The Sins of a Few (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Though Nathanial suspected Faith would not approve, he headed straight from William Burton’s home to the tavern, where he downed two shots of whiskey before the seat had time to warm beneath him. He had approached the Goodman out of courtesy, never imagining the meeting could take such a foul turn. And one turn begat another, as here he sat before noonday, looking for answers in his cups.

And finding none.

Fuck
.

Faith’s most prominent desire had been to stay in the home she shared with her aunt and her mother. And now, thanks to his intrusion, both her home and his promise were broken. How could he possibly tell her such news? And where would they go? Certainly not to his family’s home, though he was not sure he would be welcome there once he announced his marriage. Or would he? His father’s words came back to him in a rush.

That was a bloody brilliant stroke.

By agreeing to marry you, she has exonerated this entire family.

You are a better strategist than I ever thought possible, for you will end this for us for certain.

Nathanial ground the cup against the wooden bar, finding no satisfaction in the simple act. How had he muddled things so thoroughly? He could not have planned a better executed failing, yet there he sat. Succeeding in the worst of ways.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He raised his hand, signaling for another drink. Faith did not know it yet, but he had destroyed her. Soon his father would use the engagement to boast of forgiveness between the two families, using the alliance in an attempt to boost his own broken reputation. Perhaps they should all three leave Salem—Faith, her mother, and he—and start new somewhere else. Faith wanted to stay near her aunt, but nothing would take away the memories. Nathanial had crossed the ocean and back and still held the woman as close to his heart as ever, and Faith would learn the same. No good could come from staying. Hell, Faith and her mother no longer had a home…there was nothing to keep them there. He shook his head. Faith had indicated a willingness to leave Salem, but like this? She would be devastated, but perhaps it was best.

Best for her to be devastated?
Who would think such a thing? He was an ass. How could everything so quickly have taken such a bad turn?

Jeremiah
. That was how. Oh, Nathanial took credit where it was due, but if not for that little pissant’s lies, Faith and her mother would almost certainly be able to retain their home. And still they might. Nathanial held some hope that William Burton would reconsider, but Nathanial needed more than good fortune on his side.

He would need Jeremiah.

Son of a bitch
.

Nathanial tipped back the drink, emptying it in one swallow. When he dropped the cup, the barkeep was eyeing him.

“You might want to slow down, friend. You will not find your answers in the bottom of that cup. You ought to know…you’ve been there three times now and the lunch hour has not yet approached.”

“My money is good.”

“Just what I like to hear.”

Nathanial turned at the slightly familiar feminine voice. It was attached to the woman who had tried to procure his affection the day before. His attention quickly slid from her face to her breasts, which—despite her otherwise typically suitable attire—nearly spilled from her chemise. She was a looker; he would give her that. With her big blue eyes and well-appointed curves, she would have no problem capturing the attention of a lesser man.

And in that moment there was no man lesser than him.

She touched a finger to his chin, drawing him to meet her eyes. “You havin’ a rough day?”

“Might be.”

“Anything I can help you with?” She toyed with the loose strands of her hair and moved her hips in invitation. She was trying to tempt him. “I happen to be a real good problem solver,” she said, as breathless as if she had just run the road and back.

“Seems you attract as many as you solve,” the barkeep muttered.

“My rent is paid,” the girl said, her lips pursed into a pout. “Just because your customers get a bit rowdy—”

“Just the one.”

“His money is as good as the rest.” Her voice had lost some of its charm, and a scowl now marred her pretty face.

The barkeep walked off, muttering something Nathanial thought sounded like…who else? Nathanial tapped the cup on the bar. “Jeremiah Burton.”

The girl looked at Nathanial in surprise.

He downed his drink before addressing her again. “Do you…solve his problems?”

Her gaze drifted downward toward her feet. “I cannot speak of him.”

Nathanial sighed. That was answer enough. “Is he good to you?”

The girl shifted, still refusing to meet his eyes. So much for her solicitous behavior. Suddenly she looked like a child on the verge of being punished.

Perhaps she was.

“What is your name?”

“Cornelia,” she said softly.

“He is unkind to you, is he not?”

After a long moment, she gave a hesitant nod.

“Then why do you not refuse him?”

“I need the money,” she whispered. “To pay for my room.”

“Jeremiah Burton is a horse’s ass.” Nathanial reached in his pocket and toyed with his coin. After a moment of indecision, he retracted a generous sum and stacked it on the bar.

Her eyes widened.

“Refuse him. Take this coin and use it to find a new path. I can ask around, perhaps arrange honorable work.”

“My honor is long lost.” Despite her rebuttal, her voice wavered with uncertainty.

“As long as you can put one foot in front of the other, you can choose a better way. No one should have to lay with that lout. There is no sin great enough to earn such a punishment.”

She shook her head and pushed away his coin. “I cannot.”

He pushed back. “Take the money. If he tries to hurt you again, find me.”

“Goodman—”

“My name is Nathanial. Nathanial Abbot.”

She gasped and looked at him in horror. “He spoke of Faith and you. Things I cannot repeat.”

Nathanial tensed. “
Try
.”

“He does to me what he says he will do to her. He says she will not refuse him again, and that she will suffer for her indiscretions with you. He says she will pay.”

“The only person who will pay is him.” Nathanial stood, pushing the stool in place so forcefully that she jumped. He rested his gaze on his wary-eyed companion and made a promise he would stand behind at any cost. “Take the money. Worry not for Jeremiah. If that sodden bastard touches another woman against her will, it will be the last move he ever makes.”

…

After parting ways with Prudence, Faith went on to check on a couple of elders, offering to bring each bread and candles and answering questions about her mother’s health. With Nathanial’s reappearance, Felicity’s mood had improved quite dramatically and sharing the news delighted Faith. By late afternoon she had an armful of mending—one of the few activities in which her mother could still participate, as well as one of the few ways she managed to stay connected to her likewise infirmed neighbors—and a number of candles to make and return with the garments.

Though her mother’s improvement filled Faith with great joy, there was no denying that a great deal of her happiness stemmed from Nathanial. It hardly seemed real that they were to be married. She was entirely fortunate to know and like him when so many marriages were little more than business and property transactions, and considering neither she nor her mother owned anything of value, she was lucky for the opportunity to marry at all. Though the events had come suddenly—her thoughts had been too focused on losing her aunt and seeing to her mother’s health for marriage to cross her mind—she knew as much of Nathanial as she might any other suitor. A young woman’s fate was not hers to question, but one to be accepted…and if she was fortunate, to be celebrated.

In that moment, Faith felt most fortunate.

She hummed quietly as she walked, unable to keep the smile from her lips. Now that she had tasted Nathanial’s kisses, she could not help but wonder how she had managed so many years without the incredible intimacy promised in the marital bed. And he had already proven adept at knowing her desires before even she could comprehend them. He unnerved her, as did the thought of the intimacy that awaited. Verily he had shared his bed with other women—a thought that left a sour pit of jealousy in her stomach—but in the end he had chosen her. That had to account for something, did it not?

Feeling somewhat diminished, Faith paid more attention to her feet than the path on which she traveled, a choice that left her not seeing Rebecca Mather until she ran headfirst into her.

Faith quickly sidestepped the dour woman. “Pray pardon me!”

“Good morrow,” Rebecca said sweetly. “I understand celebration is in order.”

“For?” Faith had to blink several times to register just who stood before her, and when she did, the revelation was a foul one.

Rebecca moved the basket she carried so it rested on her hip. “You intend to join the Abbot family, do you not?”

“I have agreed to join with Nathanial, but I make no allegiance to the rest of the Abbots.”

The other woman smirked. “The same Nathanial Abbot you denied just yesterday morn?”

“We shared no such commitment when I made those claims.”

“I suppose, then, that this is just one happy coincidence, and so soon after tragedy. Nathanial returns home, gains the favor of the daughter of one of the fallen, and Salem lives in harmony.”

Faith had a new understanding for Nathanial’s reasons for hitting Jeremiah, for nothing would please her more than for Rebecca to suffer the same fate. The woman was unbearably cruel, and it mattered not how she tried to coat her words, for no amount of false kindness would change what lurked inside her. Those discounting the eradication of evil in Salem need only look to Rebecca Mather and Abigail Abbot to find it remained. Faith could only pray it would not flourish.

“If you refer to Ruth,” Faith said, “she is my aunt, not my mother. And Salem is far from harmony—something you well know, considering your part in the turmoil.”

“Oh, dear Faith.” Rebecca gave a poorly woeful sigh. “You are so naive. And so foolish. My only part in what happened here was to speak the truth when it was asked of me.”

“You made the truth anything you wanted it to be.”

Rebecca gave a most awful grin. “The only way you could possibly know that was if you were a witch. Tell me, Faith,” she asked sweetly. “Did we miss one?”

“Are you
threatening
me?”

“Of course not. The senses have prevailed. The jailed are to be released. What possible threat could my words carry? Especially now that you’ve aligned with the Abbot family. They think themselves a force in Salem, and while that may be debatable, there is no denying the benefit they gain by having you on their side.”

“Your comprehension is faulty, Goodwife. The Abbots are no friends of mine.”
And neither are you.

“You poor child. Perhaps that would-be husband of yours needs to do a better job of explaining how a marriage works.”

“Nathanial is no more interested in your opinion than I am,” Faith snapped.

“Do not be so sure of that, my dear. He is an important man—one whose wealth is rumored to far exceed his known status—and as you are well aware, you have nothing. If you think there is no greater meaning behind his decision to take you as his wife, then you are far more foolish than I guessed.” She leaned close and in an exaggerated whisper added, “There is always something to be gained.
Always
.”

If not for the linens Faith held, she would have been perfectly content to shove the woman to the ground. But as it were, she had been entrusted with the garments and would not soil them, nor would she sully her reputation. If Rebecca wanted to bask in the stench of her suppositions, she could do it alone.

“Perhaps you should let my intended alone and see to your husband,” Faith said, matching Rebecca’s previously insincere, saccharine tone. “I understand he had an eye for the midwife before you had her jailed for witchcraft. Have you managed to regain his attentions?”

Rebecca’s eyes snapped the kind of fury that ought to be accompanied by thunder from the sky. “They were never lost,” she said with deadened calm.

“That is not at all what I heard.”

“You did not hear it from Nathanial, as my Thomas does not frequent the taverns. He is quite satisfied by what he has at home.”

“Then you better run along and see who is there satisfying him,” Faith snapped, brushing past the insolent woman. How dare she bring up Nathanial’s visit to the tavern as if it were an insult to Faith? He had not been a committed man at the time, and—despite how Puritans viewed such activity—the establishment was not illegal, nor was the drink within it. As for the women who solicited for company there…Faith chose not to think of them. Their immorality would be judged in time, but not by her.

She held the bundle tightly as she walked the remainder of the distance to her home without looking back. Her mother was inside arranging her mending supplies on the table.

Faith squared the trouble from her shoulders and joined her mother at the table. The tension would not leave her, but she treasured these quiet moments with her mother, and being without Aunt Ruth made her appreciate them all the more.

“How was Betty this day?” Felicity asked.

Faith handed her a garment and began stacking the rest neatly on the table. “Full of talk. It is a shame the two of you cannot get together. Perhaps you should attempt a visit. You did well when you traveled yesterday, did you not?”

“You speak quickly, my dear, and without direction. What bothers you?”

Faith fussed with the neat stacks of linens, though they were in no need of no attention. She would not worry her mother with Rebecca Mather’s ridiculous notions, so she opted for another version of the truth. “The changes are so sudden, that is all.”

Felicity patted her on the hand. “Worry not. He cares for you. I can see it in him. I have known that boy for a long time, remember.”