“Kim?” Edward called. “Are you down here?”
Kim’s first response was to let out a sigh. Until then, she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding her breath. Leaning against the wall of the cell for support, since her legs felt tremulous, she called out to Edward to let him know where she was. In a few moments his large frame filled the doorway.
“You scared me,” Kim said as calmly as she could manage. Now that she knew it was Edward, she was acutely embarrassed by the extent of her terror.
“I’m sorry,” Edward said falteringly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Why didn’t you call out sooner?” Kim asked.
“I did,” Edward said. “Several times. First when I came through the front door and again in the great room. I think the wine cellar must be insulated.”
“I suppose it is,” Kim said. “What are you doing here, anyway? I certainly didn’t expect you.”
“I tried to call you at your apartment,” Edward said. “Marsha told me you drove out here with the idea of fixing up the old house. On the spur of the moment I decided to come. I feel responsible since I was the one who suggested it.”
“That was considerate,” Kim said. Her pulse was still racing.
“I’m really sorry for having scared you,” Edward said.
“Never mind,” Kim said. “It’s my fault for letting my stupid imagination take over. I heard your footsteps and thought you were a ghost.”
Edward made an evil face and turned his hands into claws. Kim playfully socked him in the shoulder and told him he wasn’t funny.
They both felt relieved. The tension that existed evaporated.
“So you’ve started on the Elizabeth Stewart search,” Edward said. He eyed the open drawer of the bureau. “Did you find anything?”
“As a matter of fact I have,” Kim said. She stepped over to the bureau and handed Edward James Flanagan’s letter to Ronald Stewart.
Edward carefully slipped the note from the envelope. He held it close to the light. It took him as much time to read it as it had taken Kim.
“Indian raids in Andover!” Edward commented. “Can you imagine? Life certainly was different back then.”
Edward finished the letter and handed it back to Kim. “Fascinating,” he said.
“Doesn’t it upset you at all?” Kim asked.
“Not particularly,” Edward said. “Should it?”
“It upset me,” Kim said. “Poor Elizabeth had even less say about her tragic fate than I’d imagined. Her father was using her as a bargaining chip in a business deal. It’s deplorable.”
“I think you might be jumping to conclusions,” Edward said. “Opportunity as we know it didn’t exist in the seventeenth century. Life was harsher and more tenuous. People had to team up just to survive. Individual interests weren’t a high priority.”
“That doesn’t warrant making a deal with your daughter’s life,” Kim said. “It sounds as if her father were treating her like a cow or some other piece of property.”
“I still think you could be reading too much into it,” Edward said. “Just because there was a deal between James and Ronald doesn’t necessarily mean that Elizabeth didn’t have any say whether she wanted to marry Ronald or not. Also, you have to consider that it might have been a great source of comfort and satisfaction for her to know that she was providing for the rest of her family.”
“Well, maybe so,” Kim said. “Trouble is, I know what ultimately happened to her.”
“You still don’t know for sure if she was hanged or not,” Edward reminded her.
“That’s true,” Kim said. “But this letter at least suggests one reason she might have been vulnerable to being accused as a witch. From the reading I’ve done, people in Puritan times were not supposed to change their station in life, and if they did, they were automatically suspected of not following God’s will. Elizabeth’s sudden rise from a poor farmer’s daughter to a comparatively wealthy merchant’s wife certainly fits that category.”
“Vulnerability and actually being accused are two different things,” Edward said. “Since I haven’t seen her name in any of the books, I’m dubious.”
“My mother suggested that the reason she’s not mentioned is because the family went to great lengths to keep her name out of it. She even implied the reason was because the family considered Elizabeth guilty.”
“That’s a new twist,” Edward said. “But it makes sense in one regard. People in the seventeenth century believed in witchcraft. Maybe Elizabeth practiced it.”
“Wait a second,” Kim said. “Are you suggesting Elizabeth was a witch? My idea was that she was guilty of something, like changing her status, but certainly not that she considered herself a sorceress.”
“I mean maybe she practiced magic,” Edward said. “Back then there was white magic and black magic. The difference was that white magic was for good things, like curing a person or an animal. Black magic, on the other hand, had a malicious intent and was called witchcraft. Obviously there could have been times when it was a matter of opinion if some potion or charm represented white magic or black magic.”
“Well, maybe you have a point,” Kim said. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t buy it. My intuition tells me otherwise. I have a feeling Elizabeth was an entirely innocent person caught in a terrible tragedy by some insidious trick of fate. Whatever the trick was, it must have been awful, and the fact that her memory has been treated so dreadfully just compounds the injustice.” Kim glanced around at the file cabinets, bureaus, and boxes. “The question is: could the explanation of whatever it was lie in this sea of documents?”
“I’d say that finding this personal letter is auspicious,” Edward said. “If there’s one, there’s got to be more. If you’re going to find the answer it will most likely be in personal correspondence.”
“I just wish there were some chronological order to these papers,” Kim said.
“What about the old house?” Edward asked. “Did you make any decisions about fixing it up?”
“I did,” Kim said. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you.”
Leaving Edward’s car parked at the castle, they drove over to the old house in Kim’s. With great enthusiasm Kim took Edward on a tour and explained that she was going to follow his original suggestion of putting the modern conveniences in the lean-to portion. The most important bit of new information was the placement of a half-bath between the bedrooms.
“I think it will be marvelous house,” Edward said as they exited the building. “I’m jealous.”
“I’m excited about it,” Kim said. “What I’m really looking forward to is the decorating. I think I’ll arrange to take some vacation time and even personal time off in September to devote full time to it.”
“You’ll do it all by yourself?” Edward asked.
“Absolutely,” Kim said.
“Admirable,” Edward said. “I know I couldn’t do it.”
They climbed into Kim’s car. Kim hesitated starting the engine. They could see the house through the front windshield.
“Actually I’ve always wanted to be an interior decorator,” Kim said wistfully.
“No kidding?” Edward said.
“It was a missed opportunity,” Kim said. “My main interest when I was growing up was always art in some form or fashion, especially in high school. Back then, I’d have to say, I was a whimsical artist type and hardly a member of the in-group.”
“I certainly wasn’t part of the in-group either,” Edward said.
Kim started the car and turned it around. They headed for the castle.
“Why didn’t you become an interior decorator?” Edward asked.
“My parents talked me out of it,” Kim said. “Particularly my father.”
“I’m confused,” Edward said. “Friday at dinner you said you and your father were never close.”
“We weren’t close, but he still had a big effect on me,” Kim said. “I thought it was my fault we weren’t close. So I spent a lot of effort trying to please him, even to the point of going into nursing. He wanted me to go into nursing or teaching because he felt they were ‘appropriate.’ He certainly didn’t think interior design was appropriate.”