By harvest time, Tabitha knew she was pregnant. The morning sickness, the swelling abdomen, and her missing monthly. She had tried to hide it from Maizee Russell by covering herself in extravagant clothing that would hide her belly.
"Tabitha," Maizee asked her one day in the herb garden, "when is your child due?" Her beautiful brown eyes scanned the young woman knowingly. "In the spring?"
Tabitha said nothing.
"People are beginning to talk. You must make this young man marry you."
Tabitha hung her head down. "He will never marry me."
"No-just take him to the Minister and make him take responsibility." Maizee said. "Get hitched before any more time goes by. You know how cruel they are in this town, and what happened to that Leeds girl when she...."
"That will never happen." Tabitha said impassively.
"Why not?"
"Because he's married."
Maizee took a step back. She placed her herb bundle down and put her arms around Tabitha."What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." Tabitha said.
"They will cast you out! There are folks in Harmony that don't take kindly to...well, you know." Maizee felt Tabitha shudder.
Tabitha hung her head back, glancing at the open fields.
"Well, listen here...I've got some family on Malaga Island. They are mostly fisher-folk. You can stay there till the baby comes." Maizee said. "Shall I write them?
"I'm not going to run away." Tabitha stepped away and plucked a few leafs from a sage plant.
"But they'll put you in the stocks, and everyone will snub you, even the children. No one will buy your herbs. They'll make a spectacle of you."
Tabitha shrugged. "Not when they hear who the father is."
"What? Who is he?"
Tabitha bit her lip. "I cannot say any more."
Maizee approached her again. "Tell me, Tabitha... in July you didn't go off to a distant relation in Portland did you? Who is the father of your child?"
The herbs had all been cut and were being prepared for drying, poultices and ointments.
"I think you had better go now, my dear friend. And you should probably not come here anymore."
Maizee Russell protested, but she knew Tabitha was right. The Russell's dairy business, situated next to the Crane land would suffer if they associated with an unwed mother. Tabitha made Maizee go, telling her she wanted to rest. Tabitha sat down on the porch swing. It was true, she was overly tired and weary with worry. Her eyes closed and she thought about the Craft. She had shunned most of the teachings she learned from Hecuba in England but she did not forget them. She would sell her soul to no one.
If only she could dispense with her earthly, womanly body...and use the Power of the Craft to make her pregnancy vanish. She knew such measures would open the doors to the Forces of the Dark Side. They would put her in their debt. Nothing for nothing. And Tabitha had always desired never to be in debt to anyone, including man, woman or God. Not being highly religious, Tabitha did not want to associate herself with any organized religion, including the Dark side. She held a high skepticism about religion, governed by self-righteous men. Her stand-offishness to the local church gained her a bit of a reputation already.
She thought often of the things Alistar Stoke Crane had done to her, and her burning hatred had manifested itself in bringing her closer to its side.
"Somehow, someway, I will have my revenge."
Abigail Winthrop stood idly by the Standish Inn, waiting for her room while Tabitha Lennox walked brazenly down the street in a long black cloak. Abigail's luxurious white blond hair curled around a velvet collar of the most recent wardrobe from London. It was a vanity her father indulged her in, after making her move to the colonies for his political interests. Abigail was often the brunt of local gossip because she was Lord Winthrop's daughter, and she was bored and unhappy.
"Drat this provincialism! Stuck here in this northern wilderness, ughhh. What do these small town busy-bodies do for amusement? They know nothing of high fashion. They have not been to the fine estate parties of Boston or London, they have not read any interesting books...Their severe sack cloth dresses do nothing for their figures and the tightly knotted hair covered in dust caps is for serving maids! I am going to have my amusements in any way I can." Abigail was accustomed to the finer things in life, having been brought up in the intellectual society of Oxfordshire. Her father owned estates throughout the colonies, and decided to immigrate in order to better manage them. Abigail was very lonely without her society friends, with no gay parties, no network of gentleman callers like the Oxfordshire manor had weekly received. In Harmony, there was no one of her class to associate with, except the Cranes, who she loathed as borish dullards.
She nodded to Tabitha as she passed. Abigail thought Tabitha expressed a vivacity and style that was splashingly distinct from the women of Harmony. "A little individualism...how refreshing in this backwater mud hole." Has Tabitha Lennox gained a few pounds since she last saw her? Perhaps I shall buy a few of her herbs...."
"Misteress Winthrop, your room is ready." Mary Standish stepping on the doormat outside, informed Abigail, glaring at Tabitha's garish outfit.
Abigail turned, drew her nose up with contempt, assessing the thin red headed inn keeper's wife.
"Yes, thank you." She took the key with her gloved hand. "Have my bags taken to my room." Abigail said with an aristocratic air and stepped inside.
"Tabitha," Maizee asked her one day in the herb garden, "when is your child due?" Her beautiful brown eyes scanned the young woman knowingly. "In the spring?"
Tabitha said nothing.
"People are beginning to talk. You must make this young man marry you."
Tabitha hung her head down. "He will never marry me."
"No-just take him to the Minister and make him take responsibility." Maizee said. "Get hitched before any more time goes by. You know how cruel they are in this town, and what happened to that Leeds girl when she...."
"That will never happen." Tabitha said impassively.
"Why not?"
"Because he's married."
Maizee took a step back. She placed her herb bundle down and put her arms around Tabitha."What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." Tabitha said.
"They will cast you out! There are folks in Harmony that don't take kindly to...well, you know." Maizee felt Tabitha shudder.
Tabitha hung her head back, glancing at the open fields.
"Well, listen here...I've got some family on Malaga Island. They are mostly fisher-folk. You can stay there till the baby comes." Maizee said. "Shall I write them?
"I'm not going to run away." Tabitha stepped away and plucked a few leafs from a sage plant.
"But they'll put you in the stocks, and everyone will snub you, even the children. No one will buy your herbs. They'll make a spectacle of you."
Tabitha shrugged. "Not when they hear who the father is."
"What? Who is he?"
Tabitha bit her lip. "I cannot say any more."
Maizee approached her again. "Tell me, Tabitha... in July you didn't go off to a distant relation in Portland did you? Who is the father of your child?"
The herbs had all been cut and were being prepared for drying, poultices and ointments.
"I think you had better go now, my dear friend. And you should probably not come here anymore."
Maizee Russell protested, but she knew Tabitha was right. The Russell's dairy business, situated next to the Crane land would suffer if they associated with an unwed mother. Tabitha made Maizee go, telling her she wanted to rest. Tabitha sat down on the porch swing. It was true, she was overly tired and weary with worry. Her eyes closed and she thought about the Craft. She had shunned most of the teachings she learned from Hecuba in England but she did not forget them. She would sell her soul to no one.
If only she could dispense with her earthly, womanly body...and use the Power of the Craft to make her pregnancy vanish. She knew such measures would open the doors to the Forces of the Dark Side. They would put her in their debt. Nothing for nothing. And Tabitha had always desired never to be in debt to anyone, including man, woman or God. Not being highly religious, Tabitha did not want to associate herself with any organized religion, including the Dark side. She held a high skepticism about religion, governed by self-righteous men. Her stand-offishness to the local church gained her a bit of a reputation already.
She thought often of the things Alistar Stoke Crane had done to her, and her burning hatred had manifested itself in bringing her closer to its side.
"Somehow, someway, I will have my revenge."
Abigail Winthrop stood idly by the Standish Inn, waiting for her room while Tabitha Lennox walked brazenly down the street in a long black cloak. Abigail's luxurious white blond hair curled around a velvet collar of the most recent wardrobe from London. It was a vanity her father indulged her in, after making her move to the colonies for his political interests. Abigail was often the brunt of local gossip because she was Lord Winthrop's daughter, and she was bored and unhappy.
"Drat this provincialism! Stuck here in this northern wilderness, ughhh. What do these small town busy-bodies do for amusement? They know nothing of high fashion. They have not been to the fine estate parties of Boston or London, they have not read any interesting books...Their severe sack cloth dresses do nothing for their figures and the tightly knotted hair covered in dust caps is for serving maids! I am going to have my amusements in any way I can." Abigail was accustomed to the finer things in life, having been brought up in the intellectual society of Oxfordshire. Her father owned estates throughout the colonies, and decided to immigrate in order to better manage them. Abigail was very lonely without her society friends, with no gay parties, no network of gentleman callers like the Oxfordshire manor had weekly received. In Harmony, there was no one of her class to associate with, except the Cranes, who she loathed as borish dullards.
She nodded to Tabitha as she passed. Abigail thought Tabitha expressed a vivacity and style that was splashingly distinct from the women of Harmony. "A little individualism...how refreshing in this backwater mud hole." Has Tabitha Lennox gained a few pounds since she last saw her? Perhaps I shall buy a few of her herbs...."
"Misteress Winthrop, your room is ready." Mary Standish stepping on the doormat outside, informed Abigail, glaring at Tabitha's garish outfit.
Abigail turned, drew her nose up with contempt, assessing the thin red headed inn keeper's wife.
"Yes, thank you." She took the key with her gloved hand. "Have my bags taken to my room." Abigail said with an aristocratic air and stepped inside.