reverend Burroughs as well?”
Will poured himself a brandy and took the seat beside her, stroking her hand. “It’s a nasty business, Mary. I’ve heard tales all my life of Margaret Jones’s execution for witchcraft back in ’48. I’d never have believed that such a thing could happen again in this day and age. When that Carib Indian slave, Tituba, saved herself by confessing last year, I hoped that might put an end to it. But her confession simply fanned the flames. Now it’s like a wildfire that’s suddenly taken hold in Salem Village and is spreading through all of Massachusetts. I’m afraid there will be many more hangings before we can put an end to this mass hysteria.”
Mary wept softly, dabbing at her eyes. “That poor little child, Dorcas Good. My heart went out to her.” She glanced up at her husband. “She’s only four years old, Will. How can they possibly think she’s in league with the devil?”
Will shook his head. “Sarah Good’s her mother,” he lamely explained. “Daughters of convicted witches have always been suspect.”
“But to throw her into jail, why, it’s simply unthinkable, unchristian.” She gave her husband a hard look. “You’re the governor now, Will. Can’t you simply say enough and disband the courts?”
“With people like that fanatical Reverend Mather leading the pack?” Will shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I have power over the military and the colonial government, but these trials come under the jurisdiction of the church. The only way I’ll be able to control this is to sail back to England and get an edict directly from the king.”
“But that could take months!” Mary cried. “Dozens of victims could die unjustly before then.”
“I assume you’re referring to the accused witches rather than the witches’ victims,” Will said dryly.
Mary came out of her chair, furious. “William, certainly you’re not telling me that you actually believe in all this ‘evil hand’ business. Most of the accusers I’ve seen are silly young girls, bored with their dull lives, and frustrated because they don’t dare take a tumble in the hayloft with a fellow for fear Reverend Mather’s vengeful Puritan God will strike them down. They’ve nothing better to amuse themselves these long, hot summer days than feigning fits and pointing fingers at their neighbors. Find them husbands to keep them happy and bearing a child a year, and then they’ll have little time to go about crying witch.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Mary dear. I didn’t mean that I believe any of this. However, my disbelief in witchcraft will do little to put an end to the trials. I must speak with the king as soon as possible.”
Mary felt terribly downcast realizing Will would have to leave her again, but she was determined not to let her husband know. So many of their married years they had been apart while he went on his treasure hunts or off to distant places on official business. Even now he was back only recently from Maine. Once more she would be forced to do without him for the good of all. She knew it was his duty to go and her duty to send him off without any argument. Still, the pang in her heart was great.
Will was snuffing out the candles, preparing to go to bed, when the knock came at their door. He and Mary exchanged worried glances. Had some neighbor pointed an accusing finger at one of them? Often, they knew, when the judges and the minister came to make an arrest on charges of witchcraft, the dreaded confrontation took place at a late hour.
“Don’t fret, Mary,” Will said, sensing his wife’s terror. “They’d never dare accuse either of us.”
“You’re right, of course, darling. Still, I did have a few sharp words for Hannah Webster’s impudent daughter yesterday. She’s always been such a spoiled child. She was rude to me so I put her in her place for once.” Mary laughed nervously, nodding for her husband to open the door.
He hesitated, frowning as he lifted the latch. Accusations of witchcraft had been leveled for lesser infractions. At the sight of Alice and Christopher, their tension quickly eased.
“My land!” Mary cried, opening her arms wide to pull Alice to her ample bosom. “What a wonderful surprise this is!”
The two women hugged and laughed while the men shook hands, then poured wine.
“Chris, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you here,” Will confided. “I hadn’t expected you for weeks yet. But I’m awfully glad you’ve come just now.”
“You sound worried, Will.”
“I am. There’s trouble in Salem, spreading fast. I have to sail for England in a few days. I’ll feel so much better not having to leave Mary all alone.”
“You must mean the witch trials,” Chris said quietly. “I’ve been trying to keep all that from Alice, but I suppose she’s bound to hear now that we’re in the very midst of it. You know about her mother, of course.”
Will’s frown deepened. “Yes, but I’d long forgotten all about that. I heard the story from Jonathan Hargrave right after Alice arrived at the fort. He told me an outlandish tale about Alice threatening him with a curse one instant and a nearly fatal bullet striking him in the next.”
“That bastard!” Gunn fumed. “You mean he actually accused Alice of being a witch?”
“No, no,” Will replied. “He was merely pointing out the odd coincidence of the thing. Say, did you hear that Hargrave took himself a wife? She’s a woman he fell in love with years ago, I hear. It’s quite romantic, don’t you think? All this time apart and now they’ve found each other again.”
“Thank God for small favors! He’s still in England, I hope.”
“No,” Will said. “He’s bringing his bride back to America. They should arrive here in Boston any day. She’s three times widowed with twelve children by her various spouses. Jon thinks the sons and daughters will be better off here, where they have more space to grow.”
Chris groaned. “Can’t you put him on one of your ships bound for India?”
Will laughed and slapped Chris on the back. “My boy, don’t tell me you’re still unsure of your marriage. Believe me, there was never anything between your Alice and Jonathan Hargrave.”
“There was at least one kiss,” Gunn replied. “I saw it with my own eyes, and that’s one too many for me.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to fear, Chris. Even if Alice were remotely interested, I hear Prudence Hargrave is a straitlaced woman, well equipped to keep any straying husband in line.”
“Prudence, you say?” Gunn grinned, then belted out a laugh. “I like the woman already. Do you suppose he calls her ‘Pruddie’? Or perhaps she’s simply ‘Goodwife Prude.’”
“From what I’ve heard of the lady,” Will whispered, “I would imagine he’s required to call her ‘Mrs. Hargrave,’ and he’s no doubt obligated to beg for permission to enter her bed. Lord knows, she doesn’t need any Hargrave brats to add to her brood.”
When both men roared with laughter, their wives came over to share the joke.
“What’s so funny, Chris?” Alice demanded.
“Nothing really,” he admitted between guffaws. “It’s your friend Hargrave. He’s married now.”
“How nice for him,” Alice said, meaning it sincerely. “He said he craved a wife and family.”
“Well, he has one now—twelve children by three other men and a wife named… ” Chris lost his breath and couldn’t finish his sentence straight-faced.
“A wife named Prudence,” Will supplied. “They’ll be coming back to Boston to live soon. With a family that size, I expect they’ll buy a farm outside the town. They’ll need the space.”
“Prudence?” Alice mused aloud. “Why, that was the name of the woman he told me about—the love of his life, so he said.”
The two couples spent a pleasant hour catching up on all that had happened since they’d last been together. Mary was shocked and horrified on hearing of Alice’s abduction by savages.
; “My dear child,” she said, hugging her young friend, “I’d have died of pure mortification if such a nasty thing had happened to me.”
Alice pretended she’d been brave through it all. Actually, time and distance had erased some of her memory of the terror. “It was really quite an interesting experience,” she told them. “I even became good friends with Baron de Saint Castin and his Abenaki wife, Mathilde.”
“Is he as fierce a man as I’ve heard?” Mary asked with a slight shudder.
Gunn laughed. “My Alice managed to tame the brute. Actually, you might say she brought him to his knees. He never knew what to expect from her next, and he had to finally pay me to take her back.”
“Chris, you didn’t have to tell that part,” Alice scolded. “But I never understood why he was so anxious for me to leave. Mathilde and I got on so well.”
“That was the whole problem,” Chris explained. “He told me that you were turning his shy Indian bride into as headstrong a woman as he’d ever met. He asked me how I put up with you.”
All but Alice laughed. “The nerve of the man!” she cried. “He ordered me to educate his wife. I was doing my best.”
“Sounds like you taught her a few more tricks than the baron had bargained for,” Will mused.
“Well, she’s a better person for my tutoring.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Alice,” Mary agreed. “Don’t pay any attention to these men. They’re only teasing you.”
Will leaned toward Chris and whispered, loud enough to make sure the women heard, “Did she bring a good price, my friend?”
“William Phips, I’m surprised at you!” his wife exclaimed.
Gunn winked at his friend and whispered back, “A full pack of beaver hides, French brandy, his finest brood mare, and his grandfather’s saber.”
Will gave a low whistle. “Alice, I’m impressed.” He turned toward Mary and eyed her up and down. “I wonder what my wife would bring on the open market?”
“Sir William!” Mary cried.
When the others all laughed, Mary blushed. Will put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “My dear old girl,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t trade you for the finest brood mare in the colonies.”
A short time later the Gunns said good night and went home. Great soggy clouds were gathering again, blocking out the moon’s faint light. Alice and Chris made a dash for their house as a jagged bolt of lightning tore across the sky and rain began pelting down. They were soaked before they got inside.
“Lord, this weather!” Chris groaned. “I’d forgotten how disagreeable Boston summers can be. Give me the cool green of Maine in June anytime.”
Alice went to him and began unbuttoning his drenched shirt. “Oh, no, you don’t, my love. You promised me a home with a husband in Boston. You’re not sneaking off to the wilds again just because of a little foul weather.”
When she leaned into him, rubbing her breasts against his chest, Gunn grinned. “Well, maybe you have a point there. I would miss certain things about Boston if I traipsed off to the north woods all alone. I’m sure I’d miss up there what we’re about to enjoy in our big, new bed.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” she asked playfully.
His hands came up to cup her breasts. “You know,” he whispered. “It would be bad luck if we didn’t make love the first night under our new roof.”
“Why do you keep mentioning bad luck, Chris? To hear you talk people would think you’re a superstitious man. But you can’t be if you live with a black cat.”
“Damn cat,” he muttered just before his lips captured hers.
Alice had been deathly seasick during the trip down. Bad weather had caught them off the coast of Maine and followed them all the way south. And because of her illness, they hadn’t made love since the night before they left Maine. Now, as Chris kissed her, all the old hunger surged through both of them once more.
“You go up and get out of your wet things,” Chris told her. “I’ll put Damncat out and join you shortly.”
“No, Chris,” Alice protested. “I wish you wouldn’t call Ollav that, and you certainly can’t expect him to sleep out in this storm.”
He shrugged and sighed. “Have it your way, but I’ve slept out in worse.”
“But you’re not a cat. They hate getting wet.”
Chris gave her a little shove toward the stairs. “Whatever! Just get up there and get ready for me, love. I’m a starving man.”
As she turned to go up, he caught her hand and drew her close once more, nibbling at her neck. “Hmmm, famished actually,” he added.
Alice giggled and pulled away to hurry up the stairs.
While giving his wife time to get undressed and climb into bed, Chris roamed the downstairs rooms of their new home, imagining how their life together would be now that they had a real place of their own. The cabin had served well enough in Maine, but he and Alice had spent little time there together. They would be starting fresh here in Boston.
“A new house, a new town, a new life,” he murmured, smiling. He climbed the stairs slowly, enjoying his own growing excitement.
The bedroom was dark when he entered. “Alice,” he called softly. No answer. He moved toward the bed, reaching out to see which side she’d chosen. His fingers sank into warm fur and claws sank into his hand.
“Dammit,” he muttered. “Alice, I won’t sleep with that fiend.”
Still no answer.
Chris struck a flint and lit the candle beside the bed. Alice lay there, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. She was fast asleep. He reached out and stroked her shoulder, but she didn’t rouse.
“My poor darling,” he murmured. The trip and her illness had left her more exhausted than she’d been willing to admit.
Forcing himself to leave her be until morning, Chris shed his clothes and lay down next to her. A soft hiss of warning came from the tomcat curled close to her breasts.
Chris sighed resignedly and closed his eyes.
When Gunn awoke the next morning, he reached for Alice before even opening his eyes. Her place was empty. He groaned with disappointment and buried his head under his pillow.
“Get up, you lazy savage.” Alice’s cheery voice came to him as a muffled whisper.
Tossing the pillow aside, he sat up, letting the cover fall to his waist. Alice blushed and averted her gaze.
“You expect me to stand up with this?” He thumped himself in frustration.
“Chris, really,” Alice murmured. “It’s broad daylight. You should have done something about that last night. I was ready then. Now I have chores to do.”
He jumped out of bed and grabbed her about the waist before she could get away. Tumbling her onto the bed, he smiled and said, “You certainly have. And there’s one chore that won’t wait a minute longer.”
“Chris, no,” Alice wailed, but already he was standing over her, shoving her skirts to her waist.
Only seconds later her protests turned to sighs. What would he do to her next? She never knew what to expect from her lusty heathen. At this early hour of the morning he was already at her. Sprawled before him with her feet still touching the floor, she remained fully clothed, albeit her skirts assunder, while he stood naked beside the bed, purely stealing this moment of pleasure. But Alice couldn’t complain, for what he stole from her he returned a thousandfold. She wrapped her legs about his waist, drawing him even deeper as the final, explosive moment neared.
Only Ollav seemed displeased with the morning’s proceedings. He sat in a corner, growling low in his throat, his golden eyes fixed on the man hunched over his mistress.
None of the good citizens of Boston would ever have guessed what had transpired a short while earlier by looking at Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Gunn as they strolled toward the market at noontime. Alice wore a finely cut hunter-green gown, bonnet, and gloves, while her handsome husband—shaved of his rampant whiskers—strode beside her, dressed in the very latest of
European styles. They exuded the look of the prim and proper young married couple, given of course to the Puritan edict of bedding only as a means of procreation.
Chris doffed his hat to several acquaintances they passed in the street.
“Why don’t you introduce me?” Alice inquired.
“It’s just not done, my dear. We’ll arrange a proper gathering at our home very soon. Only then may I present you to my gentlemen friends.”
“But I don’t know anyone,” Alice pointed out to him.
“That can’t be helped for the time being. You want to be socially proper, don’t you?”
“I suppose so, but I want to make friends, too. All your acquaintances eye me so oddly when we pass. Is my hat on crooked? Am I showing too much bosom?”
Gunn laughed aloud and let his gaze stray to her bodice. “Never, my darling, at least not for me. They’re only staring because they don’t recognize you. They’re trying to figure out who the lucky lady is who finally snared the handsome, witty likes of me.”
Alice laughed herself. “You don’t say?” she mocked.
“Believe me, darling, I’ve been called the most likely bachelor about town for some time now. I’ve only escaped marriage by keeping to my woods. But you caught me. Take my word for it, you’ve made many an eligible daughter’s mother weep to have lost such a son-in-law.”
“Christopher Gunn, you are the most pompous, the most conceited, the most—”
“Desirable?” he leaned down and whispered.
Alice laughed in spite of herself. “Yes, that, too.”
“I say there, Gunn, can that be you?” A familiar male voice interrupted their repartee.
Alice felt Chris stiffen beside her. She glanced up into Jonathan Hargrave’s face. Beside him stood a tiny woman dressed all in black, who was encased in an aura of disapproval. Alice figured that this must be Jon’s bride, although she looked like a widow still. Alice, after hesitating only a moment, offered her hand to the woman.
“You must be Mrs. Hargrave. How nice to meet you. I’m Alice Gunn.”
The little woman shrank away, allowing Hargrave the opportunity to snatch Alice’s hand, kissing the back of her glove. His wife’s less than pretty face took on a decidedly sour expression.
Silver Tears Page 29
