“Oh, darling, darling Elizabeth. Is it really you?” she exclaimed.
“Meredith Mae, how beautiful you look,” Elizabeth sang out as she threw her arms around her.
Matthew did not let go of my hand and looked on quietly as the two women held each other. I wanted desperately to recapture every memory I had lost, but I was so distracted by the presence of Matthew and Meredith Mae that my thoughts were a jumble. I looked beyond Matthew to the teenaged girl who stood at the stairway and stared at me with a quiet smile. The dog had run to her and practically knocked her over.
“Rachel?” I whispered. “Look, Elizabeth,” I said. “That girl has Ann Peckham’s face; that is why Ann was so familiar to me. See how alike they look. Why, even the dog thinks it is her mistress. She and Ann Peckham could be sisters.”
I ran to the young woman and took her in my arms.
“Rachel,” I cried. “Oh, how good it is to see you. Look Elizabeth, look at the similarity between Ann and Rachel.”
But Elizabeth did not answer me. She was staring at my son. He remained silent and did not move. It suddenly dawned on me that poor Elizabeth was at least ten-to-fifteen chronological years older than Matthew.
“Matthew,” she said through her tears, but my son only stared in disbelief.
“Matthew,” she repeated. “Oh, Matthew, I have waited so long to hold you in my arms.”
He went to her and stood before her and held her face to the light.
“Matthew, oh, God! Matthew.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips and smiled.
“You have become old,” he said, as if trying to make a joke of it. I could feel Elizabeth’s pain as if my own heart had been as brutally punctured.
* * * *
The year was 1857, and I was home in my beloved Brooklyn with my son and my own dear Meredith Mae. The girl, Rachel, was now sixteen. Though we could not prove it at the time, we knew that Ann Arlin Peckham was a direct descendent of Rachel and the man she would marry the following year, Troy Spencer. They would have three boys and two girls. The older girl, Elizabeth Sue, would disappear mysteriously at the age of five. The disappearance would go on record as an unsolved kidnapping and the child would not be seen again for many years. Olivia, the younger girl, would marry a biologist named Ian Sanford and they would move to Boston in 1880. Olivia’s daughter, Jane, would marry a portrait painter just as the century turned, and they would have twin girls. One twin would succumb to tuberculosis at an early age and die; the other, little Melinda, would marry Thomas Conklin in 1914 and they would have six children. Only one of the children would be a girl. Their daughter, Cordelia Conklin, would marry late in life, and only because the money from her trust would be poorly invested. She would meet Terrance Arlin when she was nearly forty. They would only have one child, a daughter, Gloria Evangeline Arlin. Gloria would marry early—seventeen, to be precise. She and Mark Peckham would have three children. Unfortunately, one son would die early from a weak heart. Their other son, Bill, would become a student at the Yale School of Medicine and their daughter, Ann, an art historian student at New York University. Ann would be found murdered in her own home just weeks before her forty-fifth birthday. Yes, well, you will learn of that soon enough. I would learn all this much later, as well, but I tell you now because it fascinates me so that I would wind up in poor Ann’s body, a descendent of my dear little Rachel. I was so happy to see her looking so well after all she had been through with that nasty Ebenezer and Malcolm. She had matured into a fine young woman.
* * * *
Matthew continued to ignore Elizabeth while we sat in the parlor after breakfast trying to fill in the events that had separated us. Matthew was eager to tell me all about the Civil War, a war that would not begin, from a chronological standpoint, for four more years. He relayed his experiences in Virginia with Philippe and Emie, and I could tell that much of it was painful for him. He told me that after the battle of Appomattox and the Union victory, Philippe and Emie had returned to their own dimension of space so that they would not encounter suspicion there, and Matthew had immediately returned to Brooklyn to search for his Elizabeth.
“I thought I would find you all here,” he told me as he sat at my feet and held my hand. I noticed that Elizabeth sat on the other side of the room and kept her gaze to the floor.
“Imagine my shock to return to an empty house,” he said.
“How did you wind up in such a terrible war?”
“We were pulled toward it. We thought Elizabeth was there in Virginia in 1863.”
“The Civil War?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Matthew said and turned to her.
“I have been listening to your stories, and I think I understand. You speak of many things that I have studied. Your father taught a course on the Civil War. He is a teacher of history. I took the course in 1979,” she said and looked at Matthew with an expression I could not read. “Perhaps you were pulled by my own absorption in it.”
“My father?” he asked and went to her. “You know my father?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Annie and I have found him in the twentieth century.”
“Mother?”
I smiled at him. “Yes. Michele teaches history in New York City in the dimension of 1980, and I have met him. He sees me as Annabel when he looks in the glass, but as far as I know, he does not know of his power as a witch.”
“God, Mother. I so want to meet my father.” He got on his knees before me again and took both my hands in his. “Can we move in time?”
“I am afraid Michele has vanished, and I do not know where he is.”
My son sat back and sighed loudly. I noticed that my homecoming was not as happy as I would have imagined. Elizabeth seemed quite despondent, and Meredith Mae remained sitting across the room from me as if she were trying to disappear behind her fan. Rachel eyed me curiously.
“Your mother, child, Beth Ann, how is she?” I asked her.
The girl looked at me, a bit sadly.
“I have not seen her since I was a child, but I hear she lives alone and rarely goes out.”
I breathed in deeply and put my hands over my chest. It would seem that poor Beth Ann had honored Malcolm’s ultimatum and never bothered with the child again.
“What of Ebenezer?” I inquired.
Rachel smiled very broadly. “He’s been dead for years.”
“And your grandmother, Maebelle, is she well?” I asked.
“She has not changed. She appears happy, though she doesn’t know who any of us are when we visit her. They tell me she sings to herself and keeps her room tidy. We try to see her as often as we can, but Long Island is so terribly far.”
I recalled my encounter with poor Maebelle, and as I did, so many other memories began to flood back into my consciousness. It seems my human body was slowly acquiescing to the transition of having shattered space. All of a sudden, I was hit with a terrible recollection. Of course. Oh, my God, my beloved Meredith Mae had been hoodwinked by an insidious imposter and had been in great danger right before my death in Malcolm’s flesh.
“Good God!” I cried and rose to my feet.
They all looked up, and their shoulders stiffened.
“What is it, Mother?” Matthew asked.
“Annie?” I heard Elizabeth say.
“Ann?” Rachel came quickly to my side.
Only Meredith Mae remained quiet and did not move. I watched as she shook her head and stared at her father and then back to me.
“Meredith Mae?” I whispered.
“Grandmamma?” she answered, her eyes wide and frightened.
“What has happened to Ursula?” I asked.
Now I remembered that foul woman and the evil trick she had played to seduce my granddaughter and steal her estate.
“As far as I know, Ursula has never returned from Europe,” Meredith Mae said.
I raised my brow and continued to stare at her.
“We adopted Rachel, Louis and I. We have rai
sed her all these years.” She came to my side and put her lips to my ear. “Papa does not know,” she whispered.
I looked into her eyes. I was just about to ask her to explain how Louis and Ursula could be in two different places at once when all of a sudden the very scoundrel we spoke of stood at the top of the stairs in a red velvet robe and looked askance at me, as she, or he, as she was now referring to herself, descended the stairs.
“What have we here?” he said as he slowly walked down like visiting royalty and stood before me. My mouth fell open as I stared at him—or her, I should say.
“Good morning, Louis,” I heard Matthew utter. I stared at my son, my mouth so open my tonsils must have been apparent.
“What is it, Mother?” my son asked.
Meredith Mae stepped behind me and I heard her whisper, “Don’t, Grandmamma; please, don’t reveal him.”
“Good morning, Papa,” Rachel said.
“Papa?” My eyes narrowed as I said it.
The villain smiled and stared at me.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“What is the bastard doing among us?” I inquired.
“Mother!” Matthew said in disbelief and ran to my side. “Louis is part of the family. He is my son-in-law. Louis, this is, ahh. This is…”
“Ann Peckham,” I said as I glared at him. “I am an old family friend.”
“Ah,” Louis said as he shook my hand. “I could have sworn I heard Matthew refer to you as his ‘Mother’ but how can someone so appealingly young be anyone’s mother?” He kissed the tips of my fingers.
“And this is Elizabeth,” I said. “Matthew’s wife.”
“Elizabeth?” The scoundrel seemed surprised as he turned to her. “I have heard nothing but your name for so long now. It is a pleasure.”
Elizabeth seemed taken by his charm and bowed gracefully.
I searched for Meredith Mae’s eyes, but she held them to the floor and avoided me.
“Meredith Mae, I wish to speak with you alone,” I commanded.
Matthew was surprised but looked to Rachel.
“Come, sweetheart,” he said. “Come, Louis. Let us give them the time they need.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but I knew she understood my dismay and gave me a curious look. I watched as Louis turned his back on me and proceeded toward the kitchen. The bastard now wore his hair to his shoulders. It was height that made the woman appear to resemble a young man, but with such delicate features any idiot could see he was actually a she.
“Take your time, darling,” he said over his shoulder to Meredith Mae. “I’ll make us all some coffee.”
My son put his arm around Louis’s shoulder and together they left the room. Poor Elizabeth went ignored and followed quietly behind. I was furious with my son for so clearly rejecting Elizabeth with no thought at all to her feelings, but I could do nothing about it at the moment. There was something else to attend to, something dangerous and scandalous and so terribly decadent that I could barely collect my thoughts to communicate.
Chapter Thirty-Four
My darling Meredith Mae sat across the room from me and stared at the hands she held in her lap.
“Child…” I began.
“Grandmamma?” She looked up.
“Surely, you must recognize the truth now.”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I do.”
“What?” I was horrified. “You seem so nonchalant.”
“Grandmamma, Louis and I are in love.”
She closed her fan and placed it on the table.
“Louis? There is no Louis.”
She turned her eyes from me and studied her fingers.
“Are you saying you are in love with this, this…?”
I could not even finish my thought.
“Yes,” she said. “That is exactly what I am saying.”
“You knew all along of Ursula’s deception?”
I was so agitated I felt myself biting my lip.
“Not at first, but soon enough I did. It was a game. I played it,” she said. “We played it together. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“She is out to trick you,” I said and walked to her. “To take your estate.”
“Then why has she not taken it? We have been together over five years.”
She sat back and stared up at me. I could tell by the way she was holding herself that I would never convince her of any wrongdoing on Ursula’s part.
“I am surprised that Louis returned to Brooklyn. Catherine accused him of masterminding the plot to kill poor William,” I said as I turned and leaned against the mantle.
“We knew we were taking a chance returning, but I was so worried about Rachel. Once I learned of Malcolm’s death I knew I had to come back for her. Fortunately, no one took the accusations against Louis very seriously, though Silas did try to conjure up a case against him.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she told me. “He failed to produce enough evidence.”
“I see.” I sighed. “Why did he not just return as Ursula? Ursula is not wanted for murder.”
She blushed and turned away from me. I could see my question was not going to be answered truthfully.
“I had no idea what had happened to you.” She turned back to me. “It is easier to travel with a man. It could be dangerous with two women alone. Luckily, Papa was here when we returned. I was happy for that but what could I say to him, with Ursula dressed as Louis? I introduced her as my husband.”
“What did he say?”
I was shocked that Matthew could not see beyond this charade.
“He told me that Emie and Philippe had gone into the twentieth century. I asked about you. We were so worried. We’ve waited an eternity for you.”
“I also found myself in the twentieth century, but Emie and Philippe are not yet born.”
“I see,” she said.
“I found Elizabeth there, and also Michele, but I had no memory of either.”
A long, uncomfortable silence followed between us. Finally, I spoke.
“Matthew accepts this abomination between you and Ursula?”
I knew I had hurt her but I could not help myself.
“It is easier for Louis and I to live as husband and wife. Who would accept us otherwise? The charade had already begun. I thought it would be easier for Father to accept, and the child, Rachel, as well.”
“Your father is innocent, but you do not fool the child.”
She returned my gaze with a raised eyebrow.
“Rachel knows the truth?” she asked, as if she did not know.
“She clearly loves you both and will not burst your bubble.”
“And what about you, Grandmamma? Will you burst it?”
“If memory serves me, I followed the scoundrel to a church and found your Ursula in a devil’s mass. She was about to sacrifice Rachel to the devil. Her lover, Jeanne Elemont, was about to put a stake through the girl’s heart before I stopped it.”
I went to Meredith Mae and took her wrist and pulled her face to mine. “Don’t be a fool, girl. What the devil desires he does not love.”
She pulled her arm from me and sat back.
“Ursula is a complex being, but she is no friend of the devil.” She glared at me.
“What then would you call the murder of a child?”
“She plays at being a man, and she plays at being a witch. She is neither,” she said, and I could see that her eyes were filled with tears. “And the child still lives, does she not?”
“She saw me as Annabel when I walked in Malcolm’s flesh,” I said. “She rode me like a bull knowing who I was.”
“I will not listen to this.” Meredith Mae rose and stood by the window. She turned her back on me.
“Perhaps her lover, Jeanne Elemont, revealed my identity,” I said.
“I know of no one by that name.”
“She resembles your Father Jacques, this Jeanne. Perhaps it was his seed that made her.
”
Meredith Mae spun around and glared at me.
“Father Jacques is the kindest man alive!” She almost screamed the words.
I laughed. “You do not know when you are being deceived, do you?” I said, quite frustrated with her.
“I am not being deceived!”
“Does he still come to this house as though it were his?”
“Yes. He uses the library. He has my permission to do so.”
“Has your father ever seen this Father Jacques?”
She shook her head.
“And why not?” I asked. “I will tell you why not. Because your father would recognize him as the man on the ferry who sent him to Salem and killed Seth, his stepfather, and the devil would no longer be able to trick you into believing that he is some benevolent priest.”
“No, Grandmamma. It is because he reads what the church does not permit him to read. He reads philosophy on agnosticism and atheism. He reads books on the occult. He even reads novels. The Catholic Church would frown upon that. I keep his secrets, and he keeps mine.”
“You are being fooled, Meredith Mae, though I know not for what purpose.”
“You won’t tell Father about Louis, will you, Grandmamma?” she asked. “I beg you.”
I promised, despite my better judgment. The news of it would have sent poor Matthew into a deep depression from which he might not have emerged. I would tolerate the truth for the time being, until I learned the entirety of Ursula’s plan and who was working with her. Ursula/Louis Boussidan was acting on Urbain’s behalf, and of this I was quite certain. But, the devil does not share his secrets until his web has sufficiently enticed his prey of choice. Then the hand of the devil closes tight and chokes the one within.
* * * *
When we returned to the dining room, Matthew was reading the paper. Rachel and Louis had left, probably to the rear yard, for it was a pleasant morning. Matthew was doing all he could to avoid contact with his beloved Elizabeth. I looked at her as she sat in a chair staring out the window. She was beautiful. Any fool could see that. If my son were the older of the two, there would be no grief at all in this scenario. But poor Elizabeth had aged differently, in a different dimension of time and space, and the illusion of life had given her flesh the process of age. It was because of this illusion of age that this needless grief was taking place. But know this: the soul is a timeless entity. It experiences life in the body as a process of dying, but the soul is not physical flesh; it only experiences physical flesh. The body is acknowledged as changing, but it is actually the soul metamorphosing and shedding the process of being in human form. Poor Matthew could not see the soul of his beloved because he could not get beyond the vanity of being human. Do you think there is such a thing as vanity when the flesh is shed? The devil can be held accountable for that foible. The soul is timeless. Unfortunately, that knowledge is not accessible when we are experiencing ourselves as living beings in the unenlightened dimensions of life. However, despite the ignorance of Matthew’s soul to recognize itself as such, I decided to intervene.
Annabel Horton, Lost Witch of Salem Page 26