A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,42

ago.”

“A sneak thief,” cried Mrs. Proctor, pointing a finger to the ceiling. “A horrible thing, coming into houses! He will be caught, when a stolen piece is found for sale. That is what happened the last time something like this occurred here, when I was a girl. Put into the stocks and branded, he was! It was enough to make others think.”

“And yet, Sarah, I'm not sure we should worry about that today,” said Emily Bowers, “after what I heard this morning.”

“How do you mean?” asked Mrs. Proctor, her eyes newly suspicious.

“You've not heard?” Emily's smile could hardly be contained.

“How could I? Jemima came to ask my advice, which took well over an hour to give, and only moments ago did we step out to come here. Emily, what has happened? You look as if you've swallowed a toad!”

“There's been a death. And it was no accident.”

“Mrs. Willett! What is this all about? Tell me, quickly!” Sarah Proctor commanded.

Wondering at her reputation in the village, Charlotte began by relating, once more, the tale of how Lem had found Alex Godwin's body, and her own hatchet taken from the barn. She went on to tell the women of her recent visit with Reverend Rowe, and that Rowe and Richard Longfellow, as well as the lawyer Moses Reed, had begun to investigate.

“So, young Wainwright already has counsel? Hardly a sign of innocence,” Mrs. Proctor decided, “especially when it is a Boston lawyer. And I'm sure Jemima and I saw what led up to it. As you did, Mrs. Willett. Fighting, right before our eyes! Rashness, no mistake. At the time, I suspected Godwin must have insinuated himself where he wasn't wanted. Was that it? Or was he guilty of even worse?”

“With who?” asked Jemima, fidgeting at the thought. “Who would have asked him to make such advances?”

“A seducer hardly waits to be invited, Jemima. Especially one with no hope of succeeding otherwise.”

Charlotte now regretted her usual lack of interest in local gossip. “Was there some reason Alex had no hope of courting?”

“Beyond the fact that he was a proud ninny, I believe he had no property, no trade, no prospects—and no manners. He may have supposed his family would help him, but since his father allowed him to come back to Bracebridge alone, it would seem unlikely that he planned to leave him a living in Worcester. Or, that he cared what happened to the boy at all!”

“I can't imagine he was a passionate young man,” Emily Bowers objected. “According to what my sister told me, he stayed to himself. If he had any visitors, especially young women, I'm sure she would have said so. After all, she would hardly have approved of anything of the sort.”

“Boys grow into men, Emily. And when they do, what can one expect but trouble? Lem Wainwright, too, is nearly a man, and may well be responsible for this— whether his motives were admirable, which is possible, or, as I rather suspect, not.”

Charlotte flushed at this direct attack on a friend. Catherine Knowles, too, had stated a distrust of men, young and old. Did the pains and changes of old age, she wondered, tend to make one grow more harsh toward the opposite sex? Or was it simply the result of experience?

“Do you think we are safe?” Jemima Hurd asked, looking anxiously toward the windows that overlooked the lane.

“No one wants to murder you, Jemima,” Sarah Proctor answered. “Not for passion, not for gain. Though if someone has already slipped in and taken your caudle bowl, then you and the rest of us should be more careful. Let us all be more watchful of our neighbors, until the perpetrators of these wrongs are discovered. Let us also pass on what we learn to one another—for we can hardly hope for much from our new constable, nor from our inept selectmen!”

“I certainly will,” Emily Bowers promised. “And I'll be glad when Hiram returns. I don't like the idea of sleeping alone, though my children are with me. But you, Mrs. Willett! If, as you say, Mr. Longfellow plans to watch Lem until the identity of Alexander's attacker is proven, won't you be alone? Will you be safe? Don't you have several good pieces of silver, and your mother's pewter, as well? I believe you have more than most.”

“Orpheus will be there to guard me. And I have stout bars on the doors.”

“Take care, my girl,” Sarah Proctor advised. “If it was Lem Wainwright, remember he will be