“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “We’ve never spoken of it.”
“We need support,” Mercy said. “The Porter family and their friends are refusing to pay their share of the Reverend Parris’ expenses. When will your husband return?”
“In the spring,” Elizabeth said.
“Why did he go to Europe?” Mercy asked.
“He’s having a new class of ship built,” Elizabeth said. “It is called a frigate. He says it will be fast and able to defend itself against French privateers and Caribbean pirates.”
After touching the tops of the cooling loaves with the palms of her hands, Elizabeth called out to the children to tell them it was time to eat. As they drifted over to the table, she asked them if they wanted some of the fresh, warm bread. Although her own children turned up their noses at the offer, Ann Putnam, Abigail Williams, and Betty Parris were eager. Elizabeth opened a trapdoor in the corner of the kitchen and sent Sarah down to fetch some butter from the dairy storage.
Mercy was intrigued by the trapdoor.
“It was Ronald’s idea,” Elizabeth explained. “It functions like a ship’s hatch and affords access to the cellar without having to go outside.”
Once the children were set with plates of pork stew and thick slices of bread if they wanted it, Elizabeth poured herself and Mercy mugs of hot cider. To escape the children’s chatter, they carried the cider into the parlor.
“My word!” Mercy exclaimed. Her eyes had immediately gone to a sizable portrait of Elizabeth hanging over the mantel. Its shocking realism awed her, especially the radiant green eyes. For a moment she stood rooted in the center of the room while Elizabeth deftly kindled the fire that had reduced itself to glowing coals.
“Your dress is so revealing,” Mercy said. “And your head is unadorned.”
“The painting disturbed me at first,” Elizabeth admitted. She stood up from the hearth and positioned two chairs in front of the now blazing fire. “It was Ronald’s idea. It pleases him. Now I hardly notice it.”
“It’s so popish,” Mercy said with a sneer. She angled her chair to exclude the painting from her line of sight. She took a sip from the warm cider and tried to organize her thoughts. The visit had not gone as she’d imagined. Elizabeth’s character was disconcerting. Mercy had yet to even broach the subject of why she’d come. She cleared her throat.
“I’d heard a rumor,” Mercy began. “I’m certain there can be no verity to it. I’d heard that you had the fancy to buy the Northfields’ property.”
“~’Tis no rumor,” Elizabeth said brightly. “It will be done. We shall own land on both sides of the Wooleston River. The tract even extends into Salem Village where it abuts Ronald’s village lots.”
“But the Putnams had the intention to buy the land,” Mercy said indignantly. “It is important for them. They need access to the water for their endeavors, particularly their iron works. Their only problem is the proper funds, for which they must wait for the next harvest. They shall be very angry if you persevere, and they will try to stop the sale.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I have the money now,” she said. “I want the land because we intend to build a new house to enable us to take in more orphans.” Elizabeth’s face brightened with excitement and her eyes sparkled. “Daniel Andrew has agreed to design and build the house. It’s to be a grand house of brick like those of London town.”
Mercy could not believe what she was hearing. Elizabeth’s pride and covetousness knew no bounds. Mercy swallowed another mouthful of cider with difficulty. “Do you know that Daniel Andrew is married to Sarah Porter?” she asked.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said. “Before Ronald left we entertained them both.”
“How, may I ask, do you have access to such vast sums of money?”
“With the demands of the war, Ronald’s firm has been doing exceptionally well.”
“Profiteering from the misfortune of others,” Mercy stated sententiously.
“Ronald prefers to say that he is providing sorely needed matériel.”
Mercy stared for a moment into Elizabeth’s bright green eyes. She was doubly appalled that Elizabeth seemed to have no conception of her transgression. In fact, Elizabeth brazenly smiled and returned Mercy’s gaze, sipping her cider contentedly.