Nathan started at the sight of my husband and took a small step back.
No longer alone, my strength returned and I glared with a vengeance at Nathan Crowley. “Don’t you dare call me a witch! Just because I wouldn’t marry you doesn’t mean I’m in league with the Devil, for believe me, if I were, his hounds would be dragging your wretched little soul to hell this very moment!” The words came unfettered from my mouth, fueled by rage and emboldened by the very large and very dangerous man standing by my side.
Nathan’s eyes bulged to the point of bursting and his face turned that ugly shade of red. “Do you see what you have married?” he demanded, looking directly at Henry. “Only a witch would speak so to a man of God!”
“Selah is no more a witch than you, sir,” Henry said evenly. “And you will apologize for insulting her.”
Nathan had reached the height of agitation and went on, completely oblivious to the threat in Henry’s voice. “I’ve been told you sleep in separate rooms, and that she locks you in at night. One can only imagine what terrible secrets she is hiding to treat her husband so shamefully.”
Henry stiffened at my side. “Our sleeping arrangements are none of your concern,” he said, though he must have been humiliated by Nathan’s intimate knowledge of our affairs. For myself, I was in a fury at how quickly this bit of gossip had traveled into town, and wondered which of the servants was speaking so freely behind my back.
“Do you know that she roams the woods at night in search of the Devil?” Nathan asked, speaking in earnest to Henry. “Cast her off before it’s too late. There would be no loss of honor to have the marriage annulled and return to Ireland. I give you my word she will be tried and punished.”
“How very convenient for you to get the first husband out of the way,” Henry said. “If I go willingly, you could step into my place without so much as a hiccup.”
From the contempt on Nathan’s face, it was plain any love for me had long vanished. “I’ve no use for the Devil’s whore,” he sneered. “She beguiled me once with her evil tricks and I will not play the fool again.”
In one quick movement Henry had a hold of Nathan’s arm and was roughly ushering him to the door. “That’s enough from you, Mr. Crowley,” he said. “We’ll be finishing this conversation outside if you don’t mind.”
Nathan twisted around to face me, nearly purple with rage. A thick vein pulsed in his forehead. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, saith the Lord! She is an abomination before me and must be destroyed!”
While Henry pulled him bodily from the room, I remained behind, stunned by the enormity of my miscalculation. From his very first overture, Nathan had considered me no more than soft-bodied prey, and like a cunning little spider, had slowly spun his web and waited for me to land. Long before I ever left for Philadelphia, I had been unwittingly trapped and flailing against the sticky threads. He planned to have me one way or another, either as his wife or accused of witchcraft and driven from Brighmor.
“Have you recovered?” Henry asked from the doorway.
Turning, I saw the safe distance he kept between us. “Yes, I’m fine.” The lie slipped unsteadily from my tongue.
“Nathan and I had a very instructive conversation,” he said, looking a bit self-satisfied. “I don’t think he’ll be coming back any time soon, but I’ll stay close to the house for the rest of the day just in case.”
I nodded and he turned to go, when I remembered something more that needed to be said. “Thank you, Henry.”
He looked at me curiously and I desperately wanted to know whether or not he had believed any of Nathan’s accusations. “Just doing my job,” he said, and then turned and walked away.
The drawing room was grandly proportioned, with tall windows and a high ceiling, and being left alone allowed too much space for my problems to grow unchecked. Following such a confrontation, I found myself yet again teetering precariously between either throwing myself on a nearby sofa in a flood of tears or simply smashing every porcelain object within reach. In the end, I opted instead to return to my apothecary in the hopes of clearing my mind by chopping and grinding every last plant in the room.