serving bowls. Presently the bowls were arranged on the table, containing green stringbeans with hogsfat, chicken stew with boiled potatoes and bacon, corncakes baked in cream, and stewed tomatoes. Along with a golden loaf of fresh fennel-seed bread, it was truly a king's feast. Matthew's glass was topped with wine, after which Lucretia took off her apron and seated herself at the head of the table, facing their guest, where by all rights of marriage and household the husband ought to be.
'I shall lead us in our thanks, ' Lucretia said, another affront to the duties of her husband. Matthew closed his eyes and bowed his head. The woman gave a prayer of thanksgiving that included Matthew's name and mentioned her hope that the wretched soul of Rachel Howarth find an angry God standing ready to smite her spectral skull from her shoulders after the execution stake had done its work. Then the fervent 'Amen' was spoken and Matthew opened his eyes to find Cherise Vaughan standing beside him.
'Here is our lovely daughter!' Lucretia exclaimed. 'Cherise, take your place.'
The girl, in a white linen gown with a lace bodice and sleeves, continued to stand where she was and stare down at Matthew. She was indeed an attractive girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, her waves of blonde hair held fixed by a series of small wooden combs. Matthew imagined she must closely resemble her mother at that age, though her chin was longer and somewhat more square and her eyes almost as pale blue as her father's. In these eyes, however, there was no suggestion of a watery constitution; there was instead a haughty chill that Matthew instantly dropped his gaze from, lest he shiver from a December wind on this May night.
'Cherise?' Lucretia repeated, gently but firmly. 'Take. Your. Place. Please.'
The girl sat down—slowly, at her own command—on Matthew's right. She wasted no time in reaching out and spooning chicken stew onto her plate.
'Are you not even going to say hello to Mr. Corbett?'
'Hello, ' she answered, pushing the first bite of food into her cupid's-bow mouth.
'Cherise helped prepare the stew, ' Lucretia said. 'She has been desirous to make certain it was to your liking.'
'I'm sure it's excellent, ' Matthew answered. He spooned some of the stew onto his plate and found it as good as it appeared, then he tore off a hunk of bread and sopped it in the thick, delicious liquid.
'Mr. Corbett is a fascinating young man.' This was spoken to Cherise, though Lucretia continued to gaze upon him. 'Not only is he a sophisticated gentleman and a judicial apprentice from Charles Town, but he fought off that mob of killers and thieves who attacked the magistrate. Armed only with a rapier, I understand?'
Matthew accepted a helping of stewed tomatoes. He could feel three pairs of eyes upon him. Now was the moment to explain that the 'mob' consisted of one ruffian, an old crone, and an infirm geezer... but instead his mouth opened and what came out was, 'No... I... had not even a rapier. Would you pass the corncakes, please?'
'My Lord, what a night that must have been!' Stewart was profoundly impressed. 'Did you not have a weapon at all?'
'I... uh... used a boot to good advantage. This is an absolutely wonderful stew! Mr. Bidwell's cook ought to have this recipe.'
'Well, our Cherise is a wonderful cook herself, ' Lucretia assured him. 'I am currently teaching her the secrets of successful pie baking. Not an easy subject to command, I must say.'
'I'm sure it's not.' Matthew offered a smile to the girl, but she was having none of it. She simply ate her food and stared straight ahead with no trace of expression except, perhaps, absolute boredom.
'And now... about the treasure chest full of gold coins you found.' Lucretia laid her spoon and knife delicately across her plate. 'You had it sent back to Charles Town, I understand?'
Here he had to draw the line. 'I fear there was no treasure chest. Only a single coin.'
'Yes, yes... of course. Only a single coin. Very well, then, I can see you are a canny guardian of information. But what can you tell us of the witch? Does she weep and wail at the prospect of burning?'
The stew he was about to swallow had suddenly sprouted thorns and lodged in his throat. 'Mrs. Vaughan, ' he said, as politely as possible, 'if you don't mind... I would prefer not to talk about Rachel Howarth.'
Suddenly Cherise looked at him and grinned, her blue eyes gleaming. 'Oh, that is a subject I find of interest!' Her voice was pleasingly melodic, but there was a wickedly sharp edge to it as well. 'Do tell us about the witch, sir! Is it true she shits toad-frogs?'
'Cherise!' Lucretia had hissed the name, her teeth gritted and her eyes wide with alarm. Instantly her composure altered with the speed of a chameleon's color change; her smile returned, though fractured, and she looked down the table at Matthew. 'Our daughter has... an earthy sense of humor, Mr. Corbett. You know, it is said that some of the finest, most gracious ladies have earthy senses of humor. One must not be too stiff and rigid in these strange times, must one?'
'Stiff and rigid, ' the girl said, as she pushed a tomato into her mouth and gave a gurgling little laugh. Matthew saw that Lucretia had chosen to continue eating, but red whorls had risen in her cheeks. Stewart drank down his glass of wine and reached for the decanter.
No one spoke for a time. It was then that Matthew was aware of a faint humming sound, but he couldn't place where it was coming from. 'I might tell you, as a point of information, ' he said, to break the wintry silence, 'that I am not yet a judicial apprentice. I am a magistrate's clerk, that's all.'
'Ah, but you shall be a judicial apprentice in the near future, will you not?' Lucretia asked, beaming again. 'You are young, you have a fine mind and a desire to serve. Why should you not enter the legal profession?'
'Well... I probably shall, at some point. But I do need much more education and experience.'
'A humble soul!' She spoke it as if she had found the Grail itself. 'Do you hear that, Cherise? The young man stands on the precipice of such political power and wealth, and he remains humble!'
'The problem with standing on a precipice, ' he said, 'is that one might fall from a great height.'
'And a
Cherise stared again into Matthew's eyes. 'I desire to know more about the witch. I have heard tell she took the cock of a black goat into her mouth and sucked on it.'
'Umph!' A rivulet of wine had streamed down Stewart's chin and marred his gray jacket. He had paled as his wife had reddened.
Lucretia was about to either hiss or shriek, but before she could, Matthew met the girl's stare with equal force and said calmly, 'You have heard a lie, and whoever told you such a thing is not only a liar but a soul in need of a mouth-soaping.'
'Billy Reed told me such a thing. Shall I find him tomorrow and tell him you're going to soap his mouth?'
'That thug's name shall not be uttered in this house!' The veins were standing out in Lucretia's neck. 'I forbid it!'
'I will find Billy Reed tomorrow, ' Cherise went on, defiantly. 'Where shall I tell him you will meet him with your soap?'
'I beg your pardon, Mr. Corbett! I beg a thousand pardons!' In her agitation, the woman had spilled a spoonful of corncake and cream on the front of her gown, and now she was blotting the stain with a portion of the tablecloth. 'That thug is James Reed's miscreant son! He's near an imbecile, he has the ambition of a sloth... and he has wicked designs on my daughter!'
Cherise grinned—or, rather, leered—into Matthew's face. 'Billy is teaching me how to milk. In the afternoons, at their barn, he shows me how to hold the member. How to slide my hand up and down... up and down... up and down...' She displayed the motion for him, much to his discomfort and her mother's choked gasp. 'Until the cream spurts forth. And a wonderful hot cream it is, too.'
Matthew didn't respond. It did occur to him that—absolutely, positively—he'd lately been hiding in the wrong barn.
'I think, ' Stewart said, rising unsteadily to his feet, 'that the rum bottle should be unstoppered.'
'For God's sake, stay away from that rum!' Lucretia hollered, oblivious now to their honored guest. 'That's the cause of all our troubles! That, and your poor excuse for a carpentry shop!'
Matthew's glance at Cherise showed him she was eating her dinner with a smirk of satisfaction upon her face, which was now not nearly so lovely. He put his own spoon and knife down, his appetite having fled. Stewart was fumbling in a cupboard and Lucretia was attacking her food with a vengeance, her eyes dazed and her face as red as the stewed tomatoes. In the silence that fell, Matthew heard the strange humming sound again. He looked
