Splintered Heart (The Bentons and Northcutts 2) ✅

Chapter Seven

April 16th, 1667

"Nay."

Magister Weaver looked stunned by her refusal. Phoebe however held her head high and met his gaze unwaveringly. She was surprised at the strength she had in her body, though her weakness displayed ever so slightly with her clasped hands.

"...My Lady," Magister Weaver said slowly, as though he were deliberating over his words. "I mean this not as an insult to your family. You have my sincerest apologies, but your cousin succumbed to plague. The care of bodies who died from plague is—"

"A mass grave," Phoebe interjected sharply, her brow furrowing. "I saw it in the town's graveyard. There are corpses already in that pit. My cousin will not be laid in that pit. My cousin will be given a coffin and given a proper Christian funeral."

"My Lady, that is not practical—"

"That is not a request, Magister Weaver!" Phoebe snapped, fury filling her body. "Benjamin came here to be of service to the people here, and he died in service to the people here! No member of my family will be laid to rest in a plague pit! Benjamin was the cousin of a Countess! That awards him some privilege, does it not?! There are bare coffins available in the town, and one of those coffins will be used for my cousin! It will happen, good sir, and I will personally see to it that it happens!"

Magister Weaver's chest heaved ever so slightly, but Phoebe could not tell if he was about to lose his temper. She didn't care. "My Lady—"

The door behind them opened sharply. "What is the meaning of this?"

Phoebe was stunned by the surge of emotions that swelled inside of her when she heard Rafe's voice. Her vision blurred but she blinked away tears as she turned to face him. "Mister Rafe," she said, and heat flooded her face when she heard the tremble in her voice. "Magister Weaver is insisting that Benjamin be put in the plague pit!"

"Nonsense," Rafe quickly responded, narrowing his eyes at the Magister. "My cousin Bernard was laid to rest properly. Benjamin Benton will be given the same courtesy."

"Lord Bernard Northcutt was the lord of this area, so of course he was allowed proper funeral rites," Magister Weaver said. "Unfortunately we are in a position that we must bury those who succumb to plague as quickly as possible. Lord Benjamin was not the only poor soul who had died within the last day. We have to make haste—"

"I will not allow my cousin to be laid in that pit!" Phoebe shrieked. The shout startled everyone in the room, and a stunned silence that followed. The blur in her vision returned, as did the pain in her chest. The awful thoughts that had echoed in her mind over and over again since it happened resurfaced. She could not block them out.

Benjamin is dead. Benjamin is dead. Benjamin is dead.

"If the plague pit offends you so, mayhap you never should have come," one of the Magister's associates spoke up in a sardonic tone.

Phoebe let out a pain gasp, but Rafe stepped forward and gestured to the man angrily. "Hold your tongue! Miss Phoebe is your better and you will treat her with respect!"

"I apologize," Magister Weaver quickly said, raising his hand. "For my man's words. We are grateful to my lady and her cousin for coming here and trying to help us during this crisis. However I must warn of the time and the costs of—"

"I will pay from my own pocket to ensure that Lord Benjamin Benton receives funeral rites and a proper burial," Rafe said. "But it will happen, Magister. With or without your approval." He turned to Phoebe again. "You do not need to ask him for permission, Miss Phoebe. I will make all of the necessary arrangements for your cousin."