A woman who practically skipped down the path, as if her years now numbered fewer than those of her daughter.
“Mother, please calm your steps. If you hurt yourself, you will not be able to return for another visit.”
“Nonsense,” Felicity said, though her steps slowed enough to ease Faith’s worry.
“Are you going to tell me what happened in there? What is between the two of you?”
Felicity took a deep, shaky breath. “I suppose you have a right to know. As you are aware, his wife, Charity, was a dear friend of mine. When she grew poorly I stayed by her side, as did he. I guess you could say we enjoyed a certain camaraderie, but in time those feelings grew. Nothing came of it, of course, and neither of us would dream of betraying Charity, which I suppose is why we avoided one another after her death. Her illness was something the three of us experienced together, and with her gone, we were left exposed. She had been the center of his world, and so very much a part of mine.”
“So what happened? You just stopped talking?” Faith searched her memories for those around the time of Charity’s death, but it seemed as if she could recall nothing before the witchcraft arrests. Everything had changed then, and it was almost as if the woman she had been before had been lost.
“It was difficult for us both. She was ill for so long. We should have been able to comfort one another, but somehow it seemed easier to face it all alone. As if her death was our punishment.”
“What punishment? You said you did not betray her.”
“We did not with our actions, but I had come to love him so very much.” For the first time since Nathanial had uttered Miles’s name the day prior, Felicity sobered. “Her death hurt us both deeply. I do not believe either of us felt we had the right to move on, least of all together.”
Her mother loved Miles? “You considered…moving on together?”
“I believe the more accurate statement would be that we would not consider it, which is perhaps the best explanation as to why we avoided one another. Though many remarry soon after loss, neither he nor I had young children in need of a parent. Then there was your aunt. Though it would be an insult to her to say she needed us, I could not bear the thought of leaving her alone. And the truth is, people would have talked. Miles and I did not want to taint Charity’s memory with rumors of adultery. I suppose it could be said we each faced two losses when Charity passed on.”
“And now?”
“Perhaps we are found again.”
A full minute passed before Faith realized the impact of her mother’s words. “You really are courting?”
“We are friends, Faith. Dear friends with far too many years between us. Would it be so wrong to reacquaint ourselves?”
Reacquaint? However innocent the word, her mother’s tone suggested otherwise. Faith opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. She finally settled on the truth. “I am glad you have found one another again.”
“As am I. Just weeks ago I thought I would never again feel joy, and now your impending marriage and Miles have changed so much. Nathanial has been a true blessing for us both.”
“Indeed he has,” Faith murmured, none too happy to be reminded of Nathanial’s promise…and Jeremiah’s threat.
Once she had her mother safely back at the house, she left, determined to find Nathanial. She did not trust Jeremiah not to speak untruths, but with the unease churning inside her, she could not wait for Nathanial to return home. She might be out of place in seeking him, but he would learn her nature soon enough…and she would sit at home for no one.
She had not ventured far before coming upon Prudence, whose sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks radiated joy. Despite the ill feeling in Faith’s stomach, to see the people of Salem begin once again to smile brought her the kind of contentment that came along with the warmth of the morning sun.
“You look as if you have good news to share,” Faith said.
“Arthur has asked for my hand. He asked permission from my parents, and they approved!”
Faith hugged her friend. “I am so happy for you!”
“In time we will be married. Can you imagine?” Prudence covered a sheepish grin. “Of course you can.”
“And soon you will have a houseful of babes just as your mother does.”
Prudence lowered her eyes. “I admit I feel guilty at the thought of leaving her alone.”
“Are you planning to leave Salem?”
“Of course not!”
“Then she will not be alone. Your sisters will pitch in, and you will not be far. She is probably far more worried for you being alone.”
“But I will have Arthur. Oh, I suppose you are right. And all of this about me…what about you?” Prudence’s tone had turned to one of regret.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard the…rumors about Nathanial.”
“What rumors? What have you heard?”
“That Nathanial wants to marry you because your agreement proves that you believe his sisters were not flawed in their accusations.”
Faith released a pent up breath. The story matched Jeremiah’s enough that he could have spread it himself. “That is ridiculous. I am perfectly capable of separating the man from his family. From whom did the rumors originate?”
“I know not.”
“In your next retelling please include the fact that Jeremiah Burton is not to be trusted. He is embittered over my choice to marry Nathanial, and considering Jeremiah affronted me himself with that ridiculous notion, I have no reason to believe it to be truth…and neither should you.”
“But, Nathanial—”
“Rest assured, if he asked for my hand under guise of an untruth, he will need every protection afforded by that gaudy fortress of a house in the center of the village.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nathanial had just left his meeting with the magistrate when he came upon his father in the street. He wanted nothing of the elder’s company, but when he approached Nathanial had little choice but to respond to his greeting.
“It is good to see you, Son!”
Nathanial balked. Red-faced and unsure of foot, the man was clearly into his cups, but refusing him would only lead to a scene. Most of Salem was casting wary glances at him as it was, and he needed no other reason to draw attention.
Richard held out his arms for a hug, which Nathanial neatly bypassed. “You are in a fine mood this day.”
“It is a most glorious day.”
Glorious? “I suppose it is. It might also be time for you to rest your drinking arm.”
Richard laughed—a terribly boisterous sound that drew nearby attention. “You are such a good boy. My boy!”
“Father, please.” Nathanial led him off the well-traveled path. In a low, controlled voice, he said, “I do not wish for there to be bad feelings between us.”
“Why would there be? You have done as I asked. Your young intended’s alliance with our family—”
“Father, as I have many times stated, it is I with whom she has aligned. Not the family.”
“Nonsense, boy. You are an Abbot, and by her vows, she will be one as well.”
Nathanial pushed back his hair, upsetting his hat. Righting it, he noticed a group of three women staring and lowered his voice to a near whisper before he spoke. “That does not mean she does not fault you for the sins of this family. You are their leader. It is you who is charged with their well-being.”
“And they are well, are they not? My beautiful girls.”
I hear he had relations with a man’s wife, and not long after she came under with child.
And a baby? If Richard had fathered another child…well, there was nothing Nathanial could do, especially with the woman and her child both dead. But the sense of disgust prevailed. Was his father so drunk he would confess?
“I heard Humphrey Burgess quit working for you,” Nathanial said.
Richard blinked, a flash of recognition gone as quickly as it appeared. “A
fellow moves on from time to time. Sometimes he is encouraged to do so.”
Sure he was. “You fired him?”
“We had a mutual parting of ways.”
“It must have been hard after he lost his wife.”
Richard’s countenance shifted from drink-reddened to violet, but he did not speak.
“What happened to her? I never heard.”
“Died in childbirth.”
“You knew her?”
“Of course I did,” Richard snapped. “Humphrey and I were friends for years.”
“Were? You are no longer?”
“She was a beautiful woman. One of the loveliest I have ever known. Such a pity she came down with that bastard child.”
“Those are harsh words, Father. Just because you had a falling out with Humphrey does not make his child a bastard.”
Richard froze.
Telling.
“Did you encourage Abigail to begin the accusations?”
This time it was Richard who looked around, drawing Nathanial farther aside. They received only the passing glance from neighbors, but it was enough.
“I encouraged her to speak the truth,” Richard said, his voice little more than a low hiss. “And the events have ended. The court has left.”
“If the accusations are true, how does the dissolution of the court mark the end? Will the witches not continue, now unheeded?”
“There are no witches. There is nothing to continue.”
Nathanial wished they had a magistrate in attendance. “Then why the accusations?”
“Because the children were affected. Something had to be done!”
“You are speaking in circles. Perhaps you should take a nap—”
“She was a beautiful woman.”
“Humphrey’s wife?”
“Indeed.”
“Sleep it off, old man, lest you say something you should not.”
“See there, boy? I knew you would protect us. Marrying that girl.”
“My pending marriage has nothing to do with protecting you.”
“Your intention matters not. The effect is the same. It is finally over.”
“Many would disagree.” Nathanial leaned close and lowered his voice. Though they stood off the path, he did not need the passerby to take wind of their talk. “Lives were taken. That cannot be undone. It cannot be well under any circumstances.”
“This is true, and for certain it saddens me so many are lost. But how long are we to be punished?”
Nathanial gritted his teeth. “For as long as it takes.”
“Your sisters are just girls. Do you wish for their entire lives to be shadowed by a single mistake?”
“Not one mistake, Father. Many months of your so-called mistakes. Twenty murdered, and who knows how many more dead from prison.”
“So you cast your sisters to the same fate?”
“I do not. No. But they acted willingly. Perhaps not Deliverance or Susannah, but Mary and, especially, Abigail were willful in their accusations.”
“And you have made this determination from your perch in London?”
Nathanial shook his head. “If you do not believe the people of Salem still talk, you are misplaced in your assumptions.”
“And if you believe gossip is fodder for truth, you are of the same flawed mindset.”
As Nathanial stared at his father in disbelief, the elder’s gaze drifted past Nathanial’s shoulder and focused briefly there. Nathanial began to turn, but his father spoke. “Most things, when buried, are there for a reason. Leave it be. There is nothing to be gained from destroying a family.”
“Then why did you destroy one? Or was it two? Or shall we count the whole of Salem?”
The denial and anger Nathanial expected did not come. Instead, his father clasped him on the shoulder and smiled. Smiled. “It is good you agree to your sisters’ innocence,” he said with cheer. “In time this will fade, and all will be as it should.”
As if it could ever be again. “One can only hope.”
“In the meantime, this family can move forward, and I owe to you a debt of gratitude.”
“Indeed you do,” Nathanial murmured.
“So it is true?” The familiar voice snapped like wildfire behind him. Faith.
He spun around in his surprise. “What is true?”
“That you wanted to marry me to begin this falsehood of forgiveness?”
“Faith, no.” The terrible truth of his father’s sudden change of tone fell upon him. He had wanted Faith to misconstrue…but why? Her anger would work against his father’s misguided intentions of saving the family name.
“Then why the untruth? Why tell me you lay the blame at your family, then defend them to all of Salem when my back is turned?”
“You have no idea what you have heard.”
“All the more reason for the womenfolk to keep to their places,” Richard said. “Has she no breeding whatsoever?”
“If this family is what is considered proper breeding,” Faith fired back, “then I most certainly possess none.”
“Faith!” Nathanial said, his jaw tight. “Are you mad? You will be taken to jail for your admonishments.”
She slapped a fury-laced scowl at his father. “That is your way, is it not?”
His father laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “This one has a salty tongue, and I quite imagine you enjoy the taste of it. It is no wonder you chose her.”
“For the purpose of restoring your family name, so I hear. You are a most deluded man. Both of you, for if you feel one marriage will mend all that has been done to this village, one of you is as blind and foolish as the next!”
“Please,” Nathanial said, “let me explain. Please, before you are seen to the gallows for this behavior.”
Richard smiled, and that was when Nathanial realized his purpose: punishment. Nathanial had refused to tow the proverbial line, so his father saw fit to ruin him.
It would not be so easy.
Faith vibrated with anger but she finally did as he asked, snapping shut her jaw and glaring heavily at him as he took her arm and hauled her away from his father. Though she snatched her arm from his, she remained by his side, close enough for him to feel the anger emanating from her.
When at last they were away from prying eyes, he drew her to a stop next to a large tree that would make their presence less obvious to passersby.
“You misunderstood what you heard.”
“You did not mean to say your sisters were innocent?”
Why did she have to choose the one point he could not deny? “Deliverance is but seven years, and Susannah nine. How much guilt must they harbor?”
“You did not see them. They wailed and threw themselves down and claimed affliction as readily as Mary and Abigail did, all while your mother looked on with a sick smile. They were not meek or coerced, Nathanial. They spoke and acted with intent.”
“If it is as you say, then one of two things must be true. Either they were indeed coerced to speak untruths, or they were afflicted by witches and their claims were true. In which case shall they be punished?”
Tears filled Faith’s eyes, but nary a stubborn one fell. “People died, Nathanial. Good people. How do you defend this?”
He touched her face, feeling the perfection of her skin beneath his fingertips. Relief edged into him when she did not withdraw. “All I am saying is they could not understand the consequences of their wrongdoing, and for that they should not be punished.”
“Did you know your mother had them there at every hanging? She and that awful Rebecca Mather stood there, the whole lot of them smiling, as lives ended. How many bodies does it take for the consequences to become clear?”
The news took him aback. Why would his parents allow such disregard for human life? “My sisters went to the hangings?”
“They did. And watched them with pride, it seems.”
“Even Deliverance?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head.
“It matters not. They are children and cannot be blamed for the actions of an adult. I do, however, hold my parents in full regard.”
“So you did not marry me to revive their sullied reputations?”
“It is true my father believed that to be my intent, but it was not.”
She took a deep, shaky breath. “Jeremiah claims we are to leave the house. Is that also false?”
His breath caught. Tension found his limbs, but just as quickly he forced it away. The situation with the home was not yet settled and there was no need to worry her when a solution would present itself. “Jeremiah has no purpose other than to cause trouble. It is true I approached his father about buying the house, but as of yet, the elder Burton has not agreed. The matter is not yet settled.” He paused. “I sought to provide a permanent home, not relieve you of one.”
To his relief, she actually smiled. “That would be a great relief of burden.”
Indeed it would…for them both. He felt like an ass, but everything he said had been true. He would find a way.
Faith looked at him expectantly.
“Worry not for my intentions or my father’s claims. The fact remains I came to you as soon as I heard of Ruth’s death. My father wanted nothing of me until he determined I could rescue him from Salem’s opinion of him, and despite what he has managed to contrive from our joining, I assure you my intentions never purposefully aligned with his. I have been my own man for a long time, and that will not change now.”
“But—”
He held up a hand. “Forgive me, for I misspoke. It will change, but not because of my father.”
“Then why?”
“Because of you, Faith. Because when we marry, I will no longer be my own man.” He leaned as closed as he dared, then whispered, “I will be yours.”
…
Faith left Nathanial in the village. He had cited a need to keep watch over his friend John Danforth, who he claimed needed a reminder to temper his tongue. It was just as well, for Faith needed time to think. For months, her heart and mind had been caught in a tempest that would not cease. First the accusations of witchcraft that had settled over Salem like a black cloud without end, then the arrest and execution of her dear aunt and so many others. Nathanial’s return at first had felt like a knife twisting a festering wound, but that fear and anger had given way.
The Sins of a Few (Entangled Scandalous) Page 12
