Scarlet Widow

by Graham Masterton

  When she arrived at his farmhouse, Beatrice found James Moody in one of his outbuildings mending a broken plough. He was a lean, tall man with a long, lugubrious face and a pointed nose like a pickaxe. Beatrice had never seen him look anything but sad. When he saw her approaching he came out into the yard, one eye closed against the sunlight.

  ‘Goody Scarlet! Good day to you.’

  He took hold of Uriel’s bridle and led him over to the side of the outbuilding and tied him up.

  ‘This is not really a social call,’ Beatrice told him.

  ‘Under the circumstances, I didn’t imagine that it was. Again – you have our sympathy, mine and Abigail’s. The Reverend Scarlet was cut from the finest cloth.’

  ‘I have to ask you a question,’ said Beatrice. ‘I have to ask you how much of your land you have given over to Mr Jonathan Shooks.’

  James Moody looked away, as if he had seen somebody else in the distance.

  ‘I realize that your transaction was supposed to be confidential, Mr Moody, but this is a matter that is affecting all of Sutton and I am determined to put an end to it.’

  James Moody turned back to look at her. His eyelids were very droopy, like curtains that were sagging halfway down. ‘You should tread very careful, Goody Scarlet, believe me. I was told what would befall my family and me if I refused to give Shooks some of my land, and I would hate to see such a thing happening to you.’

  ‘So Jonathan Shooks threatened you?’

  ‘Not himself, no. He promised that he would do everything within his power to keep us unscathed. But he did say that Satan would be unforgiving if I didn’t give him thirty acres of my lower fields.’

  ‘Did he tell you what he meant by “unforgiving”?’

  ‘My family and me would be gathered together and sat in a circle, children and all, that’s what he said. Our bellies would be sliced open and our bowels would be heaped together and burned in front of our eyes.’

  ‘So you assigned him your fields?’

  ‘Satan has done for your husband, Goody Scarlet. Turned him to wood by witchcraft, despite him being a minister. It’s plain that God can’t protect us, or won’t. So wouldn’t you have done the same?’

  Beatrice didn’t answer that. Instead she said, ‘Show me which fields you gave him, Mr Moody.’

  James Moody waved his hand in a southerly direction and said, ‘Most of my lower fields, that way. I shall suffer for it, I can tell you, because they’re all well watered and the grazing is good.’

  ‘I thank you for telling me,’ said Beatrice. ‘I’m sorry if my intrusion has upset you.’

  ‘So long as you don’t let Shooks know that I spoke to you. He was quite insistent that our arrangement should remain confidential. But I am sorely aggrieved by it, as you can imagine. Sorely.’

  ‘Nobody else shall learn that I came here, Mr Moody.’

  She drove away from Fiddler’s Lake Farm with James Moody standing in front of his outbuilding and watching her go. She turned around when she reached the entrance to the farm, over a half-mile away, and he was still standing there as if he had forgotten how to move.

  She decided to return home now, and have something to eat and drink, and start to draw her map.

  *

  Back at the parsonage, she walked through to the kitchen where Mary was chopping up pumpkins.

  ‘Oh, I’m so hot!’ said Mary. ‘I do believe I’m going to be nothing but a puddle of lard by the end of the day!’ Beatrice smiled at her, although she couldn’t help thinking of Nicholas Buckley, pinky-grey and glutinous, dissolved in the horse-trough.

  ‘I’m just going to help myself to a slice of that chicken pie,’ Beatrice told her. ‘Would you like some? I have to go out again this afternoon, but I shan’t be back late.’

  Mary finished her chopping and tipped the pieces of pumpkin into a large copper pot which she filled up with water from the pump beside the sink. ‘I’ll bring little Noah in, shall I? I can mash up some pie with milk for him. He always likes that.’

  While Mary went out into the garden, Beatrice took the pie out of the pantry and set out two plates and a bowl. Although it was so warm today, she was surprised how hungry she was. She almost felt as if her hunt to find out the truth about Jonathan Shooks and his demon had given her an appetite.

  She poured out two mugs of cider, too, and a cup of milk for Noah.

  While she was waiting for Mary to bring Noah in from the garden she went to the hutch and took out a sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal. She sat down at the kitchen table and began roughly to sketch the areas of land that George Gilman and James Moody had surrendered to Jonathan Shooks.

  From outside she heard Mary calling, ‘Noah! Noah! Come in for your dinner, Noah! Come along, Noah!’

  This afternoon she planned to visit Ebenezer Rowlandson. She would probably have to leave William Tucker until tomorrow because Billingshurst was over four miles away and it would take her most of the morning just to drive there and back.

  ‘Noah! Noah! Come on, Noah! Where are you hiding yourself? It’s your dinner time, Noah! Come along!’

  Another minute went past, with Mary continually calling, and then she came back into the kitchen looking flustered and even hotter.

  ‘I can’t find him, Goody Scarlet! I’ve been calling and calling and I’ve looked in all the places where he usually hides, like the tool shed.’

  Beatrice stood up and followed her outside. The garden was empty and silent except for the sound of Jubal and Caleb chopping back bushes by the brook. Noah’s go-cart was lying on its side by the bean beds.

  ‘Noah!’ called Beatrice as loudly as she could. ‘Noah, where are you?’

  No answer.

  ‘Noah! Mama will be cross with you!’

  Still no answer.

  Beatrice began to feel a hurting sensation in her chest, the beginnings of panic. She picked up her gown and hurried through the field beyond the garden until she came to the slope that led down to the brook. She could see Jubal standing knee-deep in the swiftly running water, hacking at some of the overhanging branches.

  ‘Jubal! Have you seen Noah?’

  Jubal shook his head. ‘Caleb!’ he shouted. ‘Have you seen Master Noah at all?’

  Beatrice couldn’t clearly hear what Caleb shouted in reply, but Jubal shook his head again. ‘Sorry, Goody Scarlet.’

  Beatrice ran back to the house as fast as she could. Mary was coming back around the side of the house next to the paddock.

  ‘He’s not in the front neither!’ she said. ‘I don’t know where he could be! He went out only a half-hour since, just to play!’

  ‘Oh dear Lord,’ said Beatrice. ‘Dear Lord, protect our little son from harm.’

  ‘I thought he would be safe, Goody Scarlet. Honest I did! I couldn’t see him but I could hear him singing and riding his little go-cart up and down.’

  ‘Oh dear Lord,’ said Beatrice, closing her eyes for a moment. She was trying very hard not think the worst, but she couldn’t stop herself. Our bellies would be sliced open and our bowels would be heaped together and burned in front of our eyes... children and all.

  *

  They searched the orchard and the fields and all the surrounding woods until dusk began to gather. Caleb went down to the village to ask if anybody had seen Noah there, but nobody had.

  Beatrice wanted to drive to the Penacook Inn to see if Jonathan Shooks had any idea where he was. By now, however, it was totally dark and the moon wouldn’t rise until well after midnight. She stood in the garden holding up a lantern and calling and calling but still Noah didn’t answer. She knew that it was futile. She knew that he couldn’t hear her, either because he was much too far away or because he was dead.

  Please be too far away, but alive, and not in any distress. Please. Please don’t be dead.

  She spent the night awake, not even bothering to undress. Mary offered to stay with her, but Beatrice told Caleb to take her home. There was nothing Mary could do to h
elp and she was so upset that she was almost hysterical and she needed her sleep.

  Several times during the night Beatrice went outside. A heavy bank of clouds had moved across the sky from the west, blotting out the moon, so that it remained dark all night. In spite of that she stood in the garden holding up her lantern and calling Noah’s name, even though she could hardly make herself heard over the furious chirping of the crickets.

  *

  A grey dawn began to lighten the sky at last and Beatrice splashed her face with cold water and lit the fire so that she could make herself a cup of tea. The cup of milk that she had filled for Noah’s dinner was still on the table. There was a fly floating in it, so she emptied it down the sink.

  Losing Francis, and now Noah, she could almost believe that Sutton had been taken over by Satan. What had she done, after all, that she should be punished like this, except love her husband and her son and believe absolutely in God?

  Jubal and Caleb arrived just after six o’clock. Caleb came in to tell her that Mary was running a fever and might not appear until later, if at all. Beatrice suspected that Mary hadn’t slept, just as she hadn’t, and that she was simply too tired and distraught to come to work.

  When she had finished her tea she went into the parlour to brush her hair in the mirror. It was tangled and untidy, and she hadn’t had time to put in curling-papers. She looked very white, but much more composed than she actually felt. In fact, the distortion in the glass made it appear as if one side of her mouth was raised in the slightest of sardonic smiles. Perhaps this mirror was possessed by Satan. Perhaps all mirrors were.

  She pinned on her black mourning cap and went out to ask Caleb to harness Uriel for her. As she opened the front door, however, she saw Jonathan Shooks’s calash coming briskly towards her down the driveway. She felt like slamming the door shut again, but she stayed where she was until Samuel had slewed the calash in a circle and brought it to a halt.

  Jonathan Shooks was dressed in black today. His coat was black and his britches were black, although his waistcoat and his stockings were grey.

  He came up to the porch with his hat tucked under his arm but said nothing, not even ‘good morning’.

  ‘You had better come inside,’ said Beatrice. She turned and went along the hallway to the parlour and he followed her, closing the front door behind him.

  Inside the parlour, in front of the looking-glass, they stood face to face, staring at one another. Beatrice could almost feel static electricity crackling between them, like the glass globes in her father’s laboratory.

  ‘My son Noah – my son Noah is missing,’ she said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

  ‘I know,’ he replied in that low, controlled voice.

  ‘Have you taken him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Beatrice could hardly believe what he had said. She started to breathe more quickly, practically panting with anxiety.

  ‘You’ve taken him? Is he safe? You haven’t hurt him, have you?’

  ‘Of course not. He is quite unharmed, and fed. He has wept a little and asked for his mama, but that is only to be expected.’

  ‘Where is he? How could you do such a thing? I demand that you bring him back to me now!’

  ‘Please, Widow Scarlet, calm yourself. The only reason I took him was to protect the both of you.’

  ‘To protect us? You’ve abducted my baby son! How could that possibly protect us?’

  ‘Because it is the only way in which I can persuade you to change your mind and deed me those acres I have asked you for.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about? Haven’t I made it clear enough that I refuse to give you any of my land?’

  ‘Indeed you have, Widow Scarlet, and that is why I have taken Noah, and I will only return him to you when you sign a deed of land transfer.’

  ‘You, sir – you are nothing but a monster!’

  Jonathan Shooks shrugged. ‘I admit that I am doing business with a monster, but I am only trying to save you and your son from torture or death, or both. I am the only one who can keep this demon at bay. He grows more and more impatient by the hour to complete the task that Satan has set him. It was an extreme measure, I agree, taking your son, but I could see no other way of saving you.

  ‘Widow Scarlet, you are far too fair of face and figure to be burned, or gutted, or bathed in caustic. Do you want to have your hands and feet amputated? Do you want to be force-fed your baby son’s heart before it has stopped beating? Do you want to see him blazing from head to toe in front of your eyes? The demon has been known to do such things, and worse. His evil inventions know no bounds, believe me.’

  ‘There is no demon.’

  ‘I assure you there is.’

  ‘You are well aware that my father was an apothecary and that he taught me much of his skill in chymistry?’

  ‘Of course. I was a yeoman in the Society of Apothecaries myself. Your father didn’t know me, of course, and we never met, but I knew much about your father, as most apothecaries did. It was quite a surprise for me to find his daughter here in Sutton.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s quite true, I assure you. It’s a very small world, after all. Your father earned himself quite a reputation from some of the papers he published, didn’t he? Very unusual, most of them, such as Spontaneous Combustion with Oil of Potash and The Preservation of Organic Bodies by Means of Dehydration by Linseed Oil.’

  ‘You are mocking me, Mr Shooks. My husband has been murdered and his body subjected to just such a process and you have the gall to say that to me.’

  ‘I am not mocking you, Widow Scarlet. Why would I? I was a very capable young apothecary, as a matter of fact. You accused me of being a charlatan, but I can assure you that I’m not and never have been.’

  ‘You are a charlatan and a monster, too. I insist that you return my son.’

  ‘You can call me what you like. But I was so good an apothecary that I was employed by a London shipping company to travel the world and seek out new cures from various cultures all around the globe. I was sent to India and to China and to Peru and to Valdivia. I was the first person to bring back wild American ginseng to London, which made me quite wealthy at the time.

  ‘Of course, medicine in almost all cultures is inextricably mixed with religion and superstition. How else do you think I acquired my knowledge of spirits and demons, and the various guises in which Satan appears in different countries?’

  Beatrice slowly shook her head. ‘If you are such a well-qualified apothecary, Mr Shooks, you have convinced me even more that all of the so-called supernatural events that have been terrifying the people of Sutton were created by you, and you alone.’

  She took a breath and then she said, ‘I demand to have my son returned to me, and I demand to have him returned to me immediately, and if I discover so much as one single bruise on his body, your demon’s evil inventions will seem like nothing compared to what I will personally do to you.’

  ‘There is a demon, Widow Scarlet,’ said Jonathan Shooks. ‘Even now, as we speak, that demon is holding your son, and if I go back to him without your assurance that you will make over your land, then the demon will hurt him, and badly. Perhaps he won’t kill him. Perhaps he will only cut off his arms, or his genitals, or blind him. Perhaps he will dip his head in a pot of scalding water. I really don’t know. But I do know that if you persist in your refusal, you will never see your son again the way he once was.’

  Beatrice stared back at him, her eyes narrowed, searching his face for the tiniest flicker of insincerity. But he held her stare steadily, and apart from that his voice was deep and measured, almost warm, as if he were counselling her rather than trying to frighten her.

  She still found it impossible to believe that there was a demon, but she did believe now that Jonathan Shooks was not going to give Noah back to her unless she agreed to sign over her land.

  She turned her head to the side and looked at herself in the
mirror. ‘Very well, then,’ she saw herself saying. ‘I will need to go the village and discuss the wording with Mr Norton, the lawyer.’

  ‘A letter of intent will suffice for now. We can go over the finer legal points later, as well as the exact location of the land to be deeded and its dimensions.’

  ‘Very well. If you return at noon I will have a letter drawn up for you.’

  ‘Can you not write one now?’

  ‘I need to think about it very carefully, Mr Shooks. My son’s life is at stake here, remember. To whom should I address it?’

  ‘You need write no name on it. For you to know the demon’s name would be catastrophic. Simply say that you are prepared to transfer your land to me, acting as proxy for a client who wishes to remain anonymous.’

  He paused, and then he, too, looked at the reflection of her face and added, ‘ You have come to a wise decision, Widow Scarlet, believe me.’

  ‘I don’t wish to discuss it any further, thank you. When you return, will you be bringing Noah with you?’

  ‘Well, we shall see. If the letter is satisfactory, then I will ensure that little Noah is back in your arms before you know it.’

  ‘You can call him my son. I would rather not hear his name on your lips, thank you.’

  ‘Whatever pleases you, Widow Scarlet. Whatever pleases you.’

  Thirty-two

  For more than twenty minutes after Jonathan Shooks had left Beatrice sat in the parlour thinking. She could have followed him to see if she could discover where he was holding Noah, but it would be almost impossible to do that without him becoming aware that she was close behind him, and in any event what could she do even if she did manage to find out where Noah was?

  Francis had followed him and although Francis had not been a weak man he had been overcome and killed.

  She could call on Constable Jewkes. He was armed, at least, but he was probably drunk already and even when he was sober he was clumsy and incompetent. With Noah’s life at stake she couldn’t risk him barging in and giving Jonathan Shooks the chance to kill or injure him. Whatever Jonathan Shooks had sworn to her, she still found it hard to believe that there really was a demon with whom he was doing business.