“This is incredible,” Olivia breathed walking along the shelves, trailing her fingers along the book spines and boxes as she read the labels. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. There’s hundreds of years of history here.”
“Who better to understand the persecution of the innocents,” Ms. Gershon muttered as she reached up to touch the books almost reverently.
Olivia’s eyes traced the fragile, papery skin on the old lady’s wrist as the sleeve of her cardigan slid back, revealing a small, faded, and uneven set of numbers tattooed into her skin. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she watched as the old lady rapped her cane against a box file.
“This is the one you want,” she declared.
Olivia reached out and pulled the box down, following behind the tiny woman’s smooth shuffle as they approached a long table surrounded by chairs.
“I have matters to attend to,” Ms. Gershon told her. “Everything you may need should be in this box, but if you wish, all the rest of the archives are at your disposal. I ask only that you put everything back in its correct place when you finish. If you are unsure, leave them on the table and one of the staff shall put them back.”
“Thank you, Ms. Gershon.” Olivia smiled as she slipped into one of the seats.
“Renata,” the old woman offered. “You are old enough now to call me Renata.”
“Renata,” Olivia repeated softly. “Thank you.”
With a brisk nod, Renata stepped out of the room, the clicks of her cane against the floor trailing off into the distance. Fixing her attention back to the box and feeling the familiar thrill at the potential of what she might discover when digging around historical records, Olivia opened it. She began to remove stacks of documents, sorting through them and reading every line meticulously. The hours ticked by, but she didn’t notice, didn’t even look up, other than when Renata would send a staff member to bring her coffee, which she left to grow cold more often than not, too wrapped up in the fascinating documents she had been allowed access to.
By the time she laid the last document down upon the table and leaned back in her chair to stretch the kinks out of her protesting spine, she was surrounded by boxes, files, and empty cups, leaving her feeling simultaneously exhausted and wired.
She stared down at the documents spread out before her. It was everything Renata had managed to find on Theodore Beckett, the mysterious man who apparently had been responsible for saving Hester’s life and in a way hers too. If something had happened to Hester as a child, Olivia might never have been born. It was a slightly surreal thought, Olivia mused as she picked up one of the cups, once again finding it stone cold.
Setting it back on the table, her thoughts drifted to Theodore. TB… it was looking more likely that he was the owner of the journal and the sketchbook.
So far, she’d managed to discover that Theodore Beckett had been born in Salem Village in 1664 to Matthias and Emmaline Beckett. The middle of three children, he had an older brother named Logan born in 1659 and a much younger sister named Temperance born in 1676 nearly twelve years after Theodore, which was an unusually large gap, and it seemed their mother had died during the birth.
There wasn’t much information on the father, Matthias. He appeared to be a farmer, as the family had owned a farm on the outskirts of Salem Village, and their farmlands had butted up against an orchard that was still famous in Salem for its cider and traditional applejack.
The girl, Temperance, had died at the age of nine, although there was no clear information on her death, just a date. It was the two boys who were the most interesting. She’d found records from the court of Oyer and Terminer for the older brother, Logan, appointing him as a Witchfinder. According to the accompanying documentation, he had been a rather fervent participant in the trials. From several of the court documents and witness statements of the time, Logan Beckett developed a reputation for being rather fanatical and particularly vicious.
His younger brother, Theodore, however, was something of an enigma. He had been sworn in as a Witchfinder and appeared in a few of the witness accounts alongside his brother, but other than that, there was very little official record of him. He was killed in 1695, trapped in a burning barn. What was strange was that he had died the night he helped Hester and Bridget to escape.
Olivia skimmed through the paperwork again. It didn’t make any sense—by 1695, the trials were well over, and in fact, the officials were trying their hardest to erase as much evidence as possible. So, why were the girls arrested? And why would a man who’d been sworn in as a Witchfinder have helped them?
She looked up as the door opened and Renata appeared.
“Olivia,” she said quietly. “It’s late, and the museum is closing.”
Olivia glanced at her phone to check the time; it was after eight o’clock. “I’m so sorry.” She tilted her head slightly to ease the crick in her neck. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“It’s no problem.” She waved off her apology. “If you leave the boxes, we’ll put them back tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Olivia climbed to her feet, pulling her coat from the back of the chair and sliding her arms into the sleeves.
Renata nodded. “Did you find something helpful?”
Olivia gathered up her purse and crossed the room. “Only more questions. I’m certain that TB and Theodore Beckett are the same person though. I think I’m going read through Hester’s journals to see if she mentions him.”
“Good.” Renata switched off the lights and closed the door to the research room as they entered the hall. “I do like a good mystery. Perhaps you can let me know what you find.”
“I’d love to.” Olivia smiled as they walked through the empty museum. “May I come back and have another look through the archives?”
“Of course. You are always welcome.”
Olivia bid Renata goodnight at the door, but as she stepped out into the crisp evening air, a wave of bone-deep exhaustion hit her. The streets were still a bustling hive of activity, but all Olivia wanted was to just curl into a ball and sleep. Louisa was supposed to be off shift in a couple of hours, but Olivia wasn’t sure she could stay awake that long, even to celebrate her birthday.
Yawning so wide, she felt her jaw click, she bypassed giggling children with smudged makeup and over-flowing candy baskets without sparing them a glance. All she could think about was getting back to the house and crawling into bed.
