by Lyn Cote
Across from her sat Stoddard’s mother and Tippy’s parents. Her father had won the legislative seat and had been recently sworn in, and now he was back from his inaugural session.
“I’m so glad your father didn’t have to miss your first dinner party,” Mrs. Foster was saying.
Everyone made agreeable sounds at this. Gerard’s voice, so low and near, caused the hair on Blessing’s neck to prickle. She hoped this special awareness of him would fade. Unfortunately the attraction to him was so similar to what she’d felt for Richard before they married.
The pleasant, inconsequential social dinner conversation progressed, and Blessing made suitable innocuous comments as necessary while Gerard remained impervious beside her. Her hand underneath the tablecloth so wanted to reach for his.
“The treaty with Mexico ending this dreadful war has certainly altered matters in the upcoming presidential election,” Stoddard observed to his father-in-law as the second course was served.
Blessing listened with only half her attention. Over the past several weeks, on a number of occasions, she’d started to go to Prudence Mather’s in order to consult with Ramsay over Ducky’s warning about Smith. But each time she’d turned around and gone home. Somehow she hadn’t been able to ask him to go with her to the docks nor to resume her usual independent nightly rounds. Some invisible barrier was holding her back. However, she wondered if she should warn him in spite of her worries.
“What are we to do with the vast southwestern desert we’ve won?” Ramsay challenged. “Was it worth the fifteen million dollars we paid?”
Though acutely aware of the sharp edge to his voice, Blessing couldn’t let this go undisputed. “California is not to be despised. We now have gained Pacific ports,” she countered, barely glancing at Ramsay.
She forged on, his intense gaze making her more and more uncomfortable. “But I’m worried what the Democrats in Congress may do to extend slavery into new territories.” Her last few words trembled and she hated letting her discomfort show.
Maybe her preoccupation with Ramsay was growing all out of proportion because of his visit to Boston and his subsequent avoidance of her. Perhaps if she simply had it out with Ramsay, she could go on with her work. She should ask Ramsay to go with her to the quay. He would tell her to stop going to the docks, to stop her ridiculous activities. They would argue, and then she could break free of him.
Smith’s threat had made her cautious, even a bit fearful to proceed with her work. But what did that have to do with her fascination with Ramsay? She didn’t need him to go with her to the docks. If necessary, she could hire a bodyguard. Her thoughts chased each other around in confusion. Stop.
At that moment, as she lifted her napkin, their hands brushed. Waves of awareness tested her composure. I must break free of this foolish attraction.
“Yes,” Tippy said, taking them back to the vast new lands just acquired from Mexico. “And most important of all—will these territories enter the country as slave or free?”
Gerard found himself falling silent. He knew it shouldn’t bother him, especially considering the two women in question, but the participation of ladies in a political discussion still threw him off his stride. But more than that, the widow’s presence right beside him was weakening his ability to concentrate. His hand still vibrated from their chance touch. Maybe if he just stopped avoiding her, faced her, he could get over this preoccupation with her and move on with his life.
At the end of the dinner, Stoddard unexpectedly stood and lifted his glass. “We are going to have a special toast tonight.”
Tippy blushed a bright, rosy pink.
“This news is just for the family and our closest friend—” Stoddard nodded toward Blessing—“but Tippy and I are expecting a blessed event before the end of the year.”
Gerard sat, stunned.
The ladies all hurried to hug and kiss Tippy.
Gerard shook himself free from his stupefaction and rose. He lifted his glass. “To the blessed event.” Another unwelcome proof his friend was moving deeper into family life, leaving Gerard behind, solitary, alone.
The end of the evening came soon. While Stoddard walked his mother to her cottage and Tippy’s parents rode away in their carriage, Ramsay stepped out into the chill night.
Blessing was waiting by the front door for her carriage to arrive. “Ramsay, may I drop thee at home?”
He’d heard the invitation force itself through her lips—out of social obligation, no doubt—and he didn’t want to accept.
His own words came before he could stop them. “Thank you.” He walked right beside her, his rampant senses surging to life. He helped her into the carriage and followed her inside. At her command it rumbled away.
Concealing all he was feeling, Gerard sat like a statue. Blessing sat opposite him just as stiffly.
“We haven’t spoken privately since thy return,” she said finally.
“I’ve been busy with business.” And preoccupied with my father. And avoiding you.
“I’m glad you accepted my offer of a ride. I’ve heard some disturbing news . . . about Smith.”
He stirred at the mention of the man. “He accosted me outside your home that December night I bid you . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to mention more about the evening he’d nearly kissed her. “He accused me of having something to do with his mistress disappearing.”
“Thee knew that might come.”
“Yes, and I stuck to the truth. His mistress came, left by the back door, and I don’t know where she went.”
“Good.” She looked away.
“I take it you know where she went.”
“I only know she is no longer in Ohio,” Blessing said, obviously choosing her words with care.
Her fencing sparked his temper. “I’m not going to tell Mr. Smith—”
“I’m just accustomed to taking precautions. One never knows who might be listening.” She glanced out the window, watchful. “Recently I’ve been warned that Smith is growing more dangerous and for some reason holds me responsible for his losing his mistress.”
Gerard hissed his dissatisfaction. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gone to the docks since Christmas. I’ve been busy with other matters, and now . . .”
A chill went through him. “You’re afraid.” He never thought he’d say that about this fearless woman.
“I am cautious. After losing Jewel, Smith is like a wounded bear. Unpredictable. Vicious. I do want to go back to my work at the docks, but perhaps—”
“If you don’t go, he’ll see that as an admission of guilt.” I should have kept my mouth shut. Why am I getting involved in this?
A shaft of lamplight glanced over her face. Her expression was intense, anxious. He gripped the leather strap by the window, holding back once more from reaching for her.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she murmured, again in shadow.
“Let’s go tonight. I’ll be your protector.” His rash promise was out before he could censor it.
“Yes, let’s go—but for a short time.” She moved forward on her seat, toward him, suddenly eager. “And certainly I cannot let evil stop me from my work. If I do, Smith wins.”
Caution contended against a burst of energy within him. Blessing’s characterization of Smith as a wounded bear had been apt. He tensed. This dauntless woman needed someone to protect her. And only he understood the circumstances.
Blessing spoke to her driver, and he turned them toward the docks. When they arrived, she let Gerard help her out. “I usually dress more modestly than this so I’m approachable,” she murmured. “But let us walk the quay and see if anyone needs help.”
Beneath her mundane words he detected a current of wariness. Under the cover of darkness, he checked his pistol. Since Smith had confronted him, he carried it every day. And he had his cane in hand as well. His senses became alert.
A night watch patrolling nearby raised a hand
in greeting.
Blessing acknowledged him.
The night watch fell into step beside them. “Ma’am, I’ve heard threats against you. Be very careful. No going into dwellings alone or into the alleyways.”
“I am aware of my danger, Officer.”
“Glad you brought a gentleman with you.” The watch dipped his head and moved away, taking a stand in the low lamplight near a tavern entrance.
Gerard’s senses heightened. But all seemed to be a quiet night on the waterfront. He and Blessing barely passed any streetwalkers, and no one approached them.
And then the man they were both thinking of stepped from a doorway before them. “Well, the Quaker widow and the Boston gentleman have come to face me together.”
Gerard stepped ahead of Blessing to be ready to defend her if necessary.
Blessing didn’t flinch at Smith’s bitter gibe. “I was wondering if thee would greet me this night.”
Smith rattled something like a laugh, but he sobered immediately. “I’m going to make you pay for your interference, Quaker.”
“I have been interfering for several years on these docks.”
Gerard wished she wouldn’t taunt Smith. There was something more lethal than usual about this man in his voice, his agitation.
“Did you think to pay me back for your husband?” Smith sneered at Blessing.
What did Smith have to do with Blessing’s late husband?
“I do not seek revenge, Smith, though thee did wrong me and my husband, as well thee knows.”
“But I do seek revenge, Quaker, and I know what your parents in Sharpesburg are about,” Smith said, ignoring Gerard’s presence. “I am going to make life interesting for them, too, from now on.”
“Then thee knows my father runs his own glassworks and my mother writes antislavery poetry. I can’t see what thee can do about their endeavors.”
“We both know what I mean,” Smith barked.
Gerard didn’t.
Blessing shook her head. “Have a caution, Smith.”
“Or what? What will you do to me, Quaker?”
“I don’t need to do anything. There is a way that seems right to a man, but that way leads to death.”
Smith growled with anger. “Don’t preach to me. You’re going to regret what you’ve done.”
“I believe I can say the same for thee.”
Fearing she had pushed too far, Gerard took another step forward, his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to spring if need be.
Smith trembled with some obscure emotion, then spun on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.
Blessing turned to Gerard. “I think we should finish walking the length of the quay,” she said, her voice cool, “and go home.”
He agreed with a nod and continued walking beside her, trying to figure out what Smith had meant about her husband, her parents. Did he dare ask her?
He recalled vividly that night at his boardinghouse when, with his collusion, Blessing had helped that man’s mistress escape his grasp. All the conjecture that had perplexed him over the past months rushed back, flooding him. Blessing’s faith appeared to bolster her courage, but he didn’t have that reserve. He suddenly wished he did.
Maybe it was time that he found out more about Blessing Brightman’s family and what exactly happened at “number three.” Knowledge was power, and he needed all he could get in her defense. He couldn’t let this woman face a man like Smith armed only with Bible verses.
FEBRUARY 21, 1849
At the end of his workday, Gerard went directly to Stoddard’s house. Memory of his encounter with Smith wouldn’t let him rest. He wanted—needed—more information on Blessing’s family. Smith’s words kept repeating in his mind. What did Smith know? And why was that knowledge a chink in the Quakeress’s armor?
In a flattering yet matronly and subdued lavender dress, Tippy welcomed him with a fondness he didn’t feel he deserved. After all, he’d come to Cincinnati expressly to prevent her from marrying his cousin.
Within minutes she pressed a hot cup of tea into his hands. Uncomfortable, he sat with her by a warming fire in the rear parlor, done in shades of rose. Tippy was tatting lace and humming to herself, leaving him to his thoughts.
He let himself consider how much his life had changed in the past six months. That July meeting in Seneca Falls had set him on an unexpected course. This consideration brought Blessing back to mind, the reason he’d come to visit Stoddard today. For his part in Smith’s renewed enmity toward this woman, he felt responsible. But he was unsure how to introduce the topic. And unsure what they could do once it was introduced.
“Sometimes Stoddard has meetings at the bank after hours—or if the books don’t balance, no one leaves till the daily accounts are correct,” Tippy said, breaking into his thoughts. “Stoddard might be tempted to steal a penny, you see.” She grinned, her fingers still busy.
Words he hadn’t and didn’t want to voice spilled out. “I want to know more about Blessing, about her family.”
Tippy sent him an arch look. “What do you want to know?”
He was disgusted with himself. He couldn’t blurt out, Are they part of the illegal Underground Railroad? “I don’t know. She never talks about them.”
“Blessing is a very private person in many ways,” Tippy said. Then, looking mischievous, “However, your interest in her is common knowledge.”
He grimaced at this news, but again the need to talk about what had brought him here, even in an oblique way, overcame discretion. “I’ve never met anybody like her.” He heard the front door open, saving him from revealing more.
“Tippy!” Stoddard called. “I’m home!”
“I’m here,” Tippy responded.
Stoddard entered the room, paused when he noted Gerard, but went forward to kiss his bride. Only then did he turn. “Cousin, what brings you here?”
This was a terrible idea. He wasn’t going to get answers, he realized; he was simply going to provide Stoddard and Tippy with yet more reasons to pair him with Blessing. Gerard scrambled to come up with a different reason for his visit. A thought that had lingered in the back of his mind moved forward as an excuse. “I wanted you to know I’m going to look around for some land to invest in. I’ve been saving and may be able to invest in the future. The racetrack obviously hasn’t come through, but I might decide to breed thoroughbreds.”
“Really?” Stoddard looked at him as if he’d just sprouted vines from his forehead.
“Yes,” Gerard replied, not really prevaricating since the idea did interest him, though it would be years before he could buy land. “So I’m going to hire a horse on Saturday and ride for a bit out of town, get the lay of the land.”
“Really?” Stoddard repeated.
“Really,” Gerard said, rising, with no idea if he actually planned to do it or not. “I’ve got to get going.” He felt like a fool.
“Stay for supper,” Tippy invited, clearly amused at his discomfort.
“No, Mrs. Mather is expecting me. Good evening.” He escaped before any more ill-considered words slipped out.
Stoddard followed him to the door, also grinning. “Why don’t you just go see her? Stop fighting it. I find that marriage is nothing at all like we feared.”
Gerard glared at his cousin and stalked out.
As he shut the door, Stoddard had the nerve to chuckle.
Gerard kept walking. The idea that had coalesced moments before recommended itself to him, and he indeed began planning a Saturday ride . . . but not for the sake of finding land. Smith had said Blessing’s family lived in Sharpesburg. He must find out what road would lead him there.
Tippy and Stoddard could never learn of this. Gerard’s teeth clenched at the memory of his cousin’s parting shot. Stoddard didn’t know half of what the good widow was doing, so Gerard would have to find out the whole for himself. He shouldn’t take Smith’s threats against the widow or himself lightly.
He had to know what it meant, ha
d to know the truth—to be ready for what, he didn’t know. He still wondered why Smith had chosen him as a target. Smith spoke with the Irish Boston accent and said he’d seen Gerard often in Boston. Could Smith’s family have been servants at a nearby home? All this was a puzzle.
FEBRUARY 24, 1849
On Saturday Blessing sat at her kitchen table after breakfast, the air still redolent of bacon drippings. She tapped her lips with one finger, thinking. Smith’s threat and her musings over Ramsay chased each other around in her mind. She finally decided what she needed to do. Her parents had years of wisdom, and they would advise her.
“I will be gone until tomorrow,” she told Salina, who’d just entered. “I’ll write a note of regret to a social invitation I received and leave it on the hall table to be delivered.”
“You runnin’ away from that Boston man?”
Blessing chose to ignore this impertinent question. “On my way out of town I’ll stop at the orphanage to let them know I will be away.” Then she rose and left the kitchen before Salina could question her further. Yes, she was running away from that Boston man—an unwelcome admission.
She packed her overnight bag with her maid’s help, left the house, and stepped into her carriage to be on her way. Judson drove to the orphanage and stopped in the alley behind the building. He helped her down and she walked quickly to the back door, where she entered.
Adela, who’d taken Joanna’s job at the orphanage, rushed to meet her just inside the kitchen. Adela was Joanna’s cousin through her father’s side of the family. So she favored Judah and was tall and darker complected with large brown eyes, her best feature. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
The woman’s urgent tone arrested Blessing. “I’m on my way out of town. What is it?”
Adela drew in a deep breath and looked relieved. “Good. We got another escaped slave who needs to get out of the city. Now. Today.”
Blessing asked for no more explanation. “My carriage is at the back gate. Will the person fit?”
