by Gina Danna
Frederick stood, his grin now firmly set on his face, making Thomas long to slap it off. “No, my good lady, I was just leaving.” He grabbed his hat and shot Thomas a look. “Give it some consideration. It’d win you votes.”
“I certainly will,” he answered with mocking sincerity. He could hear Frederick laugh as he walked down the corridor. With a shake of his head, he forced the conversation aside and rose with a smile.
“Miss Lancaster, what a pleasure.”
Chapter 15
“I appear this evening as a thief and robber. I stole this head, these limbs, this body from my master, and ran off with them.”
—Frederick Douglass, son of a slave and a white man, ran away twice from his owner. Eloquent speaker, accused of never being a slave, he raised $600 from English admirers to buy his freedom.
Jaquita let her body soak in the tub just a moment longer. The water was cooling, despite it being near the fireplace, but her muscles were sore from riding and working in her garden. No, she smiled. Maybe that wasn’t the reason, but a certain man was. A trill spun down her spine, pooling in her loins at the thought. Thomas. She sighed.
He was a man of many desires. They had shopped, ate, rode, went on a boat ride, played billiards as well as croquet and danced. The last two weeks had been a whirlwind of fun, many times ending with them entangled in an intimate dance with memories that made her thankful she was in a tub of water so if her hips moved, it was well hidden.
He’d also sent her notes. Mostly short, many just with comments on how he loved his time with her and when he hoped to see her again. Every one excited her, every moment leading her heart deeply down a path she wasn’t sure she wanted but by now, was a foregone conclusion—she was falling in love with him.
That realization made her heart skip a beat and a wave of cold wash over her. Deciding that was the water’s temperature and not fear, she reached for her linen sheet and got out of the tub. It took no time to dry, dress and do her hair for her to be out the door. She’d deal with her emotions later. Now, she had errands to do.
Thomas shook his head again, trying desperately not to nod off asleep. The last week had exhausted him. The campaign for senate had eaten time, work stole what it could and Frederick’s advice was applied. In the last ten days, he’d escorted Allison to two social affairs, where he made numerous political contacts, took her for a carriage ride and a dance at the city hall. It was the only night he hadn’t seen Jaquita, since the other events were during the day. So seeing his lover at night and courting a lady for political reasons started to take its toll. Every time he was with Jaquita, he wanted to strangle Frederick for his comments about marriage. And when he was with Allison, he could see they’d be an amiable match, what many upper-class New Yorkers had.
It boiled down to which did he want? A pretty white wife, whose family was stable, strong New Yorkers with wealth and contacts? Or a Black wife, a bastard out of a Southern slave family, whose father acknowledged her but was also against the Northern view on slavery, and the one lady he loved? He just might go insane.
“Thomas!”
Thomas frowned. His father. “Here!” Though the thought of jumping out the window did cross his mind.
Thomas McHenry II breezed into his son’s office with a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations, my boy! I just heard of your engagement! Bravo!”
Yes, he inwardly groaned. He’d seen it on the gossip rag this morning. “Thank you, I guess.”
His father poured them a drink but shot his son a discerning look at his reply. “Never guess, dear boy. For your political future and the future of the McHenry family, you have made a solid and well thought out decision. The Lancasters are very influential and they like you. Half the game is done!” He shoved a drink into Thomas’s hand and then clanged it with his as a toast. “To the future Senator McHenry!”
As his father downed the drink, Thomas stared at the glass, absently wondering if Jaquita viewed the newsprints and prayed she didn’t….
Jaquita finished dressing, her grin and good mood never leaving her. She put the final hair comb into place and left her room to head downstairs when she ran into Clarence at the foot of the stairs.
“A visitor, ma’am.”
She nodded and headed toward the front parlor to find Jeremiah there with a brooding look on his face. He always seemed to be dire, she decided.
“Jeremiah, what a pleasant surprise! You barely caught me before I left for the night.”
“Yes, well I think you might want to rethink your plans.” His tone sounded ominous.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’ve been seeing that lawyer, haven’t you? Thomas McHenry?” He stood at the fireplace, the look of a master from down South etched in his face, as if he caught her trying to run away or such. Ice dripped down her spine.
“That’s a rather forward and uncalled for question, as if I did something wrong.”
“Just answer it, Jaquita.”
She frowned. He was so serious. “Yes, I have accompanied Mr. McHenry about town. Why?”
“Yes, well, have you seen the newspapers?”
She noticed he had one rolled in his hand. “No.”
“Well your appearances with him did set the gossips to goin’,” he mumbled, walking to the table in front of the settee and spreading out the papers. “See?”
She glanced. It was a drawn picture of them at the millinery shop three days past. “Not a bad likeness. We were looking at a new hat for him.” She laughed. “I don’t understand why you seem so upset.”
“You realize, the abolitionist movement is growing here in the North. People are starting to see the abomination of slavery and joining our ranks to see it overturned. But despite all that, even here in free New York, people frown on mixed relationships.”
“That is ridiculous! I’ve seen other mixed couples—”
“Where?” His face was tinged red. “The Irish will mix with us, well, some of the Irish lasses, and their men hate it. We are still below their societal ranks, and barely tolerated.”
“That will change, I am sure,” she said with a determined voice, one that even surprised her. Perhaps Thomas was the source of that pride.
“But not in our lifetime!” He started to pace. “I only bring this to your attention to save you.”
“Save me?” Her brows furrowed as she glared at him.
He grabbed the corner of the page and turned it, pointing to the top. It was a page marked Wedding Announcements and below that headline, under Engagements, she found an equally good drawing of Thomas—with another woman, with the latest on their engagement. Her jaw dropped open.
“Allison Lancaster is from a rather rich family here. Her father is a lawyer turned politician, a senator, no less,” he stated. “A marriage that’d advance Mr. McHenry’s run for office immensely.”
She couldn’t breathe. Her heart plummeted. He’d betrayed her. She blinked hard when her vision started to blur. Tears started to escape and that only increased her burning anger. “No,” was all she could whisper.
“I see, so it was more than a casual outing,” he snarled. “Jaquita, don’t you see? He’s no better than the slaveowners down South!” A southern drawl she didn’t know he had started to uncurl in his speech. “He took advantage of you ‘cause he could! Tell me, did he ever offer to marry you? And what if you’re with his child, huh? What then? Send you off to some mammy down South to rid yourself of it? Or pay you off to leave? Bastard!”
Inside she started to shake. Pregnancy. She didn’t have to worry on that as her flow came last week. But what he said had truth. Thomas never talked of a future with her. It hadn’t bothered her then but now? A look at the paper told her as of now, that’d never happen.
“Jeremiah, thank you for showing me the error of my ways. If you don’t mind, please leave. I need some time alone.” She was a shattered mess, her heart cracking and she refused to cry any further.
Jeremiah took her hands i
n his and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Jaquita. But I thought you needed to know. I’m here if you need me.” And he left.
Jaquita sank to the settee, her back rigid straight as her stomach flipped. What was she to do, now that her heart was broke in two?
Livingston Ball
* * *
Thomas downed another champagne glass, praying for something stronger, but still had the sense not to ask for it. He wasn’t sure he ever felt this alone before in his life. Plenty of times he wanted to be left alone, yet in a room filled with guests milling about, it was an odd sensation to feel that way now.
The Livingston Ball was one of the fetes of the season and it was the ideal place for a candidate for office to be seen. It was also the ideal place for a couple to announce their engagement. He had escorted Allison here, and without a doubt, he was sure she thought that this was where they’d formally announce theirs. Damn, he needed another glass! Maybe another would drown the vision of Jaquita from his mind, of her spinning with him on the dance floor, of her light and airy laughter and the fire she stoked in him when they made love. How was he to ever put that aside for Allison? The Lancaster girl was sweet, pretty and so well mannered, though time consuming, he severely tired of her. He had yet to kiss her, mostly because he had no desire to, and that told him more than he wanted to know.
“Thomas! There you are!” Frederick sauntered up. “Thought you’d be out on the floor with the soon-to-be bride, or imbibing with the power players.”
“I needed a break,” he confided. “This campaigning is tiring. Thought you were doing all the ground work for me, the stumping as it were.”
“Dear man, I am! Now it is your turn for them to hear your voice.” He nudged Thomas in the arm in jest.
The crowd started a louder mumble and many turned to look at the main doorway to the dance floor. Their mood swing caught Thomas’s attention and he followed them to find another arrival, a tad late, and therefore even more dramatic. At the doorway stood that abolitionist, Jeremiah Johnson, and on his arm was Jaquita.
Thomas stood stunned. She looked gorgeous. Dressed in a blue silk dress with cream lace and black trim, her hair a mass of curls, most of which was piled on her head with a few escaping confinement. She took his breath away.
As Jeremiah nodded to the announcement of their arrival, she scanned the room and found him. He was too far to tell her expression but all he wanted was to be with her. He was doomed. Doomed or not, he put his glass down and started in her direction.
“Thomas,” Frederick warned, in a low tone, as he quickly caught up. “You need to watch your steps. All the room will watch as well.”
He smiled at a couple of the attendees as he past them. The string quartet was starting to count to the beginning of the next dance and he’d be the first on her list, he swore!
“Don’t worry so much. Talking to Jeremiah is nothing but positive in this game of politics,” he replied and strode a bit quicker, maneuvering through people to get to them by the time they got past the host and hostess.
“My lady Jaquita, what a pleasant surprise to see you,” he murmured, taking her gloved hand and kissing it. Her dance card bobbed off that wrist and he swore she swung it so it hit him near his eye. He half-smiled. She was still alive!
“May I have the honor of this dance?” he asked. She gave him a puzzled look and started to open her mouth but her expression had turned sour, so he grabbed her hand more firmly and directed her away with him. “Lovely. I’m honored.”
He spun her in front of him out on the dance floor and now saw the fire in her eyes.
“I did not say I’d dance with you.”
“True, but why would you not?” He smiled. She still didn’t.
As the music started, he bowed to her curtsey and then put a hand on her waist and took the other. It was a waltz, and he couldn’t think of a better dance to have with her. As they started around the floor, he realized she wouldn’t look at him and felt stiff in his arms. He rolled his lips in, fearing she’d read the paper on his engagement and he felt pain like she gut punched him for it.
“Jaquita—”
“No, Thomas, no,” she cut him off, finally glaring darts at him. “Just as well we are dancing, so I can tell you I never want to see you again. How dare you!”
“It’s not what you think.”
“How would you know what I think? You spend time with me, make me laugh, show me how wonderful love can be, only to find that you’ll marry another? I’d spit at you, but we are in a public place. And as it is, being Black, I have limited rights, it appears.”
“You have it wrong,” he started. How could he show her it wasn’t her fault?
“You took advantage of me,” she hissed. “Jus’ lika massa does his slave!” Her slur into the white man’s world of how slaves talked and what they endured hit him like a sledgehammer.
“I did not take advantage of you. You enjoyed it just like I did. But I’m running for office—”
“Yes, I heard, and there, Black wives are forbidden!” Luckily the music was loud enough, he doubted anyone else heard them but now, it was the final notes and they all stopped.
“Jaquita, please—”
The dancers all clapped except her. She gave him an icy, stabbing glance and spun on her slipper, heading straight off the floor without him.
Allison took another sip of her champagne, vaguely listening to her mother’s neighbor ramble on something as she watched her future husband take that woman out onto the dance floor. Now, Allison knew she’d won him fair and square as her spouse, but what was this all about? She saw them twirl in a very awkward way and the mulatto woman refused to look at him till the end. Whatever she spouted, Allison couldn’t hear, but when she sped away from him at the end of the dance, she wanted to dance in celebration. Oh, she’d seen the gossip on them and worried, only marginally, that he cared for the girl more than his future wife, but if the way this dance ended meant anything, Allison had nothing to worry about. She grinned.
As he walked up to her, she met him part way. “Hello, stranger.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. Politics. Here,” he offered her his arm and she gladly accepted.
His buddy Frederick called them over. He stood with a group of men, including her father. She forced the smile to stay on her face despite the fact she’d bet the conversation would be on politics. At least they wouldn’t have the gall to mention that woman being here.
“Our dear future senator, how does it feel to be out with all who support you?” her father asked.
“Senator Lancaster, it still takes a bit to get used to.”
The cluster laughed.
“I see your fellow abolitionists arrived. Always a pleasure to add a little ‘color’ to our events,” Mr. Clothworthy added. Allison nodded along with the rest, except for Thomas.
“Perhaps that’s a bit harsh,” Frederick interjected. Allison bet it was to cut Thomas off from saying something that might not sit well. His support of the cause was one of his platforms.
“They’re just as good to be here as we are,” Thomas said.
“Yes, but they can’t vote,” Clothworthy added.
“The abolitionists are working on that, as are the suffragists,” Thomas argued.
“Oh, don’t bring those creatures up!” another man hissed. “I’d rather give the freedmen the right to vote over women.” He looked at Allison and added, “Apologies, no offense given.”
She nodded, though the thought irritated her. Give it to the coloreds and not women?
“Well, let’s get slavery abolished first and vote next,” Thomas suggested.
“Here, here,” several of the men said.
“Slavery is awful,” Allison said, finding her voice. She needed to support her future husband.
“They all need to be freed and now! And those slave-owners need to give them money, too,” one of the group said. All applauded.
“But where are they going to go? They won’t stay South bu
t do we want them all up here?” Clothworthy asked. Half the group shook their head.
“That is part of freedom, gentlemen and lady,” Thomas answered. “To decide where they want to live.”
“Don’t you think they’d rather go home?” Allison queried. “Back to their ancestral home? Africa? They were stolen from there. I think we should return them at no cost to them.”
She got hurrahs from part of the group but Thomas stared at her as if she’d asked for wings to fly.
“Most have been here for generations,” he answered. “This country is their home.”
“I doubt any of those buggers would call the place that enslaved them home,” one of the men to the right added.
“Narrow minded view there, Fitzpatrick,” Frederick proclaimed. “But you’re Irish. I get that. Would you like it if we sent you back to Ireland?”
“My folks wanted to leave Ireland, plague and all. Why would I want to return?”
“Exactly.” Clothworthy.
“Well, I think we should send them home.” Allison smiled. In her mind, it was the perfect solution. “I mean, do you want them to live next to you? Their children with yours in school? Go to the same church?” She shuddered. “They’d have their place in Africa.”
Thomas just stared at her, as if she were a creature in the zoo. “Well, don’t you agree, darling?” she asked him.
Thomas rolled his bottom lip in, a strange look in his eye. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us.” He offered her his arm and she thankfully took it. Politics bored her immensely!
As they walked away, he led her toward the front and requested her cloak.
“We’re leaving? It’s a bit early.”
“Yes, you are leaving and so am I,” he answered, putting her wrap around her and taking his overcoat. “I will drop you by home and that will be it, Allison.”
“It? What do you mean?” He seemed so strange she was confused.
