Goddess Born (13 page)

“Unfortunately, no. The majority of my acquaintances in England are Anglican with an occasional Catholic here and there. At one time I knew a fellow who took up with the Baptists, but England was too corrupt for his taste and he immigrated to the Colonies.”

“We get a lot of that sort here,” I said, while attempting to take his queen in a failed gambit.

Though I had never actually been out of the Colonies, there was no shortage of stories circulating about the moral degradation currently spreading like the plague across Europe. Mothers would use them to warn their daughters against wicked young men waiting to lure them into a life of sin. Ministers loved the topic and ranted for hours against the Old World and the rampant vice that festered on all levels of society. At social gatherings, ladies would huddle in thick knots to recount the latest news from across the ocean, whispering together and wringing their hands for the sorry state of our European cousins. Some of these stories had grown really quite shocking, making it difficult to believe everything one heard nowadays. But it was religion in Pennsylvania rather than England that we needed to discuss tonight.

“I imagine they seem peculiar to someone unfamiliar with their ways, but Quakers make up half of Hopewell’s population. A basic understanding of their faith is necessary if you plan to get along at all while you’re here. One of the first things most outsiders notice is their refusal to use proper titles when addressing each other.”

He stopped studying the board and looked at me. “Then how do they distinguish one’s station?”

“Quakers view titles as manmade conventions, created only to divide the classes and place one person above another. In their eyes everyone is equal and there’s no reason to perpetuate a system that falsely valuates a man’s worth.”

“And what do you think? Do you support this notion?”

“To a point. When addressing non-Quakers I still use such titles as ‘Mister’ and ‘Mistress,’ but only as a common courtesy and not a means of distinguishing rank.”

“So my wife is no respecter of persons, and all men are the same in her eyes.” He gave me a wry smile, bordering on a smirk. “Selah Kilbrid, Mistress of Brighmor Hall, is equal to the chambermaid and the washerwoman. Do you really believe this?”

“Most of the time,” I said, ignoring his dubious tone. “Except on those occasions when conceit gets in the way. It can be tempting to inflate my own self-worth in comparison to those less fortunate. But wealth and rank are false indicators of a person’s true merit.”

“All rank, then? Even the peerage?”

“My goodness, Henry, the peerage is the worst of all. These titles of nobility are the most extreme case of man’s arrogance, and I quite support the Quakers in their refusal to recognize such a repressive system of hierarchy. Just because someone owns land and wears fine clothing doesn’t mean he needs a special title. You might as well call him Lord Pompous or the Duke of High and Mighty and have it done with.”

He frowned in response to my rather pointed opinion. “That is quite a declaration. And if all Quakers share this sentiment, it’s no wonder they were ill received in England. It may sound good in theory to say all men are equal, but in practice such a system is impossible. There will always be those on top meant to lead and those on the bottom meant to follow.”

I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out the irony of his words, given his own situation. “I know this may be uncomfortable after living under a more formal system, but it’s best to try instead of going about causing offense.”

“Very well,” he said resignedly. “Please continue with the lesson.”

“Their lack of titles can be confusing when introductions are in order, especially in a group of people from various faiths. If the person is introduced exclusively by their first and last name, then you know they’re Quaker, and it’s considered polite to respond in kind. If any type of title is added to the name, such as Master or Mistress, then they are from another faith and the same rules apply as in England. This holds true for most occasions, except for people who may attend Quaker meeting, but haven’t actually been read into the membership yet, like both Mary Finney and myself. Mary was raised Catholic, but has taken a liking to the Quakers, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was to join. Until that time she will continue to call me Mistress.” My thoughts were becoming increasingly distracted from the game, and soon enough Henry had captured both of my bishops.

“Are you subtly implying that I may have caused offense to William Goodwin this afternoon when we were introduced?”

My face fell. “I don’t know. It’s not like him to be that easily offended.”

“His mood obviously soured once I came over. Personally, I think it has more to do with his being madly in love with you than a simple mistake over title.”

“That’s preposterous. William and I grew up together. I think I would know if he were in love with me.” By now I had completely given up on the game and simply moved pieces about at random.

“Selah, if looks could kill, I would have been struck dead this very afternoon,” he laughed. “William loves you, and I’m surprised you could be so obtuse to his feelings when they are written plain as day on his face. Has he never offered any hints of his affection or tried to kiss you?”

My face grew warm from the question, and I felt rather annoyed by how much Henry seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. “Oh, tell the truth,” he prodded, “for I can tell something happened.”

I lifted my chin defiantly. “Yes, he kissed me once.”

“So I guessed. Now tell me this, was it a chaste peck on the cheek or did he dare a real lover’s kiss on that lovely mouth of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I laughed. Little did he know that I would have chosen to boil in oil before admitting that he was the only man who had ever kissed me any place other than my cheek.

I expected some clever retort when the humor left his face. “Yes, I would like to know. Do you love him?”

“William Goodwin?” I asked, startled by the change. “Of all the ideas!”

Henry stared at me, the chess game entirely forgotten. His emotions were usually so well guarded, I didn’t know what to make of the stark anticipation in his eyes or why I suddenly felt off-kilter. Why would he care if I loved William Goodwin?

“Do you love him, Selah?” he asked again.

“William and I are good friends, nothing more. There was a time I may have imagined stronger feelings for him, but it would never have worked between us.”

Henry’s face relaxed. “Did you ever tell me why it was so important to have your cousin shipped over from Ireland instead of choosing a husband from the local population? I’ve seen several good-looking fellows while out with Ben. Why didn’t you just take one of them and spare yourself the trouble?”

Unease moved though me, and my heart began to beat more quickly. Biting my lip, I dropped my eyes and pretended to study the chessboard.

Because anyone else who found out about my gift would have me arrested and possibly hanged for witchcraft.
Unless
,
of course
,
I
refused my birthright and never again drew upon my power since it would be impossible to keep such a secret from any husband.

Or so my mother had told me. Since first discovering the truth, I’d managed to keep it secret from even my dearest friend and didn’t know why a husband would be any different. But my mother had been adamant on the subject, only telling me that one day I would better understand.

“The Kilbrids have always been a tight-knit family,” I said, effectively summing up my thoughts.

“Only a Kilbrid then?”

“My mother was a MacBres, so I could have married one of them if I’d wanted to, but my father thought Samuel and I would get along well together.”

“Had you ever met Mr. Kilbrid before you were sent to get him from the docks?”

“Not directly.”

“What does that mean, not directly?”

“We exchanged some letters, and I found him to be most pleasing.”

“Why do I feel there is more to this story than you’re telling me?” He leaned closer across the table, upsetting some of the chess pieces with an errant elbow and drawing my eyes back to his. “Is there some dark Kilbrid secret you are hiding?”

My heart thumped into my ribs. By sheer will, I kept my eyes on the level and forced a laugh. “You are full of all kinds of strange ideas tonight. Now, if you’re done dramatizing my rather dull existence, I’ll tell you something amusing that happened today.” In near torment, I waited for him to decide whether or not to let it go.

“Very well.” He sat back up and replaced the toppled pieces to the correct squares. “Tell me what is so amusing.”

“While I was visiting with Anne Boyle and Mrs. Oswald, it became quite clear that most, if not all of Hopewell, knows we are sleeping in separate chambers.”

His brows furrowed deeply and he didn’t seem to be enjoying the news so much as I had hoped. “Splendid,” he said, his voice verging on sarcasm. “I am amused beyond measure to have most, if not all of Hopewell, believing me incapable of bedding my wife.”

Once I had gotten beyond my own humiliation, I hadn’t really bothered to give his much more thought. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Henry, but our sleeping arrangements practically prove that I’m not a witch.”

“How so?” he asked curiously, his tone softening.

“According to lore, a witch is by nature a carnal creature and would never have waited to consummate the marriage. Believe it or not, our sleeping apart is more a reflection on my innocence than your manhood. With my mother gone, I assume half the matrons are plotting how best to inform me of my wifely duties and what I must do to start a family.”

My explanation must have worked, for Henry was smiling again. “And do you know what it takes to start a family?”

“Of course I do. Not that it’s any of your concern,” I huffed.

Henry chuckled at my indignation and then fell silent as we took a few more turns on the chessboard. “How long do you think we’ll be able to keep up this charade?” he asked after a moment.

His question surprised me. “For as long as need be,” I said. My neighbors might be concerned with my situation at present, but soon enough they would grow bored of our affairs and move on to something new.

The game looked to be a stalemate when by a series of lucky moves Henry backed my king into a corner. “Checkmate,” he said quietly.

I studied the board for any possible options, but he was right and I nodded to acknowledge my defeat. With a nimble finger, he tipped my king, putting the piece to rest.

Chapter Seven

Quaker Meeting

The dark clouds that had been threatening rain much of the day burst open with a vengeance late that night just as I was climbing into bed. The windows were generally left open on warm nights, and I fell asleep to the relentless hammering of water against the hard ground below. It must have slackened at some point, for I was roused once by the sound of an animal scratching in the dirt somewhere beneath my bedroom window. The rain soon started again, regaining its previous force, and I fell back to sleep until morning.

The rain continued on into the next day, thoroughly drenching the fields and turning the roads into a sloppy mess. As it pelted mercilessly against the windows, I sipped a cup of tea, deciding it best to stay in rather than making more calls and risk getting the shay stuck in the mud. Henry had gone out earlier with Ben on horseback to check the wheat, leaving me to dine alone and silently grouse my lack of company. Married just six days, and on good speaking terms for only two of those, it was surprising how much I missed him this morning. I glanced at the mantel clock and sighed; it would be several hours before he returned.

Resigned to a lonely day at home, I went into the smaller parlor to fetch my book and saw the chess pieces had already been returned to their proper squares. I didn’t welcome the reminder of my unfortunate loss, and vowed to pay closer attention next time no matter what we may be discussing. Taking a seat on the sofa, I had grudgingly opened the book when Alice came in to say I had a caller.

“It’s not Nathan Crowley, is it?” I asked warily.

“No, ma’am, it’s Nora Goodwin. Should I see her back?”

My heart leapt. Without a second thought I snapped the book shut and tossed it aside.

Nora must have been just as eager to see me, for the moment I entered the drawing room, she took hold of both my hands. “My dear Selah, you are simply glowing. I dare say married life has agreed with you. Come sit and tell me everything.”

I laughed at her no-nonsense manner. Following her to the sofa, we sat so close our heads nearly touched as we spoke.

“I can’t believe you came out in this weather,” I said. “You must truly love me.”

“What choice did I have after the scolding you gave poor William yesterday?” she teased. “My guilt had grown so enormous for not calling sooner, I could hardly fit it all into the shay this morning.”

“Did William bring you, then?”

“He dropped me off on the way into town.”

“Why didn’t he stay?”

“He said we needed some private time to catch up with our feminine prattle. In truth, I don’t think his heart could have endured seeing you with Henry again so soon. You can’t imagine the temper he was in after returning from Brighmor yesterday. I believe his being a Quaker was all that stopped him from challenging your husband to a duel.”

“It’s true then,” I said, no longer able to deny Henry’s words.

“Indeed,” she sighed wistfully. “Pacifists can be dreadfully dull at times.”

I swatted her on the knee. “I mean about my breaking William’s heart. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

As usual, she was right. “Probably not,” I admitted.

“You were promised to marry your cousin,” she said, giving the matter a dismissive shrug. “William and I decided it was for the best, which is why he never openly declared his feelings and asked for your hand in marriage, though it nearly killed him to give you up to another man. I guess it was easier for me, since I never wanted to marry you. Not that you aren’t pretty or charming enough, I just prefer someone who can fill out a pair of breeches.”

“Oh, Nora,” I laughed. “How am I supposed to be depressed with you around?”

“That’s the point,” she said, softly patting my hand. “Now don’t worry anymore about William. His heart will mend once he finds another pretty girl to adore. For the time being, I just need to keep him away from Phoebe Trumble. The last thing my family needs is to have William disowned for running off with a Presbyterian.”

“He would never marry her!” I cried, mortified by the idea. Phoebe was without question the most beautiful creature in town. She also happened to be the most conniving and not a proper match for someone like William.

“You know what she’s like,” Nora said. “Fluttering her eyes and making those sweet faces until every boy in the room is half-mad in love with her. I think the only thing that has saved my brother so far was his unrequited love for you. Now you’re safely out of the way there’s no telling what could happen. Anyway, enough about William, I want to hear everything about Henry. Is it true he looks like a Greek god?”

“Who told you that?”

“No one will tell me anything,” she huffed. “The ladies are so concerned with offending my virginal ears that I’ve had to start listening at doors to get anything good.”

“And what have you heard?” I had grown increasingly anxious as to what the upright ladies of Hopewell were saying behind my back.

“That you two are sleeping in separate rooms,” she said nonchalantly.

I should have guessed. “And what is their opinion of my sleeping arrangements?”

“There are two distinctive camps, so far as I can tell,” she started. “My mother, Anne Boyle and Susanna Appleton think you and Henry just need some time to get comfortable with each other and then the rest will come naturally. Martha Oswald, Betsy Trumble and Rachel Dowling, on the other hand, say you need to stop beating around the bush and get the deed done. Last I heard, they’re still deciding who’s going to take you aside and make sure you know what goes where.”

“I feared that was coming. Have there been any volunteers?” It would be nice to know which ladies to avoid.

“Martha Oswald offered, but Anne vetoed the idea, saying that Martha’s bluntness would only cause more harm than good, and quite possibly put you off from Henry for the next year.”

“For heaven’s sake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “As if I haven’t already delivered a dozen babies since my mother died.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, her own irritation evident. “Someone would have to be a simpleton indeed not to figure out how the little ones were made in the first place. But it so pleases the ladies to think we’ve been adequately sheltered and still believe babies grow of their own accord. Why ruin the happy delusion? When the time comes for the designated one to bestow her wifely wisdom, just blush and nod as though you’ve never imagined such a thing in your life.”

“And what do you think?” I asked. Not that it mattered, but I wanted to know my best friend’s opinion. “Should I wait or just get the deed done?”

“Well, that depends,” she said, looking truly contemplative. “Does he really look like a Greek god?”

We both started laughing so hard that we collapsed back against the sofa. But after some more prodding and in an attempt not to overly bias her opinion or have her think me a braggart by proclaiming him the handsomest man I had ever laid eyes upon, I finally admitted that Henry was tolerable enough and not entirely without physical advantage. Nora then insisted on hearing every minute of my journey to Philadelphia, from the moment the carriage left Brighmor until I returned with my cousin. For the most part, I obliged, only leaving out the part about Henry being an indentured servant and the real reason Dirk Fletcher and his band of miscreants had attacked us on the way home. At the end of my story, she declared Henry a true hero for saving my life while simultaneously ridding the world of evil.

The rain continued to fall outside as we talked and I found myself stealing long glances out the window looking for Henry and wondering when he would return home. My distraction must have been evident for Nora proclaimed that if the conversation could not hold my attention then I might as well play a song or two on the harpsichord to pass the time. She spoke as though my behavior had left her little choice, but I wasn’t fooled for a minute. Quakers did not approve of musical instruments, though Nora adored singing and if I just happened to be in need of playing then it was her Christian duty to assist me. We had been going through this same routine for more than ten years, since the harpsichord first arrived from England. Fortunately for me, my father loved to hear me play, and since my mother had been a Catholic, there was no fuss about having the instrument at Brighmor.

Seated together on the wooden bench, I started with some basic scales for Nora to warm up and then moved to a familiar repertoire of our favorite songs. On occasion I would join her in singing, adding my own contra soprano to the melody, but mostly I just played and listened to her sing. We had gotten through a good half dozen songs when I glimpsed someone standing by the door. Stealing a quick look, I saw Henry leaning against the wall, watching us. Nora’s voice was so lovely, I played through to the end of the song before bringing his presence to her attention.

“We have an audience,” I said, when the last notes faded away.

Henry clapped his hands, applauding our performance as he stepped the rest of the way into the drawing room. “That was magnificent,” he said, meeting my eyes, and I smiled at his approval.

“How long have you been listening?” I asked.

“Not nearly long enough,” he said, returning my smile. I would have been content just to stare at him but Nora surreptitiously reached over and pinched my leg.

“Henry, let me introduce my dearest friend, Nora Goodwin. Nora, this is my husband, Henry Kilbrid.”

Nora scooted off the bench. “Pleased to meet you, Henry Kilbrid.”

“And you, Nora Goodwin. I do not think I have heard sweeter music in all my life.”

“Then you ought to get out more often,” Nora said, dismissing the compliment in her normal manner, though I believe she only did so to hide her embarrassment at being caught so flagrantly disregarding her faith. “And how are you finding our fair colony of Pennsylvania? I hope it is tolerable enough and not lacking in physical advantage.”

I coughed slightly at her direct use of my own description of Henry. He had changed into dry clothing but his hair, though neatly combed, was still wet from being outdoors much of the day, and in truth he looked nothing less than divine.

“It bears all the signs of being an advantageous land,” he said cordially. “Though the weather is warmer than I am used to.”

“Have you ever been to Greece?” Nora asked him. “I’ve heard the heat there surpasses the Devil’s kitchen at certain times of the year. It’s no wonder the Greek gods were believed to reside on Mt. Olympus.”

Nora said all of this without giving the slightest inclination of how carefully she was choosing her words, but I knew exactly what she was up to and how this was an attempt to tease me for not telling the complete truth earlier. While keeping my eyes on Henry, I slyly took hold of her hand, making sure to keep it well hidden in the folds of our skirts, and gave it a fearsome squeeze. Nora didn’t so much as flinch, but pulled her hand back and then stepped out of my reach.

“No, I haven’t been any further south than Rome,” Henry admitted. “How have you gained such knowledge, living where you do?”

“My grandfather was a sailor, or more precisely a pirate, before coming to the Colonies to find a wife and invest his ill-begotten gains in a large tract of land for farming. During his travels, he visited most of the known seaports, and on long winter nights would relay some of these adventures to his grandchildren.”

Henry looked highly amused by Nora’s story. “I see,” he said. “But I was actually referring to the Devil’s kitchen. Did your grandfather also visit this place or did you learn about it through other means?”

“I admit it was pure conjecture,” Nora laughed. “But I’ll wager it gets terribly hot in there with all those miserable souls simmering away in his pot.”

I was practically holding my breath just waiting for Nora to say something about a special pot for young ladies prone to fibbing, but the sound of carriage wheels came from the front drive, diverting our attention.

“Oh, goodness,” Nora said. “We will have to continue this conversation another time for I’m sure William is in a rush to get home.” She darted a glance in my direction and I knew she meant to spare her brother the displeasure of running into Henry.

“I look forward to it,” Henry said. “Good day, Nora Goodwin.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said. “Selah, would you mind seeing me out?” Not that I could have done otherwise since she had taken my arm and was guiding me to the door. Out in the entryway, she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “You little liar,” she hissed. “It’s no wonder William came home in such a state yesterday, with your husband looking the very image of Adonis.”

I tried to interject, but she shushed me and went on. “Take my advice and place your claim on Henry at once, before Phoebe Trumble casts her eyes upon him and decides she would make him a better wife.”

“She wouldn’t dare!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t be so stupid. I would have been tempted myself if you weren’t my dearest friend,” she confessed, and her eyes became even more serious. “There was something else I heard when the ladies were talking. They are in agreement that a marriage is no marriage at all until it has been properly consummated.”

“Good heavens!” I gasped. “But, Nora, I can’t.” I may have spilled the entire truth to gain her understanding if William hadn’t knocked right then.

In one fluid, well-practiced motion, Nora crossed her arms over her heart, and I recognized at once the secret sign from our earliest childhood. We had done it a million times, swearing to our friendship and promising to love each other always. I copied her movements without a second thought.

She then gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck,” she said, slipping out before I could utter another word.

When the door closed behind her, my shoulders fell forward as I buried my face in my hands, grieved by this last bit of news.

“Is everything all right?” Henry asked, coming up behind me.

Straightening my back, I turned and gave him a pleasant smile. “Yes, everything is fine.” In truth, the whole matter had become a big, tangled mess.