· Web viewThe moments passed, ... It’s a perfectly fine word.” ... Again, they left most on the plate. Eliza did the same. They rested.

1Chapter Seventeen (continued)

Anne’s house was a three-story brick mansion. The extreme size impressed Eliza, but at the same

time made her yearn for her simple home in Lyson or even her father’s cabin in the woods. The

oaken doors were heavy planks held together by iron studs, strengthened and stiffened with iron

bands.

“This looks like it belongs in a castle,” Eliza said.

Anne laughed. “My husband is overly protective.” She pushed open the heavy doors.

Eliza had never seen a house such as this. The ceiling was as high as two tall men, one

atop the other. The walls were covered with embroidered woolen hangings and the colorful

cushions on the benches along the walls portended comfort and rest. Silver candlesticks sat atop

a heavy wooden chest by the door. The stone floor was solid and cold. To the right a door stood

open to a room filled with shelves of books with a heavy desk by a hearth. The open shutters let

in the sun through windows glazed with thick greenish glass. The awe Eliza felt upon entering

such opulence settled into an uncomfortable wariness. She didn’t belong in a place such as this.

“What does your husband do for a living?”

Anne offered her a satisfied smile. “He’s the constable.”

Eliza felt a kick to her gut as fear flashed through her. “The constable?” She knew

anyone could arrest her, but a constable was so much more. She’d seen outside constables at

Lyson, snooping around, asking all sorts of questions before riding off to the next village. If Ivan

came to Bells Corner, wouldn’t his first stop be at the constable’s office? Or maybe even his

home?

“Here, give me that poor thing,” Anne said, reaching for Raven strapped to Eliza’s back.

Eliza took a step backward. “She’s fine.”

Black / Half-Demon’s Sister / (pages 124 – 155) Page 2

“I just love babies. I can’t have any more of my own.” Anne untied the shawl wrapped

around Eliza’s shoulders that held the baby. “Do you think she’s hungry again? She’s a good

little eater.”

Eliza shook her head absentmindedly but permitted Anne to take the child. “So, your

husband’s very important around here.”

“He considers himself the most important man in the town which, I guess, he is. He calls

himself the eyes and ears of the court.”

Eliza swallowed hard. “I see.”

“He’s in charge of the gaolers, too.”

“You mean the stocks and the prisoners?”

“Well, the prisoners are basically the responsibility of the gaolers. It’s William’s job to

supervise the gaolers as well as gather evidence and report to the court.” She put a hand to her

mouth and in a stage whisper said,” Sometimes the gaolers are worse than the criminals. They’re

a bunch of thieves, but don’t tell him I said that.” She laughed and tossed her head back.

Eliza exhaled. Ivan would definitely talk to Anne’s husband. She’d have to leave this

place and melt into the crowd as soon as possible. It would not end well for her if she stayed here

too long.

A thin, middle-aged woman in a long tunic rushed from the back, drying her hands on her

apron. “Oh, ma’am. Forgive me. I did not hear ye.”

“Not to worry, Hazel.” Anne put a hand on Eliza’s back. “This is a new friend. She will

be staying with us for a few days.”

She would?

“Has Mr. Garroway already left?”


“Yes, ma’am. Bright and early as always.”

“And my son?”

Raven, now in Anne’s arms, twisted in her wrappings, uncovering an arm. Her dark eyes

glared up at Eliza with such an intensity Eliza frowned back. This child was hardly a week old

and yet held her gaze as if an angry master. Eliza tried to take the baby but Anne turned her back

to Eliza.

“All of us are hungry, Hazel. Prepare something to break our fast while I feed this little

one.”

The maid curtseyed.

“Eliza, go with Hazel.” Anne said as she turned left turned and took red-faced Raven

through a passageway covered by a screen into what appeared to be a drawing room.

remained in the vestibule, confused.

“This way,” the severe, dark-haired woman said, hurrying ahead.

Hazel led Eliza past the staircase, down a hall and past a room that held bottles of wine

and barrels of ale and cider. The next door off the passage led to the pantry where piles of linen

and tablecloths rested on shelves along with pewter plates, bronze flagons and enameled silver

covered goblets. To the right was a room with stuffed burlap bags of barley, oats and rye. An

entire side panel held pungent spices, most of which Eliza couldn’t name, but she clearly

deciphered basil, mint and rosemary. A heavy sweet, exotic smell filled the room while the ones

she knew seemed to float high in the air.

“Come along,” the maid said already opening a door at the end of the hall.

Here she found the kitchen, a large square room open to the roof beams, with two wide

fireplaces. A heavy-set woman of thirty or so stood over the largest hearth stirring a bubbling


cauldron, the smell of onions and wild rabbit in the hot air. The women nodded at each other.

“You can wash there,” she said, pointing to a heavy copper basin. “Cook, fill the tub for

the wench.”

The heavy-set woman scowled at her but left the room, appeared to actually leave the

house but soon returned with a bucket of water.

Eliza plunged her arms into the basin up to her elbows then splashed water on her face,

rubbed her neck. She reveled in the water’s coolness, closing her eyes, remembering the stream

she used to bathe in. This was heavenly. When she finally opened her eyes again she found the

two women staring at her, the cook with a towel in her hand.

Eliza smiled and took the cloth, scrubbing the dirt from her face and the dried blood from

under her fingernails.

“You can rest in the dining hall,” the maid said. Or was she the housekeeper? She seemed

to be in charge.

Eliza was led into another great room with a long, wooden table in the middle surrounded

by high back chairs engraved with grapevines. Along the side wall sat a magnificent cupboard

displaying silver platters and spoons, flagons and mazers as well as two-handled drinking cups.

Eliza held her breath.

Hazel raised her chin. “Wherefore does a comely wench such as yourself grace our

home? And with such a little one.”

The woman resembled a crow with her black hair pulled back, her bony cheeks and

elongated nose which now was raised to the rafters. Her beady eyes, nonetheless, held Eliza’s

gaze.

“She’s my sister.”


The housekeeper studied her a moment longer then broke the stare. “I see.”

“No, really she is.”

Hazel leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Mrs. Garroway is a very trusting sort,

brings home waifs and knaves all the time. But don’t think you can fool me. I see through ye.”

She stepped back and gave her the once over, taking in her filthy skirt and torn blouse.

Hazel then gave what was clearly a false smile and told her to have a seat. As the

housekeeper turned to leave the room, she stopped and turned back. “I know every utensil and

piece of tableware on that ambry,” she said nodding to the cupboard. “I shine them daily.”

The woman left the room and with that the warmth of the dining hall slowly returned.

Eliza used two hands to pull out a chair then gingerly lowered herself to the hard seat. Directly

across hung a painting of a trio of lords seated on steeds preparing to hunt, a pack of dogs

jumping about them. Did this family actually know such lords? Had Mr. Garroway ever hunted

for sport? Taking animals from the king’s forests without his permission was illegal. Even

fishing in his streams and lakes was disallowed though many did it. Surely the constable

wouldn’t do something like that.

How long would she be allowed to remain in this house? Should she remain? Until she

had healed the boy? And how was she to do that? A deaf boy was quite different from a bleeding

woman. There was nothing to stop. Quite the opposite. She’d have to start something and that

seemed much more difficult. Would they force her to leave once they realized she couldn’t heal

Usher? Worse, would Anne be angry with her? How could she combat both the established

midwife and the constable’s wife if they both told people she was either a witch or a fraud? And

if Ivan showed up, she’d be doomed. She didn’t know if the pain in her stomach was caused

more by hunger or fear.


The housekeeper returned followed by a young woman in an apron, carrying a wooden

tray. Eliza rose to greet them. “Thank you very much,” Eliza said, smiling at the girl.

The servant placed the tray on the table while the housekeeper surveyed the room,

doubtlessly looking for missing pieces. “I don’t know why you are eating so early. Dinner is not

served till mid-day.”

“I had no supper last night. It is very kind of you to share this with me.”

“The madam’s instructions,” she said eyeing Eliza. “I do what I am told.”

“Should I wait for Anne? Will she be joining me?”

The housekeeper sniffed. “She would never eat that.”

Eliza glanced at the meal. Cheese, a small loaf of barley bread and a mazer of ale. What

was wrong with that? This was often her supper when she wasn’t eating gruel or porridge.

“And it’s Mrs. Garroway to the likes of ye.”

Eliza noted the housekeeper’s annoyance, but she too was tired of being nice. She’d done

nothing to deserve this disdain. “She told me to call her by her given name.”

They glared at each other.

“It’s disrespectful to Mrs. Garroway’s station, no matter what she told ye.” The woman

turned on her heel and left.

The young woman remained, a silly smile on her face. “Pay her no mind. More bark than

bite, she is.”

Eliza lowered herself back to the chair. “Would you like some?” she said, breaking off a

piece of bread and offering it to her.

“Oh, no, miss. I couldn’t be doing that. You’re a guest.”

Eliza bit into the cheese, seeing how she was not offered a knife with which to cut it. She


rolled it around in her mouth. So sweet and creamy. The best cheese she’d ever tasted.

“Mind if I ask where you hail from. You ain’t from here.”

Eliza studied her young, pocked-marked face. Innocent as she seemed, Eliza couldn’t

trust this girl to keep her tongue still. “I come from a little village north of here. Days away

actually.”

“So why did you come here? Must be a market town closer to your parts.”

Eliza felt it best not to mention the tinker. In fact, she didn’t want to say anything. She

stuffed her mouth with bread and cheese and kept chewing until the girl forgot her question and

asked a different one.

“Is that your baby the madam is feeding?”

Eliza swallowed then took a swig of ale. “My sister,” she finally said.

“She’s a feisty one. She looks to be about a month old from what I can tell.”

Eliza almost said she was little more than a week but paused.

“My ma had lots of babies. That’s why I’m here.”

Eliza held up a finger. “May I ask you a question?”

The girl squared her shoulders. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

“Why does Mrs. Garroway nurse other people’s babies? She and her husband are

obviously well off.”

The girl shrugged. “She can’t have no more babies, and she loves them.”

“Yes, but to sell her services to common merchants such as the tanners.”

“Oh, well, she couldn’t be feeding the babies of her equals, now could she? That

wouldn’t be right.”

Eliza thought about it and nodded. “I suppose not.”


“And what’s her son like?”

“Usher?” The servant wagged her head from side to side. “He’s just a poppet. Only four.

And he can’t hear so he’s got reason to be so ... unhappy. ”

“How did he lose his hearing?”

The door burst open and Anne entered, Raven in her arms. “What are you doing here,

girl?” Anne said to the servant. The girl quickly curtseyed and rushed from the room.

“I hope Fira wasn’t bothering you with her prattle. Doesn’t have the brains of a goat, but

she is kindhearted.”

Eliza wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “She was fine.”

“It’s almost terce, time for prayers. Father John is already here.”

Eliza gulped. “Of course.” Why would the priest be here? “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Prayers first, and then I’ll introduce you to Usher. He should be awake by then. I can eat

while you and my sone get acquainted.”

Eliza rose quickly, glancing down at the half share of cheese and bread loaf left on the

platter. She drained the mazer of its ale.

Anne smiled sweetly. “I don’t mean to rush you but God calls.” She turned toward the

door. “Follow me.”

Eliza grabbed the cheese and bread and stuffed them in her pocket and hurried after the

constable’s wife.


Chapter Eighteen

Eliza followed Anne up the spiral staircase to the second floor. They padded down the carpeted

hallway, passing door after closed door. Eliza couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind them.

Were they bedrooms? Work rooms perhaps? Finally, Anne stopped in front of a simple, wooden

door, equal to the rest, but she crossed herself and entered.

Eliza’s nerves quivered like a gittern’s strings. She followed quickly.

The room stood shrouded by darkness until Anne lit a match revealing shadows that grew

as she lit candles and the room took on form. There were six rows of benches, three on the right

and three on the left. The soft light glistened off silver candlesticks gracing the wooden altar.

Eliza stopped at the sight of the large cross over the altar. It held an emaciated Jesus Christ

nailed to it, a crown of thorns piercing his brow. She’d heard the story of her lord’s death many

times, had winced at the idea, but she’d never seen it. Her stomach clenched as her eyes welled.

How he had suffered!

“Eliza!” Anne whispered.

She tore her gaze from the depiction. Anne was already sinking to her knees and crossing

herself before entering the first of pews. Eliza hurried forward and crossed herself before sitting

next to her friend. She was out of her depth. She’d never been to a place such as this. Even the

makeshift church in the cobbler’s house in Lyson Village hadn’t been nearly this profound and

spiritual. And where was Raven? Who had Anne passed her off to? What would happen if Raven

entered such a sacred place? Their entire reality could be revealed. She really was the child of a

demon. How long would Eliza be able to hide that? Eliza pushed the thought from her mind.


A sweet aroma descended upon her. Not that of rosemary or mint but a hint of lavender.

Still, nothing she’d smelled before. She turned to find a priest dressed in a long black robe in the

doorway. He dangled incense burners, the smoke and fragrance filling the room. He crossed the

threshold chanting then passed her, headed for the altar. It was Father John, the same priest who

had given the tanner’s wife last rites. He looked much more formidable in the flickering

candlelight, more serious and even more devout.

Eliza froze. There’d never been a real priest at her village, but she did pray at sunrise and

terce and the mid-day prayer and at mid-afternoon as best she could. She always stopped and

thanked God for his grace and forgiveness. But this was different. This was official and

judgmental, and she wondered if any of her previous prayers had had any effect since they were

not done like this. Father John raised his arms and said a prayer in a foreign tongue. Psalms were

read. The mass proceeded. Eliza couldn’t follow it. Had God ever even heard her prayers before

today?

Eliza believed He had. She would use all of her powers now to reach her lord in case

she’d done it wrong for all those years. She prayed for the soul of her mother first. She surely

lived in purgatory, perhaps beyond redemption, but Eliza preferred to believe that her God was a

forgiving god. We are all of us weak.

She thanked God for the gifts he’d given her. She, through His power and grace, had

saved the tanner’s wife and son. She prayed for them, prayed for Anne and thanked Him for

bringing her into Eliza’s life to nourish Raven.

She paused. The priest was chanting again. The foreignness unsettled her. It seemed to

give him hidden knowledge. He might know about Raven as he must have a closer relationship

to God. Did he know she was the product of a demon’s lust? Did this man judge her for caring


for the child? Surely God must agree that she could not kill the infant.

As much as Eliza wanted to believe her god was a forgiving god, she also knew he was a

vengeful god. Eliza had had nothing but problems since she left Lyson Village. This house, right

here, had been the first good thing that had happened to her, but it too was tinged with future

trepidation. Had He been testing her? Perhaps because she saved the tanner’s baby boy, He’d

granted her a reprieve. He’d smiled on her.

Anne and the priest were singing a hymn Eliza didn’t know. She’d been so deep in prayer

and thought she’d not realized that the mass had moved on.

How much more would He smile on her if she, working through His saints, cured Usher?

Who knew the bounds of God’s love and favor? If she did everything according to His rule,

would He not favor her? How could He do anything but favor her?

Then, as if a spell had been broken, Anne rose and smiled at the priest. He smiled backed

and blessed her. Eliza rose quickly as Anne made introductions. Up close, he didn’t look like a

priest. He was fairly young and surprisingly handsome. His dark eyes twinkled at Anne and he

held her gaze a beat too long. Anne seemed enthralled, tossing back her blonde hair and smiling

demurely. He didn’t seem like a priest at all.

Father John turned his gaze to Eliza and smiled at her, too. This was a good sign. He

detected nothing. But as Anne pulled her aside to leave, the priest’s smile seemed to slip. More

than slipped. She lowered her gaze. Did he dislike her? Distrust her? If he did, she knew why.

Perhaps she should have drowned Raven as soon as she was born. Perhaps that had been her

Christian duty. But she just couldn’t. And now, as the child grew, she knew she never could. She

would shield that child. Protect her and teach her the ways of the lord. She stared up at Anne and

Father John in close conversation.


Then Eliza had an epiphany. How powerful would be the child of a demon if she grew up

at the foot of their lord Jesus Christ? She may convert any number of demons previously lost to

God. Raven could be a prophet.

Eliza lowered her head. Was this too much to ask?


Chapter Nineteen

When terce was over and the priest had again blessed both Anne and Eliza the women headed

back down the corridor, arriving at a door off to the left. Anne knocked twice then entered the

room.

“I don’t know why I keep doing that,” Anne said over her shoulder.

“Doing what?”

They entered a child’s room. Eliza had never seen a room that was dedicated just to one

person, let alone to a four year old. In her village, entire families slept in the same room, often on

the same bed, but this enclosure was different. Usher had his own bed with a feather mattress

covered in linen sheets and a green carpet bedcover. A chest stood in the corner and a simple

table and chair sat by the green-glazed window. A collection of toy soldiers, half painted blue

and half painted red, stood on the table where the boy sat playing with them. His little hands held

a knight on a steed equipped with a lance battling a knight on foot with a sword. They clashed

brutally. Eliza smiled. Boys in her village did the same thing but with wooden handmade

soldiers, not these metallic ones.

Anne approached the boy and knelt down, placing an arm around his shoulder.

Usher startled then flung his arms around her neck.

“What have you here?” Anne said loudly. “Who’s winning?”

The boy didn’t respond, and Anne took his face in her hands. Looking him straight in the

eye she slowly and exaggeratedly said “Who’s winning?”

The boy smiled. “The Black Prince, of course! This one,” he said holding up the knight


on his steed.

“But he’s blue,” his mother said.

The boy looked at the knight and frowned. “He’s blue!” the boy yelled. “He is Edward.

He must be black!” Usher threw the knight across the room. It landed at Eliza’s feet. She knelt to

pick it up, but Anne held up a hand. The boy was on his feet, stamping about the room and Anne

grabbed him by the shoulders. “No!” she yelled. “Pick that up.”

The boy shook his head.

“We don’t throw things.”

The boy crossed his arms over his chest.

Anne pointed to Eliza. “She is a friend,” she said loudly and slowly. “A friend. She will

help you with your ears.” She pointed to her ears then to the boy. “Will help you.”

Eliza had no idea how to help him. “How is it that he talks if he cannot hear?”

Anne rose and came over to Eliza as the boy plopped himself back down on the chair. He

swung his arm across the table and tossed all the soldiers onto the floor. Anne rolled her eyes.

“He did hear when he was younger. He was fine. Perfect. Then last December, right after

Christmas, he fell ill. He had the sweating sickness. I was so afraid we were going to lose him,

but he recovered. He also started to have trouble hearing. It came on gradually until now he can

hear almost nothing.”

“So he can hear some things?”

Anne smiled, gave a small shrug. “If you clang a bell next to him. We were entering the

church just as the bells pealed, and he jumped. He heard them, but I don’t know exactly how

much he heard.”

“And the doctor said there was nothing to do?”


“Doctor Winsome peered into his ears, bled him with leeches which he was certain would

work, then poked around with a thin rod but that seemed to make things worse.”

Eliza had an idea. Her mother had often suffered from a similar condition but never for

this long a time.

“Father John says it’s God’s will. That without the power to hear Usher will see things

that others miss. I suppose that’s true. He knows best, of course, but right now the boy is

suffering so. He has become quite difficult. Do you think you can heal him?”

“I can try. I’ll need warm water, some salt and a towel.”

“Salt?”

Surely salt wouldn’t be too much to ask from a household such as this.

Anne’s hands flew to her face. “I can have Father John bless the water before he leaves.

Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Anne turned to leave but Usher rushed to her, arms up, hands clawing her dress.

“No. No,” she said shaking her head firmly. “Stay,” she yelled. “One moment.” She

gestured with her fingers that she was walking away but then would be walking back. He cried

out, grasping at his mother.

Eliza meandered toward the boy’s table and started picking up the knights and horses that

had been thrown to the floor. Anne pointed at Eliza, and Usher stopped screaming long enough

to dash to the table and grab as many of the soldiers as he could. Eliza kept the red knight, the

one that represented King John II of France, and acted like he was escaping off the side of the

table. While Anne slipped out of the room, Usher grabbed the red knight. Eliza acted shocked

and distraught. She gestured that he’d taken the King—which she knew the British had actually

done, everyone knew that story—then made all the red soldiers fall over in utter defeat on the


table.

Usher stared up at her. A smile tugged at his mouth. Eliza smiled back and rubbed his

upper arm. She picked up all of the red pieces and put them in a line on the far end of the table

and was pleased to see Usher doing the same with the blue on his side of the table.

She pantomimed that she wanted to look at his ears, but he shook his head vigorously. “I

know,” she said, pointing to his ears. “They hurt,” she said grimacing and covering her own ears.

“I will try to help.” She held her palms together as if in prayer and made a sad, pleading face.

The boy looked away and focused on his soldiers.

Eliza edged toward him, close enough to peer into his left ear. It was inflamed, perhaps

because he tugged at it so much. She sent up a prayer to Saint Jude asking him to intercede, at

least, to guide her.

Usher yanked away from Eliza. She held up her pointer finger. Then, making the funniest

face she could, she acted like she was digging around in her pocket. Digging and digging.

Finally, she pulled out the half eaten ball of cheese and made an exaggerated face as if surprised

by what she’d found.

Usher laughed and lunged for the food. She let him have it, pleased with his enthusiasm.

By the time Anne returned with the warm, salted water, Eliza was rocking Usher in her lap on

the side of his bed as if she were his nanny. Anne sat on the foot of the bed looking amazed.

“Even his caretaker doesn’t get him to do that,” she whispered.

Eliza disentangled herself from the boy who crawled over to his mother and cuddled in

her arms. Eliza went to her satchel and pulled out her amber, her coral and the jet bowl. She

transferred the water from the pot Anne had brought to the smaller, jet bowl.

“I have to ask you to leave,” Eliza said.


Anne looked up. “What?”

“Did the priest bless the water?”

Anne shook her head. “He’d already gone. Why can’t I stay?”

“I am used to being alone. It helps my concentration.”

“Usher will be calmer with me here.”

Eliza looked at the boy laying peacefully on the bed in his mother’s lap. “He looks calm

enough.”

Anne straightened. “You’re sure you can do this?”

“No,” Eliza said. “If God wills, but I cannot fight against the will of God.”

“I understand,” Anne said. She moved, agitating the boy, but he was quickly soothed by

Eliza taking his mother’s place.

Once Anne left and Eliza had checked the door to make sure it was secure, Eliza set up

the chair next to the bed. She dipped the corner of the towel into the water. She situated Usher so

he lay on his side, his left ear up. He fussed and Eliza pulled out the half loaf of bread. The boy

grabbed for it, but she shook her head and yanked it back. She held up her pointer. “First, this.”

She held up two fingers. “Then this,” she said pointing to the bread. The boy seemed to

understand and fell back onto the mattress.

Eliza squeezed the corner of the towel so a few drops fell into his ear. The boy squirmed

but she leaned over and held him tight. The moments passed, one upon the next. She said four

Lord’s prayers and eight Hail Mary’s until it was time to turn him. She rolled Usher onto his

other side and allowed the water to drain out. She’d hoped for better.

“Can you hear me?” Eliza said to the boy.

Usher did not respond.


Eliza frowned. That usually worked on her mother’s ears. Eliza dipped the corner of the

towel into the water again then squeezed more into his ear this time. The boy fought her, trying

to grab at his ear, but she held his arms tight to his side. She repeated her prayers more fervently.

The more she prayed the more Usher fought her until her patience ended. Angry, she closed her

eyes, gripping the child, incapacitating him. She imagined wax in his ears and willed it to loosen

its grip on the child’s ear. Usher kicked in pain or frustration. She held him tighter. She turned

the boy onto his side to let the problem, whatever it was, drain out. The salt water flowed out

again, this time a bit thicker.

“Usher?”

The boy glanced at her, but she couldn’t tell if he’d heard her or not.

“One more time,” she said, holding up her pointer.

Usher shook his head and punched her chest. She grabbed his arms.

“Once more.”

She turned the boy on his side a third time. She gave up on her prayers and instead held

him tight and closed her eyes again. She imagined a healing light working inside the boy’s ears.

She focused, letting the child’s screams rush over her. The moments ticked on. Finally, she

applied the salt water again and waited a little longer, deciding to say extra Hail Marys and

Lord’s Prayers as an afterthought. When Usher tried to rise again, she turned him onto his other

side and swabbed the outer ear. This time, along with the salt water, came a glob of goo. She

smiled and cleared it away with the towel.

“Can you hear me?”

Usher’s eyes lit up. “What?”

“Can you hear me?”


He sat straight up. “Yes!”

He hugged her neck. Eliza had to hold back her tears. He was cured, and she had done it.

It was a marvelous feeling. And it was such a simple thing but even the most prestigious doctor

in the town couldn’t figure out a simple country solution. But no sooner had the thought come to

her and she doubted it. Prayers alone hadn’t worked. The salt water hadn’t done it. Her

concentration and insistence on the wax to abide her had. She shook her head. It was God

working through her. But it felt like it was her working alone. She reddened at the thought.

“We have to do the other side,” she said quickly to the boy.

Usher laid down instantaneously.

As Eliza dipped the corner of the towel back into the water she realized she was very

vain. St. Jude had helped her, of course, and she sent up a prayer of gratitude and thanksgiving

and a request that he work his miracle again on the right ear. Then she focused as before,

imagining the obstruction disentangling, moving by her will. And it did.

Usher heard as he’d done so many months before. He ran running from the room, yelling

for his mother as Eliza rested on the bed pleased with herself and pleased with her closeness to

God.


Chapter Twenty

Hazel appeared in the doorway as Eliza was making Usher’s bed.

“What are ye doing?”

Eliza looked up at the glowering woman. “I’m tidying up.”

“Why? That’s not your job.” She raised her chin. “You have no job in this house.”

“I was waiting for Anne to come up. Did you see that Usher can hear?”

“Yes, and everyone is quite upset.”

The hair on the back of Eliza’s neck rose. “Why would anyone be upset? I would think

—”

“He ran away. Ran straight out of the house. Almost got run over by a passel of hogs.”

“I don’t understand.”

“His mother had returned to the tanner’s house to feed his newborn, and Usher wanted to

tell her.”

Eliza turned her face away to try to hide a smile.

“It’s not funny.”

“Well,” Eliza said, approaching the woman who took a step back. “Where’s my sister?

She probably needs a change.”

“Fira’s taking care of her. They’re in the drawing room . Fira should be cutting carrots for

dinner. She’s a scullion maid, not a nursemaid.”

“I can certainly care for my sister, and I’m most appreciative of all the kindness you have

shown the two of us.”


The housekeeper gave her a suspicious look.

“So, who cares for Usher if Fira works in the kitchen?” Eliza thought that maybe they

needed a nanny for the boy. She’d seemed to make a connection with him.

The housekeeper squared her shoulders. “I do.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other. “Usher!” the woman yelled over her shoulder. “Come hither.”

The little boy peeked around the doorway.

“Look what miss had to do? She cleaned up your whole room because you left it in such

disarray. What do you say?”

“Grammarcy.”

The housekeeper nudged him. “Speak proper.” The boy looked up at Eliza, doubtful.

“No need. I understand grammarcy. It’s a perfectly fine word.” Eliza smiled at the boy

who smiled back.

“Maybe for the likes of ye but here we speak proper.” She scowled down on the boy.

“Say thank ye.”

The boy bowed low, rose up and with a wide grin said, “Grammarcy.”

The housekeeper flushed red as an October apple. “The two of you stay here until called

for dinner. And if you misbehave you’ll be kissing the hare’s foot.” She turned and left the room.

After the housekeeper was far enough away, Eliza and Usher fell about giggling. “Kiss

the hare’s foot?” Eliza said. “Never heard that turn of phrase.”

“She says it all the time. It means I’ll miss dinner,” Usher said as he headed for the three

wooden toy boats next to his table. “But I never miss dinner.”

“How does it feel to hear again?”


He grinned at her. “Wonderful. Thank you making me hear again. But my ears still hurt.”

“Stop pulling on them, and they’ll get better.”

“I hope you stay forever.”

Eliza hoped so, too. Since she really couldn’t have done this on her own, God must be

favoring her. He would protect her.


Chapter Twenty-One

Eliza stepped into the dining hall to find Constable William Garroway standing at the head of the

long oaken dining table, a tall man with bushy eyebrows. Eliza’s immediate attraction to his

pleasant countenance was instantaneously dissolved as he scowled at her late entrance. Usher

stood to his right while Anne was at the foot of the table. Eliza curtseyed to the man of the house

then rose up and looked him straight in the eye.

He stood a head taller than she and probably carried double her weight. He was older

than she had expected since Anne seemed to be only in her early twenties. This serious man with

his dark hair and darker eyes looked close to forty.

“Thank you for permitting me to partake in this meal,” Eliza said.

“Yes,” he said more as a grunt than a word. He turned to look directly at his wife.

Anne gestured that Eliza should join her at the foot of the table, to take her place at her

left. Why didn’t they all sit close to each other? Eliza bustled to her place. When each was at

their station, the constable nodded to Anne who took her seat, then he sat and then the others

followed suit.

They rested in silence for a moment until an older man with a flagon entered the room

followed by a boy no more than seven carrying a large, copper bowl. The ewerer, as Eliza

learned was his title, poured water over the constable’s hands, the boy’s bowl catching the water.

One by one, the old man cleansed the hands of the family until he reached Eliza. She held her

hands over the bowl as she had seen the others do. The flow of water relaxed her. She didn’t

want it to stop. But soon a cloth was offered and the ritual ended. The constable said grace and


the housekeeper then entered with steaming trays of ground meat in spiced wine sauce, a pork

pottage, a chicken pottage, and a meat fritter that Eliza suspected was pheasant. Once the master

of the house had tried each dish it was shared with the others. The smells alone made Eliza

swoon.

Eliza, who had never seen such a display, emptied the ends of the mess of ground meat

onto her trencher, a hollowed out bread bowl. Anne glanced at her, then smiled, and Eliza felt

she might have taken too much. But she was hungry. Still, she didn’t want to seem too greedy.

By the time she’d finished the food on her trencher, Eliza realized that the rest of the

people, including little Usher, had left their trenchers nearly full. Was she such a glutton?

Nevertheless, she was sated and sat back in her chair as the old man and Hazel cleared their

plates. It didn’t matter if she didn’t eat supper later in the day. This was enough food to last a day

or two.

“My wife informs me,” the constable said, shattering the silence, “you have healed our

son.”

She studied him. Eliza presumed that he, as constable, had heard the rumors now

probably raging through the town that Eliza was a witch. Yet he didn’t fear her. On the contrary,

Eliza thought it might be prudent to fear him.

“Twas a simple thing. No magic involved. He simply had—”

“No one said anything about magic,” the constable said brusquely.

Eliza lowered her gaze.

Through the doorway came the housekeeper and the old man bringing more platters.

Who could want more after a meal like that? Nevertheless, she was relieved to have the

attention taken from her.


Hazel brought in a silver tray of apples and pears. Each person took a few pieces. Eliza

did the same. They ate the fruit with their knives instead of picking them up as she normally

would. Again, they left most on the plate. Eliza did the same. They rested.

No one spoke. She didn’t know why. She and her mother talked non-stop during their

meals. Not so in this household. She caught the constable staring at her a few times which caused

her cheeks to burn, but she couldn’t read his mind so what could she do?

Suddenly, the door open again and what appeared to be the real second course arrived.

Eliza heaved a sigh. She wished she hadn’t gorged on the apparent first course.

They came like a parade. This course consisted of roast flesh: venison, coney, chicken

and partridge. Just when Eliza thought the table was full another servant would appear with

another dish. Did they eat like this every day or only because they had a guest? Perchance

because she had healed their son of his deafness? Eliza couldn’t tell.

She couldn’t resist trying all of these exotic dishes. She had eaten rabbit and chicken

before but had never tried venison or partridge. Eliza felt like she would bust. These morsels

were beyond her experience, each tasting more scrumptious than the last.

Anne placed a hand on her thigh as Eliza reached for seconds.

“There’s another course to come,” Anne whispered.

How could there be third course coming? It was unfathomable. But soon came the

platters of baked quinces, damsons in wine, apples and pears with sugar, and fruit compotes.

Then nuts, strawberries, and whinberries followed. Eliza sat back on her chair taking in the feast.

No wonder everyone had left more on the platters than they’d put in their trenchers.

After ten minutes Eliza couldn’t stand the silence. “What happens to all of the food that’s

left over?”


All three stared at her as if she’d broken some unspoken rule.

“It’s given to the poor,” the constable finally said. “By the way, there’s an almshouse

close to St. Dominic’s,” he said pointedly.

“That’s Father John’s church,” Anne added.

It took Eliza a moment to realize of whom they spoke, the handsome young priest who

had presided over their private mass. “He seems very nice,” Eliza said with a smile, choosing to

ignore the reference to the poorhouse.

Anne nodded. “He’s fairly new. Arrived about a year ago. A wonderful man. We are

blessed that the church permits him to visit us so often.”

The constable cleared his throat. “I can show you where the almshouse is, if you wish.”

Eliza couldn’t ignore that. She looked up at him and was about to accept the invitation

when Anne broke in, declaring that she’d hoped Eliza could stay with them for awhile, until she

got established. “Besides, her little one will need feeding for at least a few more months.”

“Months!” the constable said. “She can’t stay here for months.”

“William...”

“No, I won’t have it. Do you have any idea what people are saying about her?”

Anne glanced at Eliza, adding to Eliza’s distress. “Widow Smith is nothing but a gossipy,

old woman. I was there when she came in this morning. The night before she’d declared both

Matilda and her babe dead when neither were. Eliza managed to save the boy as well as the

mother. Then Widow Smith started howling about Eliza being a witch. She’s just jealous.”

“The boy was dead in the womb, Anne. Who knows better when an infant is dead than

the midwife who has birthed near everyone in the town?”

Anne’s face grew red. “Well, clearly, the baby wasn’t dead. How else could Eliza have


birthed him?”

The constable stared hard at Eliza, his contempt palpable. “How indeed.”

“Widow Smith doesn’t want any competition, and she’s grown old. She can’t handle the

problem cases anymore. It’s that simple.”

“I won’t have these two hedge-born girls staying in my house.”

“William, please! Don’t insult our guest. She healed our son.”

“All the more reason for her to leave. That news has probably reached half the town by

now.”

“It was wax,” Eliza mumbled as the housekeeper again entered, this time carrying a plate

of cheeses. She was followed by the old man who held a flagon of spiced red wine. The boy

followed him with a plate of wafers. They stood behind the chairs until told to relinquish their

food and were dismissed.

The constable picked up a cube of cheese and popped it in his mouth. He turned to Eliza.

“There’s a small hospital nearby where the nursing sisters help the sick. You apparently have a

talent for that. You could go to them. Join their order, perhaps.”

Anne shook her head. “All those nursing sisters are old. They don’t allow young girls like

Eliza to tend the opposite sex.” She turned to Eliza. “You don’t want to be a nun, do you?”

Eliza sat speechless. She’d never considered that option. Would they take her with a

babe?

“What’s wrong with being a nun?” the constable said. “Best job a woman can have.

Better than being a wet-nurse.”

Anne’s mouth dropped open. “What does that mean?”

“That means your chosen field is undignified. It’s beneath you.”


“I give nourishment,” she sputtered. “I give life.”

“We’ve discussed this before. How am I supposed to maintain the respect of the

townspeople when you bare your breasts to them? And this last one? The tanner?”

“The men don’t see me.”

“You came home stinking this morning from that shop. Even now I can smell the stench

of his shop on you.”

Anne teared up. “I washed.”

The constable rose. “Pull yourself together. I won’t have you making a scene, Anne.” He

turned to Eliza. “I appreciate what you did for Usher.” He nodded at the boy who sat staring

straight ahead like a toy soldier. “But I am responsible for keeping the peace in this town. I can’t

have someone who is suspected of immoral or illegal behavior in my home. I’m sure you can

understand that.”

“Illegal behavior?” Eliza said.

“Do you have a cow?”

“Oh, William,” said Anne. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I was informed today by a tithing group that a young woman with a newborn was

traveling with a cow who is wanted for murder in a village close to us. They had reason to

believe she was here. All I want to know is if she has a cow.”

Eliza swallowed hard. “I do not have a cow.”

“And that babe is no newborn. She’s five weeks old if not six.”

The constable set his gaze upon his wife. “Nevertheless, she’s to be gone by the time I

return for the evening meal.”

“William! She healed our son. Surely, we can offer her more than that. At least, a night.”


The constable’s face flushed red as sunset. “And you are finished giving milk to every

orphan and sickly infant in the town.”

“I have made a commitment to the tanner. The baby will die without me.”

He shook his head. “There are plenty of wet-nurses in this town. Gavin wanted you

because you’re the cheapest wet-nurse in Bells Corner.”

“It’s my Christian duty!”

“Find another one.”

Constable William Garroway threw his towel on the table and marched out.

END OF SUBMISSION

· Web viewThe moments passed, ... It’s a perfectly fine word.” ... Again, they left most on the plate. Eliza did the same. They rested.

Documents