Page 4 of Damnation
“Tis the third time this week, is it not?” Thomas asks.
How could he possibly know that? Has he been watching me far closer than I realize? Our lands are quite a distance from one another, and though our paths cross from time to time, this is the first conversation we have ever shared.
I do not speak. I know better than to do so, especially when I have nothing but disparaging remarks when it comes to my husband. Thomas nods like he already knows my answer for himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling out five pence. My eyes widen as he holds it out for me. When I do not offer my hand, impatience fills his features as he takes my hand with his free one, dropping the silver coins into my hand before closing it with his.
Flutters fill my stomach, and my heart begins beating thunderously once more as his hold on my hand remains.
“Tell him you collected one, then keep the rest for yourself. Do you understand me?”
I shake my head, rendered speechless.
“I-I cannot. I cannot accept so much from you. I do not require so much?—”
“You do, Mrs. Good. You deserve…far more.”
His words suspend in the air between us, causing me to feel faint as I look up to him.
“Sarah.”
He rolls his lips together like he is reconsidering whether to speak so informally. Being the impulsive man I have seen him to be, though, he does not waste another moment.
“Sarah, please. I insist upon it.”
You would think I am daft the way I have found myself unable to form any considerable amount of words in this man’s presence. Perhaps I am, though, because I cannot understand why a man with a reputation such as his, one known for his greediness and narcissism, would be so generous. Especially generous to an unfortunate woman such as myself.
“Thank you…Thomas,” I say, pausing for a moment before using his name.
If there is a single listener into the conversation, the scandal would very well ravage the village before nightfall. My eyes scan our surroundings, relieved to find us alone. Who would believe a gossiper as it is? They would think the person had gone mad. Thomas Putnam and…myself? Outlandish.
“Thomas!” his brother Edward calls out, his strides carrying him towards us faster than I’d care.
In an instant, Thomas drops his hold on my hands, forcing a chill to consume my body, and turns away to face his brother. I know the gesture is meant to be dismissive, but why do I feel more so protected, as if he was shielding me from his brother, from the rest of the village? It must be my own delusions once more.
“Brother, Ann is looking for you.” I hear Edward say.
Peering around Thomas, I find Edward staring at me with deep curiosity before his eyes return to his brother.
“Should I tell her you are otherwise engaged?”
There is a teasing tone that I’m not certain I enjoy before Thomas speaks.
“Of course not, on my way then.”
I think that is it, until Thomas turns to face me once more, nodding his head as he speaks.
“God be with you, Mrs. Good.”
“God be with you, Mr. Putnam,” I say. “And you as well, Mr. Putnam.”
Edwards casts an uneasy glance to me before reaching into his pocket and flicking a pence. It hits my chest before falling to the ground. I fight the urge to pick it up, not interested in the disrespectful show he is no doubt attempting to orchestrate.
“Well manners are rewarded with well pay, Mrs. Good. My sincerest hope you do not forget that. It may be the very thing to save that agreeable face from similar treatment, yes?” He smirks, gesturing at my cut lip.
An angered noise escapes Thomas before he grips Edward’s arm, ripping him away from me and storming down the road towards their homes. I cannot clearly hear the impassioned words they speak to one another, and I truly am grateful for that. The disrespect of the village, while should be tiresome, never fades. The pain never stops, and each disparaging look and comment pricks at myself on the inside like no strike ever could.
Once they are out of sight, I quickly bend down, grabbing the pence that Edward flicked at me. My pride begged me not to, but my mind was victorious over that battle.
Six pence. That’s more than William has ever made in a week, let alone a day.
