“Oh, yes,” I cried, “it’s Sodom and Gomorrah all over again.”
She stared at me, her hands lifted above the bowl dripping flour into it.
I flounced out of the room. I wondered what Jasper would make of that.
The next day Chastity came up to my room. I was there alone, mending one of my petticoats which I had caught on a bramble bush the day before.
Chastity crept in furtively. She was a bright-eyed, pretty little creature, and there was the faintest touch of defiance in her eyes, and I imagined she had been told to keep away from me. She had learned that there was something else in life besides prayers that went on for so much of the day, and sewing garments that must not be pretty since beauty was sin, and learning the Scriptures off by heart and being shut in her room to commune with God on her sins.
For a brief while she had laughed and played games that did not have to improve the mind; she had acted just for the joy of being alive. And she had a will of her own.
“Chastity,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help sounding conspiratorial.
“Mistress Bella!” she cried and ran to me, burying her face in my lap and then looking up to smile—I must admit rather mischievously—at me.
“You’re not supposed to be here, you know,” I said.
She nodded laughing.
“I suppose I should tell you to go.”
“You should take me down to my mother and tell her that I have been wicked,” she said soberly. “But you won’t, will you?” She looked at the closed door. “Nobody knows,” she went on. “If anyone comes I’ll hide.” She ran to the cupboard, opened it and stood inside. Then she came out flushed with laughing.
She looked so pretty and so different from the poor little suppressed child I had seen when I arrived that I wanted to snap my fingers at the Puritans and let her be happy.
She came over to me and looked at the petticoat in my hand. It was a little too elaborate for a Puritan woman. It occurred to me then that we had not really been thorough enough. Of course we hadn’t. Harriet and I had not been part of the plan. We had broken into it, disrupting it.
“Tell me a story,” said Chastity. It was forbidden, of course, unless it was a homily on the wages of sin but I told her a story I had heard recently in France about a girl who had been forced by her stepmother to slave in the kitchens and whose fairy godmother had appeared and transformed her by conjuring up a ball dress so that she could go to the ball and meet the Prince who fell in love with her. Chastity was entranced and I couldn’t help feeling gratified to see how much she enjoyed it. I thought: I’ll be gone soon. What harm can it do for her to have a little pleasure?
While I was talking she was examining the petticoat I was mending, and putting her hand into the pocket, she brought out a shining button.
“Oh … pretty!” she cried.
She held it in the palm of her hand, her face transfixed with joy just to contemplate it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a button. I remember the dress it was on. It was blue velvet and there were ten buttons like this. One of them must have come off. Yes, I remember now when I last wore it. I meant to sew it on and put it in the pocket of my petticoat and clearly forgot it.”
Her fingers closed about it lovingly. She looked at me appealingly. What could I do? How foolish it was I realized later, but at the moment it seemed so trivial.
“Please … please, Mistress Bella, may I have it?”
How could I say no? What was it? Only a button. Poor Chastity, she was starved of pretty things.
I did say: “Your mother and father would perhaps not want you to have something so pretty.”
She hunched her shoulders and looked at my slyly. I didn’t say anymore. I knew that she would be wise enough to keep it out of their sight.
I didn’t see Chastity the next day. Ellen said she was in her room.
“Not sick, I hope,” I said.
Ellen nodded gravely.
“Perhaps I could go and see her?”
“Indeed not,” said Ellen fiercely.
Even then I was not suspicious.
I went out into the gardens to do my stint of weeding, and as I bent over the earth I was aware that a man was watching me.
I looked up sharply, uneasy as one always is when one feels one has been watched while unaware of it.
“Good day to you, friend,” said the man.
I replied with the customary: “And good day to you, friend.”
“I have travelled far and am in need of a bit to eat and a place to rest. Do you think I’ll get it at the house there?”
“I am sure you will. People in need are never turned away.”
“Can you be sure of it, mistress?”
“I can indeed.”
I straightened up and surveyed him—black coat, broad-brimmed hat, cropped hair, the usual aspect of the Puritan. Indeed where did one see any other?
I went on: “I, with my husband and sister, have been given hospitality under that roof, so I can speak with knowledge.”
“Ah,” said the man, “you are not of the house, then?”
“No, but resting there while our servant brings us the means to continue our journey. It is for that reason that I cannot offer you hospitality myself but can assure you that it will not be denied you.”
“Ah, tell me about the house. They are good Christian people?”
“As good Christians as you can find, I doubt not,” I said.
“I am a proud man, I would not be turned away, mistress.”
“Have no fear. If you are a good Puritan you will be given what you need.”
“Oh, but we are all good Puritans now, mistress.” He was looking at me oddly. “Needs must, eh?”
“’Tis so,” I said, not meeting his eyes.
“And you have come from afar?”
“From Chester.”
“A long journey.”
“Yes. Our money was stolen at an inn. We have thrown ourselves upon the kindness of these good people and we await the return of our servant with the means which will enable us to continue our journey.”
“There are evil men about, mistress. One would have thought that with so much piety abroad we should not have to look to our purses.”
“No, indeed.”
“I was once in Chester,” he went on. “Oh, many years … I knew it well.”
I hoped I didn’t show my uneasiness.
“A beautiful city, eh, friend? But cities are not meant to be beautiful. Where there is beauty there is corruption … so they tell us. And you travelled down from Chester, did you? A long journey. I once lived in Liverpool. Now you would have passed through it on your way.”
“Oh, yes,” I said quickly. “Let me take you to the house.”
“Thank you, friend. I watched you at work. If you will allow me to say so, you did not seem as though you were experienced at it.”
“No. I have done it only since I came here. It is fitting, of course, that we should all have our tasks …”
“Fitting, indeed.” He came a little closer to me. “Perhaps the day will come when we have time for other matters, eh?”
My heart was beating fast. I was sure that he was not what he seemed. I believed he wanted to get to the house to talk to Carleton and Edwin. He was one of their friends.
“It may be,” I said.
Slowly he closed one eye. It was meant to be a gesture of complicity. I started to walk towards the house.
Ellen was in the kitchen when we reached it. I said: “Here is a friend who seeks shelter.”
“Come in,” said Ellen. “That was never denied in this house.”
I went to the room I shared with Edwin, feeling a little uneasy. I wanted to find my husband to tell him what had happened, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I couldn’t find Harriet either. I supposed she was out gathering plants again. She had said she had to go far afield for them, and she was going to explain to Ellen how to use them when they were ready and to tell her what ills they would cure.