Page 77 of The Witch

Except how on earth would I do that? Nobody will tell me a damn thing about the woman. I don’t even know her last name, which makes it extremely hard to search for her.

Ethel and Mick are hiding something from me. If I had to bet money, I’d say that Ethel is my real grandmother. But I don’t know how to go about proving it, and it’s starting to feel like Celia is just a dead end.

I am sick of all the secrets in my family. I might never find out what the ghost of Caroline Eldridge is trying to tell us, but I’m determined to figure out the truth about Ethel and my grandmother.

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1692

CAROLINE

My legs can barely support me as I make my way to the front of the courtroom. Every eye in the room is pinned on me. They are now all convinced of my guilt and want to see me hanged. But I only need to convince one: Magistrate Putman.

I manage to sit down in the uncomfortable wooden chair just before my legs give way. Putman glowers at me, looking as convinced of my guilt as the rest of the townsfolk.

“Mistress Caroline Eldridge?” he booms.

“Yes, Your Honor,” I say in a voice that is barely a squeak. “That is I.”

“Mistress Eldridge,” he says, “what evil spirit have you familiarity with?”

“None,” I sputter.

“None?” Those bushy eyebrows arch upward. “When did you form your contract with the devil?”

“I have no contract with the devil!” I am outraged by his questions, which seem to assume my guilt. “I serve God!”

“What God do you serve?”

“The God that made heaven and earth!”

“Why did you chant around the fire with Hitty Atkins?”

“I did no such thing!”

“Why does the devil come to your house and feed at your teat?”

“I…” How could I even answer such a question? “I do not know the devil, Your Honor.”

Magistrate Putman does not believe me. I see this in his eyes. How might I convince him that I am not a tool of the devil? How can I prove to this man that I am a good God-fearing woman?

Then I remember what Jonas told me. That Putman accepts spectral evidence, which is not standard in a court of law. This might be his court, but that does not mean he can simply follow whatever rules he wishes.

“You cannot accept these accusations of my guilt,” I say pointedly. “’Tis spectral evidence, and it proves nothing in a court of law.”

Putman blinks at me, as if surprised by my nerve. For a moment, he seems unable to respond, but then a voice interrupts us from within the courtroom.

“I believe I have tangible evidence against Mistress Eldridge!”

I peer out into the crowd. The man on his feet is Deputy Strickland, and he wears a look of pure malevolence on his face. A chill goes down my spine—he has been waiting for his moment to punish me for my insolence, and it seems this moment has arrived.

“If you have such evidence,” Putman says, “then pray come forward and present it.”

Strickland pushes through the crowd and my heart pounds fiercely. Strickland wishes to see me hanged, his revenge for my refusal to do his bidding when he was inside my cell.

When Strickland reaches the front of the room, he turns to face Putman. I do not like the look in either man’s eyes.

“When Mistress Eldridge arrived at our jailhouse,” Strickland begins, “Sheriff Bixby and I examined her for signs of a witch’s teat, as is standard practice in accusations of witchery. According to Molly Howe, Mistress Eldridge was using this teat to feed the devil in the form of a cat.”