just before Fisher died, she began to grow big with child. She said it was mine, but did I know for sure? Other men were there, after all, and she was hardly wise or careful. In the end, after her brat had ruined my plans I was packed off to Boston to earn my own living, which I pretended to be happy enough to do. And Catherine had a reason to keep the silly girl captive, as she'd been kept herself.”
“So you simply forgot her,” said Longfellow, his voice carrying his contempt.
“But here's the real surprise! Now, when the little fool could make amends—when the family in Philadelphia might finally reward me for taking care of her, so that they need not—now, she refuses to marry me! Let her rot, then. I have my fortune tucked away where none will find it. All I need do is take the boy with me and pretend he has killed the two of you for revealing his crimes.”
“Then you admit you tried to make us believe that your own son is a murderer?” asked Longfellow, to be very sure—and to gain time by keeping the lawyer talking.
“Certainly. I supposed he had more of his mother in him, and that he would run away, taking the blame. But he proved too intelligent—probably because I, too, contributed to his being.”
“And now?” asked Charlotte.
“Now, we will proceed from judgment, to sentencing.”
“How do you propose,” asked Longfellow, “to accomplish our silence with one pistol?”
The attorney walked to an alcove where several curios were displayed. Among them was a rosewood box.
“Oh—” Charlotte breathed, as Moses Reed reached to open the lid.
“They're not loaded,” Longfellow informed him. “I keep powder and balls hidden, after another guest took— certain liberties.”
“But I've brought powder and balls for my own weapon. Earlier in my visit, I made sure that yours, too, were serviceable. In case I might come to need them.” He cocked first one dueling pistol, then the other.
Longfellow's eyes went to the door. The lawyer laughed, and stepped to block it. Two cocked pistols were now in Reed's hands. A third lay on the tea table at his side.
“I don't care who you are,” Ned cried defiantly. “I won't help you!”
“If you come with me willingly, boy,” his father answered, “I will let you live.”
“For how long?” the young man returned.
Charlotte gasped, and Moses Reed gave her a reassuring smile. He could not see that Magdalene Knowles, wearing felt-soled slippers, had come into the doorway behind him, on her way to the kitchen with a tea tray.
“Have no fear, Mrs. Willett. It should be less painful than the other end of my pistol, which you felt yesterday. And your head will no longer trouble you. As for your heart, it may as well be taken by me as by another.”
“And Magdalene?” Longfellow challenged. “What of her?”
“I have no further interest in what becomes of Magdalene Knowles. With no one left to care for her, she'll die soon enough. And that will be that.”
“I doubt it,” said Longfellow.
Reed turned at a slight sound, but he was too late. Magdalene had thrown the tray with surprising force; the man who had once claimed to love her raised his arms instinctively.
She launched herself toward him like a wild thing, causing Reed to stagger and fall, and cry out as he twisted a knee. Her full skirts flew over his face as she attempted to claim one of the weapons he'd dropped—the lawyer hung on to the pistol in his right hand. By some miracle, neither one had yet gone off.
Ned joined his writhing parents on the floor, clutching an arm that still threatened them with sudden death. For a few seconds he held on, until Moses Reed struck him a fierce blow with a clenched fist. The boy fell away, but by then Longfellow had leaped across the entangled bodies. Using a heel for encouragement, he made the attorney drop his weapon. He moved swiftly to reclaim a second, on the table. Turning to survey the scene, he saw Charlotte standing with a raised poker, her eyes flashing, much of her soft hair fallen down about her face.
Finally accepting what had happened, Reed sank back with a groan. At last Magdalene straightened her skirts, then reached beneath them. In another moment, her hand emerged with the third pistol.
She studied it for a moment, seeming to consider, while the others froze. She turned so that the barrel faced the man beside her. Without even