Release me. Now. Or I ull tell 'em all what you've done to the littluns."
Agnes had been keeping her voice low and even, but it cracked on the last word. With a wail of fury, she plunged the poker deep into the fire, extinguishing the last of its flame. She stood back, panting, and was still.
"Now," I said, trying to speak calmly, "we can talk."
Her voice was tight. "Go to the hell you come from."
Her face was twisted with hatred and rage, but I felt no fear from her. Not yet. I hoped that with a bit of conversation, I could persuade her to let me go. Then, with a slight nod, I turned and went to the door, pulling it open. I hoped it was dark enough inside the cottage to escape notice. Or at least not seen by anyone peering in through a window.
We had gone only two steps before Agnes screamed, "G'wan!" and sent the poker whirling at me. I dodged back, and the handle struck a wooden chair. There was a loud clatter as it went flying.
Agnes ran forward, seized my skirt with both hands, and yanked hard. The skirt tore as I fell forward. I landed hard on my hands and knees. Grabbing my hat off, I rolled to my feet and ran for the door.
She began to shriek, "Stop that girl. She's been working with that monster. That wicked, wicked thing—"
I grabbed the doorknob, but she caught me before I could twist it. She stood on my skirt, holding it fast at my waist, so that I could not get away.
I could have picked her up and carried her out the door, but even though I had little doubt she was no match for my strength, she would surely have found an opportunity to scream or cry out. I would not be able to get past the others in the kitchen without causing a great ruckus. And if she were taken into custody, I would not be able to help Matthew. I had to get rid of her—right away.
I reached down, grabbed the waistband of her petticoats, and pulled, lifting her bodily. But she clung to the skirt, and for a moment, I was trapped. The skirt began to slip from around her ankles, so I hooked my arm over it, lifting it clear up to her waist. That allowed me to free myself from her grasp. I was still a little shaky from the fire.
As I ran through the doorway, my eyes fell on the remains of the fire. I grabbed the poker. Holding the poker like a baton in both hands, I whirled around. I wanted her to run away, to look away.
But she remained frozen, her eyes fixed on me. Our eyes met, and for an instant, her expression was transformed. The hate, the fury, seemed to vanish. Instead, I saw only fear. Her arms lowered, and I tossed the poker away as I passed her.
"Run, Agnes," I ordered, trying to keep my voice calm and controlled. "Get help. Run!"
She stumbled away. I made it to the door and out into the night air. I took a deep breath, then ducked into the lane and started walking away as fast as I could go. I heard her shrieks growing fainter behind me.
Finally, I got to the main road and continued on. I kept to the edge of the sidewalk and walked quickly, keeping my head down, my cloak tightly wrapped around me. From time to time, I thought I saw someone moving toward me, but it turned out to be another walker. The moon was nearly down, and the road was almost empty, but I walked steadily on until my lungs ached with every breath and my feet began to throb in my boots. I came to the corner where a cart had just pulled up. The blacksmith's son opened the door of the harness shop, and someone came out. I stepped aside to let the cart pass and the new arrival pass by, then followed him a few paces down the road. There was a bench a few yards ahead. I waited until he started down the sidewalk toward his house, then darted into the shadows, turned, and darted back again, as if I were going to the privy. I looked back the way I had come, but the cart and the man had disappeared into the shadows.
I ran, not toward the privy but toward the edge of town, toward the church. I wanted to go to the children's rescue, but not yet. Not until I was sure Agnes would not tell the blacksmith, or anyone else. I hurried along the shadowy road. From time to time, the moon would get in front of the clouds, and for a moment, I could see the church with its huge black dome silhouetted against a sky glowing pink with dawn.
I reached the cottage, climbed the steps, and went inside, closing the door behind me. No one stirred. I moved quietly into the kitchen and stopped, listening. I could hear the muted sounds of a man snoring, but there was no sign of Agnes or anyone else.
I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. A gray dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky. It would soon be light enough for the other occupants of the cottage to come down for breakfast. I saw no sign of either of the children.
There was only one place I could think of where Agnes would have taken them. So I hurried down the road toward her house. When I reached it, I moved quietly along the side of the building, looking for an open window. I found one on the ground floor on the side facing the church. I stepped up onto the ledge and peered inside. I could see only shadows. Agnes was sleeping on a cot, her head at a slight angle, the side of her face pressed into the pillow. A man's arm rested against the side of her head. But the boys and girls were nowhere to be seen.
I lowered my head and stepped silently to the ground, then closed the window and went around the side of the cottage, down the other side to the main entrance. I went around to the kitchen door and silently stepped into the room, putting my head close to the door so I could listen. A cup of tea sat on the table. One of the children was stirring some water into it, and it smelled like the one at Mrs. Fitch's. I turned away, moved to the table, and put the cup to my lips, blowing into it.
The smell of the hot, wet tea woke me up, and my head jerked up. I choked and coughed, coughing the tea up, spitting it on the floor. "Matthew!" I hissed, turning around to see where the voice came from.
Matthew was kneeling on the bed next to me, his eyes wide open. He blinked at me. "Did you say something, Mary?"
"No," I said, then realized I had mumbled the words. I cleared my throat. "How is everyone this morning?"
He nodded. "They're all fine. I thought we had better just stay in bed awhile."
I nodded, my heart beating fast. "I thought I'd go to the church, Matthew. I have a bit of time before I have to head back for that meeting. If you would just go there right away and wait for me?"
"But what will I tell them?" he said. "They'll want to know why I left last night."
I nodded. "Tell them I went out in the night and was lost and am too ashamed to go back to find you again, and will be there when I am not busy with chores."
"All right, Mary. Do as you say. But I'll still have to tell them about the fire in the kitchen." He pointed to the empty grate and the pile of ashes.
"When you tell them about the fire, explain that there is an enemy in the town. You're sure Agnes was the one who set it."
Matthew shook his head. "But who? The man who was in the room with Agnes isn't anyone we know."
I reached out, and he took my hand, folding my fingers around the rosary in his. "Just tell them what they must hear," I said. "And be sure they know to go to the church in case someone is injured in the fire."
He nodded. "Do you know when I will be back?"
I glanced at the window. "I think you will be at the meeting for the start of the day's chores, so I can get back to the kitchen. If there are problems, you can take care of them."
He started to argue, but I took a deep breath. "Come on, Matthew. It's not the end of the world. You don't want to risk letting them see you with me, do you? Anyway, you won't be alone."
Matthew nodded and pulled me up onto the bed. We shared a kiss that was interrupted by Agnes coming out into the hall and calling Matthew to come eat breakfast. When he started out the door, she called after him to tell his aunt not to worry
