There was a bright burst of light from inside the warehouse.
“That’s your moment of choice, Liam,” Mr. Zachary had said. “Once the lantern’s been lit, give the signal. If he’s in the light looking into the dark, he’ll see nothing.” Couldn’t have known about his mother’s hat when he said that; better than a curtain on the window now that she’d stepped in front of it. Real smart lady, Mr. Zachary’s mum. Hard as nails as well. In her own way, as much of a fighter as Hell-Cat Maggie, whether or not her teeth were sharpened to points.
Liam reached behind him and tapped his metal-covered knuckles on the metal rim of the carriage wheel.
Three men dropped to the ground from below the body of the brougham and rolled into the shadows of the night.
Inside, Carolina and Chambers stood beside the door of the cavernous warehouse. Chambers lifted the lantern and swung it round. There was nothing to be seen but tall stacks of the many boxes and cartons to be laded in the morning, and piles of the ropes and hooks and barrows and the like it took to do the job. Chambers hung the lantern back on its hook. The pair of them were surrounded by a halo of yellow light. Everywhere else was as black as the inside of a sooty chimney.
“It’s hardly much warmer in here than outside,” Carolina said. Liam’s men will fan out as soon as the lantern’s lit, Maman. They’ll deal with the henchmen Chambers is bound to have stationed around the dock. Try and give them a few minutes before you move to the next stage. “Perhaps,” she added, “you were right and we should have gone to the Canal Street office after all.”
“Yes, but we’re here now.”
“Of course, you’re entirely correct. But this won’t take long, I’m sure. Do you have the money, Mr. Chambers?”
“I do. Thirty-seven thousand dollars in bearer bonds, just as you requested. Though I cannot see—”
“My husband, Mr. Chambers. Surely you know just as everyone else does that Dr. Nicholas Turner is a man of the highest moral principles. Given the disagreement between the pair of you over the matter of Mrs. Chambers, though I did mean what I said about not interfering in other people’s marriages, and if it were left to me…”
“The deeds to the two houses on Cherry Street, Mrs. Turner. You have my payment.” He nodded at the papers she now held in her hand.
“Oh yes, of course.” Carolina tucked the bonds into her muff, then reached into her pocket for the thick wad of tightly bound documents held together with the lavender-colored sealing wax she had used since she was a girl. She held them out and Chambers took them.
“You won’t mind my checking these.” He used his thumbnail to shatter the wax. “As I’ve paid considerably over the odds, given how depressed the market is just now.”
Carolina put her gloved hand to her mouth and coughed as long and as loudly as she could.
Chambers looked up. “Here, you’re choking. Let me—”
Light burst upon them from every side. “Ain’t nothing you have to do, Mr. Chambers, except hand over them papers and them two nigras over there as well. Going straight back to their owners they are.” Fearless Flannagan put out his hand. The two coppers beside him lifted their lanterns higher, revealing two black women huddled together by the door.
“Hand over—Are you insane? Don’t you men know where those extra hundreds in your pay packets come from?”
“Never seen a penny extra,” Flannagan said. “God’s truth. Not me and not them neither. You boyos got that? Not a single penny above our wages, what we’re paid fair and square.”
He was speaking to Chambers and the two other coppers, but the words were meant for the four reporters who had appeared out of the shadows, each holding a notebook and a pencil. Flannagan didn’t take his eyes off Chambers and Carolina, but jerked his head toward the men of the press. “Represent the Sun, the Herald, and the Merchant’s Journal, they do. And the Daily Times.”
“Just the Times now,” the reporter from that paper corrected him.
“Call yourself what you like,” Flannagan said, and turned to Chambers. “They don’t always see sense at the Times, but a flagrant pro-abolitionist act like this? It’s a matter of private property rights, ain’t it? I’m quite sure whoever owns these here slaves will be thankful to you, ma’am,” he told Carolina. “Seeing as how you alerted us to what was happening and helped the owners get their property back.”
“This is complete rubbish,” Chambers said. “I came here to buy a pair of houses on Cherry Street that happen to be contiguous to other property I own in China Village. I have no idea about any of the rest of it. I can assure you that if there has been any breaking of the law, it’s by Mrs. Turner here, not me.”
“My wife need not stand here and take your abuse after she’s been so brave,” Nick said, appearing out of the shadows to put a protective arm around Carolina.
“Don’t worry none, Dr. Turner.” Flannagan was peering at the documents he’d taken from Chambers. “These here ain’t any deeds to any houses in China Village or anywhere else. A list of sailings from Boston to Halifax up in Nova Scotia they are, and the names of people the nigras were to contact once they got there. Put the cuffs on ’im, lads. Mr. Chambers is goin’ off to see the magistrate in the court o’ criminal justice.” Then, turning to the two black women, neither of whom had so far said a word, “All right, who do you belong to then? Are you planning to tell or do we have to convince you it’s a good idea?” Flannagan waved his billy in the direction of the reporters. “You be sure and tell everyone the coppers in New York does their job. Fearless Flannagan best of all.”
“Ain’t no need to be beatin’ on us,” Sofie said. “Me and her, we be coming peaceful like.”
It was the part of the scheme that had most worried Nick. “Even if Ben goes right away to claim them and straighten things out, Sofie and Liza will be in the hands of the police for a time. Who knows what might happen?”
“No one,” Carolina had admitted. “But they understand the risks and have taken far greater ones over the years, believe me. We whites are only occasional helpers. The Negroes are the ones running the underground railway.”
“But this isn’t about helping runaway slaves. It’s about—”
“Aiding two helpless women. And our family,” Carolina said. “They want to help.”
“Because you’ve done so much,” Nick had said quietly.
She had not answered then and she said nothing now when Chambers and the two women were loaded into the police wagon and driven away.
The reporters jumped into a waiting hansom and followed quickly behind. The story of the arraignment of Mr. Kurt Chambers, gentleman of means, would be more titillating to their readers than any tale of slaves and the underground railway.
“It’s why they’ll have to actually send him to Sing Sing for the legal six months, if not longer,” Carolina had said when she first explained her scheme to Nick. “Because there is so much talk of police corruption. With the press watching and the whole South saying that the federal law concerning runaway slaves is never actually enforced, the judge will have no choice.” She did not mention that she would see to it Zac informed whichever judge it turned out to be that it was in his best interest to give Mr. Chambers as long a sentence as he thought he could get away with. Whatever Chambers might pay, the judge would be told, Devrey’s would pay more.
Nick had simply nodded—acquiescence rather than agreement she’d thought—and they had spoken few words since. He did however give her his arm now as they hurried along the icy path toward their carriage.
As soon as the police wagon and the cab carrying the reporters were out of sight Liam had yanked open the brougham’s door. He was inside now, pulling up the seat, and Nick rushed to join him.
They had drilled airholes before leaving Sunshine Hill, and Mei-hua and Mei Lin had not gotten into the hiding place until they approached the town. Still they had been crouching in the cramped space under the seat for at least an hour.
“Are you all right?” Nick demanded.
“We are fine,” Mei Lin said.
Mei-hua, knowing none of the words, understood the meaning. She smiled and nodded. It was she who, as soon as Mei Lin explained the plan, had insisted they must not come later and more comfortably to the wharf. Very stupid we take any chance someone from this dog turd lord’s people see us get on ship. Find out where ship goes. We hide, make sure no one sees. When dog turd lord get out of dungeon place, he not know where to look for you. Very much better idea.
“But he’ll know where we are,” Nick had said, when Carolina passed on Mei-hua’s advice. “What’s to prevent him from taking revenge on us?”
“According to both Mei Lin and her mother, there is quite a vigorous struggle for control of the activities of China Village. With Mr. Chambers out of the picture for half a year, maybe longer, other elements will have taken over. Either he will decide to go elsewhere or he will fight to regain what he’s lost. In either case, he’ll be too busy to worry about us. And Liam says he can arrange to have an eye kept on Sunshine Hill for a time whenever Mr. Chambers is released.”
It was the best possible plan they could come up with, Carolina had said finally. It had to be good enough.
A light appeared on the deck of the packet tied up at the wharf, and a couple of tars hastily lowered the gangplank. Zachary hurried down it to join them. “Ready to sail,” he said. “Mr. Heinz is aboard and waiting for you, Mei Lin.”
“We owe you our lives,” she said. “I can never adequately thank any of you, but you most of all Mrs. Dev—Excuse me, Mrs. Turner. You had the least reason to want to help me, and still you did. Thank you a thousand times.”
Carolina wanted to say that she didn’t deserve praise, that she had always done whatever she did for the girl and her mother grudgingly and with bitterness, but she did not. “Good luck,” she said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She took the bonds from her muff and handed them to Mei Lin. “Thirty-seven thousand dollars will be paid to the bearer. Mr. Chambers owes you at least that much for pain and suffering, as I believe the lawyers call it. These bonds can be negotiated at any bank. They will see you all on your way to a decent future.”
Meanwhile, Liam had dived back into the brougham’s roomy interior. He emerged with a pair of valises, and a bulky canvas satchel Nick recognized as the one Mei-hua had insisted on bringing with her when he got her away from Forty-eighth Street.
The pair of crewmen who had lowered the gangplank took the bags and started for the ship. Nick touched his stepson’s arm. “A moment, Zac,” he said softly.
The two men stepped deeper into the shadows. “The copper, the one they call Fearless Flannagan…” Nick felt slightly ill as he spoke the words.
Maman’s idea about the judge isn’t good enough, sir. I’ve something more definitive in mind. I shan’t tell her, but I thought I’d best tell you.
“He knows exactly what to do,” Zac said quietly. “Forget about it, sir. As Maman would say, more my line of country than yours.”
“Indeed, Zac, but…”
“Forget about it,” Zac repeated and cut off any further discussion by moving back toward the women and bowing in Mei-hua’s direction. “If I may, tai-tai?” He didn’t wait for an answer to the question he knew she had not understood, merely picked her up and carried her up the gangplank.
One of the tars waited to perform the same service for Mei Lin—Dr. Turner said she must continue to put as little weight as possible on her repaired ankle—but she motioned him to wait, then turned toward New York. Only the faint glow of the gaslit streets indicated the presence of the densely packed buildings and crowded thoroughfares of the mighty city beyond the harbor, but the song of the city was never silent. She had been born here. Half her soul was of this place, just as half was of another distant place she would doubtless never see. Never mind, never mind, as Ah Chee would have said. There was a third place waiting, a new life. Never mind.
She turned to the waiting tar and nodded; he picked her up and carried her up the gangplank.
Nick stepped to Carolina’s side and the pair of them watched until the others had gone below, and a couple of crewmen were pulling up the gangplank. “Are we to wait for Zac?” Nick asked.
“No, he’s going with them as far as Philadelphia,” Carolina said. “We’re thinking of opening a Devrey’s office there.”
“Ah, I forgot. Philadelphia. Another business opportunity.”
“It is that,” she agreed. “But for Zac, not for me. I’m retiring from business.”
“Of all sorts?”
She looked directly at him. “The sort of business one does for money. I can’t promise about the rest.”
“I know,” Nick said softly. “I don’t really expect you to. I was only angry because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“I won’t make the same mistake again,” she promised. “Please say you forgive me. You must, Nick. How can I survive without my true and only love?”
He laid a gloved hand along her cheek, then turned to Liam who while they spoke had busied himself adjusting the bridle of the lead horse. “Will you drive us up to Seventy-first Street, Liam? Mrs. Turner and I are quite ready to go home.”
“Sure thing, guv.”
Liam hurried to help them into the brougham, but Nick waved him away and handed Carolina up himself. Then he climbed in after her and pulled the door shut on the outside world.
Epilogue
July 4, 1863
The Temporary Field Hospital at Cemetery Ridge,
Gettysburg in Pennsylvania
“TELL THE YANGgwei zih to take me home,” Mei-hua said.
The driver had been with her for half a dozen years, but he was not Chinese and so would always be a yang gwei zih, a foreign devil. “I will tell him, Mamee.” Mei Lin leaned forward and kissed her mother’s cheek, then opened the door and climbed down. She paused just long enough to tuck Mei-hua’s book beneath the short cape of the black habit of Mother Elizabeth Seton’s Sisters of Charity. In moments it was safe and hidden. Just like her.
Except that Nicholas Turner, the this-place-red-hair yi of her mother’s long drama and her own, was watching, and he knew everything.
“Take her home, please,” Mei Lin called up to the driver. He clucked softly to the horses and they moved away.
Dr. Turner was alone. Mei Lin went to join him. “I didn’t want to trouble you when you were so busy,” she said. “Particularly with a stranger present.”
“Walt Whitman,” Nick explained. “The Brooklyn poet. He comes frequently to visit the army hospitals. But you…” He gestured to the habit she wore. “My dear, I had no idea. I thought perhaps you and Mr. Heinz…”
Mei Lin laughed. “You thought correctly, Dr. Turner. Fritz and I have been married for four years.” She didn’t bother to explain that neither the Catholic Church nor the government of Pennsylvania gave any trouble about an earlier marriage conducted at midnight and effected simply by carrying the bride across the groom’s threshold. “We have two sons. But Fritz is away at present with the Union Army Corps of Engineers. After this terrible battle, I wanted to do something to help. The Mother Superior of the convent Mother Manon asked to take us in when we first came said I could join them to help find the live bodies among the dead. She’s a practical woman, like Mother Manon. She simply put me in a habit the same as the others. Fewer questions to answer that way.”
“I see. I’m glad,” Nick said, adding, “not that there’s anything wrong with being a nun. I was surprised to see your mother here. She is well?”
“Reasonably so,” Manon said. “She lives with us and is happy with her grandsons, but still much fixated on the past. These days she frequently does odd things, like following me here to give me something she could just as well have given me at home.”
“The passing of years sometimes does that to people,” Nick said. “And in your mother’s case, given her experiences, it’s not surprising.”
“I suppose not. Tell me, please, your w
ife and children…there was never any trouble after—”
“Ah,” he said, “apparently you never heard. Kurt Chambers was killed the same night you left New York. Seems he tried to escape from custody and one of the coppers shot him.” His stomach no longer roiled when he thought about what Zac had arranged, not in the face of all the horror he’d witnessed since.
Mei Lin looked somber for a moment. Nick thought she might be saying a prayer for the repose of Chambers’s soul. Then she smiled. “I have the fondest possible memories of you and your wife and Sunshine Hill. I hope everyone is well.”
“As far as we can tell,” Nick said. “Josh is in the army, we know not where most of the time. Blessedly Simon is yet too young to go. He and Goldie are at home with Carolina. And Ceci…” His face darkened.
“I know she married her Mr. Lee and went to live in Virginia,” Mei Lin said. “She wrote me. We were planning a visit some day.” She shook her head. “Perhaps after all this is over. What news of Zachary?”
“Very busy in Washington just now. Advising Mr. Lincoln on matters of wartime shipping and such.” Nick did not add that he too was frequently consulted by the president. Indeed, if he had not been in the nearby capital when the magnitude of this battle began to be apparent, close enough to board one of the wagons bringing medicine and doctors, he would not have been in Gettysburg at all.
One of the nuns brushed by; the sight of her reminded Mei Lin of how much there was to do. “I really must go back to work.”
“I as well,” Nick said.
“Your achievements here in the field hospitals are already a legend, Dr. Turner.”
He snorted. “I want no reputation garnered in this wretched war. My worst nightmare is that one day I will look down at the faces of the dead and dying I’m supposed to treat and see my son or my son-in-law. That I will be the one who has to tell my wife her boy is gone or my stepdaughter she’s a widow. This wretched, wretched war.”
“We are all, every moment, in the hands of God, Dr. Turner.”
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