the world, and in time she will see enough to accept it. A person who has never ventured beyond the confines of the village simply cannot imagine what the city offers. Once she discovers this, I dare say my trouble will not be that of getting her to travel beyond Salem’s borders, but in convincing her to return.”
“You believe she will be so easily swayed?”
“I have been across the great ocean and back, and no woman has intrigued me the way Faith has. To find her unattached was unexpected and a blessing, and I can only hope exactly as we were meant to be. But I will not deny your wishes.”
“Her heart will be hard to win.”
“Goodwife…Felicity, I ask only for the opportunity to fight for it.”
“In that case, dear Nathanial, I can only wish you the best.”
Sweet relief ran its course through him. “I suspect I might need every one of those wishes,” he said. “Do your words mean you offer your approval?”
She raised a finger, shaking the kerchief at him. “It is not my approval you need. It is that of my daughter…and if I know my daughter, I suspect she will give you a fight.”
Nathanial stood and placed a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “Rest assured, she may resist at first but she will soon be won. Your daughter will have a life far better than what Salem offers, and I am just the man to give it to her.”
Chapter Six
Someone had lit fire to the sewing circle. Not literally, of course, but not a goodwife among them was not rife with whispers. Faith had not seen such a commotion since the witch hunt had begun, and only then when a new one among them had been accused. Terrified that the accusations had begun anew, that the horror was not yet over, she stood in the doorway clutching the small bundle of linens until Prudence grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. Faith placed her items on the table but did not sit. “What is going on?” she whispered to Prudence.
“Nathanial Abbot, of course.”
Faith turned to her friend, her jaw slackened. “This talk is for him?”
Prudence grinned slyly. “You have to admit, he is quite striking.”
“It matters not how handsome he is. Most of these women are married.”
“Married or not, they have eyes. And he has a fantastically firm behind.”
Faith looked to the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Is Arthur aware of your opinion of Nathanial’s behind?”
Prudence immediately flushed crimson at the mention of the man who had shown an increasing intent to court her. “I am certain it is none of his concern.”
Grinning, Faith leaned closer. “I might suggest the direction of your attention is very much his concern. I have seen how he looks at you.”
Before Prudence could respond, one of the goodwives called Faith’s name. “Faith, do tell. Is it true you entertained Goodman Abbot?”
“If you are referring to Nathanial and not his father, it is true he visited my house, but take nothing from it. I certainly would not refer to our meeting as entertainment, for he came only to share his condolences and pay his respects. He and Aunt Ruth were quite close.”
“If there is nothing more to it, why did he visit more than once?”
“His presence serves as a comfort to Mother.”
The conversation drifted away from Nathanial, and Faith breathed a sigh of relief. But it was not complete, for one Goodwife had yet to turn her attention.
Rebecca Mather.
Though she had always been nice enough to Faith—or at the very least, not outwardly hostile—Faith could not forget Rebecca’s terrible testimony against one of the first accused, the midwife Lydia Colson. What made it doubly troubling was the fact that Rebecca and Lydia had seemed to be friends until the moment Rebecca had pronounced Lydia a witch, a turn that had left Faith entirely unsure whether Rebecca could be trusted. Had there been something else between them, or was Rebecca simply cruel? Despite the dissolution of the court, Faith could not help but worry as to her
“You believe she will be so easily swayed?”
“I have been across the great ocean and back, and no woman has intrigued me the way Faith has. To find her unattached was unexpected and a blessing, and I can only hope exactly as we were meant to be. But I will not deny your wishes.”
“Her heart will be hard to win.”
“Goodwife…Felicity, I ask only for the opportunity to fight for it.”
“In that case, dear Nathanial, I can only wish you the best.”
Sweet relief ran its course through him. “I suspect I might need every one of those wishes,” he said. “Do your words mean you offer your approval?”
She raised a finger, shaking the kerchief at him. “It is not my approval you need. It is that of my daughter…and if I know my daughter, I suspect she will give you a fight.”
Nathanial stood and placed a hand on Felicity’s shoulder. “Rest assured, she may resist at first but she will soon be won. Your daughter will have a life far better than what Salem offers, and I am just the man to give it to her.”
Chapter Six
Someone had lit fire to the sewing circle. Not literally, of course, but not a goodwife among them was not rife with whispers. Faith had not seen such a commotion since the witch hunt had begun, and only then when a new one among them had been accused. Terrified that the accusations had begun anew, that the horror was not yet over, she stood in the doorway clutching the small bundle of linens until Prudence grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. Faith placed her items on the table but did not sit. “What is going on?” she whispered to Prudence.
“Nathanial Abbot, of course.”
Faith turned to her friend, her jaw slackened. “This talk is for him?”
Prudence grinned slyly. “You have to admit, he is quite striking.”
“It matters not how handsome he is. Most of these women are married.”
“Married or not, they have eyes. And he has a fantastically firm behind.”
Faith looked to the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Is Arthur aware of your opinion of Nathanial’s behind?”
Prudence immediately flushed crimson at the mention of the man who had shown an increasing intent to court her. “I am certain it is none of his concern.”
Grinning, Faith leaned closer. “I might suggest the direction of your attention is very much his concern. I have seen how he looks at you.”
Before Prudence could respond, one of the goodwives called Faith’s name. “Faith, do tell. Is it true you entertained Goodman Abbot?”
“If you are referring to Nathanial and not his father, it is true he visited my house, but take nothing from it. I certainly would not refer to our meeting as entertainment, for he came only to share his condolences and pay his respects. He and Aunt Ruth were quite close.”
“If there is nothing more to it, why did he visit more than once?”
“His presence serves as a comfort to Mother.”
The conversation drifted away from Nathanial, and Faith breathed a sigh of relief. But it was not complete, for one Goodwife had yet to turn her attention.
Rebecca Mather.
Though she had always been nice enough to Faith—or at the very least, not outwardly hostile—Faith could not forget Rebecca’s terrible testimony against one of the first accused, the midwife Lydia Colson. What made it doubly troubling was the fact that Rebecca and Lydia had seemed to be friends until the moment Rebecca had pronounced Lydia a witch, a turn that had left Faith entirely unsure whether Rebecca could be trusted. Had there been something else between them, or was Rebecca simply cruel? Despite the dissolution of the court, Faith could not help but worry as to her
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