Murmurs and tittered laughter rippled through the crowd.
Faith stepped forward. She prayed his would be permission enough, for she could very well be arrested for standing vocal—both as a woman, and because she stood in argument.
She turned so as to address the crowd as well as Nathanial. “As many of you know, I lost my Aunt Ruth. She was like a second mother to me, and I loved her dearly. My story repeats itself through each and every one of you, for every loved one we lost was someone’s mother or daughter, father or son. Nathanial Abbot is a good man, one who stands on principal. One who wishes to do the right thing and see all those responsible held accountable. But bringing charges against those who have sinned against their neighbors will not bring back our loved ones and it will not bring healing to our community. They have perhaps brought judgment on themselves, but I think we can agree we are not the ones to hand it down. We have judged enough…it is time to move on.”
When she finished, not a sound drifted through the gathering. Then all at once, voices erupted. Nathanial pulled both her and the magistrate aside.
“I appreciate your gesture,” he said, “and no doubt my family does as well, but the magistrate is here to read the charges.”
“Are you saying it cannot be undone?” She turned to the magistrate. “You do not have to pursue them, do you?”
The man shrugged. “It is the Goodman’s choice. He is the complainant.”
Nathanial turned to her, and in his eyes she saw the man who had held her. Loved her. “Are you sure?”
“I want to move on,” she said. “We all do.”
He glanced to the magistrate, who gave a slight nod.
Nathanial sighed. “Very well then. It is as you wish.” He turned to his audience…to her neighbors. “My wife believes in forgiveness, and Salem is much in need of it. The events of the past several months were horrendous, but there are good people here—people who are more than the accusations that overtook them. If you allow it, we shall drop this matter and move on.”
Murmurs filtered through the crowd. Faith suspected a great many would have delighted in seeing the Abbots brought on charges, but her words had been sincere. It was time to forgive.
Nathanial turned to the magistrate and shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, sir.”
“And thou. These were important steps for thy both.”
“Indeed you are right.”
Faith did not wait for further resolution. The enormity of what she had done hit her with force, and her feet could not move her fast enough away from the crowd. Taking such a risk was foolish, but someone had to be the first to forgive. She could not bear for the hatred to continue.
Nor could she bear the lingering memory of the cold look in Nathanial’s eyes when he had spoken to her before addressing the crowd. He had been warm enough in front of their audience, but she could not forget he was schooled in appearances. His trade was one of shaping influence, and though her heart was on his side, she would be foolish to trust blindly.
Nathanial did not leave her to wonder long. He caught her easily, for she was but a few strides away when he captured her arm. “Faith, please wait.”
“What is it?” she asked. She kept walking away from the crowd and he matched her stride for stride.
“I want to apologize.”
Several yards from the nearest neighbor, she stopped and turned toward him. He had softened, and she wondered whether his earlier coldness had come from a place of anxiety. Did he worry for her, or for his cause? “For what?” she asked. “It seems you made a rather grand gesture out there.”
“As did you,” he said softly. “I want you to know that was not for show. I would have followed through.”
“I believe you,” she admitted. “You have shown little propensity for posturing.”
“While I am grateful you are of that opinion, the fact remains that I withheld dire news from you—news you had every right to know. But please know it was not my intention to deceive you about the status of your agreement with the elder Burton, but rather to protect you from additional worry.”
She crossed her arms in defiance of the warmth spreading through her. “I do not need your protection, Nathanial.”
“I am growing more aware of that each day,” he said with a smile. “But you are deserving of my honesty. Trust is something to be earned, and I am afraid I may have made that difficult for you.”
She could only nod. Her anger had faded, but wariness lingered.
He touched her cheek, his gentle caress nearly undoing her. “I do not want you to suffer in doubts. There has been far too much uncertainty. I want a new beginning for you. A good one.”
“I have one. Mother and Miles are to marry and I am welcome in their home.”
His eyes widened, his face lighting. “Joyous news, indeed. As for you and I…”
She swallowed. She wanted nothing more than to return to his arms, but she would be foolish to trust blindly, no matter how her heart begged otherwise. “As you stated, trust needs to be earned.”
“And I will grant you every day needed. Every day of my life, if you will allow it. In the meantime, I have something more to offer.”
“More? You cannot possibly—”
“I have purchased the hill that sits so close to the stars. We can build a home, Faith, and your mother will be nearby. And the house and property will be yours. No matter how you feel about me, you will be secure in knowing your home cannot be taken from you.”
Though her heart made tremendous somersaults at the idea of such a security, the gesture was an empty one. Was this a ploy to gain her favor? Hope slumped. “That is a nice thought, but the security you promise is an empty kindness. If there was ever a dispute, I would not be awarded property that is rightfully yours.”
“Then I will draw documents stating you are to retain the right to occupy it for the whole of your life. I will ask the governor himself to witness my signature to ensure it will stand valid.”
She opened her mouth to remind him a woman could not sign a contract, but he held up a hand, silencing her.
He spoke as if he knew precisely of her concern. “Worry not of your status, for my written declaration will bind me. But, Faith, this is not a worry you will ever face. I give you my word, and I only seek to erase any doubts you harbor.”
“You cannot—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, leaning dangerously close to kissing her. “I can. My wealth means far less to me than my integrity, and despite my missteps—or perhaps because of them—I have come to realize nothing means more to me than your love and the value of my word. Nothing else matters—certainly not the location of my home. I only wish to share it with you.”
His face blurred behind her tears, but she managed a wobbly smile. “None of this is necessary. I believe you.”
“Then let me do it anyway. What harm will come of it?” With his back to the gathering of neighbors, he dared press a kiss to her fingers. “I am yours.”
“And I yours,” she managed to whisper, though she was wholly overcome.
He grinned. “That you will be,” he said in low tones. “As soon as we find a bed sturdy enough.”
She flushed hot. “Nathanial!”
Blue eyes sparkled. “Shh, little one. You will be calling out my name soon enough.”
An approaching neighbor deprived her of the chance to respond, though her heated face certainly spoke well enough for her. She nodded in his direction, and when Nathanial turned to greet him, she quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes.
The men shook hands. “You made a brave statement,” the other man said. “And perhaps a foolish one. All the more reason to shake your hand. That, and it seems you were the one to put that Burton lad in his place.”
“That was very much my pleasure,” Nathanial said with a laugh.
“He is off on quite a tirade. Few are bothering to hide their amusement, though I feel it fair to warn you he does not speak highly of your wi
fe.”
“I suppose, then, we should go see what more he has to say.” Nathanial nodded his thanks, then gestured for Faith to walk alongside him.
They neared Jeremiah, finding he indeed continued to scream profanities, and her name was at the center of them. Their approach did affect his tirade.
Nathanial wasted no time in admonishing him. “Watch your tongue, for that is my wife’s name you defame.”
With both eyes blackened, Jeremiah looked every bit the devil. “Your wife is a whore. She promised herself to me.”
“You decided that yourself,” Faith said.
“Get out,” Jeremiah spat. “Out of the house now.”
“You are hardly in a position to negotiate,” Nathanial said mildly. “But rest assured there will be no more intrusions on your father’s property. It will be vacated before you are released, and I will even personally stop by to ensure your father knows your fate.”
“That is an excellent idea,” Faith said. “I am sure Jeremiah would not want him to worry.”
“Indeed. And if the Goodman wishes to see his son in this state, I will even arrange for a wagon so he can make the trip despite his reduced state of health.”
Jeremiah opened his mouth—no doubt to release another round of obscenities—but he was silenced when a mash of rotten food hit him in the face.
“Perhaps with his tongue he will do time in the pillory,” Nathanial said. “I can think of no better place for his neck than between slabs of wood.”
Faith laughed, but quickly sobered when a little girl with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes approached with hesitance. Deliverance. “Is it true what Abigail said?” she asked of Nathanial. “Were you going to send me to jail?”
Nathanial knelt before her. “No one would send you to jail, itty bit.”
Faith smiled. Clearly she was not the only one for whom he reserved names of affection.
“But Momma and Abigail said you would.”
“They told some stories that got people in trouble and it was wrong,” Nathanial said.
“Are they going to jail?”
“Not a chance. Miss Faith asked us all to forgive, and she is right. We should all forgive.”
The little girl turned to Faith. “You saved us,” she whispered, the first tears falling.
“Faith, I presume you know Deliverance.” Nathanial stood. When he spoke, his voice shook, leaving no doubt as to how much he loved his sister. The rest of his family approached just as Faith scooped the little girl into her arms, holding her against her hip.
“I suppose I should thank you,” Richard said.
“You need not force yourself,” Faith replied. “We have no purpose in becoming friends.”
“Nathanial spoke of your needing to move,” Elinor said. “If you and your mother wish to reside with us, it will be allowed.”
Faith could not determine if the gesture was sincere, but she nonetheless appreciated it. Fortunately, she did not need to accept. “Thank you for your kindness, Goodwife, but my situation has been resolved.”
“Very well then.” Elinor made haste in gathering her children, even reaching to take Deliverance from Faith’s arms.
Just as the group turned to leave, Nathanial spoke. “Thank you.”
His mother turned and nodded, then walked off. It was enough. It would have to be.
In turn, Thomas Mather approached. He immediately reached to shake Nathanial’s hand. “Good show, old man.”
“Not a show. Just a woman stronger than I, who probably knows more about forgiveness than the rest of us.”
“I hope you do not mind that I spoke for you,” Faith said shyly.
“I think you spoke well for each and every one of us,” Thomas said. “Both of you did. Although I am afraid you left a name off your list, Nathanial.”
“I did?”
Faith followed the direction of Thomas’s gaze, finding the loathsome Rebecca at the end of it. And she was headed their way.
Somehow Faith expected the woman would not arrive to share good will.
“Is there no end to what you will do for attention?” Rebecca barked upon her arrival.
Nathanial met her glare with mild amusement. “You take issue with my actions, Goodwife?”
“You abandon your responsibilities, walk away from your wife, and denounce your own family, and you wish to know if I take issue?”
“Perhaps the better question is why you take issue,” Thomas said. “What is it to you? Nothing Nathanial has or has not done has affected you, and the only issue you should have with Nathanial denouncing his family is the fact that you were not included.”
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open, her eyes dark and furious and wide. “How dare you!”
“Oh, I dare,” Thomas said. “You have been with them every step of the way. You accused the midwife and countless others. How many died because of you, Rebecca? If only I had a portion of the courage of Nathanial or Faith, you might have been among them.”
Faith drew her hand to her mouth in shock.
Rebecca had turned a shade of chartreuse Faith was not sure she had ever before seen. “You are a most loathsome man. I must have been desperate to join with you. I am sorry we ever married!”
“And you are a mockery of a woman. Be assured, the regret is mutual, but not the desperation.” He turned to shake Nathanial’s hand, then to clasp Faith’s. “Forgive me that you had to witness that, but it was a long time coming.”
“I suppose the best things are worth waiting for,” Faith murmured, watching the goodwife’s face change from chartreuse to purple.
Thomas tipped his hat and walked off without another word to his wife, who did not move until she caught Faith staring at her. Then, in a huff, she stormed off, but she was a step too late. Thomas had already hopped onto his wagon. He had barely settled onto the buckboard before urging his horse along.
“Thomas Mather, you stop that wagon this instant!” Rebecca yelled.
Rather than turn around, he threw up a hand in farewell. “Have a nice walk, Rebecca,” he called.
Rebecca had a good hour’s walk to get to the home she shared with Thomas. Faith tried to stifle a laugh and failed when a number of observers broke into applause.
“You are going to need to shake that man’s hand,” Faith said.
“Indeed. But first I have something else in mind.”
“And what might that be?”
“First I’m going to see how Cornelia fares. The incident with Jeremiah really shook her up.”
“She said you were of great help to her.”
“Not for purely altruistic reasons, I am afraid. I figured she had encountered Jeremiah before—on a professional basis, I mean—and hoped if I paid her well enough she might be encouraged to provide testimony against him. I did not expect him to make it so easy.”
“You gave her the means to find a new start.”
“I suppose there is a lot of that going around,” he said. “Which brings me to my second intention.”
“Which is?”
“Dependent on one thing.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “Which is what?”
He leaned over until his lips brushed her ear when he spoke. “Whether there is any privacy to be found.”
Epilogue
Nathanial procured materials for the house faster than Faith thought possible, though the building process took longer than most. He wanted a sizeable home—not a boastful one like that of his parents, but with plenty of room to fill with children and family. The result was as lovely as she could have ever hoped. Faith had never before been on the second story of a building—much less slept there—but not even the height dizzied her as thoroughly as did her husband.
He came from behind as she stared through the window and wrapped his arms securely around her. “Your thoughts are heavy.”
She shook her head and leaned back against him. “It would be better said that my heart is full.”
“If you prefer to move
to a room on the lower floor—”
“I like being closer to the stars.”
“You may change your mind during summer’s heat. In the meantime, I consider it my personal duty to keep you warm through the winter.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, and the gesture might have landed them both back in bed had the noise of an approaching wagon not captured their attention.
“Who do you suppose that is?” Faith asked.
Nathanial’s hold on her loosened. “Someone with a lot of coin. I haven’t seen a carriage like that since I left London.”
Curious, Faith followed him downstairs. He opened the door to a man of obvious wealth. His clothing was crisp, the dyes dark. Henry Dunham. Behind him, his wife Lydia stood, holding a tightly wrapped infant.
“Nathanial Abbot?” When Nathanial nodded, the man continued. “Henry Dunham. Forgive the intrusion. May I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course.” Nathanial stepped back and gestured for them to enter. “Please, come in. This is my wife, Faith.”
“And my wife, Lydia,” Henry said. “And the babe is a new arrival. Just a week now.”
“He is beautiful,” Faith said. Her heart ached as much as it swelled, for the accusations had nearly ended the baby’s life before it had begun. Rather than succumb to her emotions, she busied herself gathering fresh biscuits and drinks, then rejoined the group in the parlor.
“I heard what you did in response to the accusations,” Henry was saying. “That took a great deal of courage.”
“Word certainly travels,” Nathanial said with a grin. “I am afraid the courage was all Faith’s. It was she who put an end to my intentions.”
Henry gave Faith a gentle smile. “One gesture just as important as the next. Quite a fitting pair, I would say.”
In Lydia’s arms, the baby stretched, then settled back into contented sleep.
Faith nearly melted. “What is his name?”
“William. Would you like to hold him?” When Faith nodded, Lydia carefully slid the baby into her waiting arms.
The Sins of a Few (Entangled Scandalous) Page 17