At the Sign of the Star Read Online Free Page B

married, secretly and imprudently, and that her husband was yet living and would come forward to forbid the banns. I had heard of such things happening before, and it seemed to me both possible and proper that such a thing might happen now. The almanac foretold bad news from across the sea, and a husband in Flanders would be bad news indeed for Susannah Beckwith. However, I did not mean to leave everything to the stars.
    At the start of the dinner my elders discoursed on political matters. They spoke of the Earl of Shaftesbury and his friends, and how the King would handle him, and what ought to be done about the Papists. Then they spoke on more general topics, such as the weather, and the affairs of mutual friends, and the comet. And at last they spoke of the printed word, which in our household always became the subject of discussion sooner or later.
    Mr. Pennyman was the author of A Wife’s Misdeeds, which we had published last Hilary term. It was about how immoral women are, and how closely they must be watched by their husbands to prevent them from taking their marital pleasures elsewhere. It pretended to be the tale of a young and lustful wife named Miranda, but there was very little tale, and much dreary lecturing. However, we sold many copies, for infidelity is always an interesting subject.
    â€œI believe my daughter has read your work,” my father said to Mr. Pennyman as the roasted chicken was brought in. “Margaret?”
    He often gave me a chance of this sort. I was expected to flatter the authors sweetly, and not to advance my own views, though a few times I asked mischievious questions out of pretended innocence. My father always scolded me afterward, but in a way that showed he was well pleased, for he valued my wit in spite of himself.
    â€œIndeed,” I said. “I found it both clever and instructive. It is finding a large audience, as well it should.” Mr. Pennyman smiled largely, and his wife gave a firm nod. “I wonder, sir, if you might answer a question for me,” I continued.
    â€œCertainly,” he said, but his wife frowned faintly, as though she thought I was impertinent.
    â€œMiranda’s conduct was a disgrace to our sex, it is true. But ought not her husband to have expected such troubles when they married? For she was younger than he, and did not marry for love.”
    â€œCertainly not!” said Mrs. Pennyman. I knew before I spoke that what I said would not be agreeable to her, for she was far younger than her husband. But it mattered more to me that Susannah Beckwith was only a girl compared with my father. “What sort of education have you had, girl, to ask such a question? Chastity does not derive from love, but from obedience to God’s law.”
    â€œBecause she was young, it does not follow that she did not love,” my father said as though he could not help himself.
    â€œBut how can a man of means, himself no longer young, ever know that a young woman chooses him for love and not for money?” I asked, as though I wanted only to learn.
    â€œA man of more years is also a man of greater wisdom,” Mr. Pennyman said. “And a better judge of character.” Then he looked to my father, as though to ask why he did not put a stop to my pertness.
    â€œEnough, Margaret,” my father said. “You speak of what you do not yet understand.” He spoke almost in a mumble, but when I looked at his face I saw it was white, and I knew there would be more to come when the guests had gone.
    *   *   *
    I thought he would call me to the small parlor, where he often worked, but instead he found me with Hester, bundling the laundry, and bade me follow him. I did so, and he led me to the kitchen. Cook was not there, though a great kettle hung over the fire.
    â€œI have never heard such rudeness, Margaret,” he said, and his voice was unlike itself, filled with uneasy anger. “I never thought to hear