by Kari Edgren
“Your father said nothing about buying another servant. What are you up to, Selah?”
The use of my first name was a bad sign. Opening my eyes, I looked at him warily. “Trying to spare myself a miserable life. And keeping Brighmor safe from ruin.”
Ben took a seat next to me. “All right,” he said with forced patience. “Exactly how does Henry Alan fit into all of this?”
My father had told Ben only the necessary details before we left, giving him a basic knowledge of my problems. As my new plan depended on Ben’s cooperation, he was entitled to full disclosure. “Henry has agreed to assume my cousin’s name for a period of time and marry me tomorrow morning. We will be returning to Brighmor as Mr. and Mrs. Kilbrid.”
Ben looked dumbstruck. Although my behavior had been unusual, this obviously hadn’t crossed his mind. “The Devil you are!” he said, his voice hot enough to boil water.
I glared at him, in no mood to be contradicted. “I’ve already decided, and you’ll not try to stop me.”
“This is madness. You don’t even know the man. How could you think about...about making him your husband?” Ben didn’t have to say anything else for me to understand his real concern.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “It is going to be a marriage in name only. Once Mr. Crowley is out of the way, I’ll release Henry from the contract. He intends to return home, but if this changes, he has agreed to live at least three hundred miles from Hopewell. When the time comes, we need only to circulate a story about his visiting family, and a month or two later he can die of the palsy all over again.” I pursed my mouth. “I do have some concern for his accent, so we’ll just have to tell folks that he was educated in England.” At least there I could stay with the truth.
Ben stared silently into the empty hearth, his brows creased much like Henry’s had been earlier. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said after a minute.
“Yes, I have,” I admitted, feeling rather clever for my efforts. “And if we keep our wits about us, no one need be the wiser.”
“Hmm.” Ben shifted his gaze back to me. “You know of course, that once you’re married it will be almost impossible to enforce his contract for indenture. I’m sure it won’t be a problem, though I can’t help wondering what would happen if Henry changed his mind. After a year or two as master it may be difficult for him to simply walk away and start over. As Samuel Kilbrid he can claim Brighmor as his own, and the only way you can stop him is by admitting you broke the law and lied about his identity.”
My confident smile fell away as my stomach churned over the few mouthfuls of tea I had recently swallowed.
“And I’ve no doubt if he has a mind to claim Brighmor, he’ll also be claiming you for his wife in more than just name. How long do you think a young man will wait before taking what is legally his?” If not for the worry lines on his forehead, Ben would have sounded like he was speculating on wheat prices instead of my imminent downfall. “Or, I guess he could get rid of you altogether and have Brighmor to himself.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Well, if he doesn’t want Brighmor, what’s to stop him from stealing your mother’s jewelry and leaving for England on the next ship? You tell folks he’s anyone other than Mr. Kilbrid, and you’ll both end up in the stocks.”
Blasted! There it was again, that word. Stocks. I had used it in jest with Henry. Now I would surely have nightmares about the horrible contraption for a week.
“But since you’ve thought this through and are so well acquainted with Mr. Alan’s character, we’ve nothing to worry us.” Ben was the one smiling, or rather smirking, now, and I glowered at him in return.
“What else would you have me do? Marry a man I hate? At least this way there’s a chance for me to be happy. Henry has agreed to the terms, and being indentured doesn’t automatically make him a rogue. You should know that better than anyone.” So, maybe I hadn’t thought of everything. This didn’t mean I was ready to tuck tail and run. Despite his concerns, I remained determined to get my way. Fortunately, Ben possessed a certain weakness. Willing tears into my eyes, I allowed one to roll unhindered down my cheek. “Please don’t make me marry Nathan.”
Ben shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “There’s got to be another way,” he said. “Your father would never approve.”
My father had made his choice, and now I had to make mine. And that didn’t involve submitting to the likes of Mr. Crowley. “This is the only option I have left.”
“Your father trusted you to my care until you were married. How can I let you do something so foolish?”
Another tear rolled down my cheek. “Please, Ben, you have to help me.”
His eyes softened, and I knew he would no longer deny me. “Your plan may get us both into trouble, for I swear I’ll kill any man who tries to hurt you.” Ben sighed and pushed up to his feet. “I’m going along with this against my better judgment, Selah Kilbrid.”
“Oh, Ben!” I leapt from my chair and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you.” Even if every other man in the world proved a scoundrel, Ben would keep me safe.
“You can be saving your thanks for when this is through,” he said, pulling free from my arms. “Now, what would you have me do?”
So much needed doing, I almost didn’t know where to begin. Glancing at the clock, I saw we both had to work fast if there was any chance of leaving as planned. “First you need to find a magistrate who will come to Meredith House tomorrow morning to officiate the wedding. Offer enough incentive for him to come early and to keep things quiet.”
“You mean a bribe for your elopement?” Ben asked dryly.
“No, I mean something to compensate him for his time and discretion. The fewer witnesses we have the better.”
“Hmph,” Ben said, but didn’t expound any further.
“Then go to the tailor and order more clothing for Henry. He’ll need suitable attire for both work and dress occasions. We’re leaving immediately after the ceremony so arrange for everything to be delivered to Brighmor.”
“What should I do with your cousin’s trunk?”
“Sort through it and keep anything that would be useful for Henry. Otherwise, carefully dispose of the rest so nothing can be traced back to Samuel.” Ben nodded and set off for the door.
“Oh,” I said, catching him just in time. “You should probably also find a goldsmith and purchase two rings.”
“Quakers don’t usually wear jewelry, Selah”
“Neither do they stand in front of the magistrate to be married. I want to make it clear to Nathan that I’ve the law behind me in case he thinks to stir up more trouble.”
When the door closed, I sank back into the chair and closed my eyes.
He must think me insane...which, sadly, was preferable to his knowing the truth. Aside from the obvious risks of being mistaken for a witch and possible death, revealing my real identity ran afoul of one of the four laws that governed my kind. Before leaving Brighmor, I’d done the unspeakable and broken two in the same day while attempting to heal my father against his wishes and then divulging what life remained to influence his final decision. Still unsure of the punishment for these earlier transgressions, I had no intention of crossing another line no matter the reason. Fortunately, the last law remained safe, as I could not conceive of a situation where I might refuse my gift to anyone who asked for help.
Even without the additional knowledge of my unique ancestry, Ben was amply justified in calling me a fool. So set on avoiding a union with Nathan Crowley, I may have traded one devil for another when I’d stepped away from the crate toward the captain and his makeshift desk. At that moment I had become like a rock tumbling downhill, unable to stop on its own accord. As each part of my plan fell into place, I picked up speed, tumbling fa
ster and faster with nothing more than hope to protect me from being dashed into a thousand pieces.
My head hurt like the dickens and I regretted not bringing along some of the basic herbs from my collection at home. At times such as this, immunity to my healing gift proved inconvenient, but the power only flowed one way. No matter, I would send the maid to the apothecary for some dried willow twigs. Then once my trunk was packed and Mrs. Bradford spoken to, I would find the nearest Catholic church and pray to God for mercy on my immortal soul.
* * *
I stood at the window before dawn on my wedding day, looking down at the street below. Not usually an early riser, I was surprised by the number of people already up and busy. In the early gloom, wagons piled high with barrels and crates stopped at the numerous shops and residences along the street to deliver the necessary goods for another day. Maids passing by had to scurry out of the way to make room for men pushing handcarts brimming with fresh fish and vegetables intended for the supper table. I was supposed to be watching for the magistrate since he was due to arrive any minute, but kept finding my attention diverted by livelier activities.
My own maid had been summoned an hour ago, still bleary eyed with sleep, to lace me into a dark brown silk gown with small coral flowers embroidered on the bodice. Not my first choice as a wedding dress, but it was pretty enough and would do well for travel. My dark hair was looped up in the back, except for a few curls left loose to soften my face. When she finished, I found the final results pleasing, though a far cry from how I imagined a bride should look.
The sun slowly crept over the horizon, and there was still no sign of the magistrate in the hubbub below. Ben ensured me he had found a willing individual, but as more minutes slipped by I started to wonder if he would ever show or had promptly forgotten the appointment once my money had been pocketed. It would be a great inconvenience indeed having to trek down to the courthouse for the wedding, not to mention the possibility of being denied on such short notice. I began to ignore the wagons and handcarts, focusing instead on every well-dressed man who came into sight.
Directly across the road from the Meredith House, a carter was busy selling cider and hot buns, attracting the attention of numerous passersby. I carefully studied each person who stopped, hoping that one would be the magistrate, making a quick stop before crossing the street to the inn. As another patron swapped coin for bread and drink, my eye was distracted by something right below the window. Glancing down, I saw the leering face of Fletcher’s redheaded henchman. The demon smiled at me, tipping his hat before I could gather my wits and move out of sight.
Pressed hard against the wall and half buried in the thick damask draperies, my mind raced for answers. In a city of almost ten thousand people, chance alone had not brought him to my window. Which left two very unsettling questions: how did he know where to find me and to what purpose?
A minute later there were footsteps outside my door, proceeded by a series of light taps. I froze like a frightened rabbit at the prospect of receiving Dirk Fletcher’s regards. Surely, the demon wouldn’t have the nerve to enter the inn as bold as brass, and come up to my room? One scream would bring at least a dozen people running to my rescue. There were a few more knocks, louder this time, followed by Ben’s muffled voice.
“Are you ready, Miss Kilbrid?” he asked.
Ready indeed! Delighted by Ben’s voice, I bolted to the door and threw it open. “Yes, please come in,” I said, a little too cheery considering the hour and circumstances.
Ben gave me a curious look as he stepped into the room, closely followed by an older gentleman in black wool breeches and coat. Henry came in last, and my heart skipped ahead before it could be properly subdued.
“Miss Kilbrid,” Ben said, drawing my attention from Henry. “May I introduce the magistrate, Mr. Martin Jones.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jones,” I said with a small curtsy.
“And, you, Miss Kilbrid,” the magistrate replied. “I have already been acquainted with your cousin. Do you wish to proceed directly with the wedding?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I said, stealing another glance at Henry, but his face was closely banked, leaving me to guess at his thoughts.
I led the way over to the table where the magistrate began pulling items out of a large leather bag. With quills, ink and parchment in place, he took a seat and motioned for Henry and me to stand in front of him. “Ben has explained your desire to be married quickly and discreetly.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling sweetly to mask my rampant guilt.
Mr. Jones didn’t seem too interested in the details of our plight. In bold, neat strokes he started to fill in the marriage certificate. June 1st, 1730, he wrote, and right below this, Philadelphia County of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
“Kilbrid,” I heard him mumble when he reached the place for our names. “I used to know a prominent merchant by that name. He left Philadelphia twenty years ago to start a farm near Hopewell. Is he a relation of yours, Miss Kilbrid?”
“Yes, sir. He was my father, but recently passed away.”
“Were there any other heirs?” he asked, not bothering with condolences.
“No, sir.” There was no use getting into the details of my older brother.
“I see,” the magistrate said, and then looked directly at Henry. “From what I hear, Mr. Jonathan Kilbrid was one of the wealthiest men in the colony. You stand to inherit a large fortune from this marriage.”
Thanks a fat lot! So glad you could clear that up for him. My smile faltered as I debated kicking the man in the shins.
“How exactly are you related?” Mr. Jones continued.
“I am Miss Kilbrid’s second cousin once removed,” Henry said quite smoothly. “Mr. Kilbrid arranged the marriage before his death.”
Mr. Jones frowned. “How very timely for you.” He put down the quill and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms in front. “I now see why you wish to keep this elopement secret. Certainly I will do my best to bury the information as we agreed, but considering the fortune involved, a mere whiff of impropriety could set people talking for months. I am afraid Philadelphia can be a difficult city for secrets.”
“We’ll double the fee if that makes it any easier,” Ben said from behind me.
“You are most generous.” The magistrate looked over my shoulder at Ben. “Yes, I believe that should cover any additional safeguards.” He picked up the quill and returned his attention back to the certificate. “Please state your full names and dates of birth.”
“Selah Elizabeth Kilbrid,” I said. “February 2, 1712.”
“Very good,” he said, filling in the space. “And you, sir?”
There was a brief pause, and I glanced over at Henry, praying he hadn’t forgotten this information from yesterday.
“Henry Samuel Kilbrid,” he said after a few more seconds had passed. “August 16, 1710.”
My brows arched in surprise. Ben gave a small cough like he was clearing his throat as the magistrate hurriedly scratched the quill across the parchment. Henry kept his eyes straight ahead. Other than a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, there was no indication he had just changed my cousin’s first name and date of birth.
“Very good,” Mr. Jones said once all the spaces were properly filled. “Ben requested the most basic vows.”
I nodded, and the magistrate continued. “Do you, Selah Elizabeth Kilbrid take this man, Henry Samuel Kilbrid to be your lawfully wedded husband, until death do you part?”
My future depended on this moment, and I gulped nervously, doubting for the first time since yesterday that I could follow through with this sham wedding. As if in answer to my indecision, Nathan’s red face flashed through my mind, looking just like he did the day he had threatened to ruin my life. I straightened my shoulders and answered, “I do.” To my
ears, the words sounded no more than a squeak, but it was sufficient.
The magistrate turned to look at Henry. “And do you, Henry Samuel Kilbrid, take this woman, Selah Elizabeth Kilbrid, to be your lawfully wedded wife, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Henry said in his deep voice, and I nearly collapsed on the spot. We had both agreed, and now the Devil be hanged.
“Are there rings to exchange?” Mr. Jones asked.
I had temporarily forgotten this formality. “Oh...yes,” I said. Ben fished the newly purchased gold bands from his waistcoat pocket.
Henry moved first, reaching down and gently lifting my left hand. As he slipped the ring over my finger, I felt a slight shake and guessed he was equally nervous despite his calm demeanor. Emboldened by his actions, I placed the gold band on his hand and then turned back to face Mr. Jones.
“Very good,” the magistrate said when we were done. “By the power vested in me by the governor of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and His Majesty King George II, I pronounce you man and wife. If you will each sign here, the marriage will be official.”
With great efficiency, Mr. Jones blotted the wet ink and handed the certificate to Henry. “Here you are, Mr. Kilbrid. May I be the first to wish you a most joyous life together.”
“Thank you, sir,” Henry said, accepting both the certificate and good tidings.
The magistrate packed up his belongings and walked with Ben to the door, eager to collect the rest of his bribe and be on his way. I didn’t know how much his silence had initially cost, but if he buried the evidence of this marriage in the bottom of a desk drawer then any additional money was well worth the cost. Assuming of course, that my cousin refrained from altering any more essential details. Otherwise every farthing would have been for naught.
I held my peace just long enough for Ben and the magistrate to leave the room. “Congratulations, Henry Kilbrid,” I said, rounding on my new husband once we were alone. “Is there any particular reason why you felt impelled to change my cousin’s name and birth date?” We hadn’t yet moved apart from the ceremony and were standing uncomfortably close.
