A/N: In a quick response to a new question - Yes.
The Church at Avignon holds that to use magic to attack, under any circumstances, is to use Black Magic. Sorcerers engaged in scientific Research support the claims of the Church that Magic used in this manner taints the soul. There are a number of sorcerers who have developed the ability to "notice" the use of Black Magic. These"Witch Smellers" are called in to verify a sorcerer's purity whenever necessary.
Chapter Forty One: The New Life
Jenny Planck was sitting in the park, resting her feet. She was grateful for the cooler days that were coming, but she wished Henry was still here. They had been married five months and had spent so little time together. But they promised each other they would write letters every week, regardless of whether or not any had been received or, in Henry's case, any had been mailed.
Jenny relaxed as she looked around her. This was not Saint James Park by any stretch of the imagination. This was not a place where well-to-do families went to enjoy the beauty of nature. This park was a square of land that had a few trees and a lot of dirt. It was part of an overall plan for when all of London was beautiful.
A ragged boy cast a glance at her as he walked by and Jenny let out a surprised gasp. He had brown hair, kept long the way boys preferred, but when he looked at her she saw green eyes. Her first thought was of Harry's little brother. She had met him once when he came to watch the Quidditch match.
"Whot's wit' you?" the boy demanded, and all resemblances faded.
Jenny's second thought was that green eyes do not make someone a relative. The boy's voice showed no hint of culture. Nor did his looks as he stopped, a snarl on his face. The boy was filthy and dressed in an assortment of clothes that were functional and nothing else. He was a mudlark. One of the homeless children that lived near the docks, sleeping in empty warehouses and avoiding the Armsmen and the Church wardens. Because of the war, those warehouses were now being used, and such children were being spotted in places they had rarely been seen.
"I'm sorry," Jenny said with a smile. "For a second I thought you were a friend."
"Den oi must be a frien'," the boy said, his snarl changing to a smile in one swift move. He gave an exaggerated bow. "Me name's Oliver."
Jenny was amused, but wary. Mudlarks were not to be trusted even under friendly circumstances. "I'm Jenny," she replied, and decided to stand up. As she did so, Oliver quickly grabbed her arm to give her support, and she thanked him.
"We're frien's. Frien's help each other. You long?" Oliver was looking at her stomach which was just beginning to show.
"Another four months," Jenny replied, trying to think of how to get rid of the boy. He had obviously latched onto her. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her book.
"Here, oi'll carry it. Wha's it called? You're carryin' th' heavy load. Ye know th' father?"
"I'm married," Jenny said crossly, "And I'll carry my own book." To her surprise the boy handed it back with out a thought. "Thank you."
"Din't mean nuthin' by it," the boy said. "Me Mum dint know."
"She must be worried about you. You should go home," Jenny said and began walking away.
"She's in Potter's Field," Oliver said as he ran to stay by Jenny's side. "She can woirry all she wants. Don' do no good. Tha' book. Ye can read?"
Jenny stopped, and Oliver did too. "Oliver, yes, I can read. Why are you following me?"
"You t'ought oi was a frien'." His smile faltered. "Just troyin' ta help."
Jenny couldn't tell if his emotions were real or fake. She assumed a mixture of both. "Thank you. Are you hungry? I have some food left from my lunch."
"Naw, don' need no charity. Oi can go ta church fer tha'."
Jenny smiled as Oliver forced a smile back on his own lips.
"I was only trying to do something for you."
"Then wha's th' book called."
"Robin of the Wood. I use it to teach the children to read."
"Could ye teach me?" Oliver asked suddenly.
"I'm paid to teach," Jenny replied. The sudden question surprised her.
"Oi'll pay ye," Oliver said with sudden happiness and reached into a filthy shirt and pulled out two apples.
"You may not like it," Jenny said with a grin. "It takes time."
"And oi'll be doin' what?" Oliver asked. Time was one thing he had plenty of.
Jenny began walking away, suddenly unsure. Just as suddenly she was sure. She turned around to see the boy just standing there. "Well, are you coming."
Oliver was cowed into submission. He was to have his first reading lesson but there were requirements. He refused the bath until Jenny handed him back his two apples. Then he hesitated.
"What's this? A Tadpole?" Sarah asked as she saw the boy. "You haven't taken to charity cases, Jenny? Have you?"
"Hardly. This is my newest student. He wants a reading lesson, and I need to start dinner."
"And he has to have his lesson in your flat." Sarah smiled. "He don't seem willing. Do you want the lesson, boy?"
Oliver looked up, then at the tub in the common bathroom. Then he looked up again.
"You get off your feet, Jenny. I'll take care of him. I've had plenty of experience making boys do what I want."
Oliver was pink from the scrubbing that Goody Smith gave him. But he was also clean head to toe, and wearing an oversized heavy old shirt that someone had left behind. Jenny had him sit at the table and began to show him the alphabet. He was eager enough to learn but he didn't seem to grasp what he was doing. She tried showing him how to pronounce words phonetically and that seemed to help. He seemed bright enough but he was also willing. After an hour and a half, she stopped.
"Is tha' it? Oi spent al tha' toime in th' bath and oi don' get more toime in a lessen?"
Jenny laughed. "You wanted a lesson. And that was longer than I spend with the other children."
"'ow many others?"
"Six. Goody Sarah's children, and the children of some friends of hers. Are you hungry?" Oliver nodded. "Good, I have enough for two, and I hate saving stew. And when we're done, I'll read from the book To show you how the words work."
Oliver nodded. He ate heartily even though he had planned to only nibble at his food. He had a full lunch (after a quick run through the market) and didn't think he would need to eat. But the food was hot and tasty, two things he had not had in a while. It was shortly afterward he found himself sitting next to Jenny on the bed as she read from the book. He had never heard the story before, although he had thought he knew all of them. Jenny would run her fingers under each word as she read them slowly so that he could watch the progression. By the third page, he was leaning on Jenny, and yawning. By the fourth page, he was asleep. Jenny laid him on the bed and put him under the covers. With the winter coming, he would have at least one warm night.
Jenny sat the book down and turned down the lamp. She crawled under the covers next to him and slept soundly. When she woke up the next morning Oliver was gone, and the two apples were still on the table.
Two days later, a familiar figure appeared at Jenny's side as she walked back from the market. "Jenny, oi'm back."
Jenny looked at the ragged boy. "How did you get dirty so quickly? You must have tried."
"Oi got this," Oliver said, and pulled a greasy wrap of newspaper from under his shirt. "Here, oi'm boiying another lessen."
Jenny unwrapped the paper to see fish and chips, still warm. The boy must have run all the way. The nearest place was . . .
"Troy 'em out. They're still hot," Oliver urged.
Jenny put the thought out of her mind as to how the food came here. The smell was too much for her and she picked up a piece of the fried fish. It was delicious.
It was the first of December. Jenny had made her way to the building which housed the Office of Naval Affairs. It was time to try and draw Henry's pay for the month. She waited in line with the other wives and found Oliver at her side.
"Whot ya doin' here? This loine'll take forever." He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her to the side.
"Oliver, what are you doing?"
"Foine, wait then," Oliver said in exasperation and walked away. A few minutes later he was back with the senior clerk. "Ya can see how me sister is, an' standin' in this loine ain't the thing for 'er. You'll fix it mate? Roight?"
"Goodwoman Planck?" the clerk said. "This is irregular but your brother is very persuasive. If view of your condition, perhaps I should take care of you personally."
Jenny looked wide eyed at Oliver who merely grinned. She was led to a small office and given a seat while Oliver stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The senior clerk left and came back with a file. "Hmm."
"Is there a problem?" Jenny asked. She slapped Oliver's hand as he started to make a comment.
"Not at all, but I need to make some calculations, in view of his promotion."
"Whot?" Oliver asked.
Jenny turned and gave Oliver a look and then turned back. Controlling her own excitement she asked, "You said promotion?"
"You did not know? I suppose you would not. It should be for your husband to tell you but there is no help for that now. He was confirmed in his rank effective the date he became an acting Lieutenant."
Jenny smiled. "That was the day we were married."
The senior clerk managed a smile. "Your wedding night was blessed."
Jenny thought of the back pains she was beginning to feel. "I'll tell you in two months."
The clerk laughed and opened his ledger to do the calculations. Meanwhile Oliver tapped her shoulder. His look asked if she was telling the truth. Her flash of anger and curt nod told him yes, and that he had terrible manners. Oliver made it a point to remain quiet the rest of the time.
"There we are," the senior clerk said after some calculations. If you wish to draw the entire pay, it will come to Eighteen Pound Sixteen and Six.
Jenny gasped at the sum. That was four times Henry's normal monthly pay, and that was also a third of what he would earn monthly from now on.
As they left the building, Jenny turned to Oliver. "How could you think that? I told you I was married."
"Oi don't get it," Oliver told her. "If you're Married, Whoy don' you wroite your folks? Ye din' do nothing wrong."
Jenny stopped in her tracts. "Being married isn't the problem. Being pregnant is. Oliver, I'm thirteen. I can't . . . Oliver? How do you know about my parents?"
"Ye talk in your sleep," Oliver said smuggly. "A word 'ere an' there but enough ta go on."
Jenny shook her head ruefully. "And what would you have me tell them? The truth? Then they'll hate me for sure."
Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "If ye woirry so much that ye talk about 'em, maybe they woirry too? If ya wroite 'em, you'll know. Just a t'ought."
They walked quietly for a few streets then Jenny mumbled.
"Whot?"
"I said it's a good thought."
Oliver smiled as though he achieved a victory. He turned to Jenny and smiled.
"Oi got another one. Tha' man said ye should get a solicitor. Oi know one."
Jenny sighed. The boy was full of thoughts today. But she and Henry had talked about that very thing when he was home. A solicitor was like a personal banker. And now that Henry was an officer, he had a reliable income, regardless of what happened. There was one more factor. Almost any solicitor would have an office closer than Naval Affairs so she would have a shorter distance to walk. And she would be able to choose when to go. She even knew who to ask. Commander Potts.
"This solicitor you know of. How do you know he's any good?"
Oliver grinned. "Tha' Commander uses 'im."
"And how do you know who Commander Potts uses?"
"Don't. But 'e's blind and usin' 'im fer fifty years."
Jenny laughed. He had followed her own thoughts exactly. "Oliver, you've just earned a week of free reading lessons."
They walked the rest of the way, Oliver talking about anything that entered his head. How he wished the spring would come so he could jump in the river. What he would do once he could read, and how he'd make everyone notice him. Good places to find food as long as you were careful. Then, when they reached the house, he said goodbye and ran off.
Jenny resisted the urge to call him back, only because she knew he wouldn't come. Oliver had a fierce independent spirit that refused to be tamed. He would be gone for hours or days but he would always come back.
And he did keep coming back.
"You keeping him?" Sarah asked as Jenny came out of her flat.
"I would love too," Jenny said. "But he won't stay. He'll be gone in the morning, as usual."
"And with all your valuables, too, I'd wager."
Jenny laughed. "What valuables? He gave me these today as payment." She handed Goody Smith a fruit pastry.
"And where did he get these?"
"I never thought to ask?" Jenny admitted.
"You mean you thought never to ask. I can't blame you. These smell wonderful."
"Um, Sarah, could I ask a personal question. I've noticed you haven't been working. Is anything wrong?"
Sarah gave Jenny a hug. "Bless you, darling, for asking that question. You're right. I haven't been working. Well, I have, with Goody Corman. I'm learning to be a midwife. I got the first requirement down. I'm not embarrassed to see anyone naked."
Both laughed at the reference to Sarah's profession. But now Jenny was full of questions.
"Why?"
"You know Commander Potts?"
"Of course I do. You know that."
"He asked me to marry him." She saw that Jenny was confused. "He fathered my daughter. Did you know that?"
"I didn't know anything about this. I know you saw him frequently, and not always on business."
"He's getting old, Jenny. I haven't gone to see him on business in almost three years. But he wants to do something about his family. His wife never had any children."
"Do you love him?" Jenny felt she had to ask.
"Love? I don't think so. Not like you and that husband of yours. But we like each other. And I'm already taking care of him. Jenny, over the years he's been putting money aside. A shilling here and a shilling there, and leaving it with his solicitor. Over fifty years, it adds up."
Sarah's voice had become almost a whisper. "That's why I'm learning to be a midwife. Tristram wants to use his money to buy an immigration ticket. We're getting married in the spring and moving to New England."
"New England?"
Sarah was almost excited. "Fifty acres of land and a house. And we own outright for 400 pounds." Her eyes began to water. "Tristram says his children, our children, can grow up with some kind of chance for a life. Not like here."
Jenny hugged Sarah once more, wishing her the best. She went back inside to find Oliver in his favorite spot, curled up in front of the fireplace. She gently covered him with a blanket and watched him sleep. Finally, despite being tired herself, she sat down at the table and began to write a letter. A very difficult letter.
The sunlight woke Jenny up and she opened her eyes to see Oliver standing at the table. She smiled at his reaction when he noticed she was awake. Sitting up, she told him, "I finally wrote the letter."
Oliver smiled back at her. "Oi'll mail it for ye right off."
"No," Jenny said too quickly. "I don't want them to know where I am. Not yet. Just in case."
"Oi know tha' word, Cambridge. Tha' ain't far." Oliver grinned broadly. "Oi'll deliver it me self, an' not tell a thin'. Then they can tell me."
Jenny laughed. "You would go all the way to Cambridge?"
"Oi'd go to th' moon, if ye asked me." Oliver jumped on the bed and crawled over to her, laying his head on the pillow next to her, almost as though he was afraid to touch her. "Oi want ye ta be 'appy, Jenny."
A soft hand stroked his chin and lightly ruffled his hair. "That is a gift I do not deserve," Jenny said to herself. "I had that and threw it away."
Oliver went to say something but Jenny put a finger to his lips to keep him quiet.
"I am happy, Oliver, but it is a happiness that things are not worse. I have a husband who does love me, and I know I'm lucky to have that. I've seen other wives after they've argued with their husbands and I've heard the arguments. And the gossip. I am lucky to have Henry."
Her hand nuzzled Oliver's cheek again. "And I have good friends who try to help. I'm lucky there as well. And I have a wayward brother who visits me every chance he gets."
Oliver grabbed the hand that was against his cheek and held it there, as though he was afraid to let go and lose the moment. "Oi'll deliver it, Jenny. Oi swear. An' oi won't tell."
Before Jenny could say or do anything, Oliver crawled off the bed and went to the table. He picked up the letter. "Oi'm off."
"Oliver, the letter to my parents?"
"Yeah."
"It's inside that letter. That letter is to someone who will deliver it for me."
"Then oi'll work a deal wit' him," Oliver said and ran out.
Jenny smiled and frowned at the same time. She knew Oliver well enough that he would manage to do what he said. She had thought her last line would stop him but he took it the wrong way. At least he would confuse Professor Quirrell when he showed up. And maybe it was best that they knew how to get in touch with her. But she wished that Oliver had shown more sense. Christmas was only a week away, and it might be selfish of her but she would miss his company. Instead she would worry about him, running around somewhere in the cold.
But Jenny never doubted Oliver or his abilities. She knew he would find a way to deliver her letter and get a reply. And he would show up one day on her doorstep with bread and cheese or a handful of apples and demand another lesson.
It was three days before Christmas when the mail arrived.
"Dearest Angel,
With luck, this letter will reach you before any of the others I have written. We arrived at Port Adelaide in the islands of New England only moments before the postal cutter from London. Because we were right there, we received our most recent mail at once. I am still waiting for the older mail to arrive from the warehouse but I had to tell you of one letter.
"I am ranked. The Admiralty finally confirmed my promotion, and back to that day, our wedding day. And now I write quickly to give you my good fortune."
Jenny grinned as she read the letter. Henry had crossed out the word 'my' and written in the word 'our'.
The letter was hastily written. Henry had wanted to get it on the cutter before it left again for London. But he did make a quick note at the end. He had all five of her letters, finally, and would cherish every one of them.
The extra money would be a great help. And now they were assured an income. Jenny sat the letter down and picked one of the other three letters at random. They would all say different things but they would also say the same thing. Each letter would say I love you.
"I love you." Jenny thought, after she finished the last letter. "I love you."
"He ain't been back," the concierge said as Jenny returned from her walk. It was Christmas Eve and snow had begun to fall. "I begun to like him, too."
"He went on a trip. He may be gone for a while."
"He's clever enough. I'm sure he'll be back." The concierge put her hand on Jenny's arm. "If you want, come nightfall I'll be making some Wassail punch. I've already asked the others in the house."
Jenny smiled at the thought of not spending Christmas Eve alone. "I'd love to come."
The concierge, like Jenny and almost everyone else, hated being alone on this holiday. She compensated by opening her door to everyone. Goody Corman was there and the two talked a storm together, dragging Jenny over at one point to talk about her condition. Jenny left their company after a half hour assured that, boy or girl, it was a strong healthy baby coming that would cause her no end of trouble.
Jenny talked politely to the other boarders who had come by but they had little in common and it was mostly about small things. The baby was always one of the topics.
Then Sarah appeared leading Commander Potts. Jenny was nervous about how this group would react. They were always tolerant of her, but rarely friendly.
"There's me apprentice now," Goody Corman called and, to Jenny's surprise, everyone welcomed her and her fiancé. It seemed that Goody Sarah was liked well enough, but her old profession forced everyone to stand away from her. Her new profession permitted them to drop those barriers as though they never existed.
"Jenny, my dear," Commander Potts said when he finally had a chance to talk with her. "Have you talk to the solicitor, lately?"
"I haven't had any need too, Sir. Has something happened, Commander?"
The Commander patted her hand. "Call me Tristram. And no, nothing has happened. I merely suggested that he evaluate your situation."
"Tristram, I don't understand."
Sarah interrupted. "We finalized our arrangements. Tristram asked him to see if he could advance you the money." She paused and stroked Tristan Pott's hand in a warm manner. "We'd like you to come with us."
"With you? To New England? To Quoba?"
"Now my dear," Tristram told Sarah. "You have embarrassed the poor girl. Jenny, we do not mean for you to move in with us," he smiled and squeezed Sarah's hand, "or maybe we do. But we thought under the circumstances you might consider moving to New England, perhaps even purchase some neighboring land. You have a child to think of as well. I asked the solicitor if your account was good enough for him to loan you the sum, and if not to let you know what it would take."
"If you can't work it out," Sarah said. "You could still come. From what we've been told, we'll have plenty of room."
Jenny looked at Sarah and her genuine smile. Then she looked up at the blind man, whose sightless eyes appeared to look right through her. It was an idea she had never seriously considered. But it had its appeal. After the holiday she would talk to the solicitor. That night, when she went to bed, she would dream about New England.
It was the third of January, a cold and bitter morning. Jenny had the kettle on and the fire going strong. Sarah and her two children had joined her. It was cheaper to heat one room than two. Then a knock was heard at the door. Sarah answered it and stepped back to reveal a familiar figure.
"Oi'm back. 'ow about a lessen?"
