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“He is guilty!” insisted Caty hysterically. “Why do thee tell such lies? He’s guilty!”

Hope tugged at her hand. “Caty, come away. Hush. . . .”

“Don’t hush me! How can I hold my tongue when Elma’s in her grave and her killer free? Or does thy desire outrun thy duty?”

Hope flinched as though Caty had slapped her. “Thee heard the judge, Caty. The evidence . . .”

“Thee mean Elma’s words we weren’t allowed to say?” Caty retorted. “Thee mean the lies paid for by Ezra Weeks’s coin?”

Caty knew who was to blame. It was those lawyers, in their fancy coats with their fancy words, sowing doubt, coming up with strange rules to prevent the truth being told. She hated them all.

Levi was walking past her, walking free as day, flanked by his brother and General Hamilton. General Hamilton leaned across Levi, saying something about his plans for a house. “—in the classical style, not too large, with something like those doors Levi designed—”

“It was thy mischief!” Caty launched herself into their path. “It’s thee confused their minds with false suspicions!”

“Mrs. Ring,” began General Hamilton, with false sympathy.

“Thee should be ashamed of thyself! If thee dies a natural death, I shall think there is no justice in heaven!”

Someone was pulling her away, dragging her back. Elias wrapped an arm around her, turning her face into his chest, muffling her words, blocking her sight.

She could hear Ezra Weeks saying, with a coarse laugh, “I think you’ve just been cursed, General.”

“I don’t believe Quakers are allowed to do that,” returned General Hamilton cheerfully. “Now about that house . . .”

She wanted to curse them. She wanted to make their man parts shrivel and their countenances turn as black as their souls.

Caty yanked herself free, but they were already gone. She could just see the glimmer of Alexander Hamilton’s blue silk coat as the Weeks brothers left the courtroom. It should be purple, stained with Elma’s blood.

“I’m so sorry.” Mr. Colden stumbled up beside Elias, his lips gray. “I never imagined—I can’t think—”

Caty rounded on him. “If thee had thought, Levi would be in prison now!”

They would never be free of this. The full magnitude of it hit Caty, making her sag against Elias. If only the court had pronounced Levi guilty, the horrible scandal of Elias and Elma wouldn’t matter as much. But now—the world would always wonder. They would wonder if Elma had killed herself. They would wonder if Caty’s husband was a murderer as well as an adulterer.

Dimly, Caty was aware of someone leading her away, to Mr. Colden’s carriage, as Mr. Colden went on mouthing apologies that meant nothing. She felt like Rachel’s old doll, the inexpertly jointed limbs moving strangely, the head stuffed with wool.

The house was dark, Mr. Colden’s maid again dozing by the fire. Caty left Hope to send the maid out to Mr. Colden’s carriage. Caty spoke to no one, walking woodenly to the bedroom, her fingers clumsy on the string of her bonnet. Let someone else deal with the oats for breakfast. Let someone else make sure the fire was banked. What did it matter if the house burned down and all of them in it? Her life was ash already.

Caty’s eye fell on her children, all four of them, asleep on their pallets, and her chest contracted painfully.

If the house burned, her children would die, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that, of any harm befalling them.

They shouldn’t suffer for their parents’ sins.

Except they would. Caty stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep herself from crying out. They’d failed the children. She’d thought she was such a good wife, such a good mother, such a good neighbor, but every single one of their neighbors had testified against them. They’d all heard her husband having relations with her cousin.

And now—now they would wonder if her husband had killed her cousin. Or perhaps if Caty had, she thought wildly.

How could she live here? What would they say to the children?

Caty could feel Elias come up behind her, as he had that first day when she was on the stand and he was meant to be out of the room. It felt like years ago, back when she’d been so certain their ordeal was almost done, before the world heard all their shame and secrets.

“I didn’t kill her,” Elias said quietly. “I wasn’t the husband to thee I should be, but I didn’t kill her.”

“I know.” Blindly, Caty turned and leaned against him, resting her head against his chest.

After a moment, she felt his palm tentatively come to rest against the back of her head. It had been a very long time since they’d stood together like this. It had been a very long time since Elias had touched her with anything like affection.