Hope's Journey

by Jean Rae Baxter

  He looked unimpressed with the gift; it was only a willow wand. He gave a flick aimed at the cow’s backside. Bossy twitched.

  “Why did you do that?” said Hope.

  “I felt like it.”

  “It was mean.”

  Bossy raised her head. The large, brown eyes seemed a little less blank than usual. Hope felt a burst of affection for the cow, which, after all, had provided her with many cups of fresh milk as well as welcome opportunities to escape from Mrs. Block’s bad temper. Hope rested her hand on Bossy’s brow and then, on a sudden impulse, placed a kiss on her big, soft nose.

  Raising her head, she saw the grin on Adam’s face.

  “I’d like one of those,” he said.

  “What?”

  “A goodbye kiss.”

  Hope froze. “How dare you!”

  Adam flinched. A deep pink flush started at his neck and rose up until his whole face was the colour of his sunburnt nose. “No offence. Just a kiss. I thought we were friends.”

  “We were.” She turned on her heel and marched away, fuming. The whole male sex was all the same. Even Adam. She was glad she would never see him again.

  Halfway back to the Blocks’ place she calmed down. Maybe she had been unfair. After all, it was just a kiss. If she could kiss a cow, why not a boy? Adam had liked her, but now he would not like her any longer. She ought to go back and apologize. But what would she say? How could she explain? And so she kept on her way through the wood and back to the Blocks’ cabin.

  CHAPTER 14

  A New Adventure

  Ephraim’s outrageous proposal was not something Hope expected ever to forgive, yet her anger was beginning to cool. Without actually apologizing, he had acknowledged his fault and was making amends. Hope had noticed that some people have the ability to adapt themselves to whatever life brings their way, and he was one of those people. They go neither forward nor backwards but somehow slip sideways. Living by himself, he would make his own split-pea soup. If his soup had lumps, there would be no one to complain. She found it hard to believe that he would end up like the Squire.

  When she reached the cabin, she found him standing outside the open shed door tossing dried corn to the chickens. This had been her job; now it would be his. Captain sat with his ears up and his head cocked, watching.

  “I have something for you,” Ephraim said as he closed the sack of corn. He led her into the cabin. From under the bunk he pulled out a small wooden trunk with brass hinges and brass corners. “This was my mother’s.”

  Hope hesitated. The neat little trunk was a thousand times nicer than the canvas-wrapped bundle in which she had brought her possessions from the orphans’ home. But should she accept it? She raised her fingers to the frill of her new mobcap. She did not trust Ephraim. Not any longer.

  “No. I can’t take the trunk.”

  “You’ve earned it. Consider it part of your pay. Or a bequest.”

  “I can manage without a trunk.”

  “Think what sort of impression you’ll make on Colonel Butler.”

  That’s exactly what she was thinking. Carrying her bundle, she would look like a homeless waif begging someone to take her in. It was bad enough to be wearing an orphanage gown. Maybe Ephraim was right in saying that she was at heart a practical young woman. Considering her situation, she had to be practical.

  “Thank you. I’ll take the trunk as part of my pay.”

  “Now you’re showing good sense,” said Ephraim.

  Hope spent the rest of the day cleaning the cabin from top to bottom. Ephraim told her not to work so hard, but she knew that she must do it in order to feel that she earned the trunk.

  That night she slept in the shed for the last time. In the morning she noticed that Mrs. Block’s bed had been slept in. It did not surprise her that Ephraim had taken it over, just as he had taken over the bentwood chair.

  After breakfast, while he carried her trunk to the canoe, she gave Captain a hug and said goodbye. Ephraim had insisted that the dog stay in the cabin, not the shed, while he took her to Kingston. To leave Captain alone with the chickens would put too much temptation in his way.

  When Hope closed the cabin door and heard him whining to go with her, her eyes filled with tears. Then Captain began to howl, and that made it even worse.

  She was sniffling when she joined Ephraim at the shore. “Now what is it?” he asked her.

  “Captain,” she gulped. “I’ll miss him so much.”

  “I promised you I’d take good care of him.”

  “I know.” Her voice choked on a sob.

  “Don’t cry. I’ll make another promise. If you ever want to take him back, he’s yours.”

  “Thank you.” Hope climbed into the canoe, and they pushed off from shore. When they were a mile beyond the Block cabin, she could still hear the dog’s mournful howls. All the way to Kingston they echoed in her mind. Neither she nor Ephraim uttered a word throughout the trip.

  “What’s Butlersburg like?” Hope asked as they pulled up the canoe at the Kingston landing. “Is it as big as Kingston?”

  “Not nearly. It’s just a small village at the mouth of the Niagara River.” He lifted her trunk from the bottom of the canoe and carried it by its two leather straps, one at each end. As they walked up the street, he continued his description. “Butlersburg is named for Colonel Butler. It’s on the west bank, across from Fort Niagara on the east bank. Apart from Navy Hall, there are hardly any real buildings. But that may change soon. If Butlersburg becomes the centre of government for Upper Canada, it will be an interesting place to live.”

  “What’s Upper Canada?”

  He gave her a curious look. “We live in Upper Canada.”

  “I thought we lived in Quebec.”

  “Until two weeks ago, we did live in Quebec. But on August 16th a government Order-in-Council divided the Province of Quebec into Upper and Lower Canada. The western part—the part where we live—is Upper Canada.”

  “So one day we were in Quebec and the next day we were in Upper Canada.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Since we’re still in the same place, whatever you call it, I don’t see how it makes a difference.”

  “It makes a great deal of difference. We’ll have different laws and a different government from the people who live in Lower Canada. We’ll each have our own lieutenant-governor. Ours is already on his way from England. We shall have peace, order and good government. Except for the Black Loyalists in Nova Scotia, life is improving in every way.”

  “Black Loyalists!” Hope exclaimed. “Who are they?”

  “Former slaves,” said Ephraim. “England promised them freedom and land if they helped us fight the rebels. When the war ended, England kept half her promise. The Black Loyalists became free men and women. But the land they received was rocky and barren and no good for farming. Then the white population turned against them. It’s a disgrace the way the Black Loyalists have been treated. Most of them want to go to Africa to live. It looks as though Britain is going to do the right thing and provide the ships so they can go there to start a new life.”

  “Why do they want to go to Africa?” Hope asked. “Isn’t it full of elephants and tigers?”

  “They think of Africa as their home, even though many of them were born in what is now the United States.”

  “I wish them luck,” said Hope. “Everybody needs a home.”

  Soon they reached Mr. McIsaac’s office. Since Ephraim had his hands full with the trunk, she opened the door. There sat Mr. McIsaac, with his quills and ink pot and papers arrayed in front of him. He rose from his desk. “Good morning,” he said to Ephraim. “I didn’t expect to see you this week.”

  “We’ve come to cancel Miss Cobman’s indentures.” They shook hands.

  Miss Cobman! Hope liked the grown-up sound of that.

  “Ah, yes,” said Mr. McIsaac. “I thought you might, now that your mother has passed away.” He glanced at Hope. “May I assume that you are
in need of a new situation?”

  “No, sir.” She spoke up boldly. “I’m on my way to Niagara to look for my father. I have learned that I’ll likely find him there.”

  “Hmm,” said Mr. McIsaac. “I wish you luck. This whole country is awash with people looking for misplaced relatives.” He turned again to Ephraim. “Sir, you couldn’t have come at a better time. I was about to send word that I have information concerning your case. A Board of Commissioners has arrived from England to hear Loyalists’ claims for compensation.”

  “It’s about time! I was afraid I’d have to go to England to argue my case.”

  “That won’t be necessary. The board will travel to major Loyalist centres. One is Montreal, where it will meet next week. That’s why I needed to get in touch with you immediately. Unfortunately, I’m tied up with the Court of King’s Bench. But I have the documents ready for you to prove your claim. I trust you will be able to go to Montreal?”

  Montreal! Hope stole a sideways glance at Ephraim, but he did not look the slightest bit perturbed. There was not so much as a flicker of response when Mr. McIsaac named the city where Philippa was said to be living.

  “I shall gladly make the journey,” said Ephraim. “But today, let’s see about those indentures. We must clear up the legalities before Miss Cobman leaves for Niagara. And if you happen to know of a suitable place where she can stay until the next packet boat sails, we would appreciate that very much.”

  “As it happens, I do,” said Mr. McIsaac. “I have a client, Mrs. Fairley, who has a dressmaking establishment. She boards the young women apprenticed to her. One of these young women completed her apprenticeship last week. When she and Mrs. Fairley came in to sign the documents involved, Mrs. Fairley mentioned that she would have room for a paying guest until a new apprentice is bound to her next month.”

  Ephraim turned to Hope. “How does this sound to you?”

  She nodded. “Very good.” It was amazing how easily everything was falling into place.

  “I’ll send a message to Mrs. Fairley,” said Mr. McIsaac. “Now let’s see to the indentures.”

  After the papers cancelling the indentures were signed, Ephraim presented Hope with three pounds in Montreal money and a purse to hold her wealth. She put the purse into the pocket she wore under her gown. Next they went to a place that he called a shipping office, where he purchased a ticket for her to sail in three days on the schooner Juliana. The voyage to Niagara would take two days, depending on wind and weather.

  Ephraim escorted her to Mrs. Fairley’s establishment. It was a white frame house, two storeys high, with a sign over the door: MRS. FAIRLEY’S FINE SEWING. There was a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head on the door.

  “I’ll leave you here.” He set down the trunk at the threshold. “I trust we part with no hard feelings.”

  “No hard feelings.” Their eyes met, and neither looked away. “Quite otherwise, for you are helping to make my dearest dream come true.” She paused. “I hope you win your case and get all that money you lost.”

  “Thank you.” He gave a slight bow. Another first. No one had ever bowed to her before.

  As he was walking away, she called to him. “Someday I may be back to claim my dog. Don’t be surprised.”

  He stopped, turned, waved, and then continued down the street. Hope lifted the knocker and gave a sharp rap at the door.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Sewing Girls

  The door was opened by a tall, thin woman who wore black from head to foot. Her hair was iron-grey, and she looked at Hope with steely eyes. But she was not really looking at Hope. What held her attention was the limp, shabby orphanage gown.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “My name is Hope Cobman. I’m the guest who’s to stay with you for three days, waiting to leave on the next packet boat.”

  “Oh. You aren’t what I expected. I’ll have to speak to Mr. McIsaac about this.”

  So Mrs. Fairley didn’t think she was good enough to occupy one of her beds. Hope straightened her shoulders. “Perhaps I should stay elsewhere if I’m not welcome here.”

  Mrs. Fairley’s eyebrows rose. “I like a girl with spirit. Please come in.” She held the door open.

  Hope hoisted her trunk by its two straps and entered a hallway that had plastered walls painted green. The wide floorboards were grey. The long floor cloth was decorated with flowers and birds. A staircase to the upper storey was on the left, and a parlour on the right. The hallway ran straight through the house. Hope caught a whiff of roasting meat, at which she remembered she had not eaten since leaving the cabin that morning.

  “Tabitha!” Mrs. Fairley called. A black woman wearing a blue dress with a white cap and apron appeared from the back of the house. “Take Miss Cobman’s trunk to the apprentices’ dormitory.”

  The woman obeyed. She lifted the trunk with no apparent effort and briskly trotted up the stairs.

  Mrs. Fairley led Hope into the parlour and directed her to sit down. When both were seated, Mrs. Fairley said, “Upstairs there are two rooms: the sewing room and the apprentices’ dormitory. I also employ two skilled seamstresses who come in by the day. All of them are now busy clearing up. So as not to disturb their work, you will wait here. Dinner will be ready in a quarter of an hour. I run a very punctual establishment. If you’ll excuse me, I shall see that the cook has everything ready for Tabitha to serve.” She left the parlour.

  While waiting, Hope looked around. She saw a small writing desk and a side table on which stood two candlesticks, the candles unlit. There was an upholstered settee, as well as several chairs covered in needlepoint. A full-length looking glass rested in a wooden stand. The looking glass, Hope decided, was for customers to view their new finery. She stood up, crossed the floor to the looking glass and inspected her reflection. Her new white cap looked fresh and crisp, but her orphanage gown was even limper and shabbier than she had realized. No wonder Mrs. Fairley had had doubts about her suitability as a guest. Hope returned to the chair and sat down.

  There was a clatter of steps on the stairs as the apprentices and the seamstresses descended. The outer door opened and closed, and then three young ladies entered the parlour. Mrs. Fairley, returning from the kitchen, introduced them.

  There was Louisa, graceful and slender, wearing a dark muslin gown with a wide sash just under the gathered square neckline. She looked about seventeen years old. Agatha and Mary were younger, perhaps sixteen and fifteen respectively. Agatha, who was petite with a delicate complexion, wore a gown of yellow calico sprigged with pink flowers. Mary, the tallest although the youngest, had on a finely striped red and white gown with deep white frills on the sleeves. Each one of these garments made Hope even more painfully aware of her own dingy grey gown. Hope supposed that Louisa, Agatha and Mary had themselves sewn the charming garments that they wore.

  A bell rang. It was not a gong like the bell that had assembled the orphans to dinner. This dinner bell was a tinkling cymbal. Mrs. Fairley directed the girls into the dining room in much the same way that Hope herded chickens into the shed. They said grace before sitting down.

  Hope shrank in her seat and tried to make herself invisible. At the same time, she kept a careful eye on everything the others did, paying particular attention to their table manners. Hope observed how deftly they managed knife, forks and spoons and tried to do as they did, not taking a bite of anything until sure which implement it was proper to use.

  “Hope is on her way to Niagara to join her father and brother,” said Mrs. Fairley.

  “What part of Niagara?” Louisa asked.

  “Butlersburg,” Hope answered.

  “Butlersburg is much in the news,” Mrs. Fairley said. “We thought that Kingston would be chosen as the capital of Upper Canada, but now we hear that Lieutenant-Governor Simcoe intends Butlersburg to be the centre of government. I call that a great mistake.”

  “Why is that?” Hope asked. Ephraim had mentioned the lieutenant-governor coming f
rom England. Now she had an opportunity to learn what this was all about.

  “Kingston has everything; Butlersburg has nothing. The capital of a province should have buildings suitable for balls and official functions. As for providing an appropriate residence, can you imagine our lieutenant-governor being forced to live in a tent?”

  “I should think not,” Hope said politely.

  So far, the meal was going well. She had managed her implements correctly, and she had learned that Upper Canada’s lieutenant-governor—whatever that was—bore the name Simcoe.

  Louisa spoke up. “I’ve heard that Mrs. Simcoe is fashionable and rich. I’d love to make clothes for someone like that.”

  “If Governor Simcoe and his lady go to Butlersburg, we’ll never have a chance,” Agatha sighed.

  “It’s not fair,” Mary murmured sadly.

  Hope didn’t like all this talk about gowns. She liked it even less when Mary’s attention turned to hers. “Since you are going to Butlersburg, I wonder whether you have given any thought to your wardrobe.”

  “Mary!” Mrs. Fairley’s stated firmly. “That is not polite.”

  “Sorry,” Mary flushed as red as the red striping of her gown. “I just wondered because I have that gown I made last year, and I can’t wear it because I kept on growing, and it’s still as good as new. It’s of no use to me. So if Hope would like to try it on …”

  Now all eyes turned to Hope, or at least to her gown. She felt herself blushing too. For a moment she stared at her plate, but then lifted her head. “What colour is it?” She forced a smile. “I’ll try it if it’s anything but grey.”

  Everyone laughed. Even Mrs. Fairley went, “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  “It’s blue,” said Mary, “with white dots.”

  The stitching was a trifle uneven. Apologetically, Mary pointed out that this gown had been her very first creation. But a little imperfection in the stitches did not matter to Hope. The gown fit, the bodice clinging to her midriff as if it had been sewn just for her. Standing in front of the looking glass, she examined her reflection and smiled. The cornflower blue brought out the blue of her eyes. Her snub nose gave her a pert, lively look. As for her jug ears, they were not noticeable under the ruffle of her cap. Maybe she was a pretty girl, after all!