Read Online Familiar Spirits by Leonard Tourney - Free Book Online

Thomas Crispin and John Waite, and a heated exchange followed, the conclusion of which was the parson’s stalking out with the ironmonger’s wife and her friend, all in very ill humor and mumbling about the ingratitude of those whose deserts were in grave doubt, given the circumstances. After this, attention was paid the widow, who had been made very upset by this dispute. Matthew took the opportunity to inquire of the nephew if he might speak to the two servants.
    “Upstairs they went,” said the nephew moodily. “Speak to them as you will, Constable.”
    • FIVE •
    The upper story of the house consisted of a dark, narrow landing opening into three rooms—the great bedchamber, in which the glover and his wife had slept, and two smaller rooms, one of which was being occupied by the nephew during his stay. The floors were strewn with fresh rushes, but the rooms themselves were meanly furnished. The walls were bare and cracked. There was also a tiny closet that contained a steep flight of stairs leading to the attic. Even as Matthew ascended, he could hear the two girls whispering.
    The whispering stopped before his head emerged into the open space. The attic, which sloped with the pitch of the roof, was lighted by small square windows on either side, tucked under the eaves as an afterthought. Against a wall stood a trundle bed, hardly more than a cot, and on this single piece of furniture the two servants were sitting.
    He greeted them pleasantly, but they did not return his greeting. They both seemed nervous, and it was obvious that the younger of the two, Susan Goodyear, had been weeping. He told them he had come to speak to them about their master’s death—with Susan first.
    At this, Brigit rose, cast an uncertain glance at her companion, and said she would go downstairs to see if her mistress wanted anything.
    When Brigit’s descending steps had faded away, Matthew walked to the tiny window where earlier he had observed the startled face of Brigit from the street below. It was a simple
    casement without glass, a commodity too expensive to be wasted in an attic window. He opened the casement and peered down at the street. Traffic moved as normal for the time of the day. Arthur Wilts stood talking with a man Matthew didn’t recognize. He closed the casement and turned to the girl on the bed.
    Like her fellow servant, Susan Goodyear was a plain girl of undernourished figure. She wore a little cloth cap that tipped slightly to the left ear, and beneath this her small face with its long jaw and discolored teeth reflected the meanness of her existence. She had testified at the trial of Ursula Tusser, and this earlier experience of interrogation seemed to Matthew the cause of her anxiety in his presence. She fidgeted nervously and stared at him with wide, fearful eyes.
    Matthew felt a surge of pity for her plainness. “I mean you no harm/’ he said kindly.
    “I’ve done nothing wrong, sir,” Susan said in a tearful voice.
    “That’s good—I did not think you had. I want to ask some questions of you.”
    “Of me?”
    He explained he had not been at Ursula’s trial, had not heard her account. Would she tell him what had transpired between them, how Ursula had bewitched her?
    She made no objection to telling her story. In a thin, uncertain voice she explained how she had become one of Ursula’s circle. She had come to work for the Waites a little over a year earlier—about Michaelmas or so, she said, computing the date in her mind with great earnestness and difficulty, as though the moment of her first employment was not only germane but crucial. The association and, ultimately, friendship of the two girls seemed inevitable. They were of the same age, both servants. They dwelt in adjacent houses of kinsmen. Comings and goings between the two families were constant. In her first month of service, Susan had been homesick beyond endurance. Her mother—a poor widow with