The Sins of a Few (11 page)

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 pressed 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.

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.

Now he provided the new beginning she so desperately needed. And the chance to free herself from worries over Jeremiah, who had probably never spoken a word of truth unless it served him, and even then his motivations were to be questioned. Nathanial, meanwhile, had never lied to her. She could trust him.

She would marry him.

And with that assurance, the sun shone a little brighter, its warmth cutting through the November chill like a burst of misplaced springtime. She finished her afternoon chores basking in it, and by the time Nathanial came home she wore one of the most genuine smiles she had in months.

He noticed.

“You are happy,” he observed later that evening. They had finished the evening meal and seen her mother to bed, and were now bringing firewood to the house. Nathanial had insisted on doing it alone, but Faith had been carrying the wood in for as long as she could remember, and a marriage arrangement did not change her ability to do so.

She insisted otherwise, and he agreed.

Her Nathanial.

Would she ever get used to it?

“I am happy,” she admitted, unable to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. And why should she? Guilt threatened to tug at her joy, but she ignored it. Her aunt would want for her happiness.

Aunt Ruth had loved Nathanial. Ruth would have loved them together.

Faith loved them together.

She settled a pile of kindling on the porch and turned, jumping when she found Nathanial standing mere inches from her. Her surprise was quickly engulfed in heat—not just the heat from his body, but the heat that crawled through hers with his proximity.

“I love seeing you happy,” he said. His voice came as a low murmur that sent shivers through the inferno.

In the darkness, they might have been the only two people in the world. “I love being that way.”

He caressed her cheek with his folded hand, his thumb dragging her lip when he lowered his touch to her shoulder. Her deep breath drew his attention to her eyes, and he held her gaze as he leaned to cover her mouth with his. Gentle at first, then probing until she feared her knees would no longer hold her. He must have sensed it, for he pulled her so close she felt his interest lodged between them. At the contact, he groaned, the sound quickly lost to another kiss—one that carried on until she suffered for her want of him.