Kim shook her head and silently laughed at herself. She told herself that she must have watched too many soap operas, since her imagination was taking unwarranted, melodramatic leaps.
After spending a few more minutes going over the Stewart family tree, Kim learned two more facts. First she confirmed she was related to Ronald and Elizabeth through their son Jonathan. Second she learned that the name “Elizabeth” never reappeared in the family’s three-hundred-year history. With so many generations, such a situation couldn’t have happened by chance. Kim marveled at the opprobrium Elizabeth had brought on herself, and Kim’s curiosity waxed concerning what Elizabeth could possibly have done to warrant it.
Finally, with her superficial genealogical inquiry, Kim descended the steps of the Peabody-Essex Institute with the idea of retrieving her car and heading out to the compound. But at the foot of the steps she hesitated. The passing question that she’d entertained about Ronald’s character and the possibility of foul play on his part gave her another idea. Returning inside the institute, she asked directions for the Essex County Courthouse.
The building was on Federal Street, not far from the Witch House. It was a severe Greek Revival structure with a stark pediment and massive Doric columns. Kim entered and asked to be directed to court records.
Kim had no idea whether she would find anything at all. She didn’t even know if court records were saved from so long ago, nor did she know if they did exist whether they were available to the public. Nonetheless she presented herself at the appropriate counter and asked to look at any court records of Ronald Stewart. She added that she was interested in the Ronald Stewart who’d been born in 1653.
The clerk was a sleepy-looking woman of indeterminate age. If she was surprised by Kim’s request she didn’t show it. Her response was to punch it up on a computer terminal. After glancing at the screen for a moment, she left the room. She’d not said a word. Kim guessed that there had been so many people researching the Salem witch trials that the town’s civil servants were jaded about inquiries from that era.
Kim shifted her weight and checked her watch. It was already ten-thirty, and she’d not even been to the compound yet.
The woman reappeared with a manila pocket folder. She handed it to Kim. “You can’t take this out of the room,” she said. She pointed to some Formica tables and molded plastic chairs along the back wall. “You can sit over there if you like.”
Kim took the folder over to an empty chair. She sat down and slipped out the contents. There was a lot of material. All of it was written in reasonably legible longhand.
At first Kim thought that the file contained only documents associated with civil suits Ronald had filed with the court for debts owed to him. But then she began to find more interesting things, like reference to a contested will involving Ronald.
Kim carefully read the document. It was a ruling in Ronald’s favor involving a will contested by a Jacob Cheever. Reading on, Kim discovered that Jacob had been a child of Hannah’s from a previous marriage and that Hannah had been significantly older than Ronald. Jacob had testified that Ronald had duped his mother into changing her will, thereby depriving him of his rightful inheritance. Apparently the justices disagreed. The result had been that Ronald inherited several thousand pounds, a sizable fortune in those days.
Kim marveled that life in the late seventeenth century hadn’t been as different as she’d imagined. She’d been under the delusion that at least legally it had been simpler. Reading about the contested will suggested she was wrong. It also made her think again about Ronald’s character.
The next document was even more curious. It was a contract dated February 11, 1681, between Ronald Stewart and Elizabeth Flanagan. It had been drawn up and signed prior to their marriage, like a contemporary premarital agreement. But it wasn’t about money or property per se. The contract merely gave Elizabeth the right to own property and enter into contracts in her own name after the marriage.