“You will do nothing!” he thundered to himself aloud, and the wind picked up the cry and carried it about, mocking him.
He had to go. The sea beckoned to him, as did the wind. As did his desperate need to see the child.
And Brianna. Even if he did not speak to her; even if he just stood and watched her walk, or whisper to the child. He had to see her, or he would never be free of the memory that haunted him.
2
The Devil in Salem
“You tax me for a wizard; might as well tax me for a buzzard!”
George Jacobs, Sr.
Chapter 15
Always poor in health, Robert did not fare well during the height of winter. And now that large quantities of snow had alternately melted and frozen to create constant slush, he was doing even worse. When the service had ended on Sunday, Brianna had wanted to do nothing more than get home and set Robert before the fire with a cup of warmed ale.
But now it was Monday morning, no longer the Sabbath, and there was work to be done. Wood had to be chopped for the hearth in order to bake the bread and warm the house. Brianna did not want Robert cutting wood, and so, when he insisted he must go into Ingersoll’s Ordinary to meet Liam Hardy and work out a deal to purchase cattle, she was happy to see him go. It was better than having him working outside, chopping the wood.
As soon as he’d left, Brianna bundled Michael into layers of clothing. She set him in a patch of white snow, and he laughed with pleasure, making snowballs while she split logs. When enough was accomplished, she gave Michael a twig to carry each time she made a trip to the woodshed, then carried what was necessary back to the house. She stoked up the fire, heated the oven, and measured out a portion of their dwindling grain supply to make bread. For a while, Michael played happily with a set of wooden soldiers Robert had carved for him, and when he tired and began to fuss, Brianna brought him into the bedroom and put him down for a nap.
By then her bread was ready for the oven, and when it was in and baking, she boiled water to make herself tea and sat down at the high-backed pew that faced the fire and guarded its warmth from leaking out the rear door.
It was Eleanor knocking at the door, Brianna realized as she rubbed the fog from a windowpane and looked out. With a delighted cry she threw the door open, and quickly pulled the bundled Eleanor inside.
“Eleanor! How wonderful. I must admit, I was just sitting here feeling a little sorry for myself. Robert has gone to town and Michael is sleeping and I was just having tea. You’ll have some, of course? I made a few pastries along with the bread; and we’ve honey, since Robert did so well with his bees last summer!”
“Wonderful,” Eleanor murmured, following Brianna to the fire. She drew off her heavy coat and ran her fingers lightly through her head of tawny curls. “I’m afraid that I was bored with my own company, too, Brianna.” She sighed. “Dear Lord! Will this dreary weather never cease!”
Eleanor sat and Brianna gave her tea. For a while they spoke of all the hardships that winter had brought, but they were both young, and able to laugh at some of their own ridiculous efforts to cut corners on their work. Eleanor then told Brianna happily that she and Philip Smith might be married by April, as he had spent the winter chopping and hauling wood for others, and had put aside the money to buy a house in the Village.
“How is Robert?” Eleanor asked then, and Brianna admitted that she always worried over his health.
“I thought that was why you hurried away yesterday,” Eleanor murmured. “You missed the excitement.”
“The excitement?” Brianna queried, and Eleanor set down her tea to wander about the room. She grimaced at Brianna.
“There’s quite a furor going about—but I supposed you’ve not noticed, for you two do keep to yourselves. A number of girls have taken severely ill, the Reverend Parris’s daughter and niece among them. Seems the doctor can find nothing wrong, but Abigail and young Ann Putnam fell into fits as service ended yesterday that were a true terror to behold.”
“Fits?” Brianna queried.
Eleanor lifted her hands, a little helpless for an explanation. “Fits—convulsions.” She sat again, staring with confusion into the fire. “Mercy Lewis too,” she murmured. “But Ann Putnam was the worst. Her limbs contorted so that when her legs crossed, they were locked like bars of steel. Her tongue was so glued to the top of her mouth that her father was frightened she would swallow upon it, and choke.”
“The poor child!” Brianna exclaimed, then asked, “And the doctor could find nothing wrong?”
“Nothing of the flesh. Dr. Griggs told Reverend Parris that he must look to prayer. The doctor said that the devil had plagued the girls—he suspects that malefic witchcraft is at work.”
“Witchcraft!” Brianna mouthed, stunned and stricken. And Eleanor’s eyes came to hers, suddenly full of sorrow.
“Oh, Brianna! You must not be concerned. There will be no insanity such as you met with in Britain. We’ve laws here, and wise and learned men who love God with a passion! The matter will be solved, oh, certainly!”
Brianna said nothing. Fear had begun to creep along her spine like the blade of a knife.
“Brianna, Brianna!” Eleanor bent down before her. “Oh, I am sorry! I shouldn’t have spoken, yet you would have heard sooner or later. But truly, we are in the Massachusetts Bay Colony! Men take grave care here.”
It was then that Robert returned, but Brianna could not even rise to greet him. As he removed his coat and hat, he looked at Eleanor with inquiry and reproach, wondering what she had done.
When Eleanor tried to explain, Brianna knew from Robert’s expression that he had already been aware of the events. He moved to the fire, angrily, to warm his hands as he spoke.
