Marthe looked closely at the other girls. Françoise’s cheeks were plump; Thérèse had the wan look of someone who had been sick all morning; and Apolline’s waistline had developed a small paunch.
“We must!” Marthe urged. “We have no choice. We shall all be in childbed before the summer is out and she is the only midwife on the island. And not just a midwife. A trained accoucheur.”
“Awhat?” Thérèse asked.
“I don’t really understand what that is,” Marthe admitted. “All I know is that we shall all be in need of her magic soon enough.”
“How long does it take to get to her côte?” Apolline asked.
“My sister says it’s little more than an hour’s walk.”
“The days are getting longer,” she said. “If we leave now, we can be back before nightfall.”
“I shall run back to the bakery,” Marthe said. “We shall be in need of food on our journey, even if we are only gone a few hours.”
“Will it be safe to walk so far out of the village?” Thérèse asked, meaning: Might the Iroquois capture them? There was always a risk that a hunting party might breach the peace. But between a rogue attack and facing childbirth alone, Marthe knew which she feared the most.
“Recite your rosary and beg for Saint Anne to protect us,” she said, wishing there were more they could do.
Marthe hurried back to the bakehouse. If the man was missing, Jeanne might be blamed. She shuddered, and not from the cold. As much as she was drawn to magic, the idea of searching through the hedge witch’s hut for enchanted tools frightened her a little bit.
She threw open the door to the bakery and made straight for the front room to collect some bread. For once she was thankful her husband slept all morning. She would be gone before he woke. She crammed two loaves into her bag and was turning to leave when she was startled by the sight of her sister standing silently in the doorway. Marthe let out a gasp.
“You startled me!”
“Where are you going?” Élisabeth asked.
“To deliver some bread.”
“I thought all the orders had gone out. Maman Poulin took the regulars not half an hour ago.”
“Well, she left one order behind.”
Élisabeth frowned. “Marthe, I know how you like to walk about but it’s not safe with a witch on the prowl.”
“You know as well as I do that the witch they seek is Jeanne Roy. And we have nothing to fear from her.” Marthe spoke with more confidence than she felt.
Élisabeth glowered. “She’s never done anything to help me.”
Marthe hesitated. She did not know whom to believe. Élisabeth, who was desperate for Jeanne to rid her of her demon, or Jeanne, who wanted to prick her sister’s arm with a lancet to drain her black bile. Marthe felt if only she could sit them down and make them talk to each other they might come to some kind of understanding. She decided to confess.
“Lili, truth be told, I am going to Jeanne Roy’s cabin with Apolline and the other girls. One of your neighbours has gone missing. It won’t be long before a search party goes to your côte. And who knows what magical objects and charms Jeanne has hidden in her cabin. If anyone finds them…” Marthe’s voice trailed off.
“Which neighbour?” Élisabeth asked.
“I don’t know. Apolline did not say.”
Élisabeth twisted her hands in front of her, lost in contemplation. Suddenly she looked up. “I will join you,” she said. “If Father de Sancy is right and Jeanne Roy is in possession of Chamberlen’s Secret, we must look for it in her cabin. After all, it might… it might be the tool I need to banish the demon.”
Marthe hesitated. The village was abuzz with gossip about the magic wand that was said to give the witch her power. She knew from her visit to the fort that Governor de Lafredière also wanted to find it. Perhaps someone other thana witchcouldfigure out how to use it. But after what Jeanne Roy had said about Élisabeth’s condition, Marthe wasn’t certain that a magic wand was the cure her sister needed after all.
“I can’t imagine Jeanne would have left Chamberlen’s Secret behind, if it is so powerful,” Marthe said. “Still, I would be grateful if you joined us.”
She gave her sister a shy smile. Élisabeth smiled back, and Marthe’s heart lifted. Perhaps a long walk would do them both good. She reached for her blanket coat from the peg by the door and belted it around her waist. She handed Élisabeth her own coat, just as the door flew open. Barbe Poulin stepped inside.
“Where are you two going?” the widow asked. The look on her face indicated she was not pleased. “Marthe, have you plucked the birds for our supper yet?”
Marthe glanced back at the pair of pigeons on the table. They lay limp, trussed by the legs. She thought of the ribbon of birds she had seen earlier, rippling and waving as they disappeared over the horizon. Her frustration was so great she wanted to break into a sob.
