She looked round, sobbing. Liza? The word was soundless on her lips. Liza, why didnt you hide from them?
Sweet Jesus. She could feel it. She could hear it in the echoes. Evil. Terror. Death.
Liza! She was screaming now as she ran down the stairs. Liza, come back!
Her sorrow and fear turning to anger, she ran towards the gate. There was no sign now of the rabble in the lane. The dust was settling. Nearby a thrush hopped out of the hedge, a snail in its beak, looking for its usual anvil. The stone had been pushed to one side by the scrabbling of a dozen pairs of feet but the bird spotted it at once and began to hammer the shell in quick brutal thumps as she watched.
Sobbing, she made her way home.
Papa? There was no answer. Papa? Where are you? Her voice echoed down the oak-panelled corridor.
He was in the great hall, speaking to his steward. What is it, Sarah? Anthony Bennett turned with a frown. His expression softened as he saw his only daughter.
They have taken Liza. The witchfinder and his rabble have taken Liza, Papa. You have to do something! She saw her fathers steward scowl. John Pepper had worked for the Bennetts for as long as she could remember. She had never liked him.
It was only a matter of time, mistress. That old woman has cast the evil eye too often for my taste, or anyone elses in the town.
Thats not true! Sarahs eyes blazed. She has done nothing but good. I remember her making medicines for your family many a time, John Pepper!
And my family died, mistress! The retort had an almost triumphant tone to it.
They died of marsh ague, not of a curse! She was indignant.
And who is to say that? Liza gave them medicines. Maybe they were poisoned.
Enough! Anthony Bennett slammed the book he had been holding down onto the table. Leave us please, John. Well continue our discussion later. Sarah, calm yourself. I fear there is nothing you can do. The law must take its course. I am sure justice will be done.
Justice! Sarah stared at him, white-faced. Where was the justice for the others? They had done nothing wrong.
If that were true, my darling, they would not have been hanged. He held out his hand. Come and sit by me and we will discuss it, see if there is something we can do.
She was trembling. He will hurt her, Papa. He will force a confession.
Anthony Bennett frowned. Liza is not entirely innocent of whatever charges have been laid against her, Sarah. You and I both know that. Her intentions may have been benign, but her methods have not always been Christian. He gave a wry smile. Have never been Christian, if we are honest! That is, sweet daughter, why your mother first dismissed her from our service. She decided Liza was not a fit nurse for you.
Sarahs face was burning with indignation. But you brought her back, Papa, after Mama died. And she cared for me as her own child. She never harmed me
No. She never harmed any of us. She has been loyal and kind to the Bennett family, which is why I gave her the cottage, and for that reason we will support her and do what we can for her. He stood up and walked towards the window. His elbow resting against a carved wooden mullion, he stared down into the garden. I will speak to our neighbour, Sir Harbottle, who may well end up the judge of the case, he said slowly. Our friendship is severely strained however, as you know, as he is for Parliament and we are for the king. It is not a good time to seek favours. He turned back to her. You must leave this to me, Sarah. His voice was suddenly stern. Do not become involved. He knew his daughter. For a while, during her short-lived marriage to Robert Paxman, she had settled into blissfully demure matronhood, or so it had seemed to her father. He had sighed with relief. His daughter was safely settled, married to a good, wealthy man. Not gentry, as he would have wished she had spurned the suitable men whom Anthony had produced for her inspection but a decent burgess of Colchester who was strong, well-educated, successful and she adored him. The only blight on their five-year marriage had been the emptiness of the nursery. The cradle remained unused, to Robert and Sarahs deep unhappiness, and when Robert had died of the pox Sarah was left wealthy, independent, and alone. Anthony sighed. This was the third time she had ridden over to see him in as many weeks. The loneliness was beginning to wear her down.