Jennet said, “Hannah? Do ye ken those folk?”

Ethan came forward to stand beside Hannah. Birdie saw then that Daniel was not among the party-goers. Nor was Martha. What this might mean would have to wait, because there was something wrong. Hannah and Ethan wore identical expressions, faces wiped clean of all emotion. Ben came to stand beside Hannah, his expression concerned and watchful.

Without turning her head Hannah said, “Little sister, has Martha come down the mountain yet?”

Birdie almost jumped, she was so surprised by this question.

“No,” she said. “Isn’t she with you?”

Ethan said, “Ben, could you please go back and find Daniel and Martha? Tell them Jemima is come, and they should sit tight where they are. As soon as we figure out what’s going on, we’ll bring word.”

Jemima. Birdie’s mouth fell open and she shut it with a clicking sound. That lady in the fine clothes was Jemima Southern, as close to a witch as Paradise had ever come.

Hannah looked down at Birdie and managed a grim smile. “Run,” she said. “Run home and fetch your ma and da and Curiosity. Tell them Jemima is come back to Paradise and she’s at the Red Dog. Go now, as fast as you can.”

Birdie ran.

—

Nathaniel said, “Boots, will you let me do the talking?”

It was a quarter hour since Birdie had come bursting through the door with her news. Elizabeth’s expression had gone very still, in a way Nathaniel rarely saw. In the grip of an anger like this, all the common sense and rational thought she valued so highly went missing. This angry she could do anything at all. March into the open when men were shooting at each other, for example. She had done that once, and taken a good year off his life.

He almost felt sorry for Jemima.

Nathaniel looked behind himself. He hoped it would take a while to get Curiosity’s Ginny hitched to the trap. The longer it took Curiosity and Birdie to get back to the village the better. He didn’t want to have to worry about Curiosity’s heart giving out or Birdie getting in the way of trouble. Of all the children, Birdie was most like her mother.

“Boots?”

“I have no wish to speak to that woman,” she said tersely.

“I know that,” he said. “But your temper has the upper hand right now.”

“You think I am not equal to dealing with the likes of Jemima Southern?”

“I know you are,” Nathaniel said. “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s Martha, and that boy. Whoever he is.”

She pulled up short and looked at him, her brow lowered. “You know I won’t do anything to compromise Martha’s well-being.”

Nathaniel wondered if it really was Martha, or mostly Daniel on her mind. Or if maybe there wasn’t much difference now, in the way she looked at things. He leaned down and kissed her briefly. “I do know that, Boots. That’s why I’m asking for you to step back and let me have a go at her first.”

She didn’t respond, and that was a good sign.

There were a lot of people in the lane outside the Red Dog. Few Quakers, but most of the folks who knew Jemima from way back. Old Jed MacGarrity and his daughter Jane, the Camerons, Pete Dubonnet, a half dozen others. Word had spread fast.

Jemima didn’t have any friends in this crowd; folks were not likely to forget nor to forgive the things she had done.

Nathaniel and Elizabeth didn’t stop to talk, though many called out to them. Nathaniel smiled and raised a hand in greeting as if there was nothing more pressing on his mind than ale and Becca’s rabbit stew. He caught sight of Ethan and Luke and steered Elizabeth that way.

Luke said, “Now that you’re here I’ll go over to the schoolhouse. Hannah and Jennet went there to wait for you. The other one—” he clearly did not want to say the name aloud—“is in the Red Dog. With her party.”

Ethan stayed behind. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, but then he never did. There was a calm about Ethan that came from deep inside, and was his own. Nathaniel had the idea he was lonely, though he couldn’t have said why.

“Go on to the school,” Ethan said. “Hannah will be glad to see you.”

There was no time to ask for impressions, and it wasn’t something Nathaniel wanted to talk about in front of so many people, anyway.

“Just as soon as we say hello to ’Mima,” Nathaniel said, and Ethan stepped away, glad to be out of the drama.

Elizabeth lowered her voice. “Martha?”

“Still on Hidden Wolf with Daniel,” Ethan said. “Ben ran back to tell them to stay put for the time being.”

“Good thinking,” Nathaniel said, and he squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “So, Boots,” he said. “Let’s go on in and see what Jemima has on her mind.”

Elizabeth had been imagining the young woman Jemima of ten years ago when she left Paradise, big with child. This woman was Jemima and she wasn’t. The same face and frame, but she held herself differently, as if the fine clothes she wore pressed her into a new shape. She was watchful, but otherwise there was little to read from her expression. But then she had been preparing herself for this meeting, and there she had them at a disadvantage.

She held a boy by the hand. Her son, and Nicholas Wilde’s, or at least, Elizabeth thought, that’s what she meant them to believe.

That idea made her deeply uneasy. She thought of Callie and Martha, who would both be half sisters to the boy. How they would feel to learn of his existence; whether there would be resentment or animosity or simple disbelief. The truth was, nobody in Paradise would believe anything Jemima said. She had lied too often and too well.