Act V :The Crucible

Int. Proctor’s Home – Day

Elizabeth Proctor is seen sitting on a chair, a newborn resting in her arms. He, covered in a small woven blanket, is being fed from a glass bottle. Signs of exhaustion plague the young mothers face– purple bruising under her eyes, a pensive expression, and a furrowed brow– but she puts on a playful facade for her son, John Proctor III. Her home, once cleanly and welcoming, is riddled in dust and faulty furniture. Since the death of her husband, the curtains have remained closed and the door tightly shut. 

She has not been hanged, not yet, and she fears death may never come. The court has promised Elizabeth that her son will grow up with a thoughtful mother to guide him, but the promise burdens her. She wakes at night, an unfamiliar loneliness sending shivers down her back that any number of quilts cannot shield. She wonders, who will be there for her husband? In the darkness of Hell, in the vibrance of Heaven– wherever he may be– who will assist him if she is left alone on this Earth? 

There is a knock at the door and Elizabeth rises to answer, setting her son in a wooden crib.

ELIZABETH, hesitantly: Good morning. She opens the door a crack, looking to identify the visitor. Mr. Parris, hello. She allows him in, taking a quick look outside before closing the door. 

PARRIS: Hello, Elizabeth. He smiles kindly. I hope you are well. He pauses for a moment, his eyes examining the room. Are you well?

ELIZABETH, suspiciously: Yes, indeed, I am well. She nods, and the two fall silent. 

PARRIS, quickly: That is–

ELIZABETH, annoyed: I am sorry to interrupt, Mr. Parris, but is there an importance to your visit? You see, I have a child to care for now. She turns, walking towards the crib. By myself, in case you’d forgotten, and I have found that he requires a majority of my attention. She looks down at her son, smiling. So, if you have anything to say, I beg you to get on with it. 

PARRIS, stunned: Aye, I understand. He pauses, thinking. You know, Elizabeth, you mustn't live in fear. You are no longer in jail, you are practically a free woman. The court, they wish to apologize. 

ELIZABETH: Do they? 

PARRIS: Aye, of course. He nods.  They do, but you no longer come to town. His words sound like a question rather than a statement. 

ELIZABETH, confused: Only when I must. Her eyes fall to the floor. Aye, what do they wish to apologize for? 

PARRIS, blankly: Everything.

ELIZABETH: Everything? She cannot trust his words, so she decides to push further. For sentencing my husband to death? And– and telling us our child might live without parents because of a foolish lie? She remains next to the crib, her hand laid protectively on the frame. I apologize, Mr. Parris, but I cannot believe you. 

PARRIS, defeatedly: You must, Elizabeth! You must see some truth in my words, you do, don’t you?

ELIZABETH, shaking her head: I do not. 

PARRIS: Then follow me to the court and you will see, Elizabeth, I swear to you. 

ELIZABETH, beginning to sympathize with him: Why, I would, but I have no one to watch my son. 

PARRIS, in mock happiness: Then we shall bring him with us. The weather is perfect! He will be just fine, as there is no need for quilts on this perfect day. 

Parris walks towards the crib, looking down at the child. It is the first time he’s seen his face. He almost winces, taken aback by the resemblance of his father. He stands in thought. 

ELIZABETH, to snap him out of his trance: We are ready to go. She holds John in her arms, swaddled in a thin blanket and wearing a small wool cap. Must I take anything else? 

PARRIS, shaking his head: An apology requires no documents. This is not a regular court hearing, Elizabeth, do not be alarmed. 

Elizabeth nods her head in reply. The two make their way towards the door. Elizabeth’s house is a cottage that she had purchased following the trials. It is small, easier to take care of, and comes with a garden that she mends to when hoping to clear her mind. The house is a short walk from the court, and on their way, the two make small conversation. It is awkward and unfamiliar, but Elizabeth is grateful for the company. After a few minutes, they arrive. 

The court is sullen. The men sit in the front, conversing and tending to paperwork as if they hadn’t yet noticed their arrival. There is tension in the air, but Elizabeth stands confidently. Parris, however, looks nervous. His posture is strained, his facial expression tight as though he’d been expecting a debate. The two walk forwards, finding a seat towards the front of the room. Elizabeth sits quietly, a kind expression on her face, comforting her child amongst his new surroundings. 

PARRIS, clearing his throat: Good afternoon, Judge Danforth. He nods to the other man in the room, but doesn’t make an effort to acknowledge him. His tone is bold, as though his previous tight-knit relationship with the judges had been forgotten. 

DANFORTH, caught: Aye, hello. He smiles, his eyes falling on Elizabeth. Hello, Ms. Elizabeth. Thank you for joining us. 

ELIZABETH, smiling, although she doesn’t mean it: Of course. Thank you for taking the time to see me. 

Danforth nods, readjusting a stack of papers that sits in the middle of his desk. Surprisingly, there were not many people in attendance. Only Danforth and Hathorne sit for the court. Notably, there is no one to write the conversation in ink, either. 

DANFORTH, nervously: Well, Elizabeth. I have never quite found myself at a loss for words until today. Ever since that day, he does not speak it, but the two share a mutual understanding, a dark fog has followed me. Really, I have been thinking about it. The trials, and everything else that happened. To you. He pauses, frowning. And to Salem. While I– Cautiously, he stops himself once more. While what happened here still goes unexplained, at-least to me, I can say one thing. He nods, as though he was pleased with his wording. I know your husband was a good man. I believe it, I do. I also believe, contrary to your own beliefs, that you were a good wife to him. You were loyal, Elizabeth, and kind– despite the troubles that came your way. Danforth has never been this upfront before. His uncomfortability shows on his face, but he continues. And for that reason, we’ve chosen to let you be. Hathorne scoffs from behind him, his expression plagued with amusement. You and your son are hereby protected by the court, and for that, I give you my word. 

ELIZABETH,  her expression vacant: And for my son? What does your promise make of his future? Does it make him a laughing-stock, Judge Danforth? Her eyes seem locked to the back wall, as if she were searching the room for an answer to her question. I will not accept your apology if it makes a fool of my boy. Her words roll off her tongue like an insult meant with sourness, and her gaze remains on religious paraphernalia bolted to the walls. At this moment, a once enraged woman refuses to look power in the eye. 

DANFORTH, worriedly: Of course, your son will be made pure. He will learn the word of God, and teach His words to those who have lost their path. He pauses, exhaling. However, he will live quietly, as will you. You are not to speak of the trials, you are not to tell your son of them, or of how his father passed. If in the future anyone were to ask, you’d say it was caused by a workplace incident, or perhaps a bad cold. As far as you are concerned, the Witch Trials are merely a fable used to attract travelers to Salem. 

Danforth stands from his chair, rubbing his eyes with a small cloth he’d pulled from the pocket of his robe. Elizabeth stands in front of him, solemnly, and he refuses to look at her directly. Neither does Hathorne, who remains in his seat, fiddling with the knobs of his desk. Both seem repulsed. With the agreement, with themselves, that part is not clear, but each person in the courtroom shows no emotion. 

Parris stands further from the court procedure, in a corner closest to the entrance. He stands with his eyes shut, his hands behind his back. When Elizabeth had initially agreed to speak to Danforth in the courtroom, he wasn’t sure what would be brought up in their conversation. At first he thought a simple apology would suffice, as a woman in Elizabeth’s standing must be willing to accept any measly plea, but he would learn soon after that he didn’t know the woman as well as he thought he did. Elizabeth Proctor, a seemingly reserved and homely woman, was really a headstrong, argumentative widow who worked tirelessly to defend her husband, even after his death. In addition to that, she was  a nurturing mother and a fierce defender of her child’s rights. Even from his obstructed view, Parris is able to note her composure, her ability to react calmly when hit with such a wall. 

ELIZABETH, nodding: Aye. If that is how it must be. Elizabeth is hesitant to accept this agreement, but she knows that continuing to argue will not guarantee her a better spot. She moves to comfort her son, now awake in her arms. As she looks down at him, her shoulders fall in defeat. It is hard for her to not believe she has failed him. 

DANFORTH: It must be this way. Danforth sighs as he struggles to find someone to blame other than himself. I am sorry, Elizabeth. He takes a seat, giving Hathorne an accusatory look. 

HATHORNE, speaking quietly, his brow furrowed: Really, it is a shame. I hope you can find some goodness in this, Elizabeth. While Danforth is burdened with immediate guilt, Hathorne remains somewhat disconnected from the conversation. It will take him a moment to realize the extent of the agreement. 

ELIZABETH: You as well, Judge Hathorne. Elizabeth nods her head, giving a weak smile. Judge Danforth. She turns on her heel, heading back towards Parris. 

Parris offers Elizabeth a smile, and the two share a glance of understanding. While he has thoughts on the agreement, he doesn’t dare to share them in front of the judges. 

PARRIS, weakly: Is everything settled, Judge Danforth? Judge Hathorne? 

DANFORTH, nodding: Aye, of course. Thank you for your time, Ms. Elizabeth. Mr. Parris. 

Danforth returns to organizing his desk– tapping excess ink out of his pens and decluttering as if Elizabeth and Parris had never been there at all. Hathorne blinks, nodding as if  he’d read his expression like a book. The two exit the courtroom, the door slamming behind them. When outside, Elizabeth does not speak. She heads straight home, not bothering to discuss the situation with Parris.  

Parris frowns, but does not move towards her. 

PARRIS: Elizabeth, are you alright? 

Elizabeth, continuing to walk further from the courthouse, shakes her head. Knocked from  focus, she stands silently for a moment. 

ELIZABETH: Aye, I will be, won’t I? 

With that, Elizabeth continues walking. The sun sets on Salem, trapping her figure in the fog of the evening. Parris remains the last person to have seen her before her disappearance. Rumors spread like wildfire through town, most claiming stubbornness, whilst others believed that her exit was instructed by the court.Despite this, the court doesn’t make a statement to protest either claim. Either way, she left subtly, not bothering to take apart her home. With only a missing blanket, book, or cloth to clean her child, it remains as if nobody ever left. 

As for Parris, the man lives quietly, keeping to himself. In his spare time, he mends to Elizabeth’s garden. The house remains unoccupied in hopes that she may return, but he knows that is highly unlikely. He hopes, for her sake, and for her child’s sake, that she does not return. Perhaps she has settled in a nearby city, for which he believes would be the best case scenario. In whatever way, he trusts that those above are watching over her with great diligence. 

Jillian Byrne

 Grade 10