Free The widow's war by Sally Gunning Page A

would have us address any legal problems that might arise, now versus later.”
    Doane: “There are no legal problems; get her attorney here and he’ll assure her of it.”
    Clarke: “I want this done now!”
    Eldred: “I doubt Freeman’s even in town.”
    Smalley: “No, no, he’s at his brother’s house yet.”
    Doane: “Go ahead, Clarke, send one of your servants for him and get this over with.”
    Clarke: “First I take time out of my business and now I must take it out of my household as well?”
    Doane: “If you prefer to schedule this meeting for another date—”
    Clarke: “And pay for your time double? Time I shouldn’t have had to pay for at all if Freeman hadn’t been such an old woman over taking on a little extra paper?”
    Doane: “Indeed? In that case—”
    Clarke: “Oh, the devil take it! Jot! Where the devil is Jot? Jot! Go to Shubael Hopkins and fetch us back Freeman. Tell him the Widow Berry wants him; that should set him running.”
    There followed a span of time during which none appeared willing to approach Lyddie except the lawyer Doane, but Lyddie was sorry he bothered, for otherwise she might have excused herself from the room. Lawyer Doane chattered on about the differences in the weathers between Satucket and Boston, the likelihood of rain, and the condition of the roads, until Jot returned with Eben Freeman.
    Lyddie had not really expected him to come, but she was glad, very glad to see him. He was the tallest, if leanest, man in the room, and adding him to Lyddie’s side of the table went a good way to correcting the imbalance.
    Doane gave a brief summation, during which Freeman controlled his features well, shooting only one look at Lyddie for confirmation.
    As soon as Doane ceased speaking, Nathan Clarke took it up. “If you think to make mountains out of molehills, Freeman, you’ll findyourself in want of earth to move around. This is nothing but a lack of understanding.”
    “I’ve noticed no lack in the widow’s understanding,” Freeman said. “By the condition of her husband’s will she’s perfectly within her right to retain her use of a third the property, in addition to her keep and care—”
    “Which keep and care she will receive, once she puts pen to paper.”
    “Which keep and care she will receive whether or not she puts pen to paper.”
    Nathan gave a crusted laugh. “Very well, Freeman, how do you see your client managing her property?”
    “If she were to set up her fire in the easterly corner of the keeping room hearth, and keep a table and chair and cupboard at that end, and put her bed in the southeast chamber, and take charge of the pantry, as well as a corner of the barn for keeping of her cow, I think she would be well within the strictures of the will and the laws of the colony.”
    “Indeed. And who shall muck out the cow’s corner and harvest its hay and chop her wood? Does she think herself rich enough to hire out such chores?”
    “She thinks you rich enough, Mr. Clarke. You’re charged by her husband’s will to keep her in comfort. Now in the case of the Widow Howland, ‘comfort’ was determined by the court at forty cords of wood a year, eight bushels of Indian meal, two of rye, eighty pounds of beef, fifty of pork—”
    “Mr. Doane,” Nathan said, “pray, put a stop to this nonsense.”
    Mr. Doane gazed at Mr. Freeman. “I make the eighty pounds of beef to be high. In the case of the Widow Selew—”
    “Hang the Widow Selew!” Nathan said. “What care I about the Widow Selew? ’Tis all mad chatter, Mr. Doane, I assure you. Do youimagine a woman of her age would give over such easy life under my roof to live alone in squalor?”
    “Squalor?” Lyddie said. “You think your wife’s parents lived a life of squalor? You may keep your chaise and your silver porridge bowls and your servants. You may even keep your eighty pounds of beef. I’ll take the wood and the hay and the meal and my third of the house to live