“Are you all right, Da?” Archie asked. “Are you struggling for funds?” Archie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father eat meat.
“Oh aye, son. Tis not the lack of funds that’s bothering me; tis me teeth. They’re loose, and the gums are bleeding something awful. It’s too painful to chew, so I make do with porridge and mashed neeps. A bit of bread soaked in milk does quite nicely for breakfast.”
Horatio set down two bowls full of buttery turnips. Archie would have preferred some beef or even rabbit stew, but he was hungry, so this would have to do. He tore off a hunk of bread and spread some butter on it.
“Da, you need to eat certain foods to prevent scurvy, which is what you have. Her ladyship says that eating onions, carrots, cabbage, and oranges will stop the bleeding and strengthen your gums.”
“And how does her ladyship know of such things?” Horatio asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know, but she’s very knowledgeable,” Archie replied.
“So, am I to eat an onion the way I would an apple? Just bite and chew?” Horatio guffawed.
“No, Da. But you can make onion soup, for example. Add some chunks of stale bread before you eat and let them absorb the broth; it’s quite tasty. The French eat it all the time.”
“I don’t hold with French ways, my boy, but if you say it will help me keep the teeth in me mouth, I’ll try it. I suppose adding some onions and cabbage won’t be too much of a hardship. Never had an orange though. That would be a treat.”
Horatio wiped his bowl with a piece of bread and drained his cup of ale. “So, what brings you here, Archie? Why are you not with your wife? A lover’s quarrel?”
“No, Da. I need to stay with you for a few days. Someone’s made an accusation of witchcraft against her ladyship, and I need to ferret out who without giving myself away.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that. There’s talk in the village. Is she back then?”
“Yes, she returned this afternoon,” Archie replied, watching his father’s face to see what he could learn.
Horatio’s face clouded with worry. “They’ll be arresting her come morning, mark my words. Those examiners have been at the inn these past two days, just biding their time, waiting for something to do. They’ll be happy now.” Horatio shook his head. “You should go over there, Archie. Tell her to leave while she still can. She should take the children and go.”
“Da, his lordship has been arrested for treason, and her ladyship’s got nowhere to run. This is her home, and the home of her children. She wishes to prove her innocence.”
“Oh, Archie,” Horatio sighed. “Tis not an easy thing to do. This was before your time, but there was a witch fever in England not long before the outbreak of the Civil War. There was a man. Oh, what was his name?” Horatio scratched his stubbled jaw noisily as he tried to recall. “Oh, yes. Matthew Hopkins. He was believed to be the most effective witch hunter. Hundreds of women were put to death because of his findings— innocent women, most of them.”
“How did he prove them to be witches?” Archie asked, curious.
“Oh, he had his ways. Some said he had some sort of retracting prong that he pushed into moles and warts and such. If the woman felt no pain, then she was proclaimed a witch. And, of course, there was the swim test and torture. A body will confess to anything to stop unbearable pain.”
Archie sat back in his chair and gazed thoughtfully at his father. “Da, are you suggesting that they’ll torture Lady Everly?” He’d heard stories as a lad of women practicing black magic, but he couldn’t recall any witch trials in Cranley during his childhood, nor did he believe that Reverend Snow would permit Neve Everly to be tortured. Reverend Snow was a good man, an enlightened man, not some backwater brimstone and fire preacher. He had great respect for Lord Everly and would do what he could to prevent a miscarriage of justice.
“Make no mistake, Archie. These men will get what they came for, one way or another. Lady or no lady, your mistress will not escape their brand of justice unless the accusation is withdrawn, and fast. Once the trial is under way, superstitious fools will come forth and give evidence of her witchery. Some will think they are serving God, and others will simply take joy in the spectacle, it being the greatest entertainment this village has seen in decades.”
“Would people who’ve known Lord Everly and his lady really make up such lies?” Archie asked with disgust, but he already knew the answer. They would, especially since Hugo and Neve recently returned from France, a place as close to the immoral dens of Hell as any Englishman could bear to imagine. Not many would cast the first stone, but they would be happy enough to join in once the fun had begun.
“Da, is there anything you need doing while I’m here?” Archie asked as he pushed away his empty bowl.
“Wouldn’t say no to some firewood. There’s a pile of logs needs chopping out back.”
Archie nodded and rose to his feet while his father collected the dirty crockery and poured some water from a jug to wash the plates. Archie stepped outside into the cool April night. The sky was clear and vast, the nearly full moon rising above the tree line in the distance. A legion of stars filled the spring sky. Archie set the first log on the chopping block and balanced the axe in both hands. Physical work was always a good way to release some of his nervous energy. The conversation with his father worried him, especially since Hugo wasn’t there to look after his family. If anything happened to the Everlys, Archie would never forgive himself.
Archie had a sizeable pile of chopped wood by the time he finally came up with an idea. It might not work, but it was a starting point, which is exactly what he needed at the moment. It was too late in the evening to put his plan into action, but tomorrow would do just as well. All he could do at the moment was stack the wood, put away the axe, and get some sleep.
April 1689
Surrey, England
Chapter 4
Archie rose well before dawn and helped himself to some leftover bread and cheese before slipping quietly from the cottage. His father was still asleep in the curtained alcove, which held the bed in which his parents had slept since the day they wed all those years ago. Now, his father slept there alone, his shrunken form barely taking up even half the mattress. He snored lightly, but at least he wasn’t wheezing, which Archie supposed was a good sign. Aside from the scurvy, he seemed to be in fine health.
The air outside was fragrant with new grass and rich earth, the sky clear. It promised to be a lovely day, the type of day when everyone found an excuse to step outside, if only for a few minutes. Archie debated taking his horse, but then decided that he would go on foot. It wasn’t far, and he would be less conspicuous should anyone happen to be on the road at such an early hour. Archie cut through the fields and followed a wooded track in order to approach his destination from the back. The shutters were thrown open, the windows of the house already alight, and smoke curling from the squat chimney. Archie positioned himself behind the barn and settled in for the wait.
The sun rose majestically behind the scrim of trees to the east, painting the world a violent red before beginning its ascent, the rays going from crimson to a peachy gold, when Archie heard the banging of the door and the slap of bare feet on the ground as three children erupted from the house and made for the privy. The two younger boys went in together, arguing noisily as they did their business.
“‘Urry up in there, me feet are freezin’,” the girl outside called as she hopped from foot to foot. Her dark hair spilled down her back in tangled coils, and her breath came out in white puffs as she blew on her hands. The two boys finally emerged and ran back to the house giggling as their sister took a deep breath of air before stepping into the stinking privy. Archie waited patiently until she finished and emerged into the chilly morning, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“Tess,” he whispered, nearly giving the poor girl an apoplectic fit. She whirled around, her face a mask of terror as her eyes searched for the sound
of the voice. “Shh, tis only me, Tessy.”
“Good God, Archibald Hicks, what in the name o’ the Good Lord are ye doin’ skulkin’ behind privies at the crack o’ dawn?” the girl demanded, her cheeks flaming with indignation. She was no more than eleven, but she was so slight that she looked to be as young as her brothers, who were under the age of ten. Tess Henshall bore a striking resemblance to her sister Ruby who worked as a maid at Everly Manor, and Archie thought she’d be a pretty young thing someday, a fine prize for any lad. Tess wasn’t as timid as Ruby, and whereas her sister was pale, Tess was glowing with good health.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you, Tess, but I need to have a quiet word.”
“So, ye couldn’t wait ‘til I was all dressed and proper?” she demanded in righteous outrage.
“I don’t want anyone to know I’m here, least of all your siblings.”
“Right, what’ye want then?” Tess was rubbing her arms with her hands to keep warm, so Archie pulled off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders as he pulled her behind the barn out of sight of the window where he could see Mistress Henshall going about her morning chores.
“I just need a moment of your time, Tessy.”
“Go on then.”
“I need to get into the rooms of the clergymen who are staying at the inn.” Tess worked at the King’s Arms as a maid-of-all-work. She cleaned rooms, peeled vegetables, and took out chamber pots. The poor girl hardly saw the light of day with starting just after dawn and finishing at closing time. The Henshalls had always been poor, but since the death of Master Henshall, the family was barely surviving, and the number of children to feed didn’t help matters. The three older girls were already employed, and the boys went into the village every day, earning a pittance by hiring themselves out to anyone who needed help. Mistress Henshall didn’t have the means to pay for apprenticeships, so the boys didn’t stand to better their fortunes.
“And ‘ow do ye mean to do that, I ask ye?” Tess demanded.
“Do they not leave their rooms?” Archie demanded.
“They take their meals in their rooms,” Tess replied testily. “And I ain’t riskin’ my employment.”
“Do they not go out at all?”
“They’ve gone to the church to consult with Reverend Snow, otherwise they keep themselves to themselves. Why do ye need to get in there anyhow?” Tess asked, curious as ever. Ruby wouldn’t have asked; she was too timid.
“The less you know the better,” Archie replied. “What can you tell me about them?”
“Not much.”
“What are they like?” Archie persisted.
“Well, I don’t know, do I?” Tess answered testily. “I can’t tell much about ‘em from the contents o’ their chamber pots.”
“Come, Tess, you must be able to tell me something.”
Tess shrugged irritably. “They’re old.”
That wasn’t saying much since to a girl of eleven, Archie was probably old as well. “Do you know their names?”
“Aye, I ‘eard Master Reeve addressin’ ‘em. There’s Bishop Cotton. ‘E’s got a room to ‘imself, and seems to be in charge,” Tess replied thoughtfully. “‘E called for hot water twice. Likes to wash, unlike the other two. Bishop Hargrave is the oldest. ‘E smells,” Tess added, “and ‘ardly ‘as any teeth. ‘E eats mostly bread soaked in milk since ‘e can’t chew meat. Seems a bit ‘ard o’ ‘earing too.”
“And the third man?” Archie prodded.
“The third ‘un is the youngest. Bishop Oswald. ‘E frightens me,” Tess confessed, shuddering at the memory of Bishop Oswald.
“Why?”
“I can’t rightly say, but there’s somethin’ about ‘im. A cruelty in ‘is eyes, I suppose. ‘Is mouth is always pressed into a thin line, and ‘is eyes dart about the room, as if tryin’ to find sin in every corner. I ‘eard ‘im say to Bishop Cotton that Mistress Reeve is tryin’ to bewitch ‘im.”
Not surprising, Archie thought grimly. Mistress Reeve was a handsome woman in her mid-twenties. She had a friendly nature and tried to make everyone feel welcome and at ease in her husband’s inn. If a man claimed that she tried to bewitch him, then likely he found himself lusting after her and couldn’t admit that the fault lay with him and not with the young woman. A man like that could be very dangerous, especially to Lady Everly, who was beautiful and often too outspoken.
“And what did Bishop Cotton reply?” Archie asked carefully.
“‘E said that they might examine Mistress Reeve after the trial, if the situation called for it.”
Archie was taken aback by the response. Were these men planning to start a witch hunt in Cranley? His thoughts instantly turned to Frances. He knew people whispered behind her back. There was talk of her having relations with Hugo before her marriage to Archie, and the fact that she’d lived for several years in France, where every woman was believed to be licentious, hardly helped.
“Can you signal to me when they leave if I hide out behind the inn and let me in by the back door?” Archie demanded with a renewed sense of urgency.
“Makin’ a habit of skulkin’ behind privies, are ye?”
“All right, smart mouth,” Archie growled, “I’ll make it worth your while.” He held up a sixpence coin. He had to get into the rooms and see what he could find out about these men and what evidence they possessed. He had to discover who made the accusation against Neve to have any chance of helping her. “Get me in and this coin is yours.”
“And if ye don’t find what ye’re lookin’ for?” Tess asked suspiciously as she eyed the coin greedily. A sixpence was a fortune to a girl like Tess.
“The coin is yours anyway. Just get me in and alert me if they come back. That’s all I ask. Do we have an agreement?”
Tess was about to answer when her mother came outside and bellowed. “Where are ye, Tess? I need yer ‘elp with the little ‘uns before ye leave for work.”
“I got to go. Be behind the inn ‘round noontime.”
“Thanks, Tessy,” Archie said with a smile and vanished into the woods.
Chapter 5
I watched silently as the flaming orb of the sun began its ascent over the line of trees outside the bedroom window. I’d purposely left the shutters and the bed hangings open, suddenly terrified of the dark. There were times when I enjoyed our private little world where nothing mattered but Hugo and I in our great bed, but today wasn’t one of those days. I drew strength from the solid little bodies of my children who snuggled next to me in sleep. Hugo didn’t approve of taking the children into our bed, but he wasn’t here, and I needed whatever solace I could get. I wasn’t sure what this day would bring, but I knew it wouldn’t be anything good. I tried not to think of Hugo and what he’d been up to since I left London with Frances yesterday. I would never have left him if it weren’t for the children, and now my heart was torn in two, one-half here with my babies, and the other with my husband, who was once again in mortal danger.
I half expected someone to come and drag me away last night, but despite my state of nervous expectation, no one showed up. Perhaps word hadn’t reached “The Inquisition” that I was back in Cranley, although in a small village where gossip normally spread like wildfire that was highly unlikely. No doubt something would happen today; I was under no illusions. I knew what happened to women accused of witchcraft in the seventeenth century. My only hope was proving my innocence and relying on the good people of Cranley to come to my defense. No matter what happened, it couldn’t be as bad as being thrown into Newgate Prison and left to die without any hope of release or trial. I had survived that, if only just, and I would survive this.
Hottears rolled down my cheeks, my tear glands completely indifferent to my bravado. I was scared— terrified — and I had good reason to be. The outcome of the trial had nothing to do with either justice or truth, and everything to do with prejudice, ignorance, and superstition, not to mention a desire to inspire fear and terrify the masses into submiss
ion. The Church was good at that. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door handle slowly turned, and a ghostly presence appeared in the room.
“I’m sorry; I couldn’t sleep,” Frances said as she climbed into bed next to the sleeping form of Michael. “I’m scared, Neve.”
I reached out and took Frances’s hand. It was cold and small in mine, her face drawn and gray in the peachy light streaming from the window. “How much time do you think we have?” I asked.
“Not too much. Ruby said that the members of the committee are staying at the inn. They’ll be here today.”
“Can I ride my pony today?” Valentine asked sleepily. “Is Archie back?”
“No, sweetheart, Archie isn’t back yet, but maybe Joe can take you out riding this morning.”
“But I want Archie,” Valentine protested. “I don’t like Joe.”
“Archie will be back soon, Valentine,” Frances said patiently. “How about we take a walk after your riding lesson and pick some wild flowers for Mama? Would you like that?”
“No,” Valentine said simply. “Maybe Michael wants to pick flowers. He’s still a baby,” she stated with derision. This made Michael, who’d just woken up, cry.
“Not a baby,” he wailed.
I put my arms around both my children and drew them to me to hide my tears from them. They were still so achingly young and innocent. What if they lost both Hugo and myself? There were so many orphans, and the only blood relative my children had was the accursed Clarence, who wanted nothing to do with us and would probably rejoice if any tragedy befell us. I could never trust him to look after my children. My only hope, should the worst come to pass, lay in Archie and Frances. I knew that I could trust them with my life, but somehow, at this moment, the thought wasn’t comforting. I wanted to see my children grow up; I wanted to share their triumphs and wipe away their tears. I knew that every mother felt the same, regardless of station or the century in which she lived, but so many were carried off by disease, wars, and as might be in my case, rigged trials.
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 3