“Lord Westchester,” she repeated, “wake up.”
Like a hypnotist’s subject, his eyes popped open with a glassy stare. He blinked several times before opening them again to a more normal aspect. He saw Ettie bending over the back of the sofa and smiled seductively. “Ettie, darling, why still dressed?” Ettie’s cheeks colored as Clem shot her a sideways glance and an amused smile.
Making another pass of the vial under his nose, Clem demanded, “You must wake up completely.”
This final whiff brought him totally, if profanely, to his senses. “Bloody hell! Stop with that disgusting mixture!” he yelled and then groaned as he tried to sit up. “Wha… What—?” He leaned back, his memory returning.
He looked up at Ettie. “Who is this girl?”
“A friend,” she told him curtly. “Listen, Charlie, whose place is this? Why did you come here?”
She had made her voice as hard and emotionless as possible, but it fooled neither Charlie nor Clem. She couldn’t hide her hurt and anger.
He breathed in deeply. “I don’t know her name. She… she is very dangerous.”
“Then we should leave, and now,” Clem pronounced, getting up and shaking out her skirts. “Can you stand?” she asked him, and then turned to her friend. “Help me get him up.”
Ettie didn’t budge. She still wanted answers. “How is she so dangerous? And why…,” her voice faltered, “why does she look like me? That painting…”
He closed his eyes and sighed wearily. “She has at her disposal technology that… that is extremely powerful. It’s… it is difficult to explain—”
“Oh, I already know a great deal, Drake,” she declared, her mouth tight with fury.
He swallowed convulsively. The derisive tone and disrespectful use of his surname had sounded just like Odette. “How do you know?”
“I read Odette’s journal. The one she sent to Odell. It seems when it comes to the women in my family, you’re just one big, fat liar.”
“Odette?” He knew Ettie had somehow found out, but from Odette? It was all too much for him. He fumbled to pull on his shirt.
“I loved Odette. I don’t expect you to believe me. She wouldn’t have. But I had no choice. I betrayed everything, everyone I cared about, just to survive. And in the end, I died anyway.”
Clem had been standing and listening with incomprehension to this astonishing confession. “What the—?”
“Not now, Clem.” Ettie waved an impatient hand. She leaned intently over the sofa and asked, “What does this woman have to do with me? With Odell? Odette didn’t mention her in the journal. Where or when does she even come from?”
He shook his head wearily. “I tell you, I don’t know. I don’t know how she did it, or where she got the technology. I was on a mission to recruit Odell, and she showed up at my door. It was like…,” he continued through gritted teeth, “…it was like I was reconstituted into another person. With memories of lives… other dimensions. I’m not sure even your brother could explain it.”
Ettie straightened up and, taking a deep breath, said, “Wait here.”
She walked into the bedroom, and the two people in the parlor heard something crash to the floor and splinter. Backing up into the room, Ettie dragged the painting within its shattered frame across the floor. She dropped it down in the middle of the parlor and strode into the kitchen. She came back carrying a large butcher’s knife and proceeded to rip the canvass to shreds.
When she had finished, Charlie said matter-of-factly, “She’ll kill you for that.”
“She’ll have to find me first.”
Seventeen
AVA STOOD IN a shift with a long-sleeved linen shirt over it as Evelyn handed her what looked like a quilted vest.
“Just put it on and lace it up the front,” she instructed her.
Ava took the proffered garment. She slipped it over her arms and pulled the ends together in front, tightening it with the lacing. It weighed similar to a warm jacket and had a firm structure, but was overall comfortable.
“Is this some type of corset?” she asked.
Evelyn’s head popped out of the dress she had just pulled over her head. “Sort of, it gives shape and support, but there is no real stiffness in the material. Undress, or undergarments,” she explained at Ava’s confused look, “varies depending on the type of activity planned. The quilted jump is typically for day-to-day wear, a corset is for a more elegant silhouette, and full stays for formal events.”
“I never knew there was any difference,” Ava replied, not looking up as she struggled to pull the silk lacing through the tiny eyelets.
Evelyn laughed and reached over to help her. “Here, let me do it. It takes some practice to get it exactly right.”
She pulled, expertly crossing the lacing and tying it just above the waist. When she was unable to wiggle her finger in between the garment and Ava’s body, she nodded and declared, “Perfect. You shouldn’t be able to fit a finger between the shirt and the jump. That way it gives you the right amount of support.”
Ava thought longingly of her clothes now neatly folded and tucked away in the wardrobe. The simplicity of their design and comfort of wear contrasted glaringly with the elaborate ritual of donning the “everyday” clothes of even a lowly servant in this era. Her outfit was completed with a red woolen skirt and cotton bodice laced up the back.
Evelyn tied a simple white linen cap over Ava’s short hair. She stepped back to survey the effect. Placing her hands on her hips, she sighed deeply.
Ava smiled dryly. “Not quite right?”
Evelyn returned her smile. “Everything is perfect. It’s just…” She blushed. “Maybe it’s because I know… well…” The blush spread down her neck as she continued nervously, “You are a Negro, but you don’t seem like one, at least, not from around here. You…” She searched for her meaning. “You stand up too straight. Your eyes are always casting around, curious. You project, and forgive me for pointing this out as if it were wrong, intelligence and equality.”
Ava’s expression didn’t change, but her mind reeled. She had always believed that to be black in America was to be completely the “other,” always apart. When at work or out with colleagues, she felt that only a fraction of her authentic self was present. The other parts of her were calculated projections on display to show that she fit in, that she had absorbed the majority culture, that she belonged.
Early in her career, she’d had a student from Kenya. A girl as dark as anyone Ava had ever seen. The student had written an essay of her experience in coming to America. Until that time, she had never before thought of the color of her skin; never once had she looked in a mirror and been dissatisfied with the image that stared back at her. Ava had found this astounding. She had watched the girl’s interaction with others in her class and sometimes around campus. Her bold, long-stride gait was natural and without guile. She laughed and called out loudly to friends. She spoke up in class and had little care that her opinions or ideas might cause some to bristle with unconscious or conscious bigotry. She exhibited none of the caution or uneasy bravado Ava had seen only too often in her own community. To Ava’s eyes, the girl was comfortable in her own skin and walked confidently in the world.
Ava had never felt that. She had constructed an elaborate yet effective disguise, one that allowed her to blend in and go unnoticed when necessary. To be told that the colonial dress was not enough, that she stood too tall and looked too intelligent, was like diving into an ice cold sea. Ava had assumed she knew upon what stage her act would be playing. Now it was clear she really had no idea, and that was terrifying.
“Are you all right?”
Ava blinked. “Yes. I’m sorry. I was just thinking on what you said… how my behavior stood out.”
“There are men who think women, particularly Negro women, are available to them. Of course, as a servant in our house you will be protected. Still, you must be aware of the dangers. And you are so lovely; you will attract notic
e.” The girl looked uncomfortably down at the floor, a blush once again stealing up her cheeks. “I am so sorry. This must seem barbaric to you.”
Ava reached over and grasped the girl’s forearm comfortingly. “Yes… I mean, no, it’s not that. I had thought myself prepared and, apparently, I’m not.”
Evelyn nodded. “You will have to be careful.” Then added a little awkwardly, “Ava, I would appreciate it if you and—”
A knock at the bedroom door interrupted her and announced the arrival of Odell. “It’s me,” his voice drifted muffled through the door, “I’ve come to see how you’re getting on.”
“Come in,” they both replied in unison.
Odell opened the door and stood on the threshold. Ava smiled wide and laughed at his appearance. He stood in breeches and waistcoat. The waistcoat was a pinkish-red over a mustard colored shirt and buff breeches. He wore what looked to be wool knitted stockings and leather, low-heeled shoes with buckles. A white linen scarf was loosely tied about his neck, and he carried under his arm a cocked hat. The only jarring feature to this masterful ensemble was his short hair.
“Recovering from a fever,” was the explanation Gabriel felt would best explain the unfashionable length.
He took his hat from beneath his arm and swept them an elegant bow. “My ladies, you are looking particularly lovely this morning.”
Ava laughed again and walked over to survey him at closer range. “You make a very convincing colonial.”
He looked down at her upturned face framed by the linen cap and swallowed his worry. He wished he could say the same. She was dressed to perfection. She looked exactly the part she was playing, that of a well-kept servant in an enlightened household. If the beautiful face and graceful carriage drew too many interested glances, they would certainly turn aside upon knowing her protected by an upstanding Philadelphia family.
They had briefly entertained the idea of her masquerading as a boy, but dismissed it as too dangerous. “If she were found out, they would believe her an escaped slave,” Gabriel had insisted. “And no amount of arguing on my part or yours would convince them otherwise. She would be taken into custody until her owners could be found, or sold outright.”
Fortunately, the Wright family had never before employed live-in help, only Mrs. Daniels who came in twice a week to clean, shop, and do some baking. Because of Gabriel’s busy schedule, he and Hugh would breakfast simply on bread and cheese, perhaps a boiled egg or two. He shared offices with another lawyer on Fourth Street and came home for the mid-day meal, which was typically the largest one of the day. Odette and Evelyn prepared it, as well as the lighter repast in the evening when they were finished with the day’s work.
It was a simple existence, which suited them. But now with Odette gone—back to England to visit an ailing aunt, was the story put round for general consumption—it was entirely plausible for them to bring in extra help. It was easily contrived, and it could just as easily fall apart.
“Odell, I must insist that we interfere with the timeline in one aspect.” Ava leaned toward him conspiratorially.
He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “Yes?”
“We must introduce the concept of underwear. I do not believe the pair I came with will withstand everyday washings for long.”
He nodded his head with mock seriousness. “Drawers, I believe they will be called in a couple of decades. Yes, indeed, I feel your pain. It is a bit airy down there, and the chill is the very devil.”
They snickered like immature adolescents.
“Ahem.”
Startled, they looked over at Evelyn’s stern countenance.
“This is what I was trying to tell you, Ava, before Uncle Odell came in. You two cannot behave like this. You cannot act like a courting couple. Even among only ourselves. You never know who could be listening and watching.”
“Courting couple? I haven’t the slightest—” began Odell, only to stop at Evelyn’s skeptical look.
“Evelyn, men and women behave differently in the future. Friendships—” Ava began, only to stop as well when Evelyn raised a hand in objection.
“Please, the future cannot be that different,” she scoffed. “I, of course, have no idea what is between the two of you, but you act like my parents. And theirs is most definitely not a friendship, at least, not a friendship only,” she amended.
Looking both abashed and slightly intrigued at this interpretation of their interaction, Odell and Ava descended the stairs to the parlor. Evelyn trailed behind.
There was a low cupboard against the inside wall of the parlor. A pot of hot coffee along with a tray of sliced bread, butter, and cheese sat upon it. Gabriel was seated next to the fire, and Hershel stood with his back to the blaze, shoulders leaning against the mantel. Both looked as if they had slept very little and poorly at that.
The fire from the night before had required the postponement of their conference. With Benjamin Franklin assisting Thomas Paine and Hershel searching out clues on the docks, Cara had gone home and the rest of the household to bed.
Ava had been assigned to share Evelyn’s room, which fortunately was home to a four poster bed large enough for both to sleep comfortably. Odell had made due with a truckle bed set up in Hugh’s room; it was little better than a cot, but he declared it more comfortable than camping and slept so soundly he had not heard Hugh leave in the early hours of the morning.
Gabriel greeted them with a tired smile, “Please serve yourselves some breakfast. It’s a humble offering, but Mrs. Daniels is an excellent baker, and the bread is quite fresh.”
With a plate of bread and cheese balanced on his knees and a cup of hot coffee in his hand, Odell was eager to hear the news, for he was sure that they had been busy.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “It looks like Timothy Matlack is going to make it, but several others, including our friend, George Bryan, were killed last night. And from what Hershel has discovered, I think we can conclusively determine the explosion no accident.”
When he began speaking, Evelyn, fearful of being sent from the room, stood like a statue near the door. But Gabriel had not spent a sleepless night thinking only of impending war and the political maneuverings now engulfing Philadelphia; his daughter had loomed large in his consciousness.
They were barely into March. Odette had left—disappeared really—around two months ago. Gabriel knew that this had been Ambrosius’s doing. Odette’s father had exhibited little interest in anyone outside of his daughter. From the moment she had returned from Stonehenge, their lives were barely recognizable to him. Their home, their friends and their neighbors, and even, to some extent, their relationship, had changed. Only their work had remained the same.
Through nearly twenty years of marriage, they had rarely been parted. From the early rocky days of their romance had emerged a strong bond, an understanding that may strain, but never broke. Gabriel had believed that nothing could divide them, not in spirit, not in body. He never counted on Ambrosius Speex and the Liberi. Odette’s disappearance had left him confused and angry, unable and unwilling to express any of this to Evelyn. Their confrontation of the previous night had made clear to him, though, that he would lose his daughter if he couldn’t reach out, if he couldn’t trust her.
He looked at Evelyn, at her rigid stance and smiled tiredly. “Sit down, my dear. You need to hear this too.”
His smile widened with genuine amusement as he watched her slowly unstiffen, as if any quick movement on her part might scare the words back into his mouth. She sat down next to Ava on the sofa.
“Hershel…” He motioned to the slight runner.
“Ahem,” Hershel cleared his throat and pushed away from the mantel to walk into the center of the room. He had been watching Evelyn too. “I spent a particularly unpleasant night interviewing drunken sailors with little luck, until I happened upon one Jimmy Reynolds.”
Evelyn sat up straighter and shifted in her seat. This was not lost on Hershel who pinned her with an inte
nsely searching look. “You know him.” It was not a question.
She cut her eyes quickly over to her father, and then turned on Hershel a pleading look. “Yes. Jimmy is a classmate of Billy’s at the academy. He’s very smart, just not a good student. Billy says he often skips out on class.”
“That’s not all,” Hershel prompted, walking over to stand before her.
Evelyn looked down at her clasped hands. “No.”
Gabriel glanced from one to the other. “What is going on?”
Evelyn stood and faced her father. “Jimmy Reynolds is a friend of Billy’s, but I met him through Mister Thornton.”
Gabriel shook his head, confused. “Mister Thornton, the butcher?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel looked at her and then at Hershel. “What’s going on?” he repeated, standing up and walking over to them.
Hershel was clearly uncomfortable and looked expectantly at Evelyn.
“Mister Thornton,” Evelyn declared with determination, “is coordinating volunteers to keep track of the Tories. Jimmy recruited Billy, and Billy asked if I wanted to help. So I did.”
Gabriel stared at her, literally speechless.
Odell and Ava exchanged a confused look.
“But I thought you knew,” Odell interjected. “Or why were you at the stables the night we arrived?”
Gabriel shook his head as if to clear it and replied, “It was just happenstance. Toby asked me to check in at the stables. He had noted activity there, unrelated to our… our business. So I went. I guess with your sudden appearance, I forgot how strange it was that my daughter was there as well.”
He walked back to the chair and sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands. “Evelyn, my God, Evelyn.” He looked up at her. “How could you be so reckless? The British have spies everywhere.”
His voice was so sad and full of concern, Evelyn blinked back tears. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she choked out and ran to kneel down beside him, “but I just wanted to help. You and mother, and even Hugh, are always so busy helping other people, so involved in doing the right thing. I just wanted to be like you.”
Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II Page 17
