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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Turning her back on the sea, she lowered her head as sleet began to whirl about her, the wind making her nose run and eyes water. Janet put one foot before the other and left behind all she’d ever known and all she’d ever been.

Not forever, she promised herself. Only for as long as it took for justice to be served.

Forty-Four

FORTY-FOUR

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She was a person of very bad fame, who for a long time was reputed a witch…

— A Just Reproof to the False Reports and Unjust Calumnies in the Foregoing Letters, 1705

As soon as they realised Janet had indeed escaped the Tolbooth, Sorcha and Nettie’s first instinct was to find her and force her to return. Staring helplessly at the grateless open window as the rain hammered down and they whispered about where to look for her, it slowly dawned on them that searching the lanes and byways would draw attention to what she’d done. Without another word, they drew their coats over their heads and returned to the cottage. Far better they let the woman get a head start and pretend they knew nothing.

Only, that was harder than Sorcha thought. Unable to sleep, she moved between the chair and the window all night. A chill had crept into her bones, no doubt from the drenching she’d received, but she felt it was more than that. It was as if something dark and dire had lodged in her soul. She couldn’t shake it. Nettie drowsed in the bed, waking occasionally to ask if Sorcha had heard or seen anything.

‘Only the snow and wind,’ whispered Sorcha. ‘Go back to sleep.’ And the sea, she thought. Always the sea.

Before dawn, the women tidied themselves, ate a small breakfast and then, retrieving their creels from where they’d stored them the day before, made their way to the harbour as if nothing was amiss. There were a few people abroad. Moira gave a wave as she released Crabby to run about the graveyard. The streets were wet. Deep puddles reflected the grey sky, giving the road a strange pitted feel, like a foreign landscape. Not that Crabby cared as he plodded through them. Birds wheeled in the heavens, so high their cries were muted, as if they were afraid to land. Underlying the ever-present brume of hearth-smoke was a salty, metallic smell, like hundreds of shucked oysters. Instead of ducking into Water Wynd as they usually did, Sorcha and Nettie chose to go down Cove Wynd and past the Tolbooth in the hope they’d learn something.