Niece
Your husband´s letter indicates his desire to stay in England for at least two more months. A woman should not be without the guidance of a man for too long. Since my stay in Salem will also be longer than I expected, I will send a carriage for you. Be ready on Tuesday or Friday.
May God protect you until then
Increase Mather
Verity let out an exasperated sigh. She had been looking forward to an empty house. With Hugo in England and Increase and Cotton in Salem, she had hoped to continue her studies more freely. She would have preferred to stay in her own house instead of her uncle´s, but Hugo didn´t leave her much choice. While he was off doing God knew what with God knew whom, he had entrusted her to the care of her uncle. Increase was happy enough to let her translate her Arabic tractates into English, but he frowned upon her newest project: a grammar of the Indian dialects of the province, together with a list of as many words as she could gather. That was the one advantage of growing up in a family full of Puritan clerics. Education. Cotton and she were close enough in age to study together. Cotton went on to specialize in Law and Theology, whereas Verity had a deeper interest in medicine, modern as well as traditional. Since her wedding five years ago she had become quite proficient in the Arabic language, and busied herself with translating medical texts into English. The Indian languages were a newer interest, but one she was committed to pursue. Mainly because it annoyed Hugo. What do you want with these savages? Well, he had only himself to blame for that. Had he shown a greater interest in their marriage bed, they might have had a family already. But Hugo had little use for women in general and whenever he came to her at night it was beyond awkward for both. There was painfully little she could do to improve her situation. Since the death of her parents, the stern Increase had been almost a father to her. Not a very tender one, but at least he was alive. Her marriage to the wealthy and influential Hugo Pond was meant to elevate the Mather family even more, but Verity had her doubts about that. Hugo was not exactly discreet in his pursuits and his neighbors were relieved to see him off to England. Verity bit her lip while considering which of her precious books she would take with her. Salem was surrounded by deep woods. Maybe some of the villagers spoke the Algonquin dialects? A priceless addition to her project. She hid her grammar under her undergarments, were Increase would never look. She packed her copy of Ibn Sina´s Canon of Medicine, as well as Abu al-Khayr´s tractate on the plague as well, for good luck. Cotton had brought them back from Harvard and she never went anywhere without them. Verity´s stomach clenched together when she heard the coach approach. Thursday morning. Did it have to be so early? Verity checked her appearance in the mirror. She was tall for a woman, with the brown hair and the grey eyes of the Mathers. She had even inherited their tall built. Her uncle may think her vain for it, but Verity quite liked her looks. I guess I am as ready as I´ll ever be… She busied herself with a book in the parlor until the maid announced the coachman. Verity wasn´t snobbier than her peers, but she didn´t want to give the impression that she had nothing better to do than to traipse across Massachusetts simply because her uncle didn´t trust her on her own. She was her own woman, after all. Whoever Increase sent to fetch her, he would be firmly under her uncle´s thumb. He had that effect on people. When the man entered, Verity found her suspicions confirmed. Isaac seemed not only to lack a surname, but also even a shred of confidence. He reminded Verity of a hermit crab, ready to draw back into its shell at any moment. A hermit crab with a strange haircut. Long in the front, short in the back. Verity knew enough about Puritan justice to guess that he was hiding the scar of a brand. "Good day, ma´am. Are you ready?" Apparently, his dirty boots were far more interesting than the room he found himself in, or the woman he was to escort. When he bent down to lift her travel chest, he gasped and clutched his stomach. A dark stain spread on his faded shirt. Blood. In an instant, Verity dropped her ice queen façade. "How badly are you hurt?" Isaac tried to shrug it off, but a new wave pf pain shut him up. "Sit down." Verity ordered. "Take off your shirt." Isaac did neither, instead he stared at her in shock. A born Mather, Verity was used to giving orders and seeing them obeyed. However, she lacked the self-awareness to see that she came across as scary pretty frequently. "W-why?" Isaac stammered, crossing his hands over his stomach. "Because your injury needs to be treated. Polly, heat me some water and bring the bandages." she ordered the young maid. Isaac seemed to have made up his mind that she wasn´t about to inspect him for witch marks. Hesitantly, he removed his coat, waistcoat and shirt. The dirty bandages over his bare stomach were soaked with blood. Verity was no trained doctor, but she had patched Hugo and Cotton up more than once after a long night in the tavern. Quickly she cut the old bandages to take a look at the wound. "Were you stabbed?" Verity asked. Isaac didn´t answer. He looked completely freaked out. Sitting half-naked close to a married woman… Verity didn´t mind. Efficiently, she cleaned the wound, then dressed it in clean bandages. She could not stop herself from staring at Isaac´s body. He was lean and muscled, but not in the same way as a well-fed gentleman who exercised regularly. More like someone who scraped by with manual labor, without even enough to eat. Verity had never seen the scars of a whip before. Isaac tensed even more when she inadvertently touched those scars on his back. His breath was shallow. "And we are done." Verity announced. With visible relief, Isaac dressed again. "Thank you, ma´am." he mumbled. Now he was actively avoiding her gaze. All her life Verity had been dimly aware of her immense privilege. She had never gone hungry, had never had to fear for her live, not even her livelihood. This gaunt-faced, scarred man in her parlor was her first taste of the life outside the wealthy bubble of the Boston upper-class. Suddenly, Verity was unreasonably angry at her uncle for ripping her out of nice, comfortable Boston. She enjoyed living mostly inside her own head. The outside world was something she could do without. Before Isaac could attempt again to lift her luggage, Verity picked up her chest. Maybe she should have packed lighter, but she could hardly watch Isaac bleed out in front of her eyes.
It was a two-day journey from Boston to Salem. At night, they stopped at a little inn at the side of the road. The summer was coming to a close, the night was remarkably chilly. Isaac waited until the innkeeper had led Verity up to her room and sent up dinner, then he made his way to the stables. Betsy didn´t like to be quartered in strange stables. She would be waiting for a few soothing words and an apple. Moreover, Isaac was glad to be rid of the Mather woman, at least for now. Her name might be Pond now, but Isaac could see Increase Mather in her piercing eyes, heard his commanding tone in her voice. She was a strange mixture of haughtiness and kindness. Despite her uppity way of speaking, she had shared the food she had packed for the journey with him and checked if the bandages were still holding. She was being kinder to him than most people, but shirtless in that splendid room of hers, Isaac had felt even more vulnerable than usual. He would be relieved once he had safely delivered her to her deranged uncle. No, he would only be relieved if all Mathers left Salem for good, with their knifes and books and nooses. As he hummed a soft tune to calm Betsy, he found himself thinking about Increase´s son. The reverend ain´t a bad man. Could have hanged me, and didn´t. The father was a different sort, though. No problem with killing a whole family on his first day, hurting little girls… For most people, Isaac was nothing more than an idiot. A simpleton with the mind of a child and the sexual appetites of a beast, but he had eyes and ears. Torture for the sake of confession was not something Puritans did on a regular basis. But Increase had Mercy´s friends locked in his torture chamber. When Mercy had nearly killed him with that damn stake of hers, Mather senior had carried him out of the woods into his own home and treated the wound. Like Mrs. Pond. Her eyes were so much like those of her uncle, it made Isaac´s blood run cold. He wanted her out of his care as soon as possible. "What d´you reckon, eh?" He fed Betsy the well-earned apple. "S´she dangerous, the lady?" Betsy snorted. She didn´t seem bothered by her strange cargo. Maybe she was right. Isaac rubbed his eyes. The day had been long, and at night every shadow turned into a devil (or a she-devil, for that matter). He petted Betsy one more time. "Off to bed now. Long day tomorrow."
For Verity, Salem came as a shock.
The houses looked as small, depressing and subdued as the people. There were no theatres, no magnificent dress shops, almost no cobbled streets. Instead, stocks and jail were the most prominent features on the village square. She noticed Isaac discreetly nodding at the long-haired, grim-faced man in the cell. The man gave him a defeated smirk. "Why is he imprisoned?" Verity could not contain her curiosity. "Witchcraft." Isaac said darkly. "Which one of the Mather men put him there?" Verity knew her family well enough to recognize their actions. Instead of an answer, Isaac gave her a pained look. He was a strange one, this Isaac. Verity had wondered the whole journey why her uncle had picked him of all people to bring her. Increase Mather´s minions were usually brash, burly and overly confident. Isaac led her to an inn close to the town square. "The Mathers are staying at Lamb´s." Isaac mumbled. This time, he took her chest before she could even reach for it. His face twisted in pain but he didn´t complain. He managed to carry it into the room Lamb had prepared for her on the first floor. It was tiny. Verity thought briefly about demanding a bigger one, but one look at Isaac was enough to shut her up. His whole clothing was torn and faded, the blood stains on his shirt had dried by now. It would be almost impossible for his maid to wash them out. No, no maid. Isaac didn´t look as if he could afford a maid. Verity reached into her pocket and pulled out a few coins. "Thank you for escorting me safely to Salem." "My pleasure, ma´am." Isaac´s farewell was respectful but brief enough to betray his true feelings. The Mather men must have put the fear of God into him. It didn´t take Verity long to unpack her belongings, but almost half an hour to get the room in order. It was clean for Salem standards, she supposed. "You will have to do without servants here." her uncle´s voice offered instead of a greeting. Verity turned around and bobbed a small curtsy. "Uncle." Increase took his time inspecting her, then the room. When he saw her books, his mouth curled into a disdainful smile. "I didn´t just bring you here to supervise you. No, my dear girl. You will have to toughen up. Stop relying on your servants and your books. I trust the young man I sent for you behaved himself?" There it was, Increase´s trademark mixture of care and condescension. How could Cotton stand to live under his roof permanently? No wonder he liked his drink. Verity nodded. "He was a… curious choice." For some reason, her uncle chuckled.