THE HOUSE OF JACK FIRESTONE

Hester could hardly refrain a feeling of marvel while Jack Firestone, her landlord, showed her around the house. The governor had recommended her to him when she was presented after her arrival to sign the chart of the colony, and made known her request to be shown around the vacant houses, among which she hoped to find the one her husband and herself would inhabit after his arrival; Jack Firestone was a good-looking man in his mid thirties. He had arrived on the shores of the New World in his twenties. Among the earliest pioneers, his skills as a carpenter's apprentice gradually led him to oversee the constructions of the main houses of the town –the governor's mansion, the church, along with several other buildings; the house Hester was considering inhabiting had been once his in the first years of his adulthood, and was the work of his hands; yet he had quickly preferred to settle in another mansion on the margins of the village, backing the woods like this one. His architectural skills had granted him a respectable amount of fortune.

"I have no objection to rent it to you after Mister Prynne' soon-to-come arrival, though I must confess I feel ashamed to leave it to you in such a state. A few renovation works will be needed to grant you a full comfort."

"This won't be a problem Sir" she answered, "We will handle most of it"

"Would you like my workmen to handle it for you instead?" he offered with a light laugh. "Surely this will require vigorous manly hands. I am grateful to have the opportunity to make something out of it – few people would be willing to dwell in a place that remote from the town square. I shall include it in the rental fees, it will cost you nothing."

"Much obliged, Sir. Thank you"

"If I may ask, what do you expect to do for living until Mister Prynne gets here?"

"Embroidery"

"Embroidery! How interesting" he replied with a sly glance that made her somehow uncomfortable. "I would not say no to a little touch of fancy. Some lack of imagination can produce tedious people. And people can be rather tedious here. I guess you must know the way to the attic"

He led her behind the chimney at the east end of the living room, ushering her into a narrow passage she would probably never have noticed on her own, and showed her a little door half-hidden beneath large beams. When he unlocked it and opened it, a faint musty breeze came up the old wooden stairs descending into the darkness.

"And here is the cellar" he said plainly. "It is the most secret place in Boston. The walls conceal any kind of sound, the darkness any imprudent vision. Whatever you will be doing downstairs, nobody shall ever know about it, Mistress Prynne, I promise you."

Hester looked up but only saw a mocking sneer upon her landlord's face. Obviously he had been taunting her.

"These are jokes of a most questionable taste, Mister Firestone", she declared.

"Ay, Miss. I just wanted to make you smile. Would you like me to drive you back to Mistress and Mister Highaway's pension?"

When she sat next to Firestone on the coach, Hester couldn't help smiling at the oddity; she had been told on the continent that settlers in the New World were of a peculiar kind and character, but she was every time more surprised about it – pleasantly surprised, for if their external appearances were still the same as could be found in England, they seemed to express themselves in uncommon ways and an amusing sharpness. At least, this could apply to the men she had chanced upon until now, even though she had had hints of a couple of women with strange sideward glances.

At this time of the day –almost 1 p.m –the pension of Mistress and Mister Highaway was empty and quiet. All the pensioners were outside, attending to their business, or shut into their room for a nap. Lost in her thoughts, Hester wandered about the silent living scattered with four seats and a small table, her petticoat brushing the carpet with a light whisper. She hadn't had much time until now to reflect on her arrival and its implications, however she had understood very quickly how much unity was the core principle of the colony, and the condition of its perpetuity. She would have to find her place in the community and join in as soon as possible.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. When Hester went to open, she found herself face to face with a young woman of about her age; Hester's artistic mind's first noticed was that she was not of a very refined complexion: her face was too large and her mouth wide, but her warm and lovely smile hindered this first judgement so quickly that Hester put it on her imagination. The visitor was holding a basket covered by a piece of cloth. She curtsied slightly.

"Good evening, are you Mistress Prynne?" And as Hester nodded, "I am Elizabeth Winship, your closest neighbour –you must have walked past my house on your way home. Welcome to Boston!"

She handed the basket over to Hester: it was full of freshly made marmalades. Hester, touched and anxious to make the best impression as possible, replied:

"Thank you very much, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…-Mistress? Winship"

"Actually I am still a "Miss" on the papers", she answered, laughing, "But soon will I marry -in two days!"

Hester felt an unpleasant pang in her heart at the news, but kept smiling perfectly.

"What a blessing. Congratulations…Please, come in! The living is entirely ours it seems: I was feeling quite lonely!"

" I thank you."

Elizabeth entered and sat in one of the four seats next to the chimney, while Hester sat in front of her.

"So what do you think of Boston, Mistress Prynne?" asked Elizabeth.

"It is very different I assume" Hester answered evasively. "I haven't fully realized yet that I am in America. It is unreal."

Her guest was watching her speaking with sweet little blue eyes –myositis- and a deep attention, which had nothing to do with the usual rules of courtesy.

"Ay, I know how it feels. I arrived in Boston with my father three years ago-he owned a tavern in London you know, and we had to flee when the king's spies found out he would welcome puritans protesters. I was raised in this faith from a very early age: I would pluck the chickens under the stairs and hear the customers' discussions. I learned a lot. Here, my father became a tanner."

"I see. My father was a peer of the House of Commons, but he died last year; my mother and I led a rather humble life during the following months."

And I was to get married as soon as possible, she remembered with a slight feeling of bitterness. We needed money.

"Have you met your husband in Boston?" Hester asked.

"Yes" Elizabeth answered with a loving blush. "James was a pioneer of the Virginia Company, who moved in Boston: he is involved in the fur trade as a hunter, and my father would buy him his material. This is how I knew him. I loved him straight away"

"I am very glad for you" Hester replied, but it was a lie, for she vividly envied her.

"Thank you. But would you like to tell me more about you? Why have you come to America?"

"My husband, who is still in Europe, wanted to study the plants here. He is a very learned man, whom I esteem a lot. He sent me ahead, for he had a few matters to settle before leaving; I have nothing left in Europe, so it was not much a dilemma for me. I am even quite pleased to be here, everything is so new."

"And when will your husband join you here?"

"He told me he would take the next ship, two months later, so I shall not have to wait long"

Elizabeth smiled her wide smile.

"James and I would be very glad to welcome you for dinner when your husband arrive" And in a very forward gesture, she reached for Hester's hand and delicately squeezed it. "Please, do come to my marriage on Sunday after the morning service".

Hester was so startled by such a display of affection and kindness it took her a few seconds to let out an answer.

"I will", she promised. Then, she asked to change the subject: "Would you like anything to drink? Today is a warm day, isn't it?"

Mrs Highaway had left a bottle on the sideboard, with no word written on it, and the black tainted glass did not give away any clue as to what kind of liquor was inside. Hester opened it and vainly tried to smell the substance. Behind her, Elizabeth burst into a ringing laughter.

"I am afraid your nose will not be of any help, my dear!" she pointed at the bottle "This is clear water, from Mr Firestone's spring."

"I did not know Jack Firestone owned a spring." Hester confessed.

"You know Mr Firestone, then!"

"I do. Actually, he showed me around the place, and I intend to rent one of his houses. The one backing the forest, next to Victor Dunnovan's farm."

Hester had brought the bottle with two glasses she filled to the brim. She could scarcely conceal her surprise when the water entered her mouth: it tasted deliciously pure, with strong notes of minerals, and its texture was instantly thirst quenching. Never had she had such a good time drinking water.

"Good, isn't it?" Elizabeth asked expectantly. "Mr Firestone found this clear underground spring while digging for the foundations of his present dwelling. That was certainly fortunate, since he can now sell it for a good price on the market place: everybody here is very fond of it!"

"I can understand why" Hester answered, before taking another sip.

"Mr Firestone also grows wonderful roses in his garden…"

At that moment, footsteps resounded above their heads, and shortly after they saw an elder woman walk down the stairs. Mrs Highaway's wrinkled face was kind and motherly to any young people she saw, unlike many old women bitter in their criticisms of "youthful extravagance".

"I did not expect to find you here so soon, child!" she exclaimed when she beheld Elizabeth.

"Good afternoon, Mistress Highaway" Elizabeth got up and kissed her on the cheek. "I came to welcome your new pensioner, and my new neighbour."

"You sweetheart! Is Mistress Prynne not lovely?"

"Well, you shall see be glad to see her at my wedding on Sunday" Elizabeth was beaming when she turned to Hester. "Shall her not, Mistress Prynne?"

Hester approved silently, with a thin smile.

"Would you like to come for dinner tonight?" Mistress Highaway suggested to Elizabeth. "I just bought fresh pheasants from the market to welcome our newcomer."

"It is very kind of you Mistress Highaway, but you know I have to look after my father."

"I know, dearest." The old lady sighed and patted delicately Elizabeth's cheek. "How is he doing?"

"Better, though still weak. I am so thankful for everybody's thoughtfulness. Reverend Dimmesdale even came this morning to check on him and talk for a while!" She smiled at the thought.

"We are all praying for him" Mistress Highaway reassured her. "Now, Mistress Hibbins and I had a talk with the Bellingham manor's cook about the wedding dinner on Sunday. You will not have to worry about anything dear–except being present with John after the ceremony, of course!"

"I am truly blessed" Elizabeth said simply, at loss for words. "I do not know what to say."

"I would love to help you with the wedding dinner if you don't mind, Mistress Highaway" Hester volunteered.

Mistress Highaway smiled at her tenderly.

"I appreciate deeply, Mistress Prynne, but I had rather you were amongst the guests and got to know our small community. Please, make yourself at home!"

That night, Hester was far too excited to fall straight asleep, and if the long journey on the sea and the amount of dazzling novelties were sufficient to exhaust her emotionally, the dangling projects and the prospect of her new life, kept her awake. Sometimes, she thought she could feel the rocking of the boat in her room. She was also listening to the faintest sounds of the world outside -from here, she could hear the buzzing forest – and inside –the faint snores of the neighbouring rooms. All of this she enjoyed utterly, and yet, when the overwhelming feelings of freedom took the best of her, the reality of her situation came back to her, to instantly extinguish the raising enthusiasm.

Ay, she thought, this was fake freedom indeed she was rejoicing in so naively. It was a beautiful illusion to believe she could be happy there and be on her own. She could not wait for her husband's arrival; they would move in the cottage of Jack Firestone, and there, they would have children. At last, she would have the true home she had been wanting for so long, and that she had been sure to acquire with her marriage. It felt strange to be there on her own, in an in-between situation; but he would be there in two months, and two months was not that much time, she thought. They would fly away quickly.

After all, Hester loved her husband, even if he was much older than her. He had married her when she was ruined and with no money. He had fed her, clothed her, loved her. Hester had made the best of her situation, or at least, of this she strived to convince herself.

Restless, after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, she determined to get up and write a letter to Mister Prynne to let him know about her arrival. She put on a dressing gown, braided her hair again in the mirror, took a candle and went down.

At first, Hester was surprised to see the light reflected on the wall of the stairs, and the flickering shadows of a candle coming from the living room. She watched discreetly from the corner of the stairs. There was someone sitting at the desk near the window. From what she could tell from the back, she guessed it was a young and slender man in shirtsleeves, still wearing his day clothes. She went down one step more, and the creaking of the wood under her foot made him shiver, jump from his seat and turn to her. In the semidarkness, backing the candlelight, Hester could only discern gracious features and wide blue eyes.

"I beg your pardon, good Sir" she quickly apologized. "I did not mean to interrupt you in your…" she glanced at the pile of books threatening to tip over the edge of the desk. "…in your studies."

The young man seemed unsettled, even disturbed. He probably did not expect to meet anybody at such a late hour. However, there seemed to be much more than that; something that, at least Hester hoped so, was not of her doing. His nervous hand was holding a slightly crumpled paper. He did not answer straight away, and apparently recovered from his freezing emotion only when he saw Hester reach the last step of the stairs.

"I am deeply sorry Miss" he replied with a trembling voice, which stroke the young woman with sympathy. He began to clear hastily the table and put the books on empty shelves under the window. "The place is yours…"

Poor Hester vainly tried to stop him –for she felt terribly uneasy to add another trouble to his concern, whatever it was.

"I don't need the study, Sir! I simply could not sleep…I am going back to my room."

The young man barely paid attention to her, lost in his thoughts. He gathered his papers under his arms and headed for the stairs.

"I bid you good night, Miss" Instead of brushing-past her, he paused for a second at the bottom of the stairs, and looked at her. "God bless you", he muttered, before vanishing upstairs.

Hester stood there alone a few moments, still taken aback, not knowing what to do. Well, at least she had the study now; the young man had even left his candle and plume, along with the inkwell. She sighted deeply and fumbled inside the drawers, where she found as many sheets of paper as she needed, then sat down. The plume was weary and the end crooked from the intensive use. Poor young man, she could not help thinking. I wonder what happened to him to throw him into such disarray so late. I wish I could help him.

This being said, she had come here to write a letter to her husband. However, the white page in front of her suddenly filled her with fear.

What would she write? What did she have to tell him, and what would he like to hear? Would he rejoice at the reading of her letter? Was he only interested in her whereabouts? She realized in astonishment that she had no answer to these questions.

Maybe the air of the New World was too wild for her to breathe and keep her sanity. She did not know whence all the doubt came, but it came, very strongly, hitting her like the fierce rush of the ocean.

What had she ever shared with her husband, save her body? Of course he seemed to care for her, but they had scarcely had any time of complicity or fellowship at all…Nay, she knew nothing of him –he had always been distant and dedicated to his books –and he knew nothing of her –never had she felt close enough to him to open her heart. She wanted to be the perfect wife, never complaining nor asking for more.

In truth, the young Hester considered her old husband as boring, even if she charitably –and with conviction –qualified him as "peaceful" and "composed". This had been a marriage without passion, love, or simply pleasure. A marriage she was not satisfied with. And it was in the living room of a sleeping pension on the other side of the ocean that she realised, facing this empty page, the fullness of her solitude and silent longing. Her breathing began to quicken.

Be strong, Hester, do not lose hope. A soft voice enjoined her. You shall settle this matter with Mister Prynne when he arrives. He is a gentle man, is he not? Everything shall look easier then. Be patient! You have only been married for two years, and it takes time to know someone.

Hester eventually managed to calm herself. Indeed, Mister Prynne was not of a bad temper, and had always treated her well. She knew he would listen, and they would resolve everything, if things did not resolve by themselves. With a renewed hope and a more peaceful mind, she started to write:

To Mr Prynne, from his loving wife…

The rest followed naturally.