by H D Coulter
Sarah watched the old man in front of her guardedly, staring first at her, and then at the child she was holding. His eyes flickered through one expression after another, without saying a word. But she saw it all too clearly; after all the bastards that Hanley had created, why did he care so much about this one - and a daughter at that?
“Very good, sir.” Albert nodded respectfully.
“Is everything ready - regarding my instructions?”
“Yes, the child and her nurse are located next to your own room. If there is anything amiss, I am sure Jessie here will let me know.” Albert gestured up the main staircase to the right slightly, throwing Sarah another look. But she was no longer paying attention to Albert. Hanley had made it clear he wanted to keep them close, in case they tried to escape. Her mind flashed back to her life fourteen years ago, when he used to visit her once a month in her tiny hut, designated for her at the foot of the slope, nearest the house. After everything she had survived, nothing had really changed.
“Albert, show Jessie and Miss Hanley to their room. I am sure they will want to settle in and observe that everything is correct, and present for their needs.”
“Of course, sir.” Sarah spoke for the first time since he had accosted them in that quiet side-street in Beacon Hill, surround by four other men.
“May I ask for some milk and food for the child as soon as possible?”
“Of course, Albert, see to it immediately and get Ruby to run me a bath to wash the journey off. I will be back in half an hour.” Hanley leaned in and kissed Grace softly on the cheek. “Welcome home my darling.” He breathed in her ear. “Soon, we will be one happy family.” Sarah shuddered at the thought and resisted the urge to pull the child out of his reach, but she knew that wouldn’t be wise. If she was difficult, he wouldn’t let her stay, and she needed to stay, for the child’s sake, for her own. Keeping her head down was the best way to survive.
“Very good, sir.”
Hanley patted Grace on the head and strode back through the front doors whilst Albert made his way to the foot of the stairs.
“I’m not here to serve the likes of you.” Albert hissed. “I heard all about you, the famous Jessie who fooled the great Hanley and escaped. Now look at you. Right back where you started, holding his baby in your arms. Yours?” He questioned whilst examining her up and down.
“No.”
“Why he should care so much about this motherless bastard anyhow?”
“She has a mother.” Albert was the sort that talked trouble when the master was away, to only get you to confess and then, when you crossed him, use it against you. She had met people like him all her life. Just because he was a slave didn’t make him any less bitter and the willingness to survive at any cost.
The staircase circled round to the gallery at the top, decorated with portraits of a fictional lineage. Lies for the American’s who had lived in the south for generation’s, that Hanley too was a well-bred English Gentry instead of the truth. That at heart he was still an abused little boy who grew up on the slave ships.
Grace’s face was awe-struck, as she marvelled at the assortment of colours of the flower petals in vases up the stair-way, all the unfamiliar painted faces looking down at her, and the glittering gold of the morning sun coming through the large, gilt-framed windows.
Albert paused for a moment in front of the bedroom door, waiting for them to catch up.
“I think you’ll find everything is satisfactory. Mr Hanley wanted only the best for the little Miss,” he said with a sarcastic tone to his voice.
“Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine. If you could send us up some food an’ milk for her; I would be grateful, Albert.” The deep channels across his forehead squeezed together as he raised his eyebrows at her request. Then, remembering his orders, bowed his head in compliance before making his way back down the stairs, muttering to himself.
Inside the room was a beautifully crafted wooden cot-bed in one corner, and in the other, a single metal-framed bed that looked like they had removed it from a hob-hut, its white paint peeling off in large patches. On Grace’s side of the room were some small wooden toys laid out, tempting her to play, and a large rocking horse that smelt like a real one, with a silky pale mane and tail, meant for an older child. Sarah sat Grace down next to wooden blocks as she continued to survey the room. He had spared no expense decorating for the child and gifting her with toys. It baffled her to why he would go to such extremes. Inside a large chest of drawers lay fine silk dresses, miniatures of the ones she had gazed at with Bea in the Boston silk shops, and Miss Julie’s. But there was nothing a child could roll around in and play. They were garments designed to parade out and exhibit, if not for company, then to staff – and slaves. Grace picked up a wooden block with a letter ‘G’ carved into the side; on the other, a creature with a long neck and patches across its body. She munched down on the corners, pressing it against her gums.
There was a quick knock on the door, followed by a house-slave holding a tray of fruits, biscuits, some form of soup, bread rolls and a glass bottle of milk.
“Thank you – I-” Sarah looked up and gave a sharp intake of breath. “Gabby?” She was no longer the young semi-innocent girl Sarah had known, but a woman in her late twenties, and the years hadn’t been kind. Sarah couldn’t help but stare at the deep scar across her left cheek.
“I’d heard rumours, it was you, but I had to see it for ma self. The liar... the cheat... the one that got away. But look at you now!” After all these years, the friendship had turned to anger and betrayal left by Sarah.
“Gabby, I can explain...” Sarah rose to her feet as Gabby took a step forward, clenching her fists.
Gabby narrowed her eyes, taking another step forward, as Sarah moved in front of the child as protection. “You know he went crazy after you left, questioning people until they talked.” She lifted her right hand up and, using her index finger, stroked the indent cascading from underneath the eye to her jaw. “They didn’t believe me for a while that you never told me, your closest friend, what your plans were.”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“How you do it? Did you just run, or was it that guy after all? The one who you said was lying.” Sarah could tell Gabby was relaying a speech she had rehearsed countless of times over the years.
How much had she told them under torture? Whether she told them about Elijah and if, by helping her, he had hung from a tree and confessed his own secrets.
She couldn’t take that chance. “At the gathering, I just ran... took my chance... headed east instead of north.” Sarah said blankly, preying Gabby believed her.
Gabby dropped her hands and slumped her shoulders. “Why didn’t you take...” the grief and anger still clear in her voice.
For the first time, Sarah felt the guilt of leaving her friend behind. She had only been at Drayton for a year. Told herself that Gabby wasn’t strong enough for the journey but in reality, she made the choice for her alone. “I watched my husband die whilst running and I couldn’t risk it if they found us.”
“Was it worse than this?” Gabby jabbed a finger at her face. “Or the others you can’t see?”
“I am - so sorry.” Sarah wanted to reach out and comfort the child, the way she had done countless of times. But that friend was gone.
“And now your back, in the big house, looking after that.... what was the point?”
“Gabby, let me....” They heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, making their way towards them. Gabby held her hand up, nodded, and took her leave, passing Hanley in the hallway.
“She is hungry.” Hanley stood in the doorway and gazed at Grace, who was still chewing a corner of one of the wooden blocks.
Sarah shifted her mind from Gabby back to Hanley. “Sir, forgive us. She is teethin’ and likes to chew on hardened things, like the wood...” Sarah paused, unaccustomed to actually holding a conversation with her former owner.
“I hope she finds this more agree
able.” He pointed to the tray on the table beside them. “Does she need anything else?” He hovered on the spot, as though waiting for advice.
Her mother, her home. Sarah thought to herself. “No, that should be plenty, thankin’ you, sir.”
He took a step closer, gazing at the child. “And the room? Anything amiss?”
“Sir, I noticed she doesn’t have any play clothes... The dresses are lovely, but she is growin’; and attemptin’ to crawl...” Hanley replied with a baffled and annoyed expression. “She needs clothes to stretch out her limbs, and roll about in. If I had some fabric, then I could...”
Understanding finally clicked into place and flicked his hand towards the door. “Tell Albert what you need.” Hanley moved to leave, satisfied that he had thought of almost everything.
Sarah, feeling unusually bold, took another step forward. “Sir? May I ask, why am I...”
He spun round. “Still here, still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Grace; she needs you. She knows you, and for some God forsaken reason she loves you... that is, if an infant can love.” He paused and studied Grace, dribbling on the square block. “So, for now, you have a place here, as long as you do nothing foolish.” He gave her a familiar warning look.
Sarah dropped her eyes obediently. “Yes sir – master.”
“I will leave you now to take refreshment, and if you need anything, I’ll be right next door.” It was a reminder. Sarah bowed her head. For now, she was safe.
Chapter 37
Georgia, April 1833
HE WAITED UNTIL THE small harbour was no longer in sight. “I’m Jeb, by the way.”
“Miss Woodlands; this is my sister.” The name still felt strange to say, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
“Nice to meet you, Miss – Miss.” He nodded at each woman. “About ten miles down the road we’ll be comin’ to a travellers’ inn, where you can spend the night, before an acquaintance of mine will meet you tomorrow, and take you further on, towards your journey’s end.”
“Thank you,” murmured Beth.
They didn’t know what else to say, or what not to say, so they remained silent as the flat land stretched out in front of them, and the road vanished behind them into a hot, hazy dusk.
“DID YOU GET MUCH SLEEP?” Asked Beth, gazing at her sister, fully dressed and staring out of the bedroom window at the early morning sun across the pasture.
“Not really, the sticky heat, and that feeling of...”
“The unknown? I know! Do you know what we are to do next?”
Bea turned round and faced Beth, sitting up in bed with the pillows squashed comfortably behind her back. “Jeb said we are to wait here quietly until a man called Franklin comes and collects us at some point later today.”
“Should we pack up and see what they might have for breakfast?” Beth ambled over to the washstand and splashed cold water across her face.
The Inn was more inclined towards serving tradespeople and travellers than two women voyaging alone. Most of the rooms had either a single bed or a double, though they had the luck of the only twin accommodation. Bea climbed back onto the bed and waited for Beth to get ready. Her hands stroked the thin sheets absent minded, which had been itchy, and scratched at their skin throughout the night. Beth continued to wash and placed on a fresh dress made from cotton this time instead of silk. She sat in front of the old speckled mirror and attempted to pin her frizzy hair back up.
In fact, it was more like a boarding house, with a single sitting room, populated by a handful of tables and chairs. There were several men within, all sitting by themselves, one at each table, and a rather more dishevelled pair in cahoots in the corner. Each smiled and nodded at the sight of the two impeccably dressed women entering the room, but to their relief, no one attempted a stab at introductions or conversation. Bea and Beth nodded and returned their smiles whilst the young server showed them to a table.
“What would you like, miss?”
“Ah... can I get a coffee, and some eggs please?” Like Sarah always makes, she thought with a sigh. Beth looked around at the other plates to find out what might actually be on offer, catching two of the men’s eyes, to their apparent delight. She smiled nervously and pivoted back to the waiting girl, looking confused.
“She will have the same as me,” offered Bea.
“Very good, miss.” The young lady, now with a closer inspection, could no more be twelve or thirteen, bobbed her head.
“Thank you.”
After ten minutes, the young server came back with two coffees and a note, which had been discreetly placed under one cup. Bea guessed it was from Mr Franklin, and that this boarding house was part of the community who were eligible to lend their assistances with escapees along the railroad. Bea took a sip of the welcomed coffee, which had a strong bitterness to it, and slipped the note under the table to read.
“Finish your breakfast as normal, then please meet me outside the far stables. Joshua.”
She read the note three times and struggled to hide the baffled look on her face. She raised her eyes and searched the room for a sight of him. Was it some sort of cruel joke? Did Hanley know she was here, and it was another one of his tricks? It resembled Joshua’s handwriting, but the words were cold and disconnected.
“Is everything alright?”
Bea paused, thinking how to tell her sister.
She lifted the note into her palm and carefully slid it across the table, dragging against the slightly murky tablecloth.
Beth skimmed the note and exclaimed. “What?” slightly louder than she had intended, and with her northern accent coming through. She lowered her head sharply and continued quietly with an apologetic look. “Do you think he is here? Should we both go?”
“What if it’s a trap? I don’t see him.” Whispered Bea, glancing around the room.
The young girl brought out the eggs with chunks of bread and a small nob of butter on the side. “Would you like some more coffee?”
“Please,” replied Beth as she took a hesitant mouthful of eggs.
“Are you both from Scotland? Looking to settle?” The Americans’ often struggled to place their northern accent. It wasn’t the first time someone had made that mistake, but right now, it might just benefit them.
“Er... Aye, visiting family in the area.”
The girl looked overjoyed that she had made this correct detection and skipped away to fetch more coffee.
“Scottish?” Bea giggled.
“Aye!” Beth bust out into a peal of laughter, almost spitting her eggs back across the table.
THEY FINISHED THEIR breakfast casually, then rose ‘for a stroll around the yard to stretch their legs’. Bea was tearing and twisting a napkin she had taken unconsciously from the dining table. Her heart was pounding, and she felt clammy and sticky in this dreadful heat. A line of stables with a carriage positioned in front, with bales of hay stacked into a haphazard pyramid on the far side, skirted the building. Beth reached out for Bea’s hand, telling her they were in this together.
Then they spotted them: two men standing together, in the shadow of the stable door, looking rather down-at-heel and dishevelled.
At the sound of their feet, the men turned to face them. They had beards and their worn and tired faces were smeared in dirt. And yet, she knew those sea-blue eyes and his warm smile.
Joshua gestured for the two women to follow him, and guided them round behind the door, as though to show them a fine horse amongst the stables lot. Then he stepped forward, holding his hands out to her. But something made her stop.
“Joshua... what are you doing here, what happened? Is that you, George?” Bea stayed fixed to the spot. George gave a brief, warm smile to Bea, and moved towards Beth.
“Are you not glad to see us, my love? After I read your note, we purchased passage on a ship that very evening, and have been chasing after you without a breath ever since.” Joshua took a step closer to Bea as George and Beth embraced
one other.
“How glad am I that we found you, my love,” George whispered in Beth’s ear. But Bea was in no mood for embraces. There was a frustration building inside of her which overshadowed any joy of seeing her other half. “Why are you here? I am not going back. If that is what you want, I’m going to free Grace and Sarah, no matter what you say.”
Joshua stepped closer and softened his voice. “I wouldn’t ask that of you – we came to help. I understand why you left as you did, and I don’t blame you...”
“Blame me? For our - or should I say my child - getting kidnapped, for bringing Hanley back into our lives? Or...”
“Leaving me behind?” He was standing in front of her now, and could feel her body shaking. He wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks as she noticed lines on his breaking through the grime and the tiredness. He pulled her in and held her tight. “I’m sorry.”
“So, am I.” His beard tickled against her face as he kissed her like he used to. She felt her body relax and give way to him, her belly fluttering with love once more.
But she pulled away suddenly, surprising them both, and took a step back. “We can’t – we’re single sisters! If people see us together, they will either think we are... whores... or untrustworthy. It would jeopardise everything. We have to be smart about this.”
“Then what can we do?” Entreated George, now stepping away from Beth and glancing around the yard through the break in the stable doors.
Beth placed her hand on George’s grimy vest. “There is someone meeting us from the community today and taking us on to the next stopping post. If you follow behind...”
“Then we can support you from a distance, without posing a threat?” Suggested Joshua, staring at Bea.
“Yes – and as soon as we come to know more, and arrive at Drayton – or as close to it as might be safe, then we can come up with a better plan.” She said with an encouraging half-smile.
