Several minutes later, she looked over her coded words with pleasure:
5y 4nly f813, 5y l4v8, 67 th1t th8 74ld6837 6n 1378n1l 7qu138 w6ll 13387t 58 1nd d31g 58 b1ck t4 5y f1th83. 4th83w678, 6’d b8 6n y4u3 b8d th67 v83y n6ght. 2345678 58 th1t w4n’t h1228n 1nd 6’ll b8 n8xt t4 y4u, n1k8d. D4n’t blu7h, 1 g63l c1n b8 6n t4uch w6th th1t 76d8 4f h8378lf ju7t 17 5uch 17 1 51n. 6 w4n’t h6d8 5y b4dy b8h6nd cl4th87 wh8n w8’38 1l4n8 t4g8th83. 6 w1nt y4u t4 k677 1nd t4uch 1ll 4f 58.
It was perfect. She carefully folded the paper into as small a square as she could and tucked it in the toe of her left shoe. Passing notes on the street had been impractical almost right away—after all, how much could she drop in the street for him to retrieve—so they concealed notes in a space between bricks in the Armory gate’s wall. It made her pulse race: their steamy exchanges just left out in the open, available for anyone to stumble upon.
Adelaide crawled into bed and settled against her pillow. Writing out her fantasies to him was only going to be entertaining for so long. She wanted to feel him inside her; to feel the pressure of his weight on top of her when they made love. And she knew when it finally happened—once wasn’t going to be nearly enough to satisfy either one of them.
Chapter 9
“SARAH, DO NOT let those loaves burn!”
Sarah dashed over to the stove and cautiously touched the top of bread. “They’re fine, Addy! Don’t you trust me?”
Adelaide wiped her wrist across her forehead, no doubt leaving a trail of flour behind. Even though it was cold outside, the heat of the oven made the kitchen nearly unbearable. “It smelled like something was burning.”
“Well, it’s not.”
She sprinkled some flour into a loaf pan and then dumped the bread dough in with a dull plop. “I think we made too much dough.”
Sarah looked from the remaining dough on the table to the loaves cooling near the window. “I suppose... but maybe you can bring some over to Mr. Cooper.”
Adelaide didn’t look up at her sister and instead turned her attention to another loaf pan.
“What’s that?” She could tell Sarah was smirking. “Is there something you’d like to tell me about you and Mr. Cooper? Something full of verbs and adjectives and fully descriptive of his prowess?”
“No.” Adelaide pounded her fist into a portion of bread dough. “There isn’t anything to tell you about me and Mr. Cooper. I haven’t experienced any of his prowess. Yet.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
Adelaide glared at her sister. “Sarah. Stop it, you’re being childish.”
Sarah regarded her silently for a few moments and then frowned. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“Sarah.”
“You are!” Sarah scrambled around the table and grabbed her arm. “You have to tell me, Addy.”
“There’s nothing to tell, Sarah, because I’m not hiding anything.” Adelaide looked at her seriously. “I would tell you if we’d been physical, I guess, if you forced me to do so.”
Sarah studied her for a moment and then sighed. “What kind of sister are you?”
“We’ve kissed, that’s all.”
“All?”
“Yes, that’s all.” Adelaide’s lips twitched into a smile. “I did, just one time, feel his arousal through his—“
“Something smells delicious in here, girls!”
Both Sarah and Adelaide jumped at the sound of their father’s voice. He strode into the kitchen with Robert close at his heels, and surveyed the bread loaves and unbaked dough. “That’s... well, that’s a lot of bread.”
“I’ll eat it.” Robert broke off a hunk of bread and popped into this mouth. He spit it back out into his palm. “That’s hot!”
“It’s fresh.” Adelaide smirked. “Did you have fun in Charlestown?”
Poppa wrapped some loose coffee in a small pouch and placed it in the kettle. “It was hardly a pleasure trip, Addy, strictly business. Is your mother sleeping?”
Adelaide wadded up her apron and used the fabric to protect her hand as she pulled a loaf pan from the cook stove. “She was last time we were in there.”
Poppa filled a mug with water, presumably for Rebekah. “She’ll probably be thirsty when she wakes up.”
As their father left the work room, Robert reached into the back of his pants and slapped a rolled up paper on the table. “Take a look at this.”
Adelaide wiped her hands on her apron and unrolled the paper. Across the top was boldly printed: Proclamation!
Sarah peeked over her shoulder as Adelaide began to read out loud, “In pursuance of instructions from the Governor of Virginia, notice is hereby given to all whom it may concern, that, as heretofore particularly from now until after Friday next the 2nd of December, strangers found within the County of Jefferson, and Counties adjacent, having no known and proper business here, and who cannot give a satisfactory account of themselves, will be at once arrested.”
Adelaide exchanged a glance with her brother. “Because of Brown’s execution?”
Robert nodded. “You should have seen Charlestown, Addy, Poppa said it was martial law. We had to request passes from the provost; that took forever. Then we had to show them whenever we were asked by the militia which, let me tell you, was all the time. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That’s horrible.” She gasped. “Those poor people. How can you manage daily activities?”
Robert shrugged. “There weren’t a lot of people out. We were stopped so many times and questioned. I thought we were going to be arrested. One militiaman told Poppa that they’re afraid someone is scheming to set Brown free before he’s hung.”
Sarah started reading out loud, where Adelaide left off, “That on, and for a proper period before that day, strangers and especially parties, approaching under the pretext of being present at the execution of John Brown, whether by Railroad of otherwise, will be met by the Military and turned back or arrested without regard to the amount of force, that may be required to effect this, and during the said period and especially on the 2nd of December, the citizens of Jefferson and the surrounding country are emphatically warned to remain at their homes armed and guard their own property.”
Adelaide drew in a sharp breath.
“There are armed patrols all along the road from Charlestown.” Robert reported. “And the Ferry’s own military guard is in formation in front of the Arsenals already.”
“You told them, Robert?”
At the sound of her father’s voice, Adelaide thrust the proclamation behind her back and into Sarah’s hands.
Robert nodded. “Yes, Poppa.”
Poppa leaned against the doorframe and smiled. Adelaide could tell that his smile was forced. “Well, my dears, we’ll just have to spend the next several days in doors.”
* * *
ON THE DAY of Brown’s execution, Poppa stuck to his word and insisted they all stay inside the house. He posted Robert in the kitchen—next to the side door—and then went downstairs to guard the store. Luke and Levi took it upon themselves to stand post with Robert, leaving Adelaide and Sarah to do what they did best—avoid Rebekah.
“I think I’m going to start working on Christmas gifts.” Adelaide announced to Sarah. “It’s only a few weeks until the holiday.”
Sarah giggled. “Planning on tying a ribbon around your waist and giving yourself to Thomas?”
“I was thinking of crocheting collars for Annie, Susan, and Mary.” Adelaide ignored her sister’s sass and crouched down, pulling a crate out from underneath the bed. They kept every issue of Godey’s and Peterson’s. Poppa had been more than happy to provide the crate to keep the magazines from piling up on the floor.
Sarah picked up a copy of Peterson’s. “Not Lucy?”
“Of course not.” Adelaide grabbed several issues of Godeys and flipped through them quickly. “My main concern is to find the pattern. I think it was in an issue from the last few months.”
“Hmmm.”
Sarah studied an article in the magazine. “Addy, let’s dye my hair.”
“Sarah, you can’t be serious.”
“I am.” She pointed at the magazine. “This is from back in March. They give the recipe to make black hair dye. One pound of bruised gall-nuts—”
Adelaide broke in, “Sarah, I’m fairly certain gall-nuts, bruised or otherwise, are not just sitting around the store waiting for you to use them. They have to be ordered.”
Sarah ignored her. “Boil them with olive oil until they’re soft... then you dry them and grind them up into a fine powder. Then mix with equal parts willow charcoal and salt, also ground up into a fine powder. Finally, add powdered lemon and orange peel and boil in twelve pounds water. It should mix into a salve, which can be put in the hair and covered with a cap until it’s dry. But, the article says that you have to keep doing this because your hair grows fast and your roots will show.”
“I don’t know about that, Sarah.” Adelaide continued to flip through her issue of Godey’s. “That recipe doesn’t sound like it would turn your hair black. Besides, why would you want black hair anyway?”
“Why not?” Sarah shrugged. “Annie’s hair is black and I think it looks really pretty.”
“Well, I think brown hair is better.” Adelaide paused. “Can you imagine how Poppa would react? I can. Besides, can’t you just buy hair dye?”
Sarah furiously shook her head. “Peterson’s says that it’s not good to use to use the packaged dyes because it has nitrate of silver in it. Apparently, that’s very unhealthy for you.”
“Maybe you should tell Poppa, in case he sells it—oh wait, here it is!” Adelaide smiled triumphantly and studied the pattern. It didn’t look too difficult and, luckily, she thought she had the right size crochet thread in her sewing basket.
Sarah flipped back a few pages. “Well, I’m going to try to style my hair like this. Where is the iron?”
“On my side table.” She looked up from the pattern. “Be careful when you heat that up. The last time I curled my hair I almost burned my ear.”
“I know.”
Adelaide grabbed her sewing basket and the crochet pattern and settled next to the window. In the silence, she wondered what was going in Charlestown—if Brown was dead. She had heard rumor that his wife was waiting in the Ferry; waiting for them to bring his body to the rail station so she could accompany it back to New York. For as wicked a man as Brown was, his wife didn’t deserve that.
Before she could finish the first chain, Sarah’s squeal echoed down the hallway. “Addy!”
Adelaide dropped the crochet hook and rushed down the hall to the kitchen. Sarah was standing next to the stove, holding the hair iron in one hand and a clump of her hair in the other hand.
Their brothers looked horrified.
“What happened?” Adelaide cried, dashing to her side. “What did you do?”
Sarah burst into tears. “I think the iron was too hot!”
“It smells like burned hair in here.” Levi wrinkled his nose and pinched his nostrils closed.
“Hush.” Adelaide hissed. Turning back to Sarah, she tilted her sister’s head to the side. “Did you burn yourself?”
“No.” she sobbed. “But... but... my hair!”
Adelaide pulled Sarah’s hair back and gently twisted it into the shape of a chignon. Stepping to the side, she studied her face carefully. “I don’t think anyone will be able to tell. The rest of your hair hides the bald... hides the spot.”
“Yes, you are lucky that you burned hair from behind your ears. Otherwise, you’d look like a stud horse. You know, tuft in the middle, bald on the side?” Luke glared at Robert. “Why did you kick me—I’m only being honest.”
“You should never be honest to your sister.” Robert muttered. “You should tell her what she wants to hear.”
Adelaide scowled at Robert, but before she could do much more, she heard Rebekah calling. She exchanged a glance with her sister. “Do you want to see what she wants?”
Sarah clutched the clump of hair to her chest and pouted. “I’m too upset.”
Rolling her eyes, Adelaide stormed down the hall to her parent’s bedroom. “Is everything alright, Rebekah?”
She was leaning up on one elbow and didn’t even bother to reprimand Adelaide for not calling her “mother.” Frowning, she gasped out, “I think... the baby is coming. The pain is steady and even, every five minutes or so.”
Adelaide opened and closed her mouth several times, but could not think of anything to say to her. Finally, she backed out of the room and rushed back to the kitchen.
“Rebekah is having the baby.” She announced to her siblings. “Somebody needs to go get Poppa.”
Without hesitating a moment, Robert jumped up from the table and ran out of the room. Luke seemed to think for a split second and then dashed after him.
Adelaide poured more water into the kettle and set it on the stove to heat up. This wasn’t how she’d intended to spend her day. Rebekah was a waste and she had a feeling, once this child was born, she’d be the one taking care of it. Another chore.
When she turned around, Levi was sitting silently at the table, staring at the tabletop.
“What’s wrong, Levi?”
“I don’t want Rebekah to have the baby.” She noticed his lower lip quiver slightly. “Momma died when she had a baby. Remember?”
She sighed and squatted down beside him. “I know. Trust me, I know... but I don’t think that God would take two mothers from you.”
Adelaide certainly didn’t believe herself, and she honestly didn’t care, but it seemed to soothe Levi. He’d been too young when Momma died, he didn’t remember that night. Adelaide did. Momma had bled to death; dark red blood had gushed out so fast, like a dam had burst inside her. No one had time to react, it was of the midwife’s opinion that she didn’t have time to realize what was happening. Baby Lydia died three days later. They buried her next to Momma at the far end of Harper Cemetery.
Pushing the memories from her thoughts, Adelaide filled a mug with cool water and walked back to the bedroom. “Here, Rebekah, I brought you some water.”
“Thank you, Addy.” She clutched the bed sheet in one hand and accepted the mug with the other. “Did someone go to get your father?”
“Robert and Luke went downstairs.” Adelaide bit her lip. The pain etched on Rebekah’s face was severe. It reminded her of how her mother looked when she started having trouble with the delivery. “Is there anything I can get you, Rebekah? Do you need anything?”
She looked like she was fighting back tears, somewhat reminding Adelaide she was barely older than her. “No, just your father.”
She dabbed Rebekah’s forehead with the corner of her apron, not entirely sure what to say. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
“Bekah!” Poppa burst into the room and crossed to the bedside in two strides. “It’s finally time.”
The midwife, Mrs. Potter, strode into the room right behind him. She was carrying a large market basket and an armload of blankets. “Did you boil any water for me, girl?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Adelaide answered. “It’s on the stove now.”
“I’ll need it, dear, right away.” Mrs. Potter perched on the edge of the bed. “How quickly do the pains come, my dear?”
Adelaide didn’t wait to hear her answer, but instead walked back to the kitchen. Gathering her apron in one hand to lift the kettle from the stove, she carried it down the hall at a steady pace, being careful not to spill the boiling water on her skirts. It wasn’t easy; the water sloshed back and forth, threatening to spill over the edges with every step.
The bedroom door was now closed. She timidly tapped on it with the toe of her shoe, jumping slightly when Mrs. Potter flung it open. With apron covered hands, she accepted the kettle and then promptly closed the door in Adelaide’s face.
* * *
SHE FELT THAT there was some sort of gesture from God’s Providence that night. It was only hours
before that John Brown paid his debt to Virginia and hung from the gallows in Charlestown. Once his evil had left the world, God allowed the innocence of her baby sister, Elizabeth, to be born.
They named her after Adelaide’s mother.
Chapter 10
April 1860
ANNIE SHOVED THE stereopticon viewer into Adelaide’s hands, but kept the card turned over in her lap. “I’m not going to tell you how I came into possession of these.”
“If you stole them, Annie, I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“No, I didn’t steal them. I acquired them from a lady in town who found them under her brother’s mattress tick. Of note, I sent her there looking for my pearl broach which, regrettably, she didn’t find.”
“Oh, so it was a man you bedded? That at least eliminates the women in town, so…honestly, the person in question could be any one of 1400 or so gentleman.”
“Slag.” Annie elbowed her and then fixed the card into the front of the viewer. It was a nude woman, reclining back on a lounge with her dark ringlets falling over her breasts. She still had on silk stockings.
Adelaide glanced up from the viewer. “And?”
“It’s French.”
“Do you want me to make some kind of comment? Because I’ve seen breasts before, Annie. Now, if it was a nude gentleman, I might have something to say.”
“I have an entire box of them: light hair, dark hair; fat and thin. There’s something for everyone.” Annie passed her a slim box. “Just like Armory workers.”
Adelaide fixed another card into the viewer, this one a skinny blonde in a chemise with her legs spread. “I’d think a man would be less embarrassed to spend the day with a whore. At least that can be done in the privacy of a back alley. This requires payment and purchase.”
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