her husband would not trust a woman to have the proper business sense. Most of the shop's work fell away, and debt mounted. Renounced by her family, she could not call on them for help so she was forced to fall back on the ways held secret by her mother's lineage. Word spread quickly, as was common in village life, that Maire Pennycock was a fair master at remedies and potions, and particularly gifted in the taming of beasts large and small. With her help, many lives were saved and a great deal of suffering averted, especially in childbirth. But debt still plagued the family.
A few months before the nightmare of the trial began, Will accompanied his mother to the shopkeeper's store for supplies. As usual, on their walk through the village a parade of cats formed and followed behind them. Seemingly deaf to the mewling cats at his door, Mister Worthing's mood lightened at the sight of the lovely red-haired woman with the green amulet resting on her ample bosom.
"Good day, Missus Pennycock! Young Will.” He nodded in respect, his smile beaming.
"Good day, sir,” said Will's mother, her market basket hanging from a slender wrist.
Missus Worthing, tidy and of a robust figure, rapped at the window, trying to dissuade the cats from loitering in front of the shop. She was visiting her husband with his lunch and scowled at his attention to the young woman, but he seemed hardly to notice. She fussed about while laying out his lunch on a table by the front window, while Mister Worthing gazed at the Widow Pennycock moving about the shop.
"Charles, your soup will be cold. Come and sit, dear. I will attend to Mister Pennycock's order."
Mister Worthing raised his eyebrows in surprise. His wife loathed anything to do with his dusty shelves and untidy ledger, but she was insistent, which was her nature. Visibly disappointed by losing the chance to assist the Widow Pennycock, he huffed as he sat down in his chair. Missus Worthing tucked a long napkin into his collar and quickly turned her attention to Will's mother, waiting at the counter with her meager basket of supplies.
Stepping behind the counter, Missus Worthing said nothing to the young woman. Will watched from his mother's side as the tightlipped woman tallied their bill and slid it across the counter.
"Could you please add that to our account, Missus Worthing?” asked Will's mother with a gentle smile.
With not a word spoken, the unyielding woman reached for the shop ledger. Shaking her head at the disorder of her husband's bookkeeping, she found the Pennycock account and gasped. Mister Worthing choked on his soup.
"Missus Pennycock, I am sorry, but you will have no more credit at my husband's shop until you pay your account."
"Pardon me, ma'am, but I thought our account was in reasonable order."
"Well, dear, it says here that you are several months behind in settling."
Will felt his mother's embarrassment, and he began to fidget as another patron entered the shop.
"Oh I'm terribly sorry, Missus Worthing,” she said, clutching her empty change purse. “I had no idea."
"I'm afraid that's my fault.” Mister Worthing spoke up. Tossing his napkin on the table, he rose and hurried behind the counter eyeing the ledger over his wife's shoulder.
"Yes, completely my fault. You know my bookkeeping, Missus Worthing, dear. I've simply forgotten to mark the account paid."
He reached for the ink and pen, took the ledger book from his wife's grip, and scratched a notation marking the account paid in full. Missus Worthing's face flushed red. She turned and stomped around the counter to the lunch spread she had laid for her husband. Gathering the entire contents of his unfinished meal in the tablecloth, she stuffed it, dripping, into the lunch hamper and marched out of the shop, slamming the door behind her.
From that day on, Mister Worthing personally delivered supplies to Will and his mother. He was kind and polite, gratefully accepting a cup of tea. He always brought Will a
A few months before the nightmare of the trial began, Will accompanied his mother to the shopkeeper's store for supplies. As usual, on their walk through the village a parade of cats formed and followed behind them. Seemingly deaf to the mewling cats at his door, Mister Worthing's mood lightened at the sight of the lovely red-haired woman with the green amulet resting on her ample bosom.
"Good day, Missus Pennycock! Young Will.” He nodded in respect, his smile beaming.
"Good day, sir,” said Will's mother, her market basket hanging from a slender wrist.
Missus Worthing, tidy and of a robust figure, rapped at the window, trying to dissuade the cats from loitering in front of the shop. She was visiting her husband with his lunch and scowled at his attention to the young woman, but he seemed hardly to notice. She fussed about while laying out his lunch on a table by the front window, while Mister Worthing gazed at the Widow Pennycock moving about the shop.
"Charles, your soup will be cold. Come and sit, dear. I will attend to Mister Pennycock's order."
Mister Worthing raised his eyebrows in surprise. His wife loathed anything to do with his dusty shelves and untidy ledger, but she was insistent, which was her nature. Visibly disappointed by losing the chance to assist the Widow Pennycock, he huffed as he sat down in his chair. Missus Worthing tucked a long napkin into his collar and quickly turned her attention to Will's mother, waiting at the counter with her meager basket of supplies.
Stepping behind the counter, Missus Worthing said nothing to the young woman. Will watched from his mother's side as the tightlipped woman tallied their bill and slid it across the counter.
"Could you please add that to our account, Missus Worthing?” asked Will's mother with a gentle smile.
With not a word spoken, the unyielding woman reached for the shop ledger. Shaking her head at the disorder of her husband's bookkeeping, she found the Pennycock account and gasped. Mister Worthing choked on his soup.
"Missus Pennycock, I am sorry, but you will have no more credit at my husband's shop until you pay your account."
"Pardon me, ma'am, but I thought our account was in reasonable order."
"Well, dear, it says here that you are several months behind in settling."
Will felt his mother's embarrassment, and he began to fidget as another patron entered the shop.
"Oh I'm terribly sorry, Missus Worthing,” she said, clutching her empty change purse. “I had no idea."
"I'm afraid that's my fault.” Mister Worthing spoke up. Tossing his napkin on the table, he rose and hurried behind the counter eyeing the ledger over his wife's shoulder.
"Yes, completely my fault. You know my bookkeeping, Missus Worthing, dear. I've simply forgotten to mark the account paid."
He reached for the ink and pen, took the ledger book from his wife's grip, and scratched a notation marking the account paid in full. Missus Worthing's face flushed red. She turned and stomped around the counter to the lunch spread she had laid for her husband. Gathering the entire contents of his unfinished meal in the tablecloth, she stuffed it, dripping, into the lunch hamper and marched out of the shop, slamming the door behind her.
From that day on, Mister Worthing personally delivered supplies to Will and his mother. He was kind and polite, gratefully accepting a cup of tea. He always brought Will a
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