Dillard Beach Mystery – 47

Rebekah stood by the small table and patiently waited for her first customer. Several women paused to look at the small jars of ointment but hesitated to make a purchase. It was only after she engaged several women in a conversation about the wonderful healing powers in herbal medicinals that a few became interested.

“I have a garden full of such herbs, but with a husband and five little ones I have no time to brew such things as you have done,” one woman commented. “Still a jar of your hand slave would be most welcome on my shelf.” She hesitated, then asked, “What is the cost for a jar?”

“I am asking six pence for a jar.”

The woman frowned and began to turn away.

“You must know it takes a full month to make the ointment and it will last for most of a year if you keep it in a cool spot on your shelf.” She held out a small jar and removed the cork. “Let me offer you a sample.”

The woman stared at the jar. “How do I know if this salve is safe? I hear tell of poisons in such salves as you offer, that cause blisters and scars.”

Rebekah responded, “I do not know who spreads such rumors but I guarantee you this salve is safe to use for all. She dipped her finger into the ointment and rubbed her palms together, and offered her hand to the woman to smell.

“It has a fresh, clean scent” the woman declared.

Rebekah smiled. “A special blend of lavender, aloe and lanolin. Use a bit each day to keep your hands soft.”

“Will it work on my husband’s hands as well? He is always coming in from the fields with new scars and blisters.”

“The ointment is good for both men and women to use.”

“That may be true but I am uncertain if my Thomas would want the smell of lavender on his hands all the day.”

Rebekah reached across the small table and selected a second jar. “I agree, and for such as he, I have a salve without the lavender.” She handed the small jar to the woman who held it to her nose and sniffed.

“And this works as well as the other?”

Rebekah nodded. “It does.”

The woman took a moment to ponder the purchase.

“I believe with five children and a husband to care for, your hands deserve a bit of extra care,” Rebekah said, smiling. In the end, the woman handed six pence to Rebekah and placed the jar of lavender salve in her basket.

It was Rebekah’s first sale aside from those she had made with Captain Chapman and it led to more sales throughout the morning. By mid-day, all but a few samples were sold and Rebekah was feeling pleased and encouraged when Emma returned an hour later.

“Things are going well, Rebekah?”

“Very well. I have sold nearly all the samples I brought today with promises to buy future samples once they have discovered how good the ointments prove to be.”

The two women were busy chatting when a portly gentleman dressed in fancy breeches and a cape, stopped by the small table. It was Doctor Rigsdale, a man with whom Rebekah had never had friendly relations. She had tried to consult with him when she first began as a midwife but found the Doctor to be an arrogant man, with little regard for treating women.

Rather than deal with the likes of Rigsdale, when she needed advice about her medicinals Rebekah sought the council of the druggist, John Philbert, who was always most helpful.

But on this market day, it was Rigsdale who stood in front of her small display, waving his ample finger in her face.

“Mistress Rand! By what right have you the knowledge of these salves and ointments you pander to the public? Such medicinals belong with those who are expert in the healing arts. Who gave you permission to sell such suspects?”

Rebekah studied Rigsdale. Though it was just past mid-day, the man had already consumed more than his share of alcohol. At first she thought to ignore the doctor and his questions, but too many people had heard his rant. Instead of ignoring him, she answered his accusations directly.

“I am, as you know, a trained midwife sir, and have been providing a healing service to women and their families in and around Dillard for these last five years. Ask any of my patients and you will be met with endorsements as to the quality of my care.”

Rigsdale stepped back from the midwife and her small table of jars. He turned towards the small crowd that was beginning to gather and in a loud voice began to denounce her, declaring Rebekah a fraud and warning others of her failings.

“Beware this woman and her evil ways. Have no faith in these magical ointments she offers. She brews them herself. I believe they are tainted by the devil and have no place in a Christian home.”

“That is a falsehood, sir!” Rebekah cried out. “My tinctures are perfectly safe for all to use. They are made from plants I grow in my own garden. Ordinary plants that every woman grows.”

“If they are made from ordinary plants, as you claim, mistress, what makes them so special? How do leaves and twigs heal a person? This is foolishness and you should be reported to the authorities before you do harm.”

He turned and searched the growing crowd. “Where is the town constable? Is there no one in all of Hyannis who can stop this woman from defrauding the people with these foolish healing potions?”

The man turned about once again and reached out his arms seeking assistance, but the crowd, seeing he was already in his cups, backed off.