when she died,” Willett went on, “although there would have been an almighty uproar if they’d gone ahead and wed like they’d planned. Levi would have been disowned. That’s what the Quakers do when one of them marries out. And he had no money of his own. I don’t know what he and Rachel thought they were going to do.”
So Betsy had it right from the first. She’d said that Rachel had already made her choice and just wasn’t ready to admit it yet. As it turned out, she had good reason for staying mum, and now he was beginning to understand his last conversation with her. She had said that she needed to be quite certain in her mind, that she knew she must settle soon. She realized then the enormity of what she was asking of the Quaker boy; he would have to leave behind his faith and his family in order to be with her. It was no decision to make on an impulse, and she must have thought long and hard on the consequences.
So the question was this: What had she decided? Had she backed out of the arrangement at the last moment and been killed by her spurned suitor? If that was the case, then her death was unrelated to the other murders, all evidence to the contrary. Or was the Quaker boy the madman he was looking for? It seemed unlikely, but then he had no experience with what, exactly, a mad murderer was supposed to look like, did he? Or had Seth Jessup learned of the relationship and intervened? Was that the explanation for his absence on the night of his son’s birth? Was he a suspect after all?
“Where is Levi now? What did he do after Rachel died?”
“Oh, he moped around for a few months, but then he settled down and took over most of the work on his father’s farm. He married Phoebe Parker last year. She’s a good Quaker girl and they’re in fine standing with the Society. His father even added a wing onto the farmhouse for them.”
So, Levi White could not have been in Prescott or Millcreek, nor, probably, anywhere near Sarah’s cabin. If the murders were related then the Quaker boy was suspected and summarily dismissed as a suspect within a few sentences. If they weren’t, the information he had gleaned took him no farther along the path of inquiry. He asked Willett to convey his best wishes to his brother and their families and set off to return to the Jessup’s.
He walked slowly while he collected his thoughts. Francis Renwell, of course, had been exonerated long since. The Caddick brothers had been on hand for really only one of the murders, the one in Demorestville. One of them might have had the opportunity to kill Sarah — they had been travelling during that time —but it appeared that they were indisputably accounted for at the time of the subsequent deaths. Morgan Spicer could have been present for three of them, but had been chiselling away at granite tombstones when the first had taken place. He had seen him with a Book of Proverbs in his hand, but there was nothing to connect him to the prayer pins. Seth Jessup could be suspected in Rachel’s death, maybe even Sarah’s at a stretch, but certainly none of the others, although Lewis vowed to discover where he had disappeared to on the night of the second murder.
There was only one man left who had the opportunity to kill in all four cases, and who had an ample supply of pins and miniature bible books: Isaac Simms. It was either Simms, or Lewis was seeing a pattern that didn’t exist. He truly wanted to believe that the murders were the work of some villain who had not yet come to his attention, some desperate and depraved soul who travelled for the sole purpose of wrenching the life from young women. But it would have made more sense for someone like that to wander the newly settled areas to the west. There were many isolated cabins there, the clearings were full of young women left alone while their men worked in the woods or went to market. It would have been easy pickings for someone with the intent to kill.
Again he came back to Isaac Simms. But how could he prove it? There seemed to be no authority he could conveniently defer to, no enforcement he could call upon. It was up to him.
From now on, he vowed, he would keep a very close eye on Simms.
III
Lewis returned to an uproarious welcome at the Jessup’s. Betsy was feeling much better, and was able to hobble between the stove and the table without help. Minta’s Henry was a serious little boy who didn’t quite know what to make of the boisterous Martha, but she was determined to entertain him, and had him giggling and laughing as his mother watched approvingly.
“He seems to have inherited his father’s temperament,” she said. “It’s so good for him to have another child to play with. He needs to learn that life isn’t all seriousness.”
Martha had constructed a tent of sorts out of two chairs and the quilt from the daybed, and she was pretending to be an ogre who lived inside. Every time Henry approached the makeshift cave, Martha would roar and try to grab him. He would then run away squealing and laughing. Betsy and Minta both got into the spirit of the game and roared at him in their turn, and when Lewis rose from his chair with the intention of fetching some firewood, Martha shouted, “Oh, no, it’s a really big monster coming to get you!”
Henry was unsure of where to run, so he stood still, his eyes huge. Lewis strode across the floor, grabbed the little boy, turned him upside down and began to tickle him while the others laughed and shouted encouragement. This was the scene that greeted Seth Jessup after his day’s work was over and he came in looking for his supper.
“My goodness me,” he said mildly. “This looks like fun.” He stood, as uncertain as his son had been. Lewis took the small, struggling boy and thrust him into his father’s arms.
“More, Daddy, more!” Henry shouted, and after a moment’s hesitation Seth began to spin the child around, all the time dipping and raising him until he ended by plunking him on his shoulders while Henry clutched his hair, his face red and happy.
“Supper’s ready,” Minta said, and Seth swung Henry down, depositing him at the table. “Martha, tidy away the quilt, dear, and bring the chairs to the table.”
Later, after the children said their prayers and were put to bed, Minta finally asked the question that she had probably been dying to ask ever since they’d arrived. “So, what brought you down this way, Mr. Lewis?”
“It’s Thaddeus, please, and that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.” He hesitated for a moment, a little unsure what reaction his next statement would produce. “It’s partly about Rachel.”
He turned to Seth. “Please don’t be upset. Just bear with me for a bit and then I’ll explain, but I need to know the answer to one question. Where did you go the night Henry was born?”
The blacksmith looked sheepish. “Minta told you about that?”
“She told me you’d been gone, but I’ve never known why.”
Seth heaved a great sigh and stared at the table as he struggled for the words.
“I have always been a driven man,” he said finally. “I always felt that my fortunes depended on me and me alone. You can make something of yourself in this place if you’re willing to work and you’re careful with the fruits of your labours. I’d always worked hard until I could work no more, never spent a penny more than was needed.” He cleared his throat and looked at Minta. “And sometimes not even when it was.”
Lewis nodded. This was what Rachel had implied when he asked why Seth didn’t attend the class meetings.
“I love my wife dearly, Mr. Lewis, and I always have, but sometimes my attitude made life difficult for her. I told myself that I was doing it all for her, that I would end up being somebody in this life, and that at some future time she would be a lady of leisure, she and Rachel as well, with other people hired
