Soil and Ceremony

by Julia Byrd

  We turned two armchairs away from the desk and sat facing the fire. Everett propped his boots on the fender, so close to the flames I thought the leather soles would smoke.

  I sipped my wine and let my head fall back against the chair. Everett spoke of his admiration for Sarah’s culinary creativity. We talked about the work needed to prepare Maida Green for the winter ahead, but neither of us was in the mood for serious planning.

  “This is good, Ev,” I said after the fire had chased the chill out of the air. I poured myself more port, then tipped the bottle at him in silent invitation. He extended his tumbler toward me without taking his eyes from the fire.

  “What is?”

  I stared into the purple-black depths of my glass. “This. The fire, the wine, us. Sarah and Juno are down the hall. The wind has died down, and tomorrow is Sunday.” And Juno has promised to show me something she thinks is important. Maybe I would find the pattern of the infants’ deaths.

  “It is good. It’s also just a transition, a deep breath before the next storm. Things are changing fast.”

  “Out with it, Toth,” I commanded. “I can hear you thinking again.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. A broken window, that’s all. At our house. Probably a rock thrown up by a passing wagon, or maybe the glass was weak.”

  I sat up straighter in my chair. “When?”

  “Yesterday evening, while I was here with Sarah. I should have been at home. My mother is anxious.”

  “Last night was the fire at Juno’s house.”

  “Yes. And…”

  “And what?”

  “I don’t know. A strange mark over the doorway, smudged in charcoal.”

  A shiver ran along my forearms, and I tightened my hands on the arms of the chair. “Was it an open triangle?”

  “Yes!” Everett exclaimed. “You’ve seen it? What does it mean?”

  I’d seen it only once, on his doorway. Someone had redrawn it after I’d erased it. Juno might know something, but I evaded his question for the moment. “A girl passed you her greetings today. Abigail Meading. She said something that didn’t make much sense. She seemed to think your family was hexed.”

  He snorted. “Abigail. Sometimes I’m inclined to think the same.”

  “Have you heard that before?”

  “Perhaps, although not spoken directly. My mother has had her share of bad luck and good, as well as these things can be tallied. My father left her, and people wondered. You know people want to think we’re different.”

  Everett did not seem alarmed, so I fell silent.

  “Speaking of bad paternal luck, what are we going to do about Greeley?” he asked. “Sarah would like to salvage her relationship with her father if she can.”

  I sighed and swallowed more wine. “I would like to help her, but she has not confided what happened between them, so I don’t know where to start.”

  “I don’t either, but you don’t have to do it alone. Whatever it is. Probably.”

  I had to chuckle at his pragmatism. “Thank you.”

  We lapsed again into silence. By the time the fire had burned low, the bottle was nearly empty, and we were both half-asleep in our chairs. Finally, I stood and levered Everett to his feet. I led him into the hall and peeked into the library, but Sarah and Juno were nothing more than small mounds of blankets.

  Everett and I used the tunnel to return to Maida Green. I relocked the big front gates after he’d left for home.

  While removing my coat, I found a slip of familiar notepaper in the pocket. I lit a candle and angled the page to catch Juno’s sinuous script in the light.

  I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my two fortunes. Today I’m not as sure. –J.

  Chapter 19: Rite of Worship

  The church service on Sunday was unexceptional. My mother was delighted to walk in with me, and I was happy to oblige her. The village’s church was ancient and drafty, with a narrow nave that stretched farther inside than appeared possible from outside. High clerestory windows admitted shafts of sunlight that left the pews below in harsh shadow. The right aisle ended in a grand staircase, with stones worn to gentle curves in the center of each step, that led to the unoccupied choir loft. The imposing altar and the heavy door through which the vicar would emerge discouraged intimacy between parishioner and clergy. The place suited my spiritual needs. I saw more than one pair of eyes tracking Sarah Greeley as she went to sit beside Everett, Mrs. Toth, and Lucy. Mrs. Toth eyed the blonde girl sourly, then she tapped Everett’s shoulder to make him open more space on the pew between the two. She appeared much less pleased about Sarah’s presence than her son.

  I could not have summarized the essence of the sermon if I had been stretched on the rack, joints popping. Given his abstracted delivery, the vicar seemed scarcely more interested than I was. In my pocket was a response to Juno’s note, scrawled on the paper she had given me, and I was eager to find a way to get it to her.

  Afterward, a crowd gathered on the steps and in the church’s forecourt for gossip and pleasantries. There wouldn’t be many more such fine mornings before the winter chill set in. Previously I would have skirted the edge of the group and made my way home, but as part of my new role, I stood my ground beside Mother.

  “Rebecca.” An older woman with a long, coiled braid paused to kiss the air near my mother’s cheek. “And Benjamin! Very nice of you to join us today.”

  I blinked at her. Had we been introduced? “I come every week.”

  “Oh, nonsense. I haven’t noticed you.”

  It was true that I often slipped into the last pew, hiding in plain sight. Still, I didn’t appreciate her dismissive tone. “I assure you, madam, that—”

  Mother laughed, a tinkling sound that drew people’s attention. “Your eyesight must be fading, Eleanor, to miss catching sight of my tall and handsome son.” She dug a pointy elbow into my ribcage, and I forced a grimace into a smile. “But on such a fine day I’m happy to have Ben to walk me up to Maida House. It’s in dire need of updating, you know, but things are getting underway.”

  Updating. Mother made it sound like the place just needed fresh wallpaper.

  “Is it true, then, that the Hoods are planning to reside at Maida House once again?”

  When I turned to catch a glimpse of the new speaker, I realized we stood in the center of a growing clump of people. They all stared, awaiting my response. At least a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on me. Were these the same people who whispered about a hex? I whipped my head around and found people pressing at my back as well.

  “W-w-s-so-yes—”

  “When do you take up occupancy?” someone else asked.

  “Surely you cannot turn the cemetery over to Everett Toth!”

  “Are you placing offers to buy back the old estate land?”

  It wasn’t just gossip, it was pure intrusiveness. They all looked at me as if I owed them something. Were they correct? I had contributed so little to the village for so many years…I wetted my lips and began to speak. “W-well we-we…erm, I-I-I—”

  The sentence was going nowhere. I shut my mouth with a snap. It felt the same as the night of the fire when all the neighbors had looked to me. A snicker from the back of the crowd was quickly muffled.

  “Nothing has been decided yet,” Mother chirped. “I’m so interested to learn what Benjamin has planned for the estate.”

  “Something involving silence, presumably,” someone muttered.

  I stared straight ahead over the crowd at a distant tree. Blood rushed through my veins, and I prayed my face wasn’t pink.

  “Shall we go?” Mother asked, squeezing my elbow.

  “Please,” I said.

  Everett and Sarah followed us as we turned away. I inhaled until my chest strained, then let the air out slowly. After a few quick strides, Mother gripped my arm again, and I slowed my steps to a pace more sustainable for her.

  “Ben, what you said back there—or didn’t say,” Everett said when we wer
e some distance removed. “Not sure anybody quite caught your meaning.”

  “Thank you, Everett, I am aware.” I turned my eyes to the street ahead, which narrowed at the edge of the village to a country lane.

  “I thought Juno fixed you.”

  “Everett, I swear if you utter another—”

  “I’ve hardly been able to get a word in edgeways for the last month. But back there you were a real mess.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I. Am. Aware.”

  “What does he mean, dear, by saying Mrs. Stephens fixed you?” Mother asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Is it because of how everyone was staring? I used to hate reading passages aloud in front of the whole schoolroom.”

  “Me, too,” Sarah concurred.

  “Thank you all very much,” I said. “This concludes our discussion of my vocal deficiencies for today.”

  We walked unhurriedly for the two miles out to Maida House. It should have been a carriage ride. I worried that Mother would grow weary, but she was happy enough.

  “Don’t worry, my dear boy,” she said when I inquired. “I have trod this path more often than you have. And the sunshine is quite fine this morning. The rain won’t arrive until later.”

  As the house came into view, I spotted Juno waiting in the doorway. The house was planted solidly behind her, a squared-off watchdog. She lifted a hand in greeting, and I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face. Her hair was twisted to one side in a fall of loose curls. When we reached the gravel courtyard, she stepped forward and smiled.

  “Welcome home,” she said. Her voice was pitched a little higher than usual.

  “Mother, please meet Mrs. Juno Stephens. Juno, my mother, Rebecca Hood.”

  “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, madam,” Juno said with a dip of her head.

  “Hmm, likewise, thank you.” Mother’s voice was cool, and her eyes traveled over Juno from head to foot in a long assessment.

  “Lunch has been set out in the dining room,” Juno said. Her hands twisted the blue linen of her skirt.

  “Do you have a cook already, Ben?” Mother asked.

  “Ah, no. Juno—Mrs. Stephens—kindly offered to assemble a meal for us all.”

  “Is that so?” Mother eyed Juno again. “Are you functioning as a sort of maid of all work, then?”

  “No,” I said with some alarm. “Juno is not a servant. Not at all. She and Sarah are my guests, despite the rather poor condition of the house, and they’ve both been nothing but helpful during their stay.”

  “I see,” said Mother.

  I glanced at Juno and found her eyes already locked on me, wide and dark. She’s nervous. I had never her seen her so anxious about anything, except perhaps Farmer Miller’s boy. Was meeting my mother equivalent to a house fire in regards to effects on Juno’s nerves?

  “Let’s go indoors.” I spread my arms and shepherded Mother, Everett, and Sarah before me. They moved to the front door. Juno hung back. On impulse, I reached for her hand, but as soon as I touched her fingertips, she spun around and pressed against me from shoulders to knees. I braced myself against the sudden weight and warmth and folded my arms around her. “Shh, you’re fine, everything is fine,” I murmured into her hair. “Did something happen? What has rattled you so?”

  “No, no,” Juno said on a shaky breath. She buried her nose in the crook of my neck and sighed. I rather liked her there, so I stayed still, savoring her presence and her trust. The others had disappeared into the house. “She remembers me. She knows the child I was. I could tell by the way she looked at me.”

  “Who? Mother?”

  “Yes. I know I’m not Jane Davies anymore, but the thought that your mother recalls that meek, cowering quail makes me want to dig a hole and crawl into it.” Juno gave a delicate shudder.

  Wrapped together as we were, I felt the quiver all the way through from my navel to my spine. I used her distraction to slip a note into the pocket of her dress. When she had written to me that she was unsure what to do with her two fortunes, I could only think of a single response.

  I hope you can do what pleases you. Ben.

  The folded ivory card hid away easily. I imagined her smiling later when she found it.

  “Who cares what she thinks? It doesn’t matter,” I said with a laugh.

  I’d meant to put her mind at ease, but Juno only stiffened in my arms. She stepped away before replying. “No, of course, you’re right. Mrs. Hood’s judgment doesn’t concern me whatsoever. Why should it, after all?”

  “Wait,” I said softly, taking a stride to lessen the space between us. I caught her hand again and tugged gently. Juno did not relent and stayed at arm’s length. “It does matter, though, doesn’t it? I have been paying some attention. Her opinion of you is important because I’m important to you.”

  Juno glowered. “Arrogant man.”

  I lifted her hand high, then circled around her in an approximation of a turn in a country dance. “I know I am right,” I said. It was true—I’d never had reason to think I meant nothing to Juno Stephens. From the first moment I’d met her, she had treated me like someone of consequence. Her elbow bent slightly, drawing me closer. Crushed rock shifted under my feet. I bent suddenly, jostling Juno aside, and picked up a jagged rock. Using it as a stylus, I drew a rough, open triangle in the gravel, then added a dot to the center. Then I stood, brushed the dust from my hands, and waited for Juno’s reaction.

  “Where did you see that?” she asked.

  “You know what it is?”

  “Yes. Where did you see it?”

  “Marked in charcoal over the Toths’ doorway. What is it?”

  “It’s a symbol of warding, of protection. This type of symbolism is older than the cross or the loaves and fishes.”

  Once again, the village was proving significantly less Christian than I had thought. “Is it…dangerous?”

  Juno eyed me from under lowered eyebrows. “People are dangerous, Ben. It could be well-intentioned, a symbol of protection for the Toths. Or it could be intended to serve as protection from the Toths. I don’t know the intent of the person who made the marking.”

  I’d heard enough talk of a Toth family hex to assume ill intentions. “It wasn’t you,” I said cautiously.

  “No. It’s an old, superstitious tradition. But we should speak to Adele—”

  We both startled at the sudden sound of hoofbeats on the gravel drive. I straightened away from Juno and turned to see a horse and rider galloping along the long entrance lane. Who would come looking for me? I stepped forwards to block Juno from easy view.

  “Stand with me or go indoors, but decide quickly,” I said. My voice sounded so harsh I hardly recognized myself.

  Juno raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Isn’t that—”

  I squinted at the horseman. His face wasn’t clear to me, but his frame was narrow. I did not recognize him. “I don’t know.”

  “Is it John Colney?”

  We waited a few more seconds as the man reined in his animal and pulled to a stop before us. I folded my arms and took in the man’s sweating face and plain, serviceable clothing. Maida House was a solid bulk at my back. It lent me some authority, as it had done for years. But for the first time, it felt as if the place had turned its gaze inwards. My mother was in residence again, and I would need to stand on my own.

  “Hood,” he said with a nod. “Mrs. Stephens.”

  I stiffened at the missing ritual of introductions. How long until I lost my shock at how many people knew me?

  “Mr. Colney,” said Juno. “What is it?”

  “It’s Martina, ma’am. Will you come?”

  “Who is Martina?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” Juno breathed out. “Yes, of course, I will.”

  “Who is Martina?” I repeated. “How did you know to find Mrs. Stephens here?”

  Juno took two steps towards the man, then turned and came back to me. I searched her expression and
saw only determination and a twinge of sadness. To my surprise, she stretched up onto her toes and pressed a brief kiss to my lips. “Martina is his wife,” she said quietly. “I’ll be back later.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said. “Colney, let us take your horse—”

  “No.” Juno flattened a palm on my chest as if to hold me in place. “No,” she said again more softly. “It’s nothing to do with you, Ben. I will explain later. Will you extend my apologies to your mother?”

  There was no doubt in her tone. I knew she would not waver in her decision. I spread my fingers wide to loosen the clench in my hands. “Be careful,” I said finally.

  Juno was already in motion, swinging up to ride sidesaddle behind Colney. She threaded her arms around the man’s waist. I pushed away a rotten cloud of doubt, fear, and jealousy. Of course, Juno had a whole life that had nothing to do with me. They rode off in a clatter. I hadn’t finished with my questions about the charcoal symbol smudged over the Toths’ doorway.

  The horse disappeared onto the road, then I turned for the house. I pushed through the heavy door. Someone, probably Juno, had oiled its hinges. The interior was cool and dim, and the hallway had been swept clean. I half expected a footman to appear and ask for my coat and hat.

  Mother was with Everett and Sarah in the dining room, which was free of dust but still somewhat forlorn with its sagging ceiling and missing carpet. I stopped in the doorway. The sideboard was loaded with a cold luncheon, and they all sat with their plates.

  “Sorry, dear, I said we should go ahead and begin our meal. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be,” Mother said. She waved towards the head of the table. “Come and sit. Where is Mrs. Stephens? You know, Ben, the house is truly not as bad as I had feared. There is much work to be done, but it’s not the ruin I had imagined. In fact, the kitchen is—”

  “Because Juno and Miss Greeley have done so much work already,” I said abruptly. Was Juno riding off into danger, or to conduct some heathen ceremony? And what did she have to do with the Colney family? I should have gone with her.

  “Where is Mrs. Stephens?” Mother asked again, tracing the direction of my thoughts.