Page 35 of The Witch

“Actually,” he says, “I think it was in their heads. All of it.”

I take a bite of one of the fries, which is also pretty good. Crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. “So you do think the girls were faking?”

“Not faking exactly,” he says thoughtfully. “But the power of suggestion can’t be underestimated. There is a documented psychiatric condition called conversion disorder in which people have become paralyzed in half their bodies entirely due to mental stress. I don’t think these girls were intentionally faking the seizures, but there are reasons to believe that the cause was something non-medical.”

“Like what?”

He takes a bite from his burger. “Well, there were multiple trials where the ‘proof’ of witchcraft was that the alleged witch could stop the fits by simply touching the afflicted person. And this proved true—the accused would touch the afflicted girl, and the fits would suddenly stop. That’s obviously not consistent with any sort of medical condition.” He pauses meaningfully. “Of course, when they blindfolded the girls, anyone could touch them and stop the fits.”

“So the witches were found innocent then?”

“No, they were still executed.”

I gasp. “Seriously? Why?”

“Logic doesn’t work when you’re faced with mass hysteria,” Henry says flatly. “Hasn’t social media taught you anything? If you were accused, you were basically screwed. It was almost impossible to prove your innocence.” He pauses. “Anyway, why the interest in the witch trials?”

I wash down another gulp of the burger with a sip of water. “No reason.”

“Does it have to do with Caroline Eldridge? Archibald’s former wife?”

I look at him with surprise—and respect. Clearly, this man knows the history of Pemberton like the back of his hand.

“I was wondering about her,” I admit. “She didn’t live in Salem, right?”

“No, she didn’t,” he confirms. “And I have to tell you, the details of Caroline Eldridge’s execution are…unusual.”

“Unusual how?”

“It’s a bit…well, disturbing.” He levels his eyes at me. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

Slowly, I nod my head.

26

1692

CAROLINE

Today, Hitty Atkins will be hanged.

The weather is wet and dreary, which makes me think God is crying for Hitty. How unfair that a fine woman like Hitty could be accused of such a thing. I have heard of women hanged for witchcraft in other settlements, but I never believed it could happen here.

I was wrong.

After Archie and I break fast in the morn, I expect him to tell me that he is off to the dock, but then he surprises me. “We should take the carriage into town,” he tells me.

“Why would we go into town?”

“For the hanging,” he says, in the same voice he would use to suggest we step out to watch a performance.

I clasp a hand to my chest. “I will not watch that! I could not bear it!”

Archie looks at me in surprise. “Why? Is the baby making you ill?”

His earnest question deflates my anger. Nay, I have not managed to confess to my husband that I am not with child. I cannot dampen his excitement—it would be cruel. Perhaps this moon, we will have more luck, and I will never have to reveal my deception.

“Hitty is my friend,” I say. “You know as well as I that she is no witch. She saved your life when you were ill.”