He and Faith would leave Salem.
He was still very much lost to his thoughts when a voice distracted him.
“Fine day, is it not?”
Nathanial looked to the source of the voice, finding an elder Goodman, overly bundled against the cool day, seated on a porch.
“I suppose it is,” Nathanial agreed.
“Not many folks stop by to see me these days.”
They were on the edge of town. “I do not imagine many pass by these parts.”
“It is lonely out here,” the man acknowledged. “But I want nothing of the center of town. There’s only one person whose companionship I miss, and I won’t find her there.”
The Goodman’s tone suggested such affection that Nathanial’s heart warmed. “Who are you missing, sir?”
“An old friend, long widowed. Her name is Felicity.”
“Felicity Downing?”
The elder studied Nathanial for a moment. “That’s the one.”
“It just so happens I am to marry her daughter. Would you like me to arrange a visit?”
The man’s face clouded, leaving Nathanial to wonder if he had made a mistake in offering. But then the elder smiled. “I can think of nothing I would like more.”
…
Faith had just begun to wonder what had become of Nathanial when he arrived, bursting through the door in a blast of cold air. Despite the chill, he immediately shed his topcoat and bypassed the fire. Without saying a word, he cradled her head between his large, cold hands and kissed her solidly.
“You smell wonderful,” he murmured.
“What you smell is the pottage.” She gestured toward the meal simmering over the fire. Oblivious to the overwhelming commonality of the exchange, her heart turned somersaults. He had come home to her. This man who could have his pick of the finest patricians in all the colonies had chosen her. How long could his interest possibly last?
“I dare say it is nearly as delightful as you.” He leaned closer and whispered, “You taste better.”
She gave him a silent swat on the shoulder and tilted her head toward her mother. In doing so, she remembered her mother’s words. Do not question. The words were wise, and not just because his interest was in no danger of waning anytime soon, but because she did not want to while away her joy with worries.
Nathanial grinned and kissed her again, then walked over to sit with her mother. “How are you this fine evening, Goodwife?”
“For all sakes, call me Felicity. Such formality is unneeded.”
“It is not formality, but respect.”
“Very well then. Respectfully call me Felicity.”
He sat back and laughed. “May I inquire as to your plans in the morning?”
Faith stepped in. “She has no plans. Her health is poor.”
“Nonsense, child. I feel much better after leaving the house. The fresh air is good for a body.”
“The fresh air is cold! And you do not want to strain yourself.”
“Nor do I wish to waste away in this chair. Now hush. For all we know, he wants me to mend his jacket.”
“Actually,” Nathanial said, casting a sideways glance at Faith, “I would like very much for you to accompany me on a visit to one of your old friends. I happened by his home today and found him out of doors. We spoke briefly, and when he learned of our association, he requested your company specifically.”
Faith nearly dropped the bowl she held. “He?”
“Miles Corbet,” Nathanial said.
Felicity pressed her fingertips to her chest. “Miles wishes to see me? He asks for me, after all these years?
Faith searched her memories for the once familiar name. “Miles…he was Charity’s husband, was he not? Why would he want to see you?”
“As I said, I happened by his home and we talked. Once he learned of our prospective marriage he inquired as to your mother’s health. He cannot travel the distance between them, but he hoped she might.”
Felicity’s eyes shone like stars. “He still thinks of me?”
“Mother, it is a visit.”
Nathanial nudged Faith’s side and grinned. “He still thinks of her.”
Faith blew out a frustrated sigh. “Very well. Do as you must.”
…
Faith was out of sorts the next morning on the walk to the Corbet house. Though she knew of the Goodman, she found it odd he would request an audience with her mother after so many years apart—not that they had ever been together in any capacity beyond that of their shared love for Charity. Even the few times they had crossed paths at the meeting house, Faith had not noticed involvement between her mother and Miles…if anything, they had seemed to avoid one another.
Which was…interesting. Very much so.
Faith stole a look at her mother, who looked more like a girl than a grown woman having been plagued for years with problems in her hips and knees.
She appeared…happy.
“What is going on here?” Faith asked Nathanial.
His only response was a secretive smile. Before she could question him further—for all the good it would do—he gestured toward a nearby home. “Here we are.”
Felicity stopped, releasing Faith’s arm and drawing her hands to her chest.
“Mother? Are you okay?” Were those tears in her mother’s eyes?
“Forgive me. It has been so long.”
“There was no need to wait years. Why did you not speak of your desire to visit with Goodman Corbet? We could have arranged this much sooner.”
Nathanial touched Faith’s arm. “Worry not. All is as it should be.”
Sure it was. Her mother had turned into a schoolgirl, her intended was conspiring with a neighbor, and Faith was at a loss as to what was going on. Miles was clearly special to her mother—and Felicity quite freely spoken—so how could Faith not have known?
Nathanial knocked, then waited a few moments before opening the door and calling, “Goodman Corbet?”
Faith could not make out the muffled response, but in short order Nathanial led them into the home. “Miles, my intended, Faith. And you certainly remember her mother, Felicity.”
Felicity had unmistakable tears in her eyes as she approached the Goodman, who took both of her hands in his. Nathanial grabbed a chair from the nearby table and placed it across from Miles, then helped Felicity sit. The two exchanged quiet words Faith could not hear, and her attempt to eavesdrop went quickly awry as Nathanial pulled her aside.
“Give them room to talk,” he said.
“What is going on here?”
“I think he fancies her, and it looks as if the feeling is mutual.”
“They cannot…what are they doing? Courting?”
Nathanial shook his head, ducking—and failing—to hide a grin. “She is your mother, but she is also a woman. You fail to see her as such.”
Faith glanced at her mother, who seemed completely lost in quiet conversation with Miles.
“You all have been through so much heartache of late. Give her these moments of joy without begrudging her.”
Faith swallowed, but she nodded. “You are right, of course. I have forgotten my place.”
“Good, now come with me. Let us give them a moment to talk.” When she nodded her agreement, Nathanial took her hand and led her outside. They walked quietly along the path for a short time before he spoke. “What would you think of traveling? At least seeing some of the world before we settle in one spot.”
“I do not question where I wish to call home.”
“I understand, but why not open yourself to new opportunities? Soon we will have children. Our time alone is short. Why not spend it seeing what lies beyond Salem’s borders?”
“I have told you many times I do not want for what is beyond these borders. I do not have your sense of adventure, nor your thirst for a changing landscape. There is nothing out there for me.”
“How can you know that when you do not know what awaits?”
Doubts las
hed at her. “You agreed, Nathanial. We agreed, and I trusted we did not do so on a basis of false pretenses.”
“I know your plans differed, but think of it, Faith. Think of how your mother has thrived since she left the confines of that home. I know it was Ruth’s home, but those memories are not inside the house. They are inside you. Why stay in a place where you are imprisoned by Burton’s whims, or those of his son?”
Nathanial had visited the Goodman. Her eyes narrowed. “You went to see him. What happened? Does he not wish for us to remain in the house?”
He hesitated, and her heart took a tumble.
“Tell me.”
He gathered her hands in his. “I ask not for him, but for you. I ask so that we can make a home, so that you and your mother can move forward—not to leave behind Ruth, but to gather those memories and move on to a place where there’s light.”
“You promised we would not have to move on.”
He shifted, and his grip on her hands loosened. “I did, and I stand by those words. But look at your mother—look at how she responds to living again. You know better than I how she radiates such joy. Perhaps this is the answer.”
She wanted to believe him, but he did not meet her eye as readily as he had before. She did not have time to fully explore her worries, however, for the pounding of footsteps up the path drew their attention.
The man, whom Faith recognized but did not know by name, stopped when he saw them. “Nathanial Abbot?” he called.
Nathanial and Faith exchanged looks, and then he touched her arm briefly before walking over.
Faith suspected he intended her to stay put, but she followed, earning a look of bemusement from Nathanial.
He would learn.
“Good morrow,” Nathanial said. “This is my intended, Faith. And you are?”
“A friend of John Danforth.”
“Ah. Danforth. In what kind of trouble has he found himself?”
The man hesitated over Faith.
“You may speak freely,” Nathanial said.
“He is in the custody of the magistrate.”
“Do you know why?”
“He asked only that I bring you to him, though he smells of piss and whiskey.”
“Who within the jail does not?” Faith muttered. When both men turned to her in surprise, she added, “I went one time seeking a visit with my aunt.”
Nathanial touched Faith’s shoulder. “Allow me a moment to see Faith back to—”
“The Goodman says the matter is urgent. He asks that you make haste.”
“Very well, then.” Of Faith he asked, “Do you mind if I see to him? I can return shortly to escort your mother home.”
She waved a hand. “Worry not. I can walk with her. It is not as if I am not going, anyway. Be safe.”
Nathanial touched the side of her face and smiled. He was so gentle, and how she longed for his kiss, but verily he would not risk kissing her on such a public road. He could well enough pay the fine, but to be branded as a rogue and a sinner would serve no purpose but to land him in jail alongside his friend.
She watched after him for a moment, then turned to the hill. It was a beautiful spot, and that he had brought her there—twice now—to share it with her warmed her thoroughly, despite the brisk morn. That he had seemed uneasy cut right through that.
Trust Nathanial.
He had been honest. As long as he remained true to his word, she could believe in him. But could she really leave Salem? She had said she would be willing to travel if they could still make their home there. You cannot leave memories behind. They remain with you always.
Her aunt’s words chose that moment to drift through her, filling her with peace. Moving on had not seemed like an option, but without realizing it, she had done exactly that. Clearly, her mother had done the same.
“Your thoughts appear heavy.”
Startled, Faith looked for the source of the voice, disturbed to find Jeremiah standing a few feet from her, and she had not heard him approach. “What do you want?”
He frowned. “No need to be rude. Or have you become so taken with your prospective station as one of the Abbots that you cannot help your tongue?”
“You know very well the issue at hand.”
“Ah, but on which to focus? The fact that he got you kicked off my father’s land, or that Nathanial only wishes to marry you for the purpose of restoring his family name?”
The words hit her like a sheet of cold water. Though she wanted not to show he had affected her at all, she had no doubt shock blanched her face. She felt as if she could not move. She struggled to take breath, as if that icy realization had settled into her lungs and frozen the very core of her being. Though on some level she believed Jeremiah wanted nothing more than to upset her, his words nevertheless made their mark. She swallowed, nearly choking on the lump in her throat, and struggled to regain her composure.
Jeremiah watched triumphantly, as if thoroughly entertained. “He did not tell you that you lost your home? What does that tell you about your intended?”
She clenched her fists, her understanding of why Nathanial hit Jeremiah suddenly far too clear. “It tells me he ought to bloody your nose a second time.”
Her threat did not faze him. He stood calmly, his lips curled into the most deviant of smiles. “Come now, Faith. Tell me, did you know?”
“My affairs are none of your concern.”
“They could be. My father might be convinced to allow you to stay in the house that means so much to you if you would honor him with a visit. He would like very much to know we have reconciled.”
“I am grateful for your father’s generosity all these years,” she said through gritted teeth, “but there is no way I am going anywhere with you, and not just because it would be inappropriate. Should I choose to visit, I will do so with my intended at my side.”
“Ah, yes, I was made well aware of what you deemed proper when you allowed him to maul you beside your home—pardon me, my father’s home—for anyone along the path to see. Is that how he shows respect? By running afoul of the law? And he purports himself to be a barrister.” He pushed his hand through his short hair, straightening it and wincing slightly when he brushed near his eyes. “As for you soliciting my father in tandem, don’t count on it to work in your favor. Nathanial has already made that visit.”
She pressed her lips together. Trust. But whom? She had sensed that something was off with Nathanial, but Jeremiah had never threatened anyone with the truth. In the end she had to trust herself…and that meant talking to Nathanial. One of the men spoke untruth, and despite Nathanial’s hesitation, she could not imagine it to be him.
In the meantime, her inability to come up with a response left Jeremiah’s face marked with a terrible smile. “Did he not tell you?”
Though his words were as condescending as the last ones he uttered, they left her with a sudden pit deep in her stomach. He must know she would go to Nathanial in an attempt to refute his claims, so why would he persist without cause? “Tell me what?”
“Thanks to your husband’s intervention, the house is no longer available. You and your sainted mother have to be out by the end of the week.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nathanial found John in the custody of the magistrate, who looked none too pleased to share space with either one of them. In fact, the official looked so angry that Nathanial could not fathom the depth of the mess into which John had gotten himself. Swallowing a sigh, Nathanial thanked the man who fetched him, then approached the pair and nodded. “Danforth. Magistrate. My name is Nathanial Abbot. What is the problem here?”
The magistrate looked warily upon him. “Abbot, eh?”
“Yes, sir, and a barrister by trade.”
“Then mayhap you can explain to your friend here that he will suffer two hours in the stocks. See that he’s here tomorrow noon.”
“What is the charge?”
“Pissing on my leg.”
Nathanial pres
sed his lips together and cocked his head to get a look at the man’s pant leg, finding it indeed held a mark. He thought it better not to mention the accompanying odor, for the magistrate looked none too amused by his circumstances. “Only two hours?”
The magistrate’s brow lifted. “You argue for more?”
“Of course not. I only wish to clarify the sentence.”
“Two hours.”
“He is not to be harmed?”
“Perchance his pride.”
“Perhaps it will do him good. See him to the stocks tomorrow.”
John, who had watched the exchange with diminished abilities, found his voice. “Nathn’l, ye pisser. Wha’ good ar’ ye?”
“In due time, my friend, you will understand.”
“Ye bet’er no’ be chargin’ a fee for this.”
“Sober up, friend. That will be payment enough.” To the magistrate, Nathanial asked, “A word?”
The magistrate gestured that they step aside. “What is it?”
“How might I go about seeking punishment for a man who commits crimes without conscience?”
“What are the charges?”
“Fornication. Threats of abuse. Purporting of lies.”
“Unless he confesses, you will need a witness.”
“Only one?”
“One of high regard, but if you want the charges to stick, you will need numerous witnesses.”
Nathanial nodded his thanks. If Cornelia refused Jeremiah in the front room of the tavern, there would almost certainly be an audience.
With any luck, the horse’s ass would hammer the nail in his own coffin.
…
Faith’s mother talked incessantly about Miles on the walk home. If Faith had not seen with her own eyes the transformation, she would have never believed it. The woman who just a week ago had been frail now seemed strong, her face radiant.
And Faith finally saw without question how terribly wrong she had been. She had wanted everything to stay the same, even as it had changed irrevocably. She had remained stuck in a time that could not be brought back, refusing to move on. And to what end? After Ruth’s arrest, Felicity had not needed shelter from the world. She had needed support. She had needed their light and their prayers, and all the while Faith had kept her bundled in the small dark home alone, all for the sake of protecting a woman from a world of which she needed to be a part.
The Sins of a Few (Entangled Scandalous) Page 11
