Scarlet Widow (29 page)

Again, Beatrice couldn’t help thinking of Jonathan Shooks and the knowing, subversive way he always looked at her. She surprised herself by almost wishing that it
had
been him – even though she knew that she would never be untrue to Francis. But of all the men who might have had the inclination and the nerve to do this, and not be afraid of the consequences, Jonathan Shooks was the only one she could immediately think of.

It was then that Francis called out from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Bea, my dearest! How long will it be before dinner?’

‘Only an hour, Francis! It’s a beef and turnip pie, which I have made already! I have only the beans and the carrots to prepare!’

There was a long pause from downstairs. Beatrice hoped that he hadn’t caught the hint of guilt in her voice. But what was she going to do with these flowers, and how was she going to explain to Francis where she suspected they might have come from? And why should she feel so guilty about it?

The next day was grey and hot and humid, and Beatrice felt as if she could hardly breathe. It was nearly seven miles from Sutton to Londonderry, but because some stretches of the road had recently been levelled and cleared of stones it took them only two and a half hours. All the way they could hear thunder mumbling behind the hills and a few spots of rain pattered on to them from time to time, as well as hazelnuts from the trees that bordered the road.

Francis seemed preoccupied and spoke very little, except to say that the funerals of both Nicholas and Tristram Buckley would be held the following morning.

‘And what of the Gilmans’ four slaves?’

‘They will be buried by their families in a plot behind their shanties. I will go up there later and say prayers over them.’

‘And there is still no evidence as to who might have killed them?’

‘No. Nothing. Major General Holyoke has written to the governor that their deaths were caused by “supernatural acts of malice by persons as yet unknown” – if persons they were.’

‘He didn’t say “witchcraft”?’

‘
Beatrice
,’ Francis admonished her.

Major General Holyoke had been magistrate several years ago when a young Sutton girl called Lucy Parminter had been sentenced to death for witchcraft, a charge of which she was found to be innocent – but only at the very last moment before she was due to be hanged. Major General Holyoke might well be “known in the gates”, but in common with Constable Jewkes he had made several embarrassing and potentially fatal misjudgements.

After a few moments Beatrice said, ‘Mary saw that hooded figure again.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Francis didn’t seem to be paying attention to her.

‘It was yesterday, when we were down in the village.’

‘What was he doing?’

‘Walking away from the house, that’s all.’

‘Was anything stolen, or any damage done?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Mary couldn’t see that anything was missing.’

She was about to tell him about the wild flowers, too, but it suddenly started to rain much harder and he stopped to put up the hood. Somehow, when he climbed back into his seat again she felt that the moment had passed. He seemed to have something on his mind that was much more important than a mysterious bunch of flowers. All he would probably want to know is why she hadn’t told him about them immediately, and shown them to him – and if she were truthful with herself, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t. She hadn’t told him about the perfume, either, and now it was far too late to do that.

For some reason that she found difficult to understand, she found the secrecy exciting. Other men in the village had always treated her with the respect and deference that was due to the minister’s wife, but now some unknown man was showing an interest in her as a desirable woman.

As they drove on further, the road began to deteriorate into ruts and potholes and they had to slow down. The rain was drumming on the hood now and Uriel kept shaking his mane.

‘You’re worried, Francis,’ said Beatrice. ‘What are you worried about?’

‘It’s nothing. Yesterday I felt as if everything might have been resolved, but now I’m not so certain.’

‘Why? Tell me.’

‘You will think me ineffectual if I do.’

‘Of course I won’t. Tell me.’

She waited, but he didn’t answer. They trundled further along the road, and after a while the rain eased up, and the sun came out, intensely hot, and the dense forests of butternut trees on either side of them began to steam.

‘Francis, what’s wrong?’ she persisted.

He gave a quick shake of his head and said, ‘Later. I’ll tell you later. We have pigs to buy.’

They bought three sows and a boar from the same ginger-haired Scottish-Irish pig farmer who had sold them their last five Berkshires and he promised to have them delivered the following day, sealing the deal by spitting into the palm of his hand and shaking on it.

They talked for a while, but Beatrice could barely understand the pig farmer’s accent and she could hardly hear him over the grunting of his pigs.

*

Francis hardly spoke to her on the way back to Sutton. She was beginning to wonder if he had found out about the perfume and the wild flowers and was angry with her. He had said, after all, that he felt ‘ineffectual’.

When they reached home, however, he said, ‘Don’t worry about preparing food for me, Bea. There is somebody I must talk to first.’

Noah came running out of the porch and clung to Beatrice’s gown. Beatrice picked him up and kissed him. ‘Who is it, Francis? Who must you talk to? You’re beginning to disturb me.’

Francis reached inside his coat and took out a folded letter. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I received this early this morning from Thomas Norton, the lawyer. One of his sons brought it here.’

She put Noah down and he passed her the letter. When she unfolded it she read:

My Dear Reverend Scarlett,

I believe it incumbent upon mee to inform you that Goodman Ebenezer Rowlandson has requested mee as a matter of Urgency to Deede 36 acres of his propertie to Mr Jonathan Shooks as a Precaution against Further Depredationes of Satan & his Representatives. He has requested Most Earnestlie that I should not inform you of this Matter & I am loath to be seen as an Intermedler but since Master George Gilman has also Deeded almost an Equalle acreage to Mr Shooks for the same Purpose I believe that as our appointed Minister you should be made Conscious of these Transactions.

Yrs Thos Norton.

Beatrice read the letter twice and then handed it back to Francis. ‘Why did you say nothing until now?’ she asked him.

‘Why do you think? Two of my most prosperous and influential communicants have turned for help against the forces of evil to – to what? To whom? Not to me – to some itinerant quack! Some charlatan who has arrived from nowhere telling me that I have no knowledge of the demonic presences in this country and that I am powerless to protect my own congregation!’

Francis was so agitated now that he had crumpled up the letter in his fist and Noah was looking up at him with an apprehensive frown on his face and his bottom lip quivering.

‘George Gilman said nothing to me about deeding his land to Jonathan Shooks, and Ebenezer Rowlandson told me nothing but lies! Why didn’t they both simply say to my face that they have no faith in my ministry, that my prayers have obviously come to nothing, and that I can’t even save my own pigs from the Devil, let alone Nicholas Buckley and George Gilman’s slaves!’

He paused for breath, and then he said, ‘I don’t know why we bothered to travel all the way to Londonderry to buy new pigs. What was the point? The Devil will probably kill those too, just to rub my impotence in my face!’

‘Francis, Francis,’ Beatrice soothed him. ‘If Ebenezer Rowlandson and George Gilman choose to be so foolish, it is not your fault!’

‘Of course it’s my fault! I’m supposed to be their shield and protector! It wouldn’t surprise me if Henry Mendum has given half his land to Jonathan Shooks, too, without telling me!’

‘So what do you propose to do?’

‘I could send Jonathan Shooks an ecclesiastical document warning him off, but I very much doubt if that would deter him. No – I’m going to find him and have it out with him, face to face! This is my congregation, my ministry, and he has wilfully led my communicants astray. It is just as humiliating for me as if they had left my parish and started to attend church in Dover instead.’

‘You should be careful, Francis. Please, my love. Jonathan Shooks is not the kind of man to be crossed.’

Francis grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. His own eyes were glittering and dark and she had never seen him look so determined.

‘I am not at all sure what I am confronting here, Bea – Devil or man, demon or deceiver. All I do know is that I am facing the greatest challenge of my entire career as a minister of God – perhaps of the whole of my life. In one form or another, Satan has come to Sutton, and it is my bounden duty to stand up to him.’

‘Where will you find him?’

‘I shall go to the village first to see if anybody knows of his whereabouts. If not, I will go to the inn at Penacook and wait for his return.’

‘Francis, I beg you not to. The law should be dealing with this, not you.’

‘How can the courts deal with Satan, Bea? And what law is greater than God’s law?’

‘Let me show you that stain on my petticoat made by that so-called demon’s hoof print! It’s nothing but a mixture of common substances, Francis! It’s not supernatural at all! Kingdom was poisoned by yew leaves, which anybody could have fed him, and our pigs were probably killed by arsenic or perhaps some toxic plant like belladonna. As far as Ebenezer Rowlandson’s fish are concerned, they could have been affected by oil of rhodium or something similar. The same goes for Henry Mendum’s cattle.’

‘Bea, you don’t understand!
How
these atrocities were perpetrated, and what with, tells us nothing! What do witches use in their potions? The same common herbs that anybody can grow in their gardens! It’s the way in which they prepare those potions that gives them their power! Just as we say prayers and appeal to the Lord to give
us
strength, they use rituals and incantations to be given strength by Satan.’

‘Let me show you the stain.’

‘Bea, it makes no difference. One way or another, I have to face up to Jonathan Shooks and take back authority over my own parish. How can I preach my sermon on Sunday, admonishing my congregation to honour the Lord God, when they cannot even honour me?’

‘I honour you, Francis. You know that.’

Francis leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching and they were so close together that Beatrice couldn’t focus on his face. ‘I know you do, my dearest. But this time it isn’t enough.’

*

Francis returned home a little after nine o’clock. She had been waiting at the window for him and she was relieved to see his two carriage-lamps jiggling in the darkness at the end of the driveway. When he came into the house he was dusty and exhausted and he smelled of sweat. He sat down at the kitchen table and she gave him a mug of cider, although he didn’t drink it straight away.

‘You didn’t find him,’ she said.

‘No, I didn’t find him. Everywhere I went he had only recently left, but nobody ever knew where he was bound for next. It was more like hunting a ghost than a man. I went to the Penacook Inn at the very last. He is still residing there, apparently, but I waited an hour and there was no sign of him, so I left.’

‘You’ll find him tomorrow. Somebody must have told him by now that you’re looking for him.’

‘I don’t know if that’s good or bad. If he knows that I’m looking for him he might do everything he can to avoid me.’

‘I don’t think he will,’ said Beatrice. ‘I don’t think he’s that kind of a man.’

The wild flowers
, she thought,
and the perfume.

*

When they went to bed that night, Francis held her very close, although he made no move to make love to her. She could feel his half-stiffened penis through his nightshirt, but she knew that his mind was full of demons and witches and incinerated slaves and Satan and Jonathan Shooks.

After a while he leaned across her to blow out the candle, but before he did so he said, ‘What’s this?’

‘What’s what?’ she asked him.

He was holding a small purple petal between finger and thumb, like the wing that had fallen off a fairy. He sniffed it and said, ‘It smells very sweet. What is it?’

‘Bergamot,’ said Beatrice.

‘So where did it come from?’

Beatrice raised her eyebrows but said nothing. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him a lie.

‘Perhaps it’s a sign,’ said Francis. ‘A sign from God of sweet things to come.’

He leaned over again and blew out the candle. Beatrice lay in the darkness and she had never felt so guilty and confused in her life – and fearful, too. There was no moon tonight and she felt as if all around the house the scenery of her world was being furtively rearranged and that in the morning everything would seem different, unfamiliar, and that she would have no idea what to do next.

*

As it turned out, Jonathan Shooks took events in hand. She and Francis were eating a breakfast of flummery and dried plums when they heard a carriage outside and then a knock at their front door. Mary came into the kitchen and said, ‘Mr Shooks is calling on you, reverend.’

Francis gave Beatrice a quick, surprised look and then stood up and went out into the hallway. Beatrice was tempted to say, ‘
Be careful, Francis
,’ but she was afraid that Jonathan Shooks might hear her and question why she had said it.

Francis took Jonathan Shooks into the parlour. Beatrice took off her apron and left her breakfast to follow them. Jonathan Shooks bowed as she came in through the door, and smiled. He was wearing his pale grey linen coat and britches and shoes with silver buckles that reminded Beatrice of the buckles on Nicholas Buckley’s shoes.

‘The gracious Goody Scarlet, good morning!’ said Jonathan Shooks. ‘I was just asking the reverend why he has been looking for me here, there and everywhere.’