The Sins of a Few (Entangled Scandalous)

by Sarah Ballance

  “Your thoughts are heavy.”

  Faith leaped at the familiar voice, then found its source on the porch. “Mother? You are out of doors?”

  “Goodness, child. You make me sound like an old woman.”

  “It is just…you have not…” Faith sputtered, realizing with shame that was exactly what she had considered her mother. “Forgive me.”

  Felicity responded with a gentle smile. “We have both been old. The time is right for new beginnings.”

  Faith’s gaze rested on the house. So many years…they could not end now. They could not end in homelessness. She ducked her head, feeling shame through her resolution. “I am afraid my time is now.”

  “With Nathanial? Why so uncertain, child?”

  “Wherever my path leads, it will not be alongside Nathanial.”

  “Why?”

  “He promised me we would not leave Salem, and all the while he planned to take me away.”

  “Surely you did not expect to remain here forever. How did you expect he would make a living in Salem, child? He did not school at Ruth’s table for years, attend at Cambridge, and practice in London only to return to Salem and settle disputes over whose chickens lay which eggs.”

  “He promised. Once he made that vow, the circumstances fail to matter.”

  “What of your vow? I know you are as independent as any child ever was, but your duty is to your husband. Open your mind, dear Faith. If he wants you to see the world, embrace the chance. Few gain such an opportunity. See it for the blessing it is.”

  “But how can I leave you?”

  “If the terrible times we have faced have taught you nothing else, they should have taught you to live. Live. Travel. Grow. And if you return to Salem—”

  “I will always return to Salem.”

  “Then return and make it a better place.”

  The weight on Faith’s shoulders suddenly felt like more than she could bear. “It is not as simple as you make it.”

  “It is. You are just being stubborn.”

  “No…Nathanial and Jeremiah were involved in an…altercation. As a result, we have been asked to leave our home.”

  Felicity stilled. Her knowing smile hardened and her lips pressed tightly together until she spoke. “But…we have nowhere else to go.”

  “I know. That is why I approached Jeremiah. I told him Nathanial would stay here no longer and asked for the return of our lease.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He said we could retain the home…if you would grant him my hand.”

  “You are already Nathanial’s wife.”

  “He married me under false pretenses. The marriage is not valid.”

  “No matter what he did, you cannot just carry on as if you did not exchange vows! What if you are with child?”

  “I am certain Jeremiah would enjoy nothing more than to raise a child Nathanial thought might be his own,” Faith said bitterly, “and if that were to be the case, no one would know the difference.”

  “I did not raise you this way. How can you be so cold?”

  “Because I have no choice. Weeping will not change the situation at hand. Surely I can endure Jeremiah if it means we can stay in our home we have lived in for years.” Though she wondered privately if that could be true, for the very thought of Jeremiah sweating and grunting as he thrust into her left her ill. He would never be granted permission to touch her, no matter how he defined their relationship.

  “I will not allow it. Talk to Nathanial. I refuse to believe that it is as bad as this. You are still married to him, so Jeremiah’s offer is as worthless as he is. But lest there be any further misunderstanding, let me make myself known. I would rather sleep on the street than permit him your hand.”

  Faith swallowed her pain. Searched for strength. “Forgive me, Mother, but you haven’t a choice.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days had passed and not a word from Nathanial. Rumor had it he was in Salem Town, probably securing that home in Cambridge or perhaps passage to London. But he had not left yet. Prudence had learned from her friend, Anne, who operated an inn with her husband, that Nathanial had taken a room there.

  Faith had managed to avoid Jeremiah by feigning illness, and it had worked so well that he stayed away from her during Sunday worship. Of course the slug would want nothing of her sickness.

  But her opinion of Nathanial was not much better. It was not enough that he had so readily dismissed the promise he made her. He had disappeared. That she had ever wondered if she should forgive him now left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth. Nathanial had not sought forgiveness.

  He had not sought her at all.

  Clearly he had found a way to move on, but Faith’s own fresh start was not so easily gained.

  The deadline to vacate the house had neared. Faith knew she could not marry Jeremiah, but she had yet to break the news to him. She feared he would have them leave the house at once, and still they had nowhere to go. Perhaps if she could again talk to the elder Burton without the benefit of his son’s company, she could win his favor, but the risk of seeing Jeremiah in the home was great. It seemed he did not leave other than to attend worship and visit the tavern, and one received far more attention than the other.

  And as angry as she had grown by Nathanial’s disappearance, she could not leave things the way they were. She wanted to sort out what was left between them—to take back her refusal to listen to him and try to understand—but his absence had been clear enough. It was just as well Faith was distracted by her pending homelessness, for she could just as easily drown in thoughts of Nathanial. Her body carried its own reminders of him, and the fading marks where he had nipped at her and the easing of her sore muscles were losses she felt immensely. She did not want to lose that final part of him and what he had been to her, though another part of her wondered why, if he cared for her, he had left. Because you asked him to. But how happy had he been to go?

  And why did it hurt so much that he had left without a backward glance?

  Faith stood outside Miles’s house, there to escort her mother home and woefully torn between her worries and the direction of her heart. The weathered wood walls held no answers.

  No hope.

  “Faith?”

  She turned to see her mother, arm in arm with Miles, and she smiled. At least something was right.

  “Why are you staring at the wall? Come in here, child. We have something important to discuss.”

  Faith obeyed, though warily, for she had had enough of important discussions and big moments. She longed for the very simple, blessed days when she had cared for her mother and aunt and her greatest challenge had been bread dough that would not rise.

  Once inside the home, Miles wasted no time in addressing her. “Miss Faith,” he said. “I would like to ask for your blessing.”

  Stunned—just as much by his failure to mince words as by the words themselves—Faith sank into a chair. Though she felt certain she knew exactly to what he referred, she could not prevent the question that slipped from her mouth. “Blessing for what?”

  “Our union,” they said together.

  “You wish to marry?”

  “We do.” Again, they spoke in unison.

  “May I ask why?”

  Faith’s mother grinned slyly. “Have you forgotten so quickly?”

  “Mother!”

  Miles cleared his throat. “Your mother has shared with me some of your troubles. I am alone in this old house, and while I have neighbors willing to check on me, I am without companionship. To have your mother’s company without the long walk between us would be an immense blessing, and it would be my honor to share my home with the both of you. And of course we cannot do so without the benefit of marriage.”

  Faith was grateful she was sitting, for the relief of his offer would have otherwise set her on the floor. “Are you…are you sure?” She herself would not be, if not for the evidence of her mother’s joy after reu
niting with Miles. And though Faith had only recently made his close acquaintance, she could see the difference in him as well. Hope blossomed.

  Miles patted her mother’s arm. “I confess, I am a lonely man, but I have not been willing to share my life with just anyone. When Felicity and I reconnected, I could only hope she felt the same for me.”

  A thousand objections ran through Faith’s mind, but none held weight. After all, had she not just married a man mere days after his return? They had known each other for years, but after observing Felicity and Miles, Faith could not imagine Nathanial would ever look at her in such a way. She had held the hope, however briefly, but then he had lied to her.

  “Faith?”

  She blinked back tears…for loss.

  For love.

  To see her mother so joyously willing to move on was a great testimony. Faith would never think her mother moving in with Miles was a way of leaving Aunt Ruth behind, so why would it be any different if Faith moved on with Nathanial? Salem would always be her home, but the message had been clear for so long now. Faith had just refused to see it.

  She had refused to live.

  And now she had missed her chance, but verily her mother deserved happiness. She took the Goodman’s hands in her own. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Goodman. And along with my gratitude, you have my blessing.”

  “Good, then,” he said as Faith’s mother wrapped her in a hug. “We will have a minister in to see to our vows, and perhaps you and your young man would like to stand alongside us.” His sly grin matched the one her mother had shared just moments before, leaving little doubt in Faith’s mind that he knew her vows had taken place in the bedroom. Handfasting was an accepted method of marriage—one recognized by Puritan law—but offering to include them in the ceremony was a thoughtful gesture. Thoughtful…and awkward.

  “Nathanial and I…well, surely Mother told you.”

  “Hmm. I spoke with Nathanial just this morn.”

  “About me?”

  “By extension I suppose, yes.”

  Faith was not sure what that meant, but the fact that Nathanial had spoken of her was enough. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  Miles hesitated. “He had some business with the magistrate, though I cannot imagine he is still entailed there.”

  “I must go find him. I will return and…thank you, Goodman. Thank you, again.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried from the home and kept the brisk pace toward the center of the village. Salem was not so populous that someone would not have seen him somewhere, and she had to find him before he slipped away again.

  Before it was too late.

  She did not have to go far. A crowd had gathered—one so thick she could not make out its center. For a brief, terrifying moment she saw in her mind’s eye the gallows, and it did not matter the distance between them. The grit in her mouth and the sorrow in her heart hung as heavily as if the platform lay before her. Then someone yelled and the reverie was broken, a crisp breeze cleansing the last of the terror from her mind.

  She pushed through the crowd, surprised to find Jeremiah at its center, his ankles ensconced in stocks and his mouth so afoul with profanity that he would likely never exit them.

  “Fornicator!” came a cry, barely heard over Jeremiah’s tirade. In short order, he was pelted with rocks, rotten food, and sticks.

  Fornication. Faith was not surprised, though the timing was suspect. She looked around for Nathanial, but instead found a young woman she knew by sight but with whom she had seldom spoken. She bore the marks of abuse, and Faith’s heart immediately went to her. She pushed her way out of the crowd, then skirted the backside until she was within grasping distance of the young woman. “Are you okay?”

  The girl nodded, hugging tightly against herself. “He found me on the street. I refused him, and he grew angry. He began yelling, saying that no one could refuse him. He said he was too good for me and I would learn. He hit me, but there were many witnesses. The magistrate himself pulled Jeremiah away, and all the while he yelled about how he had had…relations with me before and I had no right to deny him now.”

  Jeremiah? “He was caught red-handed in one crime and made a full confession to another?”

  The woman nodded, and Faith realized she did not know her name. “My name is Faith,” she said.

  “Cornelia,” the woman said with softness.

  “Will you be charged along with him?”

  “She will not.”

  Nathanial. He stood just off to her side, his eyes not quite meeting hers. Instead, they were fastened on Cornelia, who in turn refused to look at either of them.

  “Jeremiah made his confession of his own accord. There is no proof Cornelia was ever a participant in his claims—only that she was his victim.”

  Faith felt a spear of relief for the young woman, who toed the dirt with her bare feet.

  “If there is trouble,” Nathanial said to her, “have someone find me.”

  “Thank you,” whispered Cornelia.

  She still had not looked up.

  Nathanial turned away. Faith grabbed his arm on impulse, then dropped her hand just as quickly as his icy-blue eyes found hers.

  “Later,” he said.

  And not a word more.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Faith could not have torn her attention from Nathanial’s retreating form if she tried, but fortunately such an effort was not needed.

  He did not go far.

  Even over the distance, the sight of him was enough to take her breath. He stood tall and strong, his eyes so brilliantly blue they rivaled the glory of the sky. He did not look at her, and she relished the opportunity to study him unabated. A cool breeze ruffled the same strands of hair through which she had run her fingers and wanted with her whole heart to never let go. His arms, thick and powerful beneath his sleeves, were the very ones that had held her so gently she could scarcely breathe. And the breadth of that chest, and within it the steady beat of a heart that raced when she was near.

  How could she do anything but love him?

  She wanted to run to him, to ask for his forgiveness. To declare it mattered not where they lived, as long as they were together. She would go with him anywhere, because she had finally realized a home was not a location but the people within it. But she would have to wait, for he began to speak. As soon as the first words left his mouth, the crowd surrounding Jeremiah shifted. Nathanial commanded attention, and there was no finer example of this than when Jeremiah’s shouts went unnoticed in favor of the enigma that was her husband.

  Or at least she supposed he was.

  “As most of you know, my name is Nathanial Abbot.”

  Faith’s head spun. He must know she was there, but he did not seek her out. His attention seemed to shift through each individual—everyone but her—and with each moment that passed the rising din of concern overtook her a bit more.

  Then she felt a hand on her arm and looked to see Cornelia. The young woman met her eyes and offered a hesitant smile. She nodded in Nathanial’s direction. “He is a good man, miss. He wanted to help me. I tried to refuse him, but he did not let me. Most people only see me as…well, he saw more. He gave me a chance to be more.”

  Faith stared at her, her heart both warmed and broken by his generous spirit. Her husband. How could she let him go? She was ripped from her thoughts when she realized he was talking.

  “…horrors felt by all in Salem who both faced and feared the accusations brought forth, in great part by members of my own family.”

  Faith gasped. What is he doing?

  “I was not here to be a voice of reason during this terrible time, and sadly what has been done cannot be undone. I was horrified to learn upon of my return to this soil that my own family took part in the accusations, and even more so to know they provided testimony that convicted the innocent. We cannot bring back those lost or dispel the fear that lingers to this day, but an injustice was served—one that should n
ot go unpunished.”

  She looked around, but with everyone exchanging questionable looks, it was clear no one knew of Nathanial’s intent…with the possible exception of his family. Nathanial’s father stood near the thickest part of the crowd, his face a terrible shade of red. Nearby, Elinor Abbot swayed, her face completely without color. Beside Elinor, Abigail stood with her sisters, appearing unaffected. Without interest.

  Nathanial conversed briefly with the magistrate, then returned his attention to his audience.

  “It is then in the name of justice I would like to formally request charges are brought against the truly guilty and those who were responsible for guiding them…and failed. Richard and Elinor Abbot, Abigail, Mary—”

  What was he doing?

  “Stop!” The word left her mouth without forethought.

  All heads swiveled, and Faith found herself staring at a hundred bewildered faces at once, but only one mattered.

  Nathanial’s.

  Courage fled, and fear filled the vacancy. Fear that she would be arrested upon speaking her mind, fear that she would stand up and lose him anyway. But too many people in Salem had lived in fear of speaking up. Too many had failed to be a sorely needed voice of reason among neighbors who, like her, had been a little too quick to judge.

  The risk was one she would have to take.

  The crowd made haste in allowing her through, and far too quickly she stood at Nathanial’s side, a multitude of eyes upon her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice.

  Her heart caught in her throat. His voice was too neutral…too restrained. Where was the man who had held her so passionately? Though he had not spoken an untruth about the status of her home, he had misled her. Surely her anger had been understandable. Could they be so easily lost? The questions would have to wait.

  She turned and faced her neighbors. People who had faced the worst and now struggled to move on, each and every one searching for healing. “This cannot go on.”

  “Faith—”

  “May I?”

  His eyes searched hers for an interminable moment. Then he simply held out his hand—not to take hers, because that was forbidden—but in invitation. “If you have not heard, I have recently taken a wife and she clearly has an opinion contrary to mine.”