The Shadow Conspiracy II

by Phyllis Irene Radford

  “You can keep your philosophy,” Astrid said. “I only care if it affects how my ship might fly.”

  They landed the ship on the peninsula jutting down between the ocean and the Chesapeake Bay, finding a deserted beach on the western part, near the small fishing and tobacco growing community of Rock Hall. Astrid had landed in this locale on earlier expeditions and knew some in the local fishing community. “I’m glad that this country is still so lightly settled,” she told Jane. “We would be hard pressed to find an unnoticed landing place so close to London or Copenhagen.”

  Astrid negotiated storage for the airship in an isolated barn, and secured passage for them both on a boat bound for Baltimore, paying more than the usual rates, but not so much more that it would be a matter of wide discussion. The whole process confirmed Jane’s suspicion that the Danish woman’s endeavours often skirted the law.

  Jane got off the boat near the official port of entry for Baltimore, so that she could mingle with those alighting from passenger ships and go through customs. Astrid was staying with the boat, and would get off when the fishermen docked to sell the fish and crabs they had caught in their trip across the bay. She would stay in a boarding house near Fell’s Point and procure a boat for their return to Rock Hall, hopefully with Miss Hancock in tow.

  While Jane would have preferred entering with Astrid, the official entry through customs was part of her protection. If she were stopped and questioned by police or any other officials, she might well be thrown in gaol herself if she lacked documentation; her status as a “red Indian” made her even more suspect in America than in Britain. To that end, she carried not only her official passport from the United Kingdom and a letter to the Baltimore Society for the Physical and Natural Science from Mrs. Somerville, but also both a visa and a letter endorsing her trip “for scientific study” from the American Envoy to the Court of St. James, Edward Everett. Mrs. Somerville had been very thorough.

  Indeed, that thoroughness paid off, because she moved smoothly through customs drawing nothing more than the occasional raised eyebrow, though she did hear one inspector mutter to another, “I do not know why the British aristocracy persist in adopting these savages.”

  Her reception at the home of Mrs. Johns on St. Paul Street was chillier than that of the American officials. The dark-skinned woman who answered the door said, “Don’t you know enough to go to the back door?” and would have shut the door in her face if Jane had not stuck her bag in it.

  “I am Miss Freemantle. Please tell Mrs. Johns that Mrs. Somerville has sent me from England to assist with the case of Miss Hancock.”

  The woman glared, but as Jane did not appear to be disposed to remove her bag from the door, she shouted for someone to come. “Watch her,” she told the young man who responded. He grinned at Jane as the woman stalked off. “Lilly knows what’s proper, she does. Servants and tradesmen to the rear.”

  “I am neither,” said Jane.

  “Yeah, you’re dressed like a white lady and you talk high class, but you don’t look right to Lilly. Me, I’d let you in.” He grinned again, this time more suggestively.

  “Young man,” Jane said, with steel in her voice. “I am old enough to be your mother. Mind your manners.”

  “You don’t look that old,” he said, not reproved in the slightest.

  From behind him she heard a woman say, “For God’s sake, bring her inside. What will the neighbours say if they see a savage on the doorstep? What can Mrs. Somerville have been thinking?”

  Jane sighed and the young man said, “Looks like they going to let you in, but they ain’t going to ask you to tea. When you get through talking to the mistress, come find me. I’ll give you tea, or something better. I’m George.”

  He disappeared as Mrs. Johns opened the door widely. She was a short, stout woman with greying curls and a scowl on her face. “Please come in, Miss Freemantle. I apologize for the delay.”

  Jane was shown into the drawing room, and, as George had predicted, not offered tea.

  “You were sent by Mrs. Somerville?”

  “Yes. I have brought you funds for the defence of Miss Hancock.” Jane handed a wallet to Mrs. Johns. It contained a substantial sum, though Jane had reserved rather more for her other purposes.

  The woman took it and rifled through it. “Well, that will help. It was good of Mrs. Somerville to send someone with it, though I am sure a reputable air carrier could have been found.”

  “Mrs. Somerville also wanted me to check on the condition of Miss Hancock. Is she still confined to gaol?”

  “No. Her attorney was able to convince a judge to release her to her home under house arrest.” She shivered. “It was horrible, thinking of a respectable woman like that confined with all manner of common women.”

  “So she is at her home on West Fayette Street?”

  “Yes, but you certainly cannot go to see her. You will just draw attention.”

  Jane had no intention of entering Miss Hancock’s house through the front door if the police were watching it, but she said, “Mrs. Johns. While I have never met Miss Hancock in person, we have corresponded for several years on mathematical matters, and I am personally concerned — not merely concerned on Mrs. Somerville’s behalf — about her welfare.”

  The woman looked flustered for the first time. “You, you study mathematics?”

  “And the physical sciences. I am not greatly familiar with the biological ones. Is that your field?”

  That seemed to make her even more uncomfortable. Perhaps she feared investigation by the police as well. “No, no. I primarily study astronomy.”

  “Of course. That is how you came to know Mrs. Somerville.”

  “Well, Miss Freemantle, I do not want to keep you....”

  “I do need your assistance on one other matter,” Jane said. “I do not have a place to stay in Baltimore.” She paused for a moment, to allow Mrs. Johns time to fear that she might ask to stay in her house.

  “Um.”

  “If you could introduce me to a respectable boarding house. My needs are very simple, but many doors will be closed to me.” Mrs. Somerville had expected that one of the Society members would offer Jane a room, but clearly she had underestimated the prejudices of the Americans, which were, in fact, somewhat worse than those of the British, if Mrs. Johns was any indication.

  “Um. Let me see. Mrs. Whitehead is still attached to the Society, though she has fallen on hard times since her husband passed on. It was he who was the member; she is not a scientist. She might be persuaded. Let me write her a note. I’ll send George over to let her know you are coming.”

  And to let her know what I am, Jane thought. “Is her home nearby?”

  “Um. Some blocks. I — I will have my driver take you.”

  “Very kind.”

  The driver was, like George and Lilly, a black man. Apparently all of Mrs. Johns’s servants were coloured. It had been the same in Galveston, during her last trip to this side of the Atlantic. Jane wondered if they were slaves, but could think of no polite way to ask. The idea that some human beings were treated as property still horrified her, even though she was glad the servants were not metalmen. Metelmen, she had been given to understand, were illegal in Maryland.

  Mrs. Whitehead resembled Mrs. Johns in that she was short, stout, and grey, but only in those superficial matters. “My dear Miss Freemantle. I am so glad you have come to help Miss Hancock, though I confess I do not know what any of us can do. Still, assistance from our colleagues across the Atlantic is very welcome.”

  “You are too kind.”

  Over dinner, Mrs. Whitehead gave Jane the latest information. “Miss Hancock was released from gaol last Thursday” — it was now Tuesday — ”but they have stationed a policeman in front of her home, and told her that she is not to leave for any reason except to come to court. She can have visitors, but, of course, their names are taken down and recorded. And, in fact, everyone who has visited has subsequently suffered an interview
with the police. They have even questioned the woman who comes in to do the cleaning.”

  “So if I were to visit...”

  “Miss Freemantle! You must not even consider it. I know you have the support of powerful people in England, but their influence will not help you with the Baltimore police. And I fear those policemen are shockingly prejudiced against Indians as well. Many people here have relatives out in the western regions who have suffered from Indian raids.”

  The raids were not all by one side, Jane thought, remembering the destruction of her people. But she said, “I understand. But how does Miss Hancock survive? She cannot be growing all her food in her home.”

  “Oh, her boy Dickie takes care of all that. He’s really a most superior boy — quite able to handle her business.”

  “A child?” said Jane, deliberating misunderstanding.

  “Oh, no. He’s quite grown. A coloured boy. Belonged to her family all his life.”

  So Miss Hancock owned a slave. Well, she would not be able to take him as her property to the United Kingdom. Slavery was now illegal there, for the most part. Jane reminded herself that her duty was to rescue Miss Hancock. She reminded herself that she had known the world was not fair for a long time. But the knowledge rankled her, all the same.

  Still, perhaps this man — she would not think of him as a boy — could prove useful. “Is he loyal to her?”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Whitehead.

  Jane rather suspected Mrs. Whitehead would not really know. But perhaps that young servant of Mrs. Johns might be of help.

  Richard returned home rather later than Abby had expected. He brought the shopping into the kitchen, where Abby was putting together a light supper. They did their own cooking; it was one of the small economies that allowed them to focus most of their resources on their research.

  “I was beginning to worry,” Abby said, laying the table.

  “I spent two hours being questioned by the police,” he said.

  She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Richard. Did they...did they hurt you?”

  “No, nothing of that sort. They were rude and condescending, but they did not even bother to threaten me.”

  “What did they want to know?”

  “They wanted to know what you were really doing with your research. They did not even bother to pretend that they were greatly concerned with your medical advice to young women. They asked me many questions about who came to call on you, and over and over they asked me if you were working on the creation of life.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “I’se jus’ a dumb darky, massa. I don’t know nuthin’ ’bout things like that. I barely know the ladies and gentlemen who call. I jus’ clean things and do the errands and take care of Miz Abigail. She good to me, that all I know.” The tone of his voice was bitter.

  She put her arms around him. “Oh, I am so sorry you had to suffer through that, my dear.”

  “It is nothing to what you are facing, Abby. And barely worse than I am offered every day when I leave this house. But I think it does mean that they are serious in their requests for information from you about others engaged in research on the creation of life. Perhaps they are even telling the truth when they say they will dismiss the charges against you if you provide them with details of the work of others.”

  “Are you suggesting that I do that?”

  “I am suggesting that you may have no choice but to do that.”

  She broke away from him. “No. I cannot. Not only would it be wrong — morally wrong, for I know of no one doing any researches that should be considered illegal — but it would be of no use. If I betrayed my colleagues, I would have no place, likely even no way to earn a living. Would our books be published if I were expelled from the Society?”

  “Will our books be published if you go to prison?”

  “Oh, this situation is intolerable. To be treated in this way because I was kind to the less fortunate, and because I want to expand knowledge.”

  “Yes, it is intolerable,” said Richard. He took her hand. “But we must consider all our choices.”

  “I will not give information on others. I cannot. You understand that I cannot.”

  He nodded.

  But what will become of you if I go to prison? Abby thought. Do I have the right to take the moral high ground when my own are threatened? She knew she should discuss this with Richard, but could not bring herself to say the words out loud.

  Jane was in luck: George came the next morning to deliver a letter to Mrs. Whitehead. Jane caught up with him as he left by the kitchen door. “Excuse me.”

  “Ah, it’s the savage lady. I reckon Miz Whitehead’s treating you good, but I’d still take you for that tea you didn’t get at our place.”

  “I do not need tea, but I would like some information, Mr. — what is your surname?”

  “Johns. Everybody at our place is Johns.”

  “Mr. Johns.”

  He laughed. “Ain’t nobody ever called me that. I don’t know if I like it or not.”

  “Formal is always better in business matters,” Jane said.

  “What kind of business?”

  “I would like to meet the gentleman who works for Miss Hancock. And I would like to do so without drawing the attention of the police.”

  “The gentleman? You mean Dickie? Oh, right enough. That can be arranged. The police ain’t paying much attention to him. We’d need a place, though. Miz Whitehead would probably find it funny if I brought him here to see you. In fact, she’s going to find it funny you talking to me.”

  “I’m just thanking you for assisting me the other day at Mrs. Johns.”

  “You got a gift for sneaking around, I can see that. I know a place. There’s a coloured lady who does sewing for people. You could go there, like you was getting stuff made. I could tell Dickie to act like he had an errand for Miss Hancock. You could probably talk in private. Might take a little money to set up.”

  “Money is not a consideration.”

  “Money is always a consideration, Miss Freemantle. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Johns. Oh, and one other thing. You know this man. Is he loyal to Miss Hancock, or does he only work for her?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’d die for her, ma’am. I don’t know what it is about them, but it’s not the same like it is at our place. Any of us, you give us half a chance, we’d be gone and good riddance. But not him. Oh, and since you like to be formal and all, I think his name is Hancock, too.”

  George Johns must have told Mrs. Simmons the seamstress all about her, because Jane detected no reaction when she came for her appointment to have an afternoon dress made. “It is warmer here in September than it is in London,” she explained. “Perhaps something in linen?”

  The woman took her measurements, and as they were discussing colours, a man about Jane’s age entered the shop. His skin was the colour of tea with milk — not the dark brown she had imagined. “Mr. Hancock?” she asked.

  “Yes. I am glad to meet you, Miss Freemantle.” He gave her a polite bow.

  Mrs. Simmons suddenly remembered an errand she needed to take care of. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, Miss Freemantle. I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Simmons,” Jane said.

  They sat on two straight back chairs in the workroom. “I represent a group of natural philosophers in England who want to help Miss Hancock. She is well known there for her books and through her correspondence with many leading thinkers.”

  “Yes, Miss Freemantle. I recognize your name. Your latest letter on Feodor Deahna’s theorem was quite impressive.”

  Jane tried to hide the surprise she felt. “So you, too, are a natural philosopher?”

  “I work with Miss Hancock.”

  This man was not at all what she had been led to expect. A superior boy indeed, she thought, remembering Mrs. Whitehead’s words; in a society that considers him to be property he ha
s managed to become a scientist.

  “Some in the group I represent fear Miss Hancock stands little chance in the legal system.”

  He sighed. “I have heard some of her discussions with her attorney. There is some concern that if she does not plead guilty quickly, they will charge her with helping young women who are already in a family way put an end to that situation. She tells me that she did not do that, but it seems the authorities are determined to make an example of her one way or another.

  “But in truth, I believe that the police are more interested in her research than they are in the marital matters. I am given to understand that if she will explain her research and, more significantly, if she will provide them with information about the research of others who are investigating the creation of life — both real and artificial — they will forget the other matters.”

  Jane sighed. “We feared as much.”

  “She remains unwilling to give information about others.”

  “That is admirable of her.”

  “But you said you had come to help; how do you propose to do that?”

  “I have an airship and pilot who can fly her out of the country, if we can remove her from your house without being seen by the police. I gather that may be somewhat difficult.”

  “Yes, but not impossible. She and I have discussed several possibilities, but as we could not think of any place we could reach where we would be safe, we have not acted upon them. But with an airship....” He smiled for the first time since he had entered the room. “I think, perhaps, you need to talk with her.”

  “Yes, but how do I enter your house without being seen by the police?”

  “I have an idea,” he said, “if you would not object to pretending to be enamoured of a coloured man.”