Cassandra’s gown was a shimmering ice blue taffeta. It was also cut off the shoulder, with the same slim, narrow bodice and full skirt. Each edge of the garment was bordered with a delicate line of white lace. Evie’s pearl and diamond earrings had turned out to be the perfect match, and they glittered beneath the dark red curls that caressed Cassandra’s face and neck.
Samuel and Caleb were dashing in tuxedos with long, fitted coats, narrow pants, and fine new boots. They wore white ruffled shirts, satin vests and bowties, and top hats held in hand to be placed upon their heads when they stepped outside.
The evening was too warm for wraps, but Cassandra and Evie had made a gift of new shawls in silk embroidery for Caroline and Anna Mae and left them in beribboned boxes on the dining room table.
The group spilled out into the night to walk the few blocks to Twelfth Street and Third Avenue, the white ladies walking in front, Caleb, Samuel and Miss Ketchum a few feet behind. They arrived at a simple tavern and went through to the basement steps.
Downstairs was a hall four times the size of the pub above. The ceiling was high, and the walls festooned with draped fabrics, garlands of ribbons, and flowers. On one end of the room, a long table was covered with finger foods and bowls of punch, all assembled on a white lace tablecloth, while at the other end a chamber orchestra tuned up on a raised platform. Along the walls, benches and wooden chairs were lined up where the older ladies and gentlemen sat and watched, along with the young women who hoped to be asked to dance. Lit sconces were attached to the walls, providing subdued light.
Upon entering, Miss Johnston pointed out Reverend Williams and Sarah, primly seated and sipping punch. Evie was the first to spot Jerry among the musicians on the dais, waving at them as they entered.
Evie and Caleb kept a proper distance from each other. He and Samuel would certainly be expected to dance with a variety of young ladies, while Cassandra knew she should sit on the sidelines with the older folk. She had no escort and, being white, would not be asked to dance by any of the black men. Miss Johnston and Miss Ketchum began to mill about nervously. They did not appear anxious to catch the eye of any partner. Evie stood quietly looking around, seeming not to be aware that everyone was staring at her. She looked like a goddess, thought Cassandra, the sun to which all the flowers turned their heads. There were many beautiful girls in the room, the white dresses they wore highlighting their many shades of brown, but Evie possessed an inner quality of self-confidence that made her stand apart.
Soon after most of the guests arrived, the host of the evening, a venerable black man with high, gray hair and large, round eyes, went to stand in front of the orchestra and welcomed everyone. He thanked in particular the Dorcas Benevolent Society, a group of little old ladies lined up along one wall looking like pigeons on a roost. He then asked that every eligible gentleman select a partner for the opening dance, a Viennese waltz. Caleb turned to Evie and held out his hand to her.
Cassandra knew that, by 1853, just about anyone who could walk knew how to waltz, and those who regularly attended balls, even less than formal dances, knew how to perform a Viennese waltz. She prided herself on knowing all the period dances well, and had taught Evie as part of their training, but the two had also practiced twirling around in the bedroom the night before.
Other couples paired up. Samuel asked his sister to dance, and Miss Johnston and Cassandra went to join Reverend Williams and Sarah along the wall where they had been saving seats. The music started, the couples bowed, and with the first three/four beat, they fell into step. They whirled in an oval formation around the floor, dresses flowing out like roses opening, hands properly placed on shoulders and backs, arms upheld formally in position.
Smiles instantly bloomed on the faces of dancers and spectators alike. Cassandra could not believe how beautiful it looked: all those white dresses, and all the gentlemen clad in black. Everyone was in perfect step, as if they’d rehearsed. The music filled the room with its sweet melody. Evie floated by, dancing as if she’d been doing it her whole life. Cassandra noticed the look on their two faces—that of pure adoration. What she’d been beginning to suspect seemed a reality. They’d fallen for each other. She sighed deeply thinking of the heartbreak that would come in just a few days when she and Evie had leave. She knew better than anyone how difficult it would be.
Miss Johnston patted her arm. “What are you thinking of, my dear Mrs. Reilly? You look quite deep in thought.”
Cassandra forced a smile. “Just…just about the Cause.”
“Ah, well, we are always thinking of the Cause. But for tonight, you must enjoy yourself! We always work so hard, we are always so concerned for our brothers and sisters, but tonight is to forget all that and have some fun!”
Cassandra appreciated her spirit. Miss Johnston had no one to dance with and her love (so Cassandra had genuinely come to believe) was off dancing without her, even though it was only with her brother.
The song ended and the band struck up a polka. Evie and Caleb did not relinquish each other, but Samuel handed over his sister to a tall, good-looking, older man.
“That is Todd Copeland,” said Miss Johnston, a frown darkening her forehead. “He has been trying to court Lillian for ever so long. He is a widower with three children, and I know he thinks she would make a fine wife.”
Cassandra watched the couple swing off across the room and noticed that Miss Ketchum was smiling at the man. She appeared to be having a good time, kicking up her heels to the face-paced rhythm of the dance, but when they galloped past Cassandra and Miss Johnston, Miss Ketchum turned her head so her dancing partner could not see and crossed her eyes at her friend. Miss Johnston laughed out loud.
Reverend Williams and Sarah clapped their hands to the music and their eyes sparkled. A country reel was next, and a fiddler took the stage to join the orchestra. The dancers formed a line, swung each other around, and marched up and down in the steps that were so familiar. Evie sat down next to Cassandra.
“I am glad you decided to sit this one out,” the older woman said.
“Oh, yes, that last dance wore me out!”
“No, I mean that it does not look proper for you to be dancing so much just with Caleb.”
“Well, it is all the same to me. I am just as happy to watch him dance with the other girls.”
Before Cassandra could reply, the song ended and the host announced another waltz. At that moment, the door of the hall opened, and in walked Thaddeus Evans. Cassandra gasped. He looked so handsome. He was dressed in his finest, top hat in hand. He stood for a moment and surveyed the room. Everyone knew who he was. Like the other white abolitionists, he was welcome. When his eyes finally rested on Cassandra, his face broke into a great smile. She almost laughed. She was so happy to see him it was unsettling.
“It is Mr. Evans!” Evie cried. “He is back!”
He approached them and bowed. He shook Reverend Williams’ hand, and kissed Sarah’s and the other ladies’, greeting them with warmth. The orchestra was playing the introductory notes of the waltz. Mr. Evans moved to stand in front of Cassandra and offered her his hand. She thought he was going to kiss it, but when she placed it in his, he gently pulled her to her feet.
“May I have the honor?” he asked.
“Yes, you may,” she replied, smiling.
They took their place on the dance floor and with the first rhythmic pulses of the strings, fell into step. He was an elegant dancer. His hazel eyes beamed at her as they glided and twirled. The dance made them breathless, unable to speak, but his eyes told her that he was happy. A moment like this, she thought, is a reward for all the years of study and hard work, like living the most exquisite scene from so many favorite books.
The waltz ended and Mr. Evans bowed to her, then leaned to whisper in her ear. “You look beautiful.”
She responded with the correct blush and downcast glance. “When did you get back into town?” she asked quietly.
“A week ago.”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“I did not call on you, I know. I thought that…I mean, I had a feeling it was better that I did not. I thought I had begun to make you uncomfortable.”
“It does not matter,” she responded. “I am glad you are here now. I have missed you—and I am leaving on Tuesday.”
He looked sadly at her for a moment, but then the music started again. It was a Scotch reel, and Cassandra knew it well. She and Mr. Evans took their places across from each other and had no more time to converse. She noticed that Evie and Caleb had partnered again, and that Miss Ketchum was sitting the dance out, safely nestled amongst the Johnston family. When it ended, Mr. Evans bowed to his partner. He looked over at Miss Johnston who was eagerly chatting with her darling.
“Do you think Miss Johnston would like to dance?” he asked Cassandra.
“I am sure she would,” she replied, “and especially with you.”
They walked over to her and Cassandra took her seat as the lady eagerly rose to dance with the famous man. The dreaded Todd Copeland approached Miss Ketchum again, but she assured him that she was tired and did not intend to dance more that night. He slunk away and found another partner. Samuel, in spite of his declarations against dancing, was seeking out another attractive companion for the upcoming mazurka.
The musicians took a break, and Jerry came to chat with his family and take some refreshment. When he went back to the dais and the orchestra struck up again, Evie and Caleb were once again partners and Cassandra was in the arms of Mr. Evans. They continued together through one other song, but she did not dance again after that. He danced only once more with Miss Johnston and she with no one else.
Reverend Williams and Sarah excused themselves and took their leave for the evening. Soon after, the rest of the party agreed to go back to Miss Johnston’s house for a late night supper. Waving goodbye to Jerry, they went out and up the stairs. They made their way through the dark tavern and out onto Third Avenue. Their spirits were high. On the street, Caleb picked Evie up at the waist and twirled her around in the air. She laughed carelessly, while Miss Ketchum and Miss Johnston, linked arm in arm, looked on with pleasure. Samuel danced a jig and Mr. Evans joined in, matching his footwork. Cassandra clapped time, not caring, at the moment, who might notice their color-blind company.
None of them was aware of some men who had just exited a pub a half a block down the avenue, until suddenly Evans yelled, “Vanderhoff!”
The group of men ran toward them. Miss Johnston screamed, pulling Miss Ketchum close, and grabbed Caleb by the arm. Evie clung to him while Cassandra looked around helplessly.
“Go! Run!” cried Mr. Evans. “I will distract them!”
The slave catchers raced up the avenue and Cassandra could see there was one older man with them now.
“Go to All Angels,” he hissed to Miss Johnston. “I will go to the house.”
Immediately Miss Johnston, Miss Ketchum, Evie, Caleb, and Samuel took off down Twelfth Street in the direction of the church, shaded by the night and the trees that lined the street. Cassandra had frozen in place, but Evans grabbed her hand.
“Come on!” He pulled her to a run, and they escaped up the avenue as the gang pursued them.
Cassandra glanced behind and could see that when Vanderhoff and his men hit the corner of Twelfth Street seconds later, they hesitated. “You three go after the slaves,” she heard the boss yell to his men. “Bob and I will get Evans!”
Mr. Evans pulled Cassandra left onto Thirteenth Street. Trees blocked out the lamplight. As Cassandra looked back again, she could see Vanderhoff not far behind. He was a large man, overweight, and balding, with bulging eyes that were wild with hatred. His feet flopped loudly on the pavement in a ridiculously duck-footed stride. The man named Bob was not much faster than his boss, and Cassandra saw that she and Mr. Evans were easily outrunning them.
Half-way to Fourth Avenue, a bullet whizzed past Mr. Evans' head. Cassandra screamed, but Evans pulled her on. Another bullet pinged off a lamppost. At the late hour, there was no one about to see or to help them. They reached Fourth Avenue and turned up towards Fourteenth Street, where they could cut through Union Place. Cassandra chanced another quick look back and saw that the two men had stopped to catch their breath. She thought her own lungs would burst, but she and Mr. Evans ran on to Fifteenth Street and passed Fifth Avenue.
When they finally reached the gate of #214, Vanderhoff and his crony were barely in sight, and the two escapees could only hope that they wouldn’t be seen going into the house. They pounded on the door and were surprised when James Johnston answered it.
“What on earth!” he cried as they rushed in. Caroline ran into the room, startled by the noise.
“We must hide!” said Mr. Evans, panting. “They are after us! Help us get to the stairs!”
“Yes, of course,” replied James. “Come!”
Cassandra found herself hurried into the kitchen. Caroline opened the pantry door, and pushed aside brooms, aprons, and other items that were blocking the back wall. There, Cassandra saw a small latch and the outline of another door. Caroline unlocked it to reveal a staircase. Cassandra gasped.
“Hurry, go!” James whispered.
Cassandra hesitated, but Mr. Evans pulled her behind him. Once they were through the door, Caroline closed it from without and he latched it from within. They then made their way up the pitch-black stairs and could hear Caroline and James replacing the tools and aprons and closing the pantry door. It was difficult for Cassandra to maneuver the stairs with her full skirts. She held on to Mr. Evans with one hand, while she held up her petticoats with the other, using her toes to tap along the steps to find the one that was upcoming as there were spaces between the risers. Cassandra counted twelve steps then a small landing, then a turn and another twelve. She followed Mr. Evans through a doorway and into a room. As she entered, she bumped her head on the low ceiling.
“Careful!” Mr. Evans whispered.
“Where are we?”
“The attic.”
Though her mind was clouded with fear, it all started to make sense. Her eyes began to adjust to the light. The first thing she made out, as she cautiously moved forward into the room, finding the ceiling higher in the center, were two skylights set into the roof. Through them she could see stars, and moonlight drifted in. The area was large, spanning the length and width of the entire house. There was a table and chairs, and blankets hung over the corners of the space, closing off what she supposed were beds. She understood now. This was a safe-house. These were the noises coming from the attic in the night, and she remembered that next day when everyone had been so tired. She looked at Mr. Evans with eyes wide. Had he conspired to get her out of the house so they could do their work without her knowing? She thought of Vanderhoff’s words, “You go after the slaves!” Caleb, Miss Ketchum and Samuel? And Evie was with them! She shook with fright. She could only hope their friends had made it safely to All Angels, where she was sure there were provisions to keep them secure. Two floors below, they heard a banging on the front door. Cassandra clung to Mr. Evans and he closed his arms around her.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Stand perfectly still and do not make a sound.”
They could hear arguing at the door, but they knew the men had guns, and James would not refuse them entrance. They heard the pounding of heavy boots on the floor and the protests of Caroline and James, muffled and far away. They could hear the two people running every which way through the house, banging open doors and closets, crashing items to the floor.
“Oh!” gasped Cassandra breathlessly.
Mr. Evans held her more tightly, and she buried her head in his chest. The banging and yelling continued up onto the second floor, and Cassandra knew that if they moved their feet at all, the people below would hear it. It seemed like an eternity while the men stomped around through every bedroom, opening every cupboard and armoire. Finally, it appeared they had given up looking for an attic entrance
on the second floor, and thumped down the stairs.
“They are going into the basement.” Mr. Evans whispered.
“There’s a basement?”
“It is where Anna Mae and Caroline sleep.”
Cassandra had always assumed they went to their own homes at night.
“It is also a decoy. It looks as though it is intended to be secret so that if it is found, the slave catchers will think it is where the runaways are kept. But they will see it is empty and leave.”
Sure enough, they soon heard the pounding of footsteps on the first floor again and after more loud exclamations, heard the front door slam shut.
“Oh my God,” she exhaled.
“Do not move yet,” he whispered, “not until they tell us we are safe.”
Cassandra felt tears running down her face. She had never been so frightened in her life. Mr. Evans looked down at her. She could see his expression in the illumination of the skylights. His eyes searched her face.
“I am sorry,” he said. “It is all my fault. I am so sorry.”
“No, do not say that. I feel like I have been so naïve.”
“We just wanted to protect you.”
“I am so stupid!”
“No, not at all. It is just that the fewer the people who know the better.”
He brushed away her tears and his fingers touched her lips. She grasped his hand and kissed it. He pulled her closer and put his lips on hers. She responded without thought as her mouth opened. He kissed her deeply, hungrily. Her arms went around his neck, while his hands encircled her waist. She pressed her body into his. She could feel the heat between her thighs and felt him stiffen. He kissed her neck, then her bare shoulders.
They heard a soft rap on the door far below and pulled away from each other, panting. They smoothed their clothes and hair.
The Time Heiress Page 17
