A Mischief in the Snow - By Margaret Miles Page 0,45
than what happens now!”
“I've sometimes wondered why, when such a great house was erected, it had so little effect on our village. Not many here have ever visited the island, have they?” she prodded gently.
“John Fisher,” Jonah began in earnest, “first bought the isle, then sent across the sea for a ship full of masons and carpenters. That would have been in 1718—fifty years ago. And he brought with him a master builder. He and Fisher knew other men who'd settled to the north of us, across the Merrimac. It was their quarries that supplied the rock they floated in on barges. Once the house was begun, Fisher welcomed parties made up of these men and other sporting gentlemen he was acquainted with, not a few from his homeland. He only sent for his wife and daughter some time later, when the place was nearly finished. And the hunting parties continued, for the first boars had multiplied, once they'd driven out whatever else lived wild there.”
“Why were so few from Bracebridge invited to visit the island?”
“Our minister at the time was an old Puritan, a sour apple by the name of Dr. Pruitt. He had no liking for the place, or what he heard went on there. Hunting for sport— men dancing with many young ladies—none of them taking a proper interest in religion, though Lutherans, I think some were—all of this, he told us at meeting, was sinful. He forbid us from having anything to do with the builders, and as Fisher had his own friends up in Nova Scotia, it was them that cleared his goods, and sent them on to Salem— so he had no need of us, nor Boston, either! We did see the house going up, and some of us might have gone to take a peek or two. But we mainly stayed away. All but James Godwin. It was Godwin who sold Fisher his liquor, at a good profit, which I suppose Dr. Pruitt might have envied. Then around twenty years ago, Fisher went to meet his maker. After that only Alaric Jones went to the isle, to do chores for the two women who stayed on. The rest of the world forgot them, or at least left them alone.”
Charlotte had further questions, but before she could ask another, Jonah delivered a query of his own.
“What brought you here today, Mrs. Willett? Was it to ask Ned for his help, as I guessed earlier? Or was it something quite different?”
“You've not been out this morning?”
“I may still walk a bit, but not for long. With Ned gone, I usually stay indoors. A cruel wind, too, has come upon us.”
“Something worse came last night, Jonah.” Charlotte repeated the tale of what Lem had discovered, and what she and Richard Longfellow had brought back to the village. When she was through, Jonah Bigelow continued to watch her intently, his faded eyes unblinking.
“That hatchet,” Charlotte added, “is what has brought me here. Yesterday it rested near Ned's feet, not far from your own. Can you recall? Did someone else come and take the canvas bag, or remove the hatchet from it, while you sat there?”
“A woolen scarf on top, you say,” he answered slowly. “I did see that, for I recall thinking it would be warm. I asked myself who'd left it. But then, having a nip of something to warm myself, and perhaps another after that, I lost track of things. This hatchet, now, I wasn't aware of. You might ask Mr. Flint or Mr. Tinder. Or John Dudley. Though I doubt any would tell you more.”
“And Ned?”
“Ned seems your best hope. He rarely takes anything to drink beyond small beer, for it worsens his playing, you see. I'm sure he never got to be as bad as we were—and later, he had no trouble helping me home.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, some time after two. Most were still enjoying themselves, but it seemed time for me to go.”
Seeing her disappointment, Jonah added a comforting word. “You needn't worry about Lem Wainwright. He's a good lad. Each time he's been here lately, he's been cheerful as can be.”
“He comes here?” she asked abruptly.
“As men will seek out others, to discuss this and that, you know. Lately, it's most often been to talk about a pretty miss. I once thought Ned might be interested in Mattie Sloan—but it seems it's Lem she's chosen. A good wife she'll make him too, once he's old enough to ask.”