Since their arrival everyone was a common laborer with a single task—survival. But now, cobblers could be cobblers and blacksmiths could be blacksmiths. Until now the colonists hadn’t realized how much of their personal identities were tied to their trades.
Nell Matthews realized this truth as much as any other skilled worker. Writing vignettes of colony life for the Ramsdens’ benefactor was a rejuvenating tonic. She wrote every morning, recording significant dates and events, people’s impressions and feelings, and compiling quotes. In the afternoon she traveled from house to house, business to business, interviewing people. She wanted to know everyone’s thoughts from the time they decided to leave England to the present moment. At night, she would arrange her notes for the next morning’s work.
She interviewed everyone in town once and some of them twice. Everyone except Drew Morgan. She even did her best to interview Sassacus before talking to Drew.
Drew was content to wait. He knew it was just a matter of time before she would come to him. Yes, she was stubborn, but she was also meticulous. It would be a struggle of monumental proportion, but Nell would never be content with an incomplete record of colony events. She would come to him.
In the meantime, Drew built a two-story frame house. He had volunteered his labor to help a carpenter build a house for his family of seven. In exchange, the carpenter would teach Drew how to build. The carpenter was an honest man who respected Drew’s willingness to exchange work for knowledge—unlike some of the other craftsmen. Now that the threat of starvation was over, many of the tradesmen charged exorbitant prices for their services, some of them so much that they needed to work only one or two days a week to make a handsome living.
The house that Drew built was large enough for a family. The entryway led into a spacious room with a large brick fireplace. It served as both sitting room and kitchen. Just inside the front door to the right, a stairway led up to the second story, which had two bedrooms. As Drew promised, he built the house for Nell and Jenny. He would continue living in his wigwam until he could build another house for himself. But when he offered it to the Matthews girls, they refused to move into it.
David Cooper had offered to share his house with them, but it was already crowded. Besides, Nell couldn’t see herself living under the same roof as James, even though he hadn’t bothered her or even attempted to talk to her since she ordered him out of the wigwam. The Ramsdens offered to let Nell and Jenny live with them in their house until another house could be built, but workers were scarce, and the months were quickly slipping away. Winter was coming when no one would be able to build. Nell didn’t want to intrude on the Ramsdens for an entire winter.
It was Governor Winthrop who persuaded Nell and Jenny to move into the house. He argued that it was only for the winter. Come spring he would personally help them build a house of their own. But he was responsible for the wellbeing of every colonist, and it was poor stewardship for them to live in a hut when there was a house available to them. Not wanting to be a poor steward, Nell agreed to move into the house Drew Morgan had built.
There was a note stuck to the door of Drew’s hut that Saturday afternoon. As usual, all work ceased at three o’clock in preparation for the Lord’s Day. Drew had just returned home from the bayside. He carried a musket, the first one he ever owned. He had bought it from the first mate of the ship Hopewell. Though there were occasional rumors of Indian trouble, Drew had never felt the need for a firearm … until Eliot Venner came to town.
The note was from Nell. After all the things he’d been through, he was surprised at how deeply his emotions were stirred at the mere sight of her handwriting, especially when the writing spelled his name. The note invited him to join her for lunch on Sunday. She had questions she wanted to ask him to complete her chronicle of the colony.
On Sunday afternoon Drew stood at the door of the house he built. It was situated at the top of a small rise, and the bay spread out before it like a restless carpet. It was late summer, and the leaves rustled in the brisk breeze. He knocked.
“Master Morgan.”
Nell was formal and polite as she opened the door.
Drew followed her into the sitting room.
“Where’s Jenny?” he asked.
“She’s with friends,” Nell replied. “She won’t be joining us.” Then, lest he think this had been her arrangement, she added hastily, “Following the service she was invited to take a walk down by the bay. I’m glad for her. As you know, she’s kept to herself for too long. This will be the first time she’s been out with friends her age since we’ve been here. Frankly, I was surprised she agreed to go. Maybe it was because she knew you were coming over.”
Nell was cutting slices of bread on the pantry shelf. She glanced up at Drew, looking for a reaction. He was sitting at the table, tracing the pattern of the wood grain with his finger. If the statement bothered him, he didn’t show it.
“Anyway,” she continued, “that will give us uninterrupted time to finish this, and then you can be on your way.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
“Well, it just isn’t good for you to be here alone with me. It doesn’t look right. You know how people talk. If I would have known that Jenny wasn’t going to be here, I would have invited the Ramsdens to join us.”
Nell was nervous. It wasn’t like her to babble.
She served the cold venison and bread. They prayed and ate a silent meal.
While Drew had a second helping, Nell asked him his impressions of the colony upon his arrival.
Prompted by her questions, Drew described life as he saw it—his initial disappointment in the condition of the colony, his reaction to living in a thatched wigwam after having been raised in Morgan Hall, his unexpected friendship with Sassacus, and his official excursions to the Pequots and Narragansetts to barter for food.
He tried not to stare at her during the meal and interview, but he found it difficult. It was the first civil discussion they’d had since before her father died. He didn’t remember eating anything; he was too busy savoring her presence. He still felt intimidated by her intelligence and self-confidence—that hadn’t changed from the first time they had met—and she still excited him. His chest pounded. His blood raced.
Nell laid her quill pen across the paper, a signal that the interview was over. Too soon. Drew considered asking for another helping of food just so he could stay longer.
Nell leaned forward. Placing her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her hands.
“This is a lovely house,” she said. “I haven’t thanked you for letting us stay in it. Thank you.”
“I promised you I’d build you one.”
She shook her head.
“This is your house. We’ll move out in the spring.”
Drew didn’t want to argue with her. It was too nice an afternoon to spoil.
“It seems I have something else to thank you for,” she said. “I’ve been talking with Mary Ramsden.”
The name on Nell’s lips made Drew uncomfortable. How much had they shared with each other? The last thing Drew wanted was for them to be comparing notes about his previous covert actions.
“The Ramsdens are a nice couple,” he said. “I like them.”
“From what I hear, you know them from Colchester.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing much, really. Only that they met you in Colchester.”
“What does that have to do with thanking me for something?”
Nell smiled that intimidating smile of hers.
“Part of your mysterious past? Or should I say notorious past?”
“You’d only hate me more if I told you,” he said.
Nell’s smile faded.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really intended to thank you.” She sat up straight, laying her still folded hands on top of the paper and quill. “Mary told me that you recommended me for this job.”
Drew shrugged. “Marshall needed a writer.
I happened to know a good one.”
“Do they know I’m Justin?” There was a tremor in her voice as she asked.
“Of course not! I would never tell them that.”
“I know,” she said, her head lowered. “It’s just that I had to ask.”
There was a silent interval. Drew thought hard for something, anything, that would keep the conversation going. He didn’t want the afternoon to be over.
He thought of something.
“I didn’t thank you for the meal. It was great.”
She told him it was her pleasure.
“And for interviewing me. Thanks for including me in the chronicle.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another long silence.
“I’ve missed these times,” he said.
“What times?”
“Sunday afternoons together, the afternoons we spent together at the old Saxon ruins overlooking Edenford.”
Mistake. He’d crossed the line. The look of insult on Nell’s face indicated he’d been caught on forbidden ground. There was no going back now. He might as well forge ahead.
“Nell! What must I do to earn your forgiveness?” he cried.
“It’s not a matter of forgiveness,” she said. “I forgive you. I just can’t love you. Not after what you’ve done.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“I learned a lot of things from your father,” Drew said. “And one of the most significant lessons he taught me was that love never gives up.”
“And look what it got him.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Nell took out a handkerchief and wiped her nose.
“Now you’re telling me what I believe?”
“You’re much like your father,” he said, “but you’ve been hurt and are afraid that if you love you’ll get hurt again.”
“I think it’s time for you to leave, Master Morgan.”
“I think you’re right, Mistress Matthews.” Drew looked for a way to end their conversation on a civil note. “Do you have any final interview questions for me?”
Nell looked at her paper with blurry eyes.
“There is one question I haven’t asked you that I asked everyone else. When the Lyon sailed into harbor on February 5, what were your thoughts?”
Nell waited with quill poised.
When he didn’t answer, she looked up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Do you remember … let me see now,” Drew closed his eyes and tried to remember the name Eliot used in Edenford. “Thomas Mitchell! Do you remember a man who came to Edenford after I left, by the name of Thomas Mitchell?”
Nell shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Wild hair, bulging eyes, pockmarked face.”
She shook her head again.
“He’s one of Laud’s men. He trained me.”
The mention of the bishop’s name brought a trace of horror to her face. “Drew, what are you trying to tell me?”
“He’s here in the colony. I saw him disembark from the Lyon.”
“What’s he doing here?” There was panic in her voice.
“He said he came to settle in Roxbury. That he had broken with Laud.”
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“No.”
“Then what is he doing here?” Nell was beginning to cry. The fear she thought she’d left in England had caught up with her.
“I don’t know,” Drew said. “I haven’t seen him since the day he arrived.”
Nell was shaking. Drew wished he hadn’t told her.
“What did you say his name was? Mitchell?”
“That’s the name he used in Edenford,” Drew said. “His real name is Eliot. Eliot Venner.”
Nell gasped. “That’s who Jenny’s with!” she cried. “She said she was going to the bay with the Billingtons and a young man by the name of Eliot Venner!”
“The Billingtons?”
“A family at church. He’s a fisherman. They have a daughter Jenny’s age.”
Drew raced out the door and scanned the bay.
“Good afternoon, Master Morgan.”
The voice came from his right. Jenny was walking up the hill. She was alone.
“Are you all right?” he shouted.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” There was no mistaking the indifference she had for him in the tone of her voice.
“Jenny!” Nell stood in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” Jenny asked.
“We were just concerned about you,” Nell replied. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine!” Jenny replied. “I had a wonderful afternoon.”
“With Eliot Venner?” Drew asked.
“Your teacher!” she replied.
“He told you that?”
“He told me a lot of things. We spent the afternoon together. He really is a sweet man.”
Drew pointed a stern finger at Jenny.
“Stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”
“And since when did you start caring about me?” Jenny shot back at him. She stomped into the house and went straight upstairs.
“I’ll talk with her,” Nell said, as she closed the door.
From everything Drew was able to find out, Eliot had been a model colonist since the moment he stepped off the ship. He asked around until he learned where the Billingtons lived. They were a crude mouthed family of five, with two sons and a daughter who had met Eliot several months previous. Eliot was visiting and took a liking to Jenny, so they introduced him to her and invited her to join the family for the afternoon. According to the Billingtons, Eliot was a gentleman the whole time.
Drew informed David Cooper of Eliot’s presence. The cobbler had seen Eliot from afar, not long after the February festival, but didn’t seem all that concerned.
“Of course, he chased us. It was his job. Do you think the high constable was going to do it?” Cooper bulged his cheeks and held his hands out wide as he described the high constable. “Besides, what can he do to us here? Ship us all back to the Star Chamber?”
Governor Winthrop was equally unconcerned. The governor was talking to Reverend Roger Williams when Drew called on him. Williams spoke highly of Eliot, having become acquainted with him on the voyage over. The minister likened him to John the Baptist, lacking social appeal but deeply spiritual.
“People change,” the governor said. “You of all people should know that.”
Drew wasn’t convinced. He knew Eliot and Eliot’s methods. He had to find out why he was in the colony and then stop him from doing what he came to do.
“Eliot!”
Drew saw him about to enter a wigwam down by the bay. His arms were full of clothes and miscellaneous household items. He was alone.
“Drew!” Eliot returned the call. “Be right back.”
He disappeared into the hut and reappeared moments later.
“Drew! Good to see you again!”
He extended his hand in greeting.
Drew folded his arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t like Roxbury, and they didn’t like me; Boston’s better.” Pointing to the wigwam, he said, “The Billingtons told me I could use their hut since they have a house now.”
There was something different about Eliot. This wasn’t the same Eliot who took Drew to the bearbaiting, or who sat in the bishop’s study, and definitely not the same Eliot who attacked him beside the Exe River. He seemed calmer, more mature, more sure of himself. His language seemed improved. Had Eliot grown up, or was it an act? Even his hair was brushed down more than usual.
“What are you doing in Massachusetts Bay Colony?” Drew clarified.
“We went over this once already, didn’t we?”
“Let’s go over it again. Why are you here?”
Eliot folded his arms to match Drew. He smiled a big smile. It wasn�
�t devious or malicious, but combined with those eyes it was still unsettling.
“Why can’t you accept me for who I say I am?”
“Because I know you.”
“And you know how I work, my techniques, my roles.”
“Exactly.”
“And there’s no room in that oversized Christian heart of yours for the possibility that God could change me?”
“Is that what you want me to believe? That you’re a changed man?”
“That’s what you want everyone to believe about you, isn’t it?”
“Tell me about your conversion experience.”
“All right.” Eliot rolled his bulging eyes skyward. He spoke in rapid monotone. “Not long after Christopher Matthews was executed, I started doubting my role in Bishop Laud’s scheme of things. How could the bishop kill such a good man? If anyone deserved to die, it was me. I was the sinner, not Matthews. Life was miserable. I couldn’t find peace. In utter despair I turned to the only One who could save me, the Almighty God. I prayed. He answered. And He’s been doing a wondrous work in me even to this day. There. Satisfied?”
“You’re mocking me,” Drew said.
“Of course I am.”
Drew’s anger rose. He could feel his face getting hot.
Eliot laughed.
“Your testimony, my testimony, what’s the difference?”
“What are you doing here, Eliot? Have you come for me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“The bishop doesn’t want me to hurt you directly,” Eliot snorted. “The fool! I’ve never understood what he sees in you. But he does want me to destroy the colony.”
“How? By getting the charter revoked?”
“Now, Drew, I can’t tell you all my secrets. Actually, I haven’t decided yet. You know, you’re a bigger fool than he is, Morgan. Why didn’t you just take all the gold and honor he wanted to give you? What do you have here?”
“I have more than Bishop Laud could ever give me,” Drew answered.
Eliot let out a loud, long snort.
“Have it your way,” he said. “Anyway, the bishop wants to hurt you by hurting the people you chose over him. He’s left the details up to me.”
The Puritans (American Family Portrait #1) Page 42