Gabriel shook out his shoulders. ‘Not much to surprise us, living as we do with that family of heathens up the hill.’

The magistrate stopped, looked down at the tips of his gleaming shoes, nodded slowly. ‘Interesting you should say so, given the location of the body and the, ah – position. I would have expected such an act to be brought to my attention much sooner. Hard to believe no one knew.’

Daniel closed his eyes and willed the image of Parson Walsh away. Breathed slow and deep. He could not hear the magistrate’s words over the beating of his own blood.

‘We do not,’ Father was saying, rising to his feet and indicating the door. ‘But if any of us hears anything we’ll be sure and tell you.’

The magistrate touched his hat and allowed himself to be ushered out. Father collapsed back into his seat, shaking, head in hands. Blood seeping from his nose and dripping on to the table.

‘Oh, this is a bad business, the worst I’ve known in all my years,’ he said.

‘We should tell him it was the witch family, we know it sure as day, and he’ll be wanting to put the law to work,’ Gabriel said.

‘Has your thirst for blood not been quenched, Gabriel?’ Bett asked. ‘You’ve had revenge on the lad.’ She swallowed, steadied her voice. ‘He has paid, if he was indeed the black soul and commander of demons we feared. But the mother and sisters, what do we really know of sorcery in them? The conjuring of enchantments and cures and giving you the cow pox is far from murdering the parson.’

Daniel glanced at Bett. Even now, as she defended Sarah and her family, she confirmed his fear that Sarah did indeed possess powers of witchcraft, and had used them to create a phantom love. He blinked back the sting of tears. Bett was free to believe in the innocent version of Sarah she had known. But he had seen her cursing Molly, the fury and power rushing through her, and the memory sat in him like a chip of ice, numbing him to all that was once good. He knew what Bett did not.

‘She’s right,’ Father said. ‘Enough done there. The sight of his mother in such grief – it were almost enough to persuade she feels it like any other. To make me think she perhaps did all she could to save your mother, as she claimed.’

Bett pushed her chair back and walked out. The men glanced at each other. There were no words with the power to express what had been done, and the feelings of each at the role he had played.

Gabriel shrugged. ‘I can hold my tongue. He’ll know soon enough, anyway.’

Father ran his hands over his face, again and again. Fingers shaking, tears in his eyes.