Chapter 7.
Abigail Winthrop scolded her maidservant for tightening her whalebone corset too tight. There was to be a Christmas dance given at the Crane estate that night, and she did not care to faint in the middle of the dining room due to the constriction her generous figure. "Just hand me my dress. I cannot breathe."
"Yes, Miss Winthrop." Her impish maid, was sister of the Standish Innkeeper. Modesty Standish peered at their reflection in the looking glass as she helped her fasten the hooks in the back. "You'll need a kerchief to cover your bosum, Miss." Modesty grinned with misgiving at the daringly low cut of the bodice.
"Nonsense. Queen Anne herself uses no scarf, and neither shall I."
Tabitha had stoked the fire in the hearth, ready to settle down for the winter night. She slipped into her nightgown and shawl and snuggled into the soft chair by the fire. The cat stretched, rolled over and went back to sleep on the rug.
The snow had been falling heavily all day. The fields and forest were covered in the first snow of the season, the gardens put to winter over. It had been a long time since she spoke to any living soul. Jeremiah Fitzgerald was the last human being who had given her any amount of respect or dignity. In most people's eyes, she was a ruined woman, one to be scorned and shunned. It wasn't their company that she felt lonesome for.
Jeremia's proposal of marriage had disturbed her deeply. He seemed to have known her already, when she came upon him that November evening. He was more aware of her, than she was of him. He was the sort of man she could fall in love with. Wild, reckless brave and handsome. When she went looking for him a week later, after giving it some more thought, she had heard that his ship set sail for some unknown destination. Some sort of Crane business, no doubt. Never had she felt so lonely before when she did not know him, as she did now, having met him.
She heard the sound of horses stamping outside. Before she got herself off the couch, the door flung open with a gust of December's north wind. The cat scampered off to hide behind the sideboard.
"Tabitha," Alistar Stoke Crane stepped inside the simple little cottage, "How is it that every time I see you, you look more fetching than ever. Pregnancy seems to agree with you."
Tabitha said nothing to him. She eyed the poker at the hearth, but it was across the floor. This time, she would protect herself.
"I'm paying you a visit, are you not pleased?" He took off his funny hat. "Have you given thought to how you will raise the child?"
"Tis none of your business."
"But it is my business, as everything in this town is my business." He shut and latched the door behind him and sat down beside her on the couch. He first eyed her simple dwelling. It was meager by most standards, but clean and quaint. Then his eyes fell upon her in the firelight.
"How dare you come here! I'm not drugged with opium, this time."
Alistar laughed. "Come now, your not still angry with me over that? Just remember that you are mine to do with as I wish, like my horse and my servants."
"I want you to leave here."
"Listen carefully, for it is already out of your capable hands." He gripped her round the waist, and Tabitha distinctly recalled the smell of his cologne, and it gave her waves of nausea. "The Minister and the Magistrates have already agreed to my act of civic charity-that when your child is born, he will be taken from you at birth, and given a wet nurse. Since my wife cannot bear any children, the child will be raised as my adopted son. My wife approves of saving an innocent child, from the sinful life he would be exposed to living under the roof of a ruined wanton woman, such as yourself."
"You filthy-" She raised her arm and made a fist.
"Think of it, my dear, he will be brought up with an education, I'll send him to school in England. There is nothing you can give him here." Alistar said, grabbing her wrist. "He will be heir to my fortune, and raised as a gentleman."
"Like you?" She slapped him with her other hand and tried to get up from the couch.
"That's what I like about you Tabitha, you're honest." He wrestled with her, till he pulled her onto his lap.
"I would sooner kill myself than give my child to you!"
"No, you won't. Because you're much more tenacious than that."
"God help you."
"God has nothing to do with it." He said glibly while tearing at the top laces of her nightgown. He slipped his cold hand over her blossoming feminine contours. "You're sweeter than I remember...more so...unyieldingly so, because you carry my child inside you!" This seemed to fill him with a burning passion.
Although her awkward shape made it difficult for her to easily slip off his lap, Tabitha was still spry and healthy. "You cannot have my child! And I am will never be your property." She struck him hard across the face this time, and aimed again but his hand caught her.
"Still playing at the chaste maiden?" He said laughingly still feeling the stinging blow. "They all say no, when their body says yes. I'll have you begging for..." his lips buried into her neck, his face covered by her loosened hair.
"Like Penelope Fitzgerald, cold in her grave?"
That seemed to cool his ardor enough for Tabitha to clear some distance, she could hear his labored breath, as he regained his composure. "She was a stupid wench. She had no fortitude, unlike you. I daresay the town of Harmony only needs to see the papers from the court assizes in London to declare you guilty of witchcraft. Which-- by the way, are already in my possession."
"So be it then! Show your papers, tell your lies, but you will never touch me again, for I will surely kill you." Tabitha knew for certain she would do anything to stop him.
"You're a vile man. Don't you know that all women despise you? Your touch is revolting and you couldn't pay enough gold in this world for any woman to be willingly polluted with you." She pushed his groping hands away and got to her bare feet. She quickly grabbed the poker from the fire and held it up in her hands, ready to strike him.
"I could care less what women think of me. They bend to my will, and that is all that matters. You will bend too in time. The child is mine, nothing can alter that under the sun. He shall come to live with me as a Crane."
"Never!" She understood down to the core of her soul, why Penelope Fitzgerald had chosen to hang herself rather than defile herself further with this wicked man.
"It's already been decided and approved. I am being commended by the entire town as the proverbial...ahem...good Christian soldier." Alistar said with mocking contriteness.
"Christian? You're a mockery, you're nothing but an evil, wicked man, a blight upon this earth. They should see you now as the wretched, rutting, beast of the field that you are." Tabitha said.
"The child will be mine. It will be so! It is done! Signed, sealed and given blessing throughout all of Christian society." Alistar stood up, straightened his garments and headed for the door. "I will not trouble you further...tonight. Sadly, I must attend a Christmas gathering." He placed his Dutch hat upon his head. "However, take heed Tabitha Lennox-when the boy has come, he shall be my son. And I will ravish you whenever I wish, till I'm through with you, and no man will ever want you again." He declared sternly.
Alistar's face could not hide the heated flush of thwarted desire before he left the cottage. She waited tentatively, till she heard the horses tramp off in the snow through the woods before she heated up some water in the kettle.
Tabitha scrubbed all the places he had man-handled her till her skin was rubbed raw, and her tears mingled in the soap basin. She felt marked by his scent, marked by his evil will.
She fell into thought over the handsome sea captain whose only intention was to protect her, like a knight from Medieval days gone by. He was gallant and kind. She now wished she had given Jeremiah Fitzgerald a different answer than she had, as she washed the last traces of Alistar Stoke Crane's scent off her skin.
Abigail Winthrop scolded her maidservant for tightening her whalebone corset too tight. There was to be a Christmas dance given at the Crane estate that night, and she did not care to faint in the middle of the dining room due to the constriction her generous figure. "Just hand me my dress. I cannot breathe."
"Yes, Miss Winthrop." Her impish maid, was sister of the Standish Innkeeper. Modesty Standish peered at their reflection in the looking glass as she helped her fasten the hooks in the back. "You'll need a kerchief to cover your bosum, Miss." Modesty grinned with misgiving at the daringly low cut of the bodice.
"Nonsense. Queen Anne herself uses no scarf, and neither shall I."
Tabitha had stoked the fire in the hearth, ready to settle down for the winter night. She slipped into her nightgown and shawl and snuggled into the soft chair by the fire. The cat stretched, rolled over and went back to sleep on the rug.
The snow had been falling heavily all day. The fields and forest were covered in the first snow of the season, the gardens put to winter over. It had been a long time since she spoke to any living soul. Jeremiah Fitzgerald was the last human being who had given her any amount of respect or dignity. In most people's eyes, she was a ruined woman, one to be scorned and shunned. It wasn't their company that she felt lonesome for.
Jeremia's proposal of marriage had disturbed her deeply. He seemed to have known her already, when she came upon him that November evening. He was more aware of her, than she was of him. He was the sort of man she could fall in love with. Wild, reckless brave and handsome. When she went looking for him a week later, after giving it some more thought, she had heard that his ship set sail for some unknown destination. Some sort of Crane business, no doubt. Never had she felt so lonely before when she did not know him, as she did now, having met him.
She heard the sound of horses stamping outside. Before she got herself off the couch, the door flung open with a gust of December's north wind. The cat scampered off to hide behind the sideboard.
"Tabitha," Alistar Stoke Crane stepped inside the simple little cottage, "How is it that every time I see you, you look more fetching than ever. Pregnancy seems to agree with you."
Tabitha said nothing to him. She eyed the poker at the hearth, but it was across the floor. This time, she would protect herself.
"I'm paying you a visit, are you not pleased?" He took off his funny hat. "Have you given thought to how you will raise the child?"
"Tis none of your business."
"But it is my business, as everything in this town is my business." He shut and latched the door behind him and sat down beside her on the couch. He first eyed her simple dwelling. It was meager by most standards, but clean and quaint. Then his eyes fell upon her in the firelight.
"How dare you come here! I'm not drugged with opium, this time."
Alistar laughed. "Come now, your not still angry with me over that? Just remember that you are mine to do with as I wish, like my horse and my servants."
"I want you to leave here."
"Listen carefully, for it is already out of your capable hands." He gripped her round the waist, and Tabitha distinctly recalled the smell of his cologne, and it gave her waves of nausea. "The Minister and the Magistrates have already agreed to my act of civic charity-that when your child is born, he will be taken from you at birth, and given a wet nurse. Since my wife cannot bear any children, the child will be raised as my adopted son. My wife approves of saving an innocent child, from the sinful life he would be exposed to living under the roof of a ruined wanton woman, such as yourself."
"You filthy-" She raised her arm and made a fist.
"Think of it, my dear, he will be brought up with an education, I'll send him to school in England. There is nothing you can give him here." Alistar said, grabbing her wrist. "He will be heir to my fortune, and raised as a gentleman."
"Like you?" She slapped him with her other hand and tried to get up from the couch.
"That's what I like about you Tabitha, you're honest." He wrestled with her, till he pulled her onto his lap.
"I would sooner kill myself than give my child to you!"
"No, you won't. Because you're much more tenacious than that."
"God help you."
"God has nothing to do with it." He said glibly while tearing at the top laces of her nightgown. He slipped his cold hand over her blossoming feminine contours. "You're sweeter than I remember...more so...unyieldingly so, because you carry my child inside you!" This seemed to fill him with a burning passion.
Although her awkward shape made it difficult for her to easily slip off his lap, Tabitha was still spry and healthy. "You cannot have my child! And I am will never be your property." She struck him hard across the face this time, and aimed again but his hand caught her.
"Still playing at the chaste maiden?" He said laughingly still feeling the stinging blow. "They all say no, when their body says yes. I'll have you begging for..." his lips buried into her neck, his face covered by her loosened hair.
"Like Penelope Fitzgerald, cold in her grave?"
That seemed to cool his ardor enough for Tabitha to clear some distance, she could hear his labored breath, as he regained his composure. "She was a stupid wench. She had no fortitude, unlike you. I daresay the town of Harmony only needs to see the papers from the court assizes in London to declare you guilty of witchcraft. Which-- by the way, are already in my possession."
"So be it then! Show your papers, tell your lies, but you will never touch me again, for I will surely kill you." Tabitha knew for certain she would do anything to stop him.
"You're a vile man. Don't you know that all women despise you? Your touch is revolting and you couldn't pay enough gold in this world for any woman to be willingly polluted with you." She pushed his groping hands away and got to her bare feet. She quickly grabbed the poker from the fire and held it up in her hands, ready to strike him.
"I could care less what women think of me. They bend to my will, and that is all that matters. You will bend too in time. The child is mine, nothing can alter that under the sun. He shall come to live with me as a Crane."
"Never!" She understood down to the core of her soul, why Penelope Fitzgerald had chosen to hang herself rather than defile herself further with this wicked man.
"It's already been decided and approved. I am being commended by the entire town as the proverbial...ahem...good Christian soldier." Alistar said with mocking contriteness.
"Christian? You're a mockery, you're nothing but an evil, wicked man, a blight upon this earth. They should see you now as the wretched, rutting, beast of the field that you are." Tabitha said.
"The child will be mine. It will be so! It is done! Signed, sealed and given blessing throughout all of Christian society." Alistar stood up, straightened his garments and headed for the door. "I will not trouble you further...tonight. Sadly, I must attend a Christmas gathering." He placed his Dutch hat upon his head. "However, take heed Tabitha Lennox-when the boy has come, he shall be my son. And I will ravish you whenever I wish, till I'm through with you, and no man will ever want you again." He declared sternly.
Alistar's face could not hide the heated flush of thwarted desire before he left the cottage. She waited tentatively, till she heard the horses tramp off in the snow through the woods before she heated up some water in the kettle.
Tabitha scrubbed all the places he had man-handled her till her skin was rubbed raw, and her tears mingled in the soap basin. She felt marked by his scent, marked by his evil will.
She fell into thought over the handsome sea captain whose only intention was to protect her, like a knight from Medieval days gone by. He was gallant and kind. She now wished she had given Jeremiah Fitzgerald a different answer than she had, as she washed the last traces of Alistar Stoke Crane's scent off her skin.