by Kari Edgren
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he offered without hesitation. “Once you’re settled, I’ll come in for the night.”
I felt a rush of gratitude. Henry was doing everything possible to make our situation more tolerable. I couldn’t have asked to be falsely married to a better man.
“And how did your talk go with Edgar and Gideon?” I asked. “Did they say anything about Nathan?”
“No, we talked of botany and joinery instead.”
This was about the last thing I had expected him to say. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when we got to the barn, Edgar started to discuss apple trees. He spoke at length about the flowers coming out in the springtime and how only after the bees had visited do they turn into fat apples.” All the seriousness had passed and he was smiling again. “I believe he was trying to tell me how to make you into a fat apple.”
“Oh bother,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Are men really so incapable of having a personal conversation?”
“I found it to be a most touching discussion of cross-pollination. And when Edgar was done talking about apples, Gideon launched into a lecture on furniture building, and what it takes to properly fit dowel pins.”
I was at a loss for Gideon’s subtlety. “What does furniture have to do with it?”
“I’m not really sure,” Henry said, shaking his head. “But if you’d like we can try to make a chair later tonight.”
I burst out laughing. “With such advice, it’s a wonder our species has survived at all. If left to Edgar and Gideon, men would be off studying fruit trees and furniture rather than...” I caught myself just in time.
Henry waited a moment for me to continue. “Rather than what?” he prodded.
“Rather than what they were supposed to be doing.”
“Then it’s fortunate I already know,” he said. “And from what I felt last night, so do you.”
A blush warmed my cheeks. Clearly, Henry wasn’t going to let the particulars of our embrace drop without some sort of compromise. “Henry, what if I promise to tell you once this mess is all settled with Nathan? Then would you agree to put it aside for the time being?”
He stayed quiet a moment to consider my deal. “Will you tell me everything?”
“Absolutely everything,” I promised.
“All right,” he agreed, though a little grudgingly in my opinion. “Then I’ll let it be for now.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Witch of Hopewell
Over the next three days the townsfolk worked themselves into a proper furor, trying to guess who the witch could be. Whenever two people met, the polite preliminaries were barely exchanged before the conversation turned to the witch, or the Witch of Hopewell, as this unnamed woman was now being called. I heard one lady whisper the name of Old Nan, who lived by herself in a one-room cabin a few miles from town. Someone else suggested Hanna Ridley because her eyes were an unusual shade of amber. By how fast the rumors were flying, every last woman would have been suspected at least once come Wednesday evening.
Although I despised Nathan Crowley with every fiber in my body, I had to admit the brilliance of his plan. By first claiming a vision without identifying the woman, he had sufficiently whetted the people’s appetites. Once they were hungry, he would produce a feast—with me as the main course.
These were undoubtedly the worst three days in all of my eighteen and a half years. Fear ran riot inside me, jangled my nerves until they hummed like strings of catgut under the fiddler’s frenzied bow. At times the anxiety became so unbearable that I nearly fled Hopewell altogether. Packing as many valuables as could fit into a few trunks, I would have gone to Philadelphia, continued on to New York or Boston, or possibly even across the Atlantic to Ireland. Nora could send word once it was safe to return.
But Henry would have none of this plan. He refused to see me run away, practically shouting my guilt from the rooftops by not facing my accuser. So I stayed, and for three days wore the skin of indifference while violent storms raged inside me. During the day, I ran errands, made visits, and acted like everything was entirely normal. Returning to Brighmor, Henry and I shared evening meal and then either went for a walk or played a game of chess. At bedtime I went upstairs first, followed by Henry after a decent interval had passed. Safely tucked under the covers, I pretended to be asleep while he spread a quilt on the floor and settled in for the night. By the time I woke in the morning he was always gone, his quilt neatly folded at the foot of my bed.
He also stayed true to his word and didn’t ask me again about what had happened in the woods. Having temporarily put this aside, there remained only one source of contention between us. Though I had refused to discuss it, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to kiss him, to have his body pressed against mine. With such memories haunting my thoughts, I could hardly control my power. All it took was his hand on my arm to start it roiling in my chest. If his fingers lingered, or traveled up to brush along my neck, the warmth would practically jump to the surface, ready to flow right into him. Terrified that he would feel something again, I began instinctively to pull away from his slightest touch. It took two times before he realized what I was doing. He frowned, but let it pass, most likely thinking I had enough stress to deal with at the moment.
When Wednesday morning finally arrived, my anxiety had grown to the point that I could concentrate on nothing other than the meeting. Knowing I had no stomach for company, Henry made me leave the house for a long walk where he tried to distract me with questions about the local fauna. We stumbled onto a patch of lemon verbena that reminded him of a favorite shaving tonic he had used in England. At his request, I collected a handful to concoct something similar. He sat with me in the apothecary later that afternoon while I worked, talking of nothing in particular, until at last we had to go upstairs to get ready.
For some time I stood in front of my armoire, debating the proper attire for an evening denouncement. I finally chose the simple gray frock that I wore most Sundays, since I would be in a room full of Quakers and did not wish to stand out in a gown deemed overly fancy. Mary was busy re-pinning my hair when Henry came in. He waited patiently for her to finish and leave the room.
“You need to be prepared for a large crowd,” he said, coming over to the dressing table. He stood behind me and looked at my reflection in the mirror. “Everyone is going to be there tonight, even non-Quakers and people from other villages.”
I had expected as much. It wasn’t every day that someone was accused of witchcraft, and Nathan claiming a vision just made it that much more interesting.
“Assuming it’s anything like regular meeting,” Henry continued, “I’ll have to sit with the men, so I want you right next to Anne Boyle.”
I nodded, having already decided the same.
“I talked to Ben today. He’s going to have two horses saddled nearby if the need arises.”
“Does he know it’s me?” I asked anxiously.
“He concluded it must be based on your troubled history with Nathan. But you needn’t worry, he thinks the whole business a sham to get back at you.”
I smiled weakly, relieved that Ben hadn’t doubted me. “Why do we need more horses? I thought we were going in the shay.”
“We are, but if there’s an emergency, then horseback will be better for us to get away.”
“What do you mean?” Panic nipped at my ribs. The plan for this evening was to attend the meeting, get publicly denounced, and then return home to await the official inquest.
A shadow passed over Henry’s face. “It’s possible that folks could try to take the law into their own hands. Ben has instructions to wait behind the meetinghouse with a stash of weapons and the horses at the ready. Any sign of trouble, we’re to ride straight to Philadelphia tonight. Ben will join us in a day or two with clothing and whatever else we
might need to journey onward.”
A sudden tightness settled in my throat. I hadn’t even considered the threat of mobs. These people were my friends and neighbors; it didn’t seem possible for them to turn on me so quickly.
I also didn’t recall agreeing to any kind of journey except when I promised not to run away. “Where would we go?” I asked, dumbfounded by this turn of events.
“To England. It will take Nathan time to find us. With some luck, we’ll be onboard a ship and well into the Atlantic by then.”
“But you made me promise not to leave. You said it would make me look guilty.”
“Things could get out of control tonight, and I won’t have you imprisoned or hanged.”
I gasped as my hand flew to my neck. “You think they might try to hang me?”
Anger flashed in Henry’s eyes. “There’s no telling what a mob will do with the right prompting. I’ve heard of it happening before, and I won’t risk it here—not with you. In England, you would be protected, as I could have Nathan charged with slander and arrested the very moment he spoke your name.” In the mirror, I saw his fists clench in frustration. “It doesn’t have to be permanent, just until a decree is drawn up clearing your name for good.”
He might as well have been speaking gibberish for all the sense he made. Hanging though, I knew exactly what that meant. “Why bother with the meeting, then?” I asked, my voice growing increasing frantic. “We could leave for Philadelphia right now before anyone is the wiser.”
“You can’t run before you have a chance to look Nathan in the eye and deny the charges.”
I thrust my chin out stubbornly. “Why does it matter? My reputation will already be in shambles. I might as well leave before he can take my life.”
Henry raised his hands, resting them on the back of the chair, just above my shoulders. The movement caused his coat to fall open, revealing the outline of something bulky tucked beneath his waistcoat. From the shape, it looked to be a pistol.
“Selah,” he said gravely. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His deep voice washed over me, and I stared at him in the mirror, my eyes holding desperately to his. He was going to great lengths to make good on our deal. But, I heard something else in his tone tonight. “Your plan exceeds our original agreement. It was never my intention to put you in danger on my behalf.” Well, not this much danger, anyway.
“I agreed to keep you safe from Nathan Crowley. My honor wouldn’t allow for anything less.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here? To fulfill your obligation?” My questions were shamefully forward, and I watched his eyebrows rise in surprise.
He didn’t answer right away. “I take my obligations very seriously,” he said at last, showing the beginnings of a smile. “Would you prefer that I had an ulterior motive for staying? Maybe something of a more personal nature?”
I shrugged, biting my lip to stop from saying yes.
His smile widened, and my breath caught from the tenderness in his beautiful face. “Since you ask, there is another reason besides honor, but I’ve no intention of telling you tonight. Suffice it to know that I’m here of my own accord and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
With Nathan preparing to rain havoc on my head, this knowledge would certainly do. But I wanted to know if there was something even greater than honor guiding Henry’s actions.
I wanted to know if he loved me.
* * *
Two hours before sunset, Henry and I set out in the shay for Hopewell. The evening was warm, and the sky unmarred by the dark clouds that had prevailed for most of the summer. So much rain had turned the air pungent in places where the saturated grass and low-lying plants rotted in the ground. By good luck, the road remained decently passable, though busy with the number of field hands and families walking into town from the outlying farms. The closer we got, the more crowded the road became, slowing our progress to a snail’s pace.
When we finally entered Hopewell it looked like our modest population of two hundred had doubled since morning. The news had traveled further than I imagined, drawing spectators from far away. I even saw several Lenape men milling about the crowd.
The main street was so congested we could take the shay no further than the Appletons’ dry goods store. Setting the brake, Henry quickly tied up the horses before helping me to the ground. We proceeded on foot, with Henry keeping a firm hold of my arm to lead the way through the mass of people. My nerves were overwrought to the point that no warmth stirred from his touch. Under the circumstances, he could have been escorting me naked without catching my notice.
The air crackled with excitement. Here and there, I picked up snippets of conversation. Mostly it was just more of the same—speculation about who the witch could be. On my left, when we passed by a small cluster of men, I heard something entirely different. Rather than tossing out names, they speculated on what would happen to the woman. One man thought it would only take the dunking chair to find out the truth. Other men openly argued the possibility of a hanging tonight. I stumbled slightly as these last words exploded like thunderclaps in my head.
Henry’s grip tightened on my arm. “This way, Selah,” he said softly, “not too much farther.”
By sheer will I made myself move forward, one foot followed by the other, until we arrived at the meetinghouse. People were everywhere, laughing and talking, unburdened by any real fear of being accused. One of their neighbors might be the witch, but not them—they were certainly innocent. We had moved into the thickest part of the crowd, gathered just below the front steps when I caught sight of Anne Boyle waving in our direction.
Henry was so tall, people naturally moved aside to let him through. I heard several friendly greetings called our way, and plastered a smile on my face, nodding in return. Phoebe and Katrina stood together with their families, and waved as we passed. Not being Quakers, or any way affiliated with the Quaker faith, I found it infuriating that they were so interested in what Nathan had to say. But like everyone else waiting outside the meetinghouse, they weren’t about to miss out on the all the fun.
Anne greeted us at the top of the steps. “You will sit with me,” she said, speaking in a hushed tone to avoid being overheard. “Henry, a seat has been saved for you straight across from us, next to William Goodwin. Gideon knows and is of a similar mind as me, but must stay up with the other Elders.” She gave me a kind smile. “You have many friends here tonight, Selah. We’ll get through this together.”
Flanked by Anne and Henry, I stepped inside and felt my heart plunge into my stomach. People filled every bench. Smaller children sat on their parents’ laps to make more room. Those unable to find a seat stood along the perimeter, taking any available space near the door and behind the benches. The center of the room remained open just like in regular meeting.
Anne led us midway down the front row, to where Nora held our places. Right away I saw the change in her expression. Gone was the giddy excitement from the other day, replaced by such worry to match my own. She had obviously been told that her best friend was about to be charged for a witch. She subtly crossed her arms over her chest to relay our secret code. I tried to smile in return, but my mouth refused to move.
Reluctantly, Henry let go of my arm and took a seat next to William, who looked equally worried. I sat down between Nora and Anne, making sure to keep my face blank. The members had assumed the customary silence, but in place of the usual calm that prevailed during meeting, anxious glances were moving from neighbor to neighbor, and friend to friend. I glanced toward the raised benches where Nathan sat next to Edgar and Gideon. Poor Edgar looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else. Gideon didn’t look much better, like he had swallowed a toad and now suffered from painful indigestion. Nathan sat with his head bowed and eyes closed, oblivious to those around him.
I hadn’
t noticed I was shaking until Nora took my hand. Appalled by such weakness, I clenched my free hand into a fist to make it behave. When had Nathan gained so much power over me? I wanted to be brave, to look him straight in the eye and laugh, but my fear had grown too great. Glancing at Henry, I saw him watching me. In his face was the courage I desperately wanted. In his eyes was the unmistakable evidence of his promise.
I won’t let anything happen to you.
There had to be more than a hundred and fifty Quakers crammed into the meetinghouse, and even more people waiting outside. If they decided I was to be imprisoned, or even hanged tonight, escape would be highly improbable. Yet Henry had come armed with a pistol, ready to protect me. Maybe he counted on the fact that Quakers were pacifists, or that I had enough allies among the crowd to ensure we could get away. Looking at him now, I knew he could save my life again if called upon.
As the silence stretched on, my thoughts turned to my father. He had sincerely hoped that Nathan would give up, yet his last words seemed to have been tailored for just this occasion.
True strength comes when you learn to fear no one but God.
Recalling our last moments together, I could almost hear my father’s voice again, his belief that I was strong enough to endure whatever lay ahead. More than forty years had passed since a false charge of sedition had driven him from Ireland with a price on his head. Only seventeen years old, my father had lost everything—family, home and wealth. Yet he had borne these trials, making a new life for himself in the Colonies.
Brigid had also glimpsed my fear of Nathan and, like my father, had tried to help me see beyond it.
These people may have the power to destroy your body, but only you can destroy your soul.