by Oak, B. B.
“What you find tiresome, I find loathsome,” I said to him now. “Before we married, you told me you had made your fortune in textiles, not human lives. And because you lied, I consider our marriage null and void.”
“What you consider matters not, Julia. I am and always will be your husband in the eyes of the law. So you had best accept me for who I am. I cannot change the past.”
“Change your heart then!” I cried. “Have you no regrets whatsoever?”
“Indeed I do, my dear one.” He leaned toward me and spoke quietly. “I regret that as the end of my life draws nearer, I have no progeny to carry on my name.” He looked at me as he had when first we’d met twenty months ago, with a tenderness that softened the hard angles of his face. “My deepest desire is to beget a child with you, Julia.”
So this was his latest use for me! “You never expressed such a desire to me before, Jacques,” I said. “Indeed, your sexual desires had nothing to do with conception.”
“I wanted to enjoy you as I did my mistresses before you took on the role of mother. I hoped that would make you more . . . malleable. Instead, you became defiant.”
“And I shall continue to defy you.”
“No, Julia.” All tenderness in his expression dissolved. “Because you are my lawful wedded wife, you are the only woman on the face of the earth who can produce for me a legitimate child. Therefore, you will return to France with me or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I could have you kidnapped.”
“You aren’t serious.”
“Of course I am. I will use any means possible to get what I want. But why make me go to extremes? Go pack your bags like a good little wife, for you will be leaving Plumford with me tomorrow morning. I have booked passage on a ship that sails in three days.”
“Threaten and bully me all you will, Jacques, but I will not do your bidding. You will be leaving here empty-handed tomorrow, but perhaps you will have better success in the business you’re conducting in Boston.”
The look he threw me was knife-sharp. “Why do you assume I have business in Boston?”
If Mawuli had been indiscreet in mentioning it, I did not want to get him in trouble. “I know you well enough to assume you had more than one purpose in mind when you came to America,” I replied. “The purpose you wish me to serve, however, is no longer yours to control.”
He rose from his seat and yanked me up from mine. I had forgotten how unexpectedly he could move when provoked. Or how strong he was, despite his age. “I will rape you here and now to get you with child.”
He twisted my wrists in the vise of his grip, and I held back a gasp of pain, knowing that would only encourage him to hurt me further. “I am with child, Jacques.”
He released me. “Who is the father?”
“Adam Walker.”
Jacques sneered. “So you and your cousin are not so virtuous after all. You finally gave in to your lust despite the possible consequences. That child you are carrying will most likely be born a monster, will it not?”
“It would have been likely if Adam and I were blood related. But in fact we are not. I learned this when I came back here in December.” I dared place my hand on my husband’s arm. “Jacques, you know I have always loved Adam. I was completely honest with you before we wed.”
He shrugged off my touch. “An unfaithful wife is not honest!”
“How could I remain faithful to a man as deceitful as you? Please go, Jacques. You have nothing to gain here.”
“You are right. Everything here is mine already.” He waved his hand around. “This house? By law, I own it, not you. And I can sell it right from under you. As my wife, your property belongs to me. Indeed, you are my property.” He looked at me with disdain. “The child in your belly? By law, I own it too. The laws are the same here as they are in France regarding a husband’s rights. And the day you bear that child, I will demand custody of it. I will take it to France, and you will never see it again. If it pleases me, I will make it my heir. If it does not please me . . .” He gave one of his odious shrugs. “Then perhaps it will not live very long.”
Blood drained from my face, and my knees buckled. Wavering, I grabbed onto the back of a chair, but I did not allow myself to faint. I stood my ground.
“I am not alone and at your mercy as I was in France, Jacques. I have Adam to support me here. Together we will defeat you.”
“Not in court you won’t. Both here and in France, every law is on the side of the husband. Au revoir, ma femme. You need not see me out.”
He picked up his hat and cane and departed. I could not move. I could barely breathe. Adam found me standing in the parlor, immobile as a statue.
ADAM
Sunday, May 21
Julia was in such despair over Pelletier’s visit that she could barely tell me what had transpired. I coaxed it out of her as I rubbed her ice-cold hands. The more she divulged, the angrier I became, but I maintained a calm demeanor for her sake. She was upset enough as it was.
“Pelletier will never carry out his threats,” I told her. “He’s bluffing.”
“You don’t know him, Adam. He’s vindictive enough to take possession of our child just for spite. Or even kill it!”
“No man in his right mind can be that cruel.”
“He was cruel enough to enslave thousands of people for profit, wasn’t he? And he feels not the slightest remorse over it.”
“I will make him see reason.”
“I’m afraid that will do more harm than good,” Julia said.
“It never hurts to try and reason with someone.”
“Just don’t let him goad you into doing something you’ll regret.”
I headed for the Sun, confident that I could persuade Pelletier that it would benefit him as much as me to find a loophole in French law that would nullify his misbegotten marriage to Julia, setting them both free. At the same time, I felt the inclination to thrash the old fool for frightening Julia with his vile threats. But that would only give me temporary satisfaction and accomplish nothing. So I tamped down my anger once more and managed to put a passably pleasant expression on my face as I greeted the ladies sitting on the Sun porch sipping tea and nibbling sandwiches, Molly Munger and her mother amongst them.
I proceeded into the taproom. Ruggles, pouring out mugs of beer, greeted me heartily. Henry too was behind the bar with a measure rule in hand. I gave him a nod, but did not pause to speak with him. The room was crowded with “nooners” quaffing drinks to fortify them for the afternoon service back at the Meetinghouse whilst the womenfolk and children took their luncheon on the porch. At such a busy time at the Sun you’d have thought Mrs. Ruggles would have been scurrying about taking customer orders and then giving her own orders to the waitstaff. Instead, she was standing as still as I’d ever seen her, listening intently to a man sitting at a far corner table. After a moment she shook her head vehemently and exited the taproom in a huff. The man she had so abruptly left smiled after her. I concluded from his European top hat and arrogant bearing that he was none other than Jacques Pelletier.
As I approached the table he watched me with a reptilian stare. He did not look as old as I’d expected him to, but he did look quite ill. A plate containing an untouched piece of steak had been pushed aside.
“I have been expecting you, sir,” he said when I was near enough to hear the low intonation of his voice.
“Then you know who I am?”
“Who else but the young, virile Dr. Adam Walker? Before we married, my dear wife, with whom I believe you are well acquainted, described you to me as exceedingly handsome. Of course, Madame Pelletier does have a tendency to exaggerate. In truth, I do not find you handsome at all.”
If this was Pelletier’s way of trying to get under my skin, I would have no problem keeping my temper with him. “May I join you?”
He waved toward a chair with such a majestic flourish I don’t believe the Sun King could have done it better. Indeed,
Pelletier seemed to think of himself as the king of the Sun Tavern, observing one and all from the great height of his superiority. I reckoned that he’d just hurt Edda Ruggles’s feelings by telling her the food he’d been served was unpalatable.
I sat across from him and leaned forward to communicate confidentially. “You expressed intentions most evil to Julia a short time ago, Mr. Pelletier.”
“I merely told her what my rights were,” he mildly replied.
“I am willing to believe you spoke in the heat of passion and would never carry out such threats,” I said magnanimously. “Indeed, I believe that you and I can reach an understanding that would result in a happy future for all concerned.”
“You seem to hold many lofty beliefs, Dr. Walker. Please continue. I am all ears.” He actually cupped a hand to his ear to demonstrate his willingness to listen.
I was beginning to think that perhaps Julia had exaggerated this man’s implacability as much as she’d exaggerated my good looks. “Let us go to your room where we may speak in private,” I suggested.
“Very well,” he said. He reached for his cane and used it to help himself rise to his feet, at the same time pressing his palm to his abdomen.
“Primrose oil soothes stomach disorders,” I could not help but prescribe.
He waved away my suggestion. “My valet knows best how to treat me for stomach ailments. This latest bout began in Boston, despite my caution to avoid foul American cooking by eating nothing but beefsteak. And the beefsteak I’ve just been served here has proven to be inedible. The little Dutch strumpet who cooked it insists it is bleu, but any fool can plainly see it is almost bien cuit.”
He slowly made his way across the taproom, and I shortened my own pace to accommodate him. But he suddenly stopped as we came to the crowded bar. He turned and raised his cane at me in a threatening manner. I thought he was going to strike me with it, but instead he whacked it against the side of the bar. The resounding crack it made, loud as a gunshot, got everyone’s attention. Conversations stopped.
“No reason to talk privately, Dr. Walker!” he shouted at me. “Let all who care to listen know you for the man you are. You have made a whore of my wife and a cuckold of me and you are a disgrace to your profession.”
Overcome with indignation and humiliation, I was at a loss for words.
Alas, Pelletier was not. He turned away from me with a look of disgust and addressed the tavern patrons. “Do not trust that man with your wives and daughters.” He pointed his cane at me. “Beneath his doctor’s cloak of dignity crouches a carnal beast. He seduced my dear wife Julia, and they have had illicit relations ever since she came back to Plumford. She told me so herself less than an hour ago! Sick old man that I am, I nearly dropped dead from the shock of it. The two of them would have danced upon my grave if I had.”
“Stop these lies!” I finally yelled.
“Lies? If you deny that you have fornicated with your cousin Julia Bell Pelletier, then whose bastard is she carrying in her belly now?”
I glanced about me and saw some of the women from the porch gathered in the open taproom doorway, eyes wide as they stared at me and my accuser. The men stared too. Many were longtime friends, such as the butcher Ira Munger and the fellows at his table, all members of the town-ball team I played with. Present too was a man who considered me his enemy, namely Constable Beers. His broad smirk made it clear he was enjoying Pelletier’s performance.
Henry alone stepped forward to stand beside me. “You know Adam Walker to be a good man,” he loudly proclaimed. “So why do you listen to a man you know not at all? I will tell you about Jacques Pelletier. He captained a slave ship and profited as a slave merchant. Therefore nothing he says can be trusted.”
“I have spoken the truth,” Pelletier replied, not to Henry, but to his audience. “And I have never broken the law. Unlike Dr. Walker here.” This time he made so bold as to actually prod my arm with his cane. “Is not adultery illegal?”
“It is a crime!” Beers shouted from his table near the bar. “A crime subject to imprisonment in this good and godly state of Massachusetts. Why, I have half a mind to arrest Walker here and now.”
That did not go over as well as Beers must have expected it to, for his threat was met with a chorus of boos. Not that such a reaction from my fellow townsmen made me feel any better. The most sacrosanct part of my being, my love for Julia, had been besmirched and displayed like dirty laundry by Pelletier. I have never hated a man more.
Henry looked at me and said in a low voice, “Stay calm, my friend. Say nothing more and walk out of here with your head high.”
Such good advice. I was about to follow it, too. But then Pelletier spoke again.
“My wife should be arrested too!” he cried out. “The shameless bitch is as guilty of the crime as he is.” Again Pelletier touched his cane to my person, prodding my chest with it this time.
The last time! I roared like a baited bear and yanked his cane from him. I took it in both my hands and swung it back like a bat. “I should kill you!” I bellowed.
If I had struck Pelletier with his cane, I am sure I would have struck him dead. But before I could act upon my murderous impulse, Henry grabbed hold of the cane from behind. I struggled to wrest it from his grip for only a moment, and then I let go of it, along with my homicidal rage.
“Best you leave now, Adam,” Henry said in a low tone.
Now I listened to him and strode out of the taproom looking neither left nor right. In the hall Mawuli stepped forward from the shadows of the stair landing. From such a position he would have heard everything whilst remaining completely out of sight. “No need to kill the old man,” he told me as I passed, apparently concerned over Pelletier’s welfare.
JULIA
Monday, May 22
Molly didn’t come to work this morning. Her mother came to call instead. I invited Mrs. Munger into the parlor and pointed out how good the Turkey carpet looked, thanks to Molly’s application of her magical ox bile potion.
“Your daughter is a most diligent housekeeper,” I said. “She’ll make some man a fine wife someday.”
“That is the very reason Molly cannot work for you anymore,” Mrs. Munger replied.
“Molly is going to be married? How lovely! I didn’t even know she had a suitor.”
“You miscomprehend me,” Mrs. Munger said. “That Molly does not have a suitor is the reason she cannot remain in your employ. She needs to keep her good name if she ever hopes to change it. Do you get my meaning?”
I did indeed, for Adam had recounted to me Pelletier’s vile accusations at the tavern yesterday. It had pained him greatly to repeat them to me, and for me to hear them, but at least I knew what Mrs. Munger, and no doubt the whole town, was talking about now.
“What you are trying to tell me, Mrs. Munger,” I said in a level tone, “is that to protect her own reputation, your daughter must stay away from my house of ill repute.”
“I would never call your house that,” she protested, looking down at the rug. “But others will.”
“Then you are right to keep Molly away from here.”
She looked back at me, relieved. “I told Molly you would understand. You and Doc Adam always wanted what was best for her.”
“And we still do.”
“Ira and I wish you both the best too.” Mrs. Munger placed her hand on my arm. “We will never forget that you and the doctor helped get Molly through a real bad time. You’re the only ones who know about her troubles back then. And now you have your own troubles. Is it true that you are with child now, Julia?”
“I am. And I consider it a godsend rather than a trouble.”
“To be sure. But some folks in town might not see it that way.” There was sincere concern in Mrs. Munger’s eyes. “Anyway, next time Ira butchers a calf, I’ll have him bring you the liver. Best thing a woman who is eating for two can consume.”
The very thought of it near made me gag. But I understood this was mean
t as a gesture of goodwill and thanked her kindly.
I went to Adam’s office and found him standing before his open medicine cabinet. “I doubt many patients will be coming to the office today,” he said, “so I thought this a good time to take inventory of my supplies.”
“Can I help?”
“Would you write down the items I need to order?”
I took up a pencil and paper from his desk, happy to oblige him.
“Let’s see,” he said. “It seems I’m running low on monkey paws. And I’m clean out of cobra skins. As for crocodile heads, nary a one.”
I laughed. “Have you become a witch doctor, Adam?”
“Apparently Mawuli was one back in Africa. He told me about such cures. Was he being facetious, I wonder?”
“I have always wondered that about Mawuli,” I said.
“Did he ever speak to you of his past?”
“Whenever I asked him about it, he would tell me outlandish stories instead.”
“Maybe they were true.”
“Impossible!” I said. “The powers Mawuli claimed to me that he had were not based in medical science, I assure you.”
“I suppose everything he says must be taken with a grain of salt,” Adam said.
“For certain. I would not go so far as to call Mawuli devious, but I cannot call him forthright either. After all, he deliberately kept the fact that my husband was a slave trader from me. But to Mawuli’s credit, he did help me get away from Pelletier.”