"Did you talk to him about this?" Jack asked. "I believe he's planning on making the next run to Charleston."
"I don't have to consult him," she said, her voice brittle. "I'm still in charge, am I not? My abduction to London didn't change that."
Jack whistled softly under his breath and pulled on one of his thick, slate gray brows. "You're still in charge," he said.
Jonna suddenly sat back in her chair. "I'm sorry, Jack." She glanced up at him as he leaned over her desk. "Would you mind terribly if we finished this tomorrow? I think I'd like to go down to the ships."
"Decker's not there."
"I didn't say I wanted to see him, did I?" She managed to hold Jack's suspicious gaze without giving anything away. "I've been considering some new designs. I'd like to hear what Captains Thomas and Norton think. Decker's already given me his opinion."
Jack pushed away from the desk. "Very well. I'll take you down myself."
Reaching for her cane, Jonna used it to steady herself as she stood. As casually as she could she asked, "Where is Captain Thorne?"
Jack held out Jonna's cloak to her. "Last I heard he was going to pay Sheridan a visit at the man's office."
All pretense of disinterest vanished from Jonna's face. "Did he tell you that?"
"Jeremy Dodd passed it on. I supposed that was a reliable source."
Jonna was sure it was. Her stomach turned over. "What would you give for Decker's chances in a fight against Grant?"
Jack didn't hesitate. "Not much. Decker would have to get lucky."
"I'd like to go home, Jack. Everything else can wait."
* * *
Delores Turner looked down at the envelope Jonna thrust in her hands. Her slim fingers curled around it. Tears hovered on the edge of her lower lashes. "It's too much," she said quietly. "I can't accept it."
"You don't have any choice," Jonna said. "I won't take it back. It will lie here in the snow for some other person to find, someone who might be infinitely less deserving than you."
Delores shook her head. "I heard rumors that you give us girls money for a good start, but I never heard anyone say it could be this much."
"No one's ever wanted to own her own hat shop before."
This generosity took Delores's breath away. "I'll find some way to repay you, Miss Remington." A blush crept under her dusky skin. "Mrs. Thorne," she corrected herself. "I will."
"And I will be happy to accept it, but there's no time limit, and I'd be just as happy with a hat." Jonna pressed the younger woman's hands together over the envelope; then she pointed to the only house on the cobblestone street with a lamp in the window that cast a blue light. "This is as far as I can take you, Delores. Mr. and Mrs. Wright will see that you get from Salem to Montreal. And for your own safety, don't talk about the money to anyone."
Delores nodded quickly. "I understand." She stuffed the envelope inside her bodice and drew her cloak closed again. "If there's anything I can ever do for you, Mrs. Thorne..." Her voice trailed away, for she was unable to imagine how Jonna might find her help valuable.
"Actually, there is something," Jonna said. She steadied the horse beside her and leaned closer to shelter herself from the cold wind. The wheels of the small two-seat carriage she had rented for this trip creaked loudly on the deserted street. "I was wondering what you might know of Falconer."
Delores's face betrayed her disappointment. She had very much wanted to be of service. "I know the name. There's few like me who don't. But he's not the one who brought me north." Her dark eyes remained troubled as she added, "There's Rachael, though. You might ask her."
Jonna thought she must have misunderstood. "She doesn't speak."
"I wouldn't put too much stock in that, Mrs. Thorne. It's odd about Rachael. I can't pry a word out of her during the day—no one can—but I've heard her say things in her sleep." Delores's voice lowered to a mere whisper. "And one of the things I've heard her say was that man's name."
"Thank you," Jonna said graciously, but she wasn't hopeful. Delores, in her eagerness to be helpful, was most likely fanciful.
"There's one other thing," Delores said. "I'm only speaking for myself here, and I may not have the right, but I'm glad you married the captain instead of the other one. You couldn't have been happy with the likes of Mr. Sheridan."
Jonna was taken aback by this comment, but she simply inclined her head, accepting it. "You'd better go, Delores. God's speed."
Impulsively, the younger woman hugged Jonna. Then she hurried off in the direction of the next safe house. Jonna waited until Delores disappeared behind the clapboard home and the lamp was removed from the window. Certain that her passenger was in good hands, Jonna climbed onto the carriage and took up the reins with her gloved hands. It would be eight o'clock before she reached the outskirts of Boston, another twenty minutes before she returned the rented hack and walked home.
She wondered if Decker had remarked on her absence at dinner. Had he thought she would be waiting for him, prepared to fuss over his injuries or to thank him for throwing another punch at Grant Sheridan?
Jonna snapped the reins smartly, and the carriage rolled forward. She ducked her head against an eddy of frigid air. Having Delores's welfare to think of provided her with sufficient reason not to dwell on Decker's. It had also provided an excuse to be gone from the house. The foreboding she had experienced at the office, then later at home, had only been marginally relieved by applying herself to helping Delores. Jonna felt the full impact of it return as she considered the inevitable confrontation with Decker.
"I'm not feeling kindly toward you just now," she whispered.
It was just as well, she thought, that the words were carried away by the wind. She couldn't hold them in her heart.
Chapter 11
Jonna's feet made new tracks in the snow as she hurried up the walk to her home. The skirt of her gown brushed the fresh powder creating a small cloud of flakes behind her that resembled a comet's tail.
She stamped her feet as she entered the foyer and removed her hat and scarf. The house was quiet, almost eerily so. Jonna supposed it was no different than usual at this time of the evening, but she was used to being part of the quiet, not the source of disruption. She was slipping out of her cloak when a servant coming out of the dining room saw her and came quickly to her assistance.
"Thank you, Virginia." Jonna relinquished her belongings and placed her hands on her cheeks to warm them. "Mrs. Davis is with the girls?"
Virginia nodded. A dark red curl slipped from under her cap, and she hastily pushed it back. "They're having their lessons. I'm the lookout in the event the captain wants Mrs. Davis for something."
"I see." Jonna thought Virginia seemed pleased with this responsibility. It showed in full measure the trust Mrs. Davis had in her. Virginia was an employee of long standing, but this assignment drew her into the housekeeper's inner circle of confidantes. "He's home, then."
"Hours ago. He's waiting for you in the—"
"Library," Jonna finished for her. "I know. I see the light under the door." She smoothed her skirt and took a calming breath. "Very well. Bring a pot of tea, please." It was not so much that Jonna required a warming drink, but rather that she anticipated needing the diversion the servant's entry would provide. She actually considered ignoring Decker altogether and going straight to her room. It was the very cowardice of that act that prompted her to move in the direction of the library.
Decker looked up as the doors opened. Jonna was framed between them for a moment before she stepped into the room.
"Jonna." He said her name quietly, but not in greeting. His tone was too resigned to be welcoming. Decker folded the newspaper he had been reading and placed it on the table beside him. He started to rise, but she waved him back.
Crossing the room to the fireplace, Jonna warmed her hands in front of the flames. She glanced at the mantel clock. It was almost nine, later even than she had thought. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since she ha
d seen her husband, and now she was finding it difficult to face him.
"Would you like to go first, or shall I?" he asked.
She felt the unfamiliar weariness of his tone as a weight at the back of her neck. Her head bent forward. She closed her eyes. "I don't suppose it matters."
"No, I don't suppose it does." He stared at her back. "Will you have a seat?"
Trying not to show her reluctance, Jonna took the large armchair opposite him. She sat with her hands folded primly in her lap. Her eyes met his. "Jack told me you went to see Grant this morning."
"That's right."
There were no bruises that she could see. When he had started to rise as she came into the room there had been no hesitation, just his usual casual grace. He didn't appear to be favoring one side over the other. His hands rested lightly on the arms of the leather chair. There were no scraped knuckles. "Was there a fight?"
"Did you think there would be?" He saw her violet eyes flicker. "Never mind. I can see for myself that's precisely what you thought. Perhaps I don't always live down to your expectation after all. Tell me, Jonna, did you decide I wouldn't command Huntress again before or after you found out I went to Sheridan's offices?"
"One had nothing to do with the other. I didn't do it to punish you."
"No?"
"Of course not. I resent that you think I'm so small-minded."
Decker sat forward. His forearms rested on his knees. "So why am I not assigned to the Charleston run?"
"No one is taking Huntress out," Jonna said. "I have some modifications I want to make. It will be two weeks or more before she's outfitted in the manner I desire."
"You never mentioned this before."
"You're not privy to my every thought."
Decker let that pass. "Jack didn't say anything about changes."
"I don't tell him everything either."
Decker looked down at his hands half expecting to see open wounds where she'd drawn blood with her stinging tone and the sharp edge of her tongue. Rather than flinching, Decker raised his eyes and regarded her frankly. "And after the modifications are made?" he asked. "Can I expect to command Huntress then?"
"I haven't decided."
He nodded once, accepting that answer. "You should know that I'm considering taking a position with another line."
Jonna recoiled as if struck. "What?"
Decker did not repeat himself. "I spoke with Sheridan about a command on one of his ships."
"That's why you went there this morning?" She was clearly incredulous. "But you didn't know that I had taken you off the roster."
"One had nothing to do with the other," he said, turning Jonna's words back on her. "It's occurred to me that perhaps I shouldn't work for Remington Shipping any longer."
"That's ridiculous. You can't work for the competition."
Decker shrugged. "Nothing's been decided," he said. "Sheridan was suspicious of my motives. My proposal took him by surprise. I believe he thought I was there to cause trouble. As it happened, I was very well behaved."
Jonna tried to imagine how the conversation might have gone. "Then there was no mention of my visit to his home."
"I understood that was settled." He paused a beat. "It is, isn't it? There's nothing more you want to tell me about last night. Nothing else about that kiss I observed."
Jonna felt as if her throat was closing. "No," she said quickly, swallowing hard. "There's nothing."
The doors to the library opened, and Virginia entered with Jonna's tea. The interruption was as timely as Jonna hoped it would be. The minute the maid spent fiddling with the service and pouring her tea was an opportunity for Jonna to compose herself.
"I don't like the idea of you working for another line," Jonna said when she and Decker were alone again. "I wish you had discussed it with me."
Decker pretended to consider her words. "And in exchange?" he asked. "What are you prepared to discuss with me?"
Jonna was silent.
"How about your whereabouts this afternoon and evening? I expected to find you home when I got here. Jack said you left your office this morning."
"That's true," Jonna said. "And I came home and I left again. Didn't Mrs. Davis tell you? I went to the shipyards."
"No, she didn't mention that." A smile edged his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Was that the story she had agreed to tell for you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's no good being indignant. Not when you're already caught out in the lie." He held up one hand to stop her from digging the hole any deeper. "Mrs. Davis didn't tell me you were at the shipyards because before she had a chance to do so I told her that was where I had been. Our paths should have crossed somewhere today, Jonna. You know very well they didn't."
It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. What business had taken Decker to the shipyards? Had he really been there or was he bluffing, hoping that she would confirm his suspicions? "I visited several different sites," she said. "The Garnet yards. Landon's. All part of the research for outfitting Huntress. Perhaps that's how we missed each other."
Decker's gaze didn't waver. His eyes bored into hers. "Were you with Sheridan?"
"No!" Jonna's cup rattled in the saucer as she set it aside. "No," she said more softly. "I didn't see him at all. I wasn't with him." She was struck suddenly by how much she wanted Decker to believe her. "I know what you think you saw last night at Grant's home. Indeed, I don't know how you could help but think the worst of me. I don't regret my decision to tell Grant about our marriage, but I regret that I went there without you. I told you last night that you were right, Decker. I didn't make that admission lightly, and I haven't changed my mind about it. I didn't go behind your back to meet him today."
There was no mistaking the earnestness in her voice. If she wasn't telling the truth, Decker thought, then at the very least she thought it was important for him to think she was. "I believe you," he said at last. "About Sheridan. What I won't accept is that you were at the shipyards."
Before Jonna could reply, Decker was on his feet. He was going to walk out, she realized. He was going to leave her alone again. Perhaps only for this evening. Perhaps for the rest of her life. Something akin to panic turned her stomach over. She didn't have time to consider what that reaction meant, she only knew she had to do something about it. She stood suddenly. Behind his retreating back she raised her arm to reach out to him. "I wasn't at the shipyards," she said in a rush.
Decker paused, then slowly turned. He'd missed Jonna's outstretched hand but not the way her slender frame seemed to lean toward him or her eyes appealed to him. She did not look so different than she had on Huntress's listing deck, waiting for him to take her by the hand. Then, as now, she hadn't been able to ask for help, but she had left no doubt it was what she wanted.
"You're not going to tell me where you were," he said quietly. "Are you?"
Her mouth was cotton dry. "I can't." She saw him hesitate. For once the calm she associated with him did not seem to be so effortless. "I can't," she repeated hollowly.
Decker was convinced that she believed what she was saying. Wherever she had been, whatever she had done, she was certain she couldn't trust him with it. "Very well," he said. "But know that you're alone by choice, Jonna."
This time she had no words to call him back.
* * *
Lying on her side in bed, Jonna watched the flicker of light coming from under Decker's door. The door to their shared dressing room stood open on her side, making it seem that Decker wasn't so very far away this time.
Separate rooms had been a necessity, she reminded herself, but the thought was cold comfort. She had begun applying herself to the problem her marriage presented while still aboard Huntress. The demands of running a station for the Underground meant that her escort was sometimes required in the middle of the night. How could she share a bed with Decker under those circumstances?
It had occurred to her that she could pass on the duties of con
ducting to Mrs. Davis or close her station altogether. Neither of those ideas was palatable. Nor was sleeping alone.
She considered telling Decker about her involvement with the Underground Railroad, but the consequences were enormous if he couldn't keep the trust. It was not that Jonna had anything to fear from Boston's authorities. In many circles, especially those that Grant Sheridan frequented, she would be applauded for her activities. But in the South, where she traded, Remington ships would no longer be in demand. Their holds would be empty or their cargoes left to rot; or, worse yet, fire would destroy a ship in the harbor.
Jonna knew all those things could happen. They had happened to Grant as soon as he became vocal about abolition. She admired him for not backing down or taking the quieter, more secretive approach she had, but she also did not know how his business survived. He had lost two ships to sabotage, one in Charleston, another at sea. In both instances the crews had survived, but later many of the men went elsewhere for jobs. When Jonna questioned him about it, he had been rather philosophical about the loss of the ships and the men, but he hadn't taken it lightly. Ultimately Grant's response had been to change the focus of his trade from points south to the Far East. Occasional business still took his ships to Charleston, but he was often on board, almost as if he was daring saboteurs to make trouble while he was present.
Jonna did not think she was as brave as all that. Grant may have found a way for Sheridan Shipping to manage against the odds, but she wasn't sure she could do the same for Remington. Keeping the line running was vital to the welfare of hundreds of people, not just the scores of young women who had passed through her station.
Jonna's eyes were drawn again to the flickering strip of light under Decker's door. It was an enormous trust she would be placing in his hands if she told him what she had been about or what she was about to do. She could lose more than Remington Shipping, she thought. She could lose herself.
* * *
Jo Goodman Page 26
