Three magistrates preside over court business, mostly property and inheritances. Eventually, the bailiff calls our servants forward to testify about Father’s verbal will. Mother glares at them as they come forward to stand before the bar.
Lewis is visibly nervous and shuffles from foot to foot.
“State yer name,” Magistrate Hathorne says.
“Lewis Ford, Yer Worship.”
“Ye say ye were in the room when John Solart declared his verbal will?”
“Yes, Master.” Lewis bobs his head. “Abraham Martin and myself. And Mistress Solart. And young Mistress Solart.”
“And what did John Solart declare?”
“He said . . . he said he was ill with fainting fits and didn’t think he had long to live. He said Widow Solart could use his entire estate unless she remarried. Then she would only have a third portion, with the rest going to his children.”
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