Page 74 of The Witch

But to my surprise, he shakes his head. “I would not. I am a man of God, and I am unable to defend my wife’s actions to this courtroom.”

There is a stunned silence, followed by shocked murmurs and cries. With those words—his refusal to refute these accusations—Archie has just condemned me. I try to catch his eye, but he will not look at me.

Has this been his plan all along? Has he lain with Molly, and now that she is with child, he has found a way to be rid of me? Once I have been hanged, he will be free to take a new wife. He will be free to wed Molly and have the son he dreamed of, that I could not provide.

“Silence!” Putman snaps, banging his gavel repeatedly. “I demand order in this courthouse!”

It takes time, but eventually, the chatter ceases. All the accusers have spoken. My only potential defender has declined to speak. Now, there is only one thing left.

“Mistress Caroline Eldridge,” Putman says, “pray come to the front of the room.”

It is my only chance.

55

PRESENT DAY

JULIA

Is Ethel my grandmother?

I watch her at the stove, scrambling some eggs for breakfast. When she is here, Ethel always commandeers the kitchen. My father looks more like Gram than like Ethel, although if she is his mother, then Gram is his aunt. They all would resemble each other.

I called my father and asked him as casually as I could about his relationship with Ethel growing up, but because of her exile by his own grandparents, he barely knew her as a child. It struck me as terribly sad that he might have been deprived of a chance to know his biological mother, but when my voice broke, I pretended I was just worried about Gram.

“If you really think she’s not safe,” he told me, “then we do need to sell Pemberton. The memory care unit at the assisted living near our house isn’t cheap, but she’ll be safe and happy there.”

He might be right about that. It pains me to think of selling our family estate, but if it’s the only way to keep Gram safe, then we don’t have a choice.

But before that happens, we need to figure out whose bones are buried in the backyard.

“Eggs are done!” Ethel declares.

She scrapes about a third of the pan of eggs onto my grandmother’s plate, then a third onto her own. “Thank you, Ethel,” Gram says.

I wait for Ethel to give me the remainder of the eggs, but she doesn’t. Instead, she brings the tray back to the stove, reaches into the cabinet over the sink, and grabs a saltshaker. She seasons my eggs with salt, followed by pepper; then she slides the eggs onto my plate.

“Thank you,” I say, unable to mask my surprise.

Ethel shoots me a smile that is almost shy. “I forget that young people like you don’t have to worry about their blood pressure or their kidneys. You should enjoy a little salt. I just worry about you, that’s all.”

She worries about me. Because…she’s my grandmother? I open my mouth, wanting to ask her if what I read in that letter is true. But even if it is, this isn’t the right time. Not at the breakfast table.

The three of us finish our eggs; then Gram declares she’s tired and wants to take a nap. Ethel takes my plate and brings it to the sink to wash. But before she can do it, I leap out of my chair to help like I always do after meals.

“I can manage fine, Julia,” Ethel says, but she doesn’t sound as irritated as she did the first time I tried to help her. “It’s only a few dishes.”

“I want to help though.” I chew on my lower lip. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually…” Ethel looks around the kitchen. “You can wipe down the countertops.”

“Absolutely,” I agree, pleased to have been given a job.

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate your help. It’s been nice having you here, Julia.”

Ever since Alistair Dixon visited with his equipment, Ethel has been noticeably nicer to me. It’s like we’ve bonded over solving the mystery of Caroline’s presence at Pemberton.

“It’s been nice being here.” I spritz the countertop with some of the lemon-scented cleaning spray from under the sink. “I’ve always felt bad that we never got to know each other better.”