“I do not want to live in the past, and we cannot change what God has planned for our future. At the same time, I do not care to have you bringing up all my threats and warnings from the day after the ball.” Mary smiled, holding Portia’s hand tightly. “This time, my friend, you appear to have a much better grasp of the situation. It looks as if you have been planning it carefully. I’m proud of you for that. What worries me, though, are the little details. Anything that you might have overlooked. I want you to succeed, Portia. Lord knows, I do not know anyone who is more deserving of happiness, but has been deprived of it for so long as you.”
“Now you shall make me miss you even more,” Portia said tearfully.
Mary gave her an affectionate hug. “That is as it should be. I am very much worth missing.”
She managed to smile. “You are the most strong-willed woman I know.”
“That is without a doubt true.” Mary looked around them again. The gardeners were bent over their tasks. “Now, about this journey. When are you leaving?” she asked quietly.
“This afternoon.”
“On what ship?” Mary immediately shook her head. “Never mind that I asked. That, I do not want to know. Aen planaking your mother with you?”
“I plan to.” Portia whispered.
“You are not doing something unthinkable like dressing as sailors or trying to stow away, are you? Your passage is paid for?”
“No…and yes. I am expected on board the ship we shall be sailing on.” There was no need for Mary to know that neither Pierce nor Nathaniel Muir knew anything about Helena going, as well.
“The ship is going to England, I hope, and not to one of those horrid islands in the Caribbean.”
“The ship is bound for Scotland. I shall travel to Wales by coach from there.”
Mary seemed to consider that answer for a while. “The one who is assisting you with all this…I assume he is an honorable individual?”
“Very,” Portia whispered. The very thought of him made her throat grow tight. She hadn’t even gone away, and already she was missing Pierce. She painted on a smile. “I appealed to his sense of nationalism and his kindness, and he responded.”
Mary did not look surprised. Portia pushed the thoughts from her mind of what her friend would think of her if she knew about last night. But she reminded herself that she had no regret.
“And how do you plan to get Helena from here to the ship?” Mary asked.
“A carriage is being sent here this afternoon. The driver has been instructed to deliver us there.”
“And how do you plan to get your mother past the guards at the gate? They are stopping everyone who tries to come in. I assume they will at least look at the ones who are leaving.”
Portia was more worried about getting Helena up from her bed and out of the room without being noticed. “If I can get her downstairs and into the carriage, then I shall simply say she is one of the servants. I do not believe any of those guards could recognize her, as she never goes anywhere.”
“Don’t you think they know who works here or who does not?” Mary challenged.
“I shall hide her under a blanket if I must. Or have the driver charge through the gate—”
“No.” Mary shook her head. She looked about the grounds. She stood up and peered at the impressive building on the hill. “This might be where I can be of some help to you.”
Portia stared in surprise at her friend.
“Your mother’s hair. What is the color?”
“The same as yours.”
“And are we roughly the same size?”
“Approximately the same,” Portia admitted. “But I could not—”
“And does she have a gray dress…something similar to this one?”
“I do not know what she has, in the way of clothing, but you cannot be suggesting that I take her out in the carriage and let the guards believe she is you?”
“We are ng the same thing exactly,” Mary said happily.
“No, Mary. How would you get out of here then, yourself? And even if you did find a way, everyone would know that you had a hand in it.” Portia came up to her feet. “It cannot work.”
“It must.”
“No!” Portia shook her head adamantly and stepped away. “I cannot get you involved.”
“You are not giving me the credit I deserve. I am far more resourceful than you think. I can even claim that I was victimized, if need be.” Mary stopped her, turning Portia around. “And that is just what I will do in case anyone should become suspicious of me. I shall say I was hit over the head. Or drugged. Renting a room above the apothecary shop would give you access to such things, would it not?”
“I don’t know.” Portia said, trying hard to think the matter through.
“Time is running short, my dear.” Mary took her by the arm and started toward the house. “They said at the gate that I was invited to go to the house, and I intend to. You are going to take me up to your mother’s room and give me the opportunity to be of assistance.”
Portia had no option but to keep up with Mary’s determined pace.
CHAPTER 18
The breeze was blowing gently from the north and the sun had almost reached its zenith as the sloop Hannah weighed anchor and sailed out of Newport harbor. The ship’s master had already reported the sloop’s cargo at the colony’s Customs House, a formality which, for months, had been looked on with growing skepticism by the Crown’s revenue officers. Those same people, led by Lieutenant William Dudingston, knew that the Rhode Islanders in the Customs House were turning many a blind eye to the irregularities in the cargo manifests of the ships passing through the port.
Passing the rocky shoals off of Rose Island, the Hannah set a course northward, up the bay toward Providence. No sooner were the lines taut, however, when the call came from aloft that Dudingston’s eight-gun schooner, the Gaspee, was in pursuit. Pierce looked out over the stern rail. Sure enough, the sleek two-master was rounding Goat Island with her sails flying.
“Let him come close enough to taste it,” Pierce told Captain Lindsey, the master of the Hannah.
The plan had begun perfectly. One of the sailors rowing the first mate in with the cargo manifest at Newport had followed his instructions. He’d said—in a voice that a nearby revenue officer could hear—something about the trouble they’d had picking up MacHeath just off of Brenton’s Point.
On Captain Lindsay’s command, the Hannah lagged slightly until the Gaspee moved up enough to tack in for the intercept. From the stern, Pierce could see Dudingston standing on deck, his ensign signaling them to heave to and prepare for boarding.
“Show him your heels, Lindsay.”
The order was quickly passed along, and the sailors jumped into aons They all had heard about Lieutenant Dudingston and his ways. None of them looked forward to being pressed into the service of the Royal Navy, a fate that would surely await more than a few of them if they were boarded. As soon as it was clear that the sloop had no intention of dropping anchor, the Gaspee fired warning shots from two of its guns. Moments later, however, the smaller merchant ship was out of range, daring the British schooner to pursue.
And pursue, the Gaspee did. This race might have seemed to be a spur of the moment decision to the Hannah’s crew, but both men standing by the helm of the ship had been planning it for some time. Dudingston had risen for the bait, now it was up to them to land him. For weeks, Pierce had been studying charts and other information Nathaniel had gathered, and now the die was cast. It was do or die, now. Literally. If Dudingston caught them, Lindsay would stand trial, but Pierce himself would surely hang.
For the next two hours, the two ships tacked back and forth against the headwind, steadily working their way northward into the bay. Skillfully, Lindsey kept the Hannah out of range of the pursuer’s cannons, though he and Pierce both knew that eventually the bay would narrow, and their room for maneuvering would dwindle. Dudingston knew it, too, and continued to herd the sloop
northward, cutting off any run to the south and the open sea.
By mid-afternoon, it was clear that the British commander was losing patience. The tide was beginning to turn, and he had to assume that the Hannah would soon make her run for it. As the two ships raced northward between Bristol’s harbor and Prudence Island, Pierce knew that their moment of destiny was at hand. Once they passed Connimicut Point and entered the Providence River, Dudingston would have to be preparing to tack to the west to cut off their last chance of escape.
The tide was running quickly by the time they passed the point, and the Gaspee soon cleared the long underwater sandbar behind them. The schooner was closing the distance quickly now, and Captain Lindsay looked at the man he knew only as MacHeath, awaiting his word. Moments dragged on into an eternity. The Gaspee was nearly close enough to use their forward guns. Pierce could see the faces of the sailors in the rigging of the pursuing ship.
“Now, Captain,” Pierce said in a low voice.
With a word from Lindsay, the Hannah turned slightly to the northwest. Behind them, the crew of the Gaspee sprang into action. Pierce watched the schooner tack hard to the west, and he knew Dudingston had sealed his own fate.
Everyone aboard the Hannah watched. As old hands in the waters of the Narragansett Bay, they knew that before the Gaspee could come about, the sandy shallows off Namquid Point would separate the two ships. The hook was in deep now; they knew Dudingston would be unable to shake it loose.
“Bring her about, Captain,” Pierce said.
Just as the Hannah completed her turn to the east, the British schooner suddenly plowed up onto the underwater sand bar, shuddering and grinding to a halt. Pierce watched sailors thrown from the rigging drop into the water. Dudingston himself bouncing across the deck. Around Pierce and above him, the crew of the Hannah broke into a cheer as the Gaspee lurched over onto her side, her sails filling with water.
“Well done, Lindsay,” Pierce said quietly, clapping the ship’s master on the back.
“That should hold them, sir.”
“Indeed it will.” Pierce watched the distance between the two vessels widen. “Well, captain, I believe ’tis time we let our friends in Providence and Bristol know the sad plight of the Gaspee. They now have until the flood tide lifts her off that bar. That would be about three tomorrow morning, wouldn’t you say?”
“Aye, sir, if she’ll even float free then. Dudingston drove her up hard onto it.”
“Indeed he did. I’d say he wanted the Hannah very badly.”
“Or he wanted a certain Captain MacHeath.”
“You could be right, Lindsay.”
“Well, he’s got more to worry about than that now,” Lindsay replied with a broad grin. “And the night promises to be dark.”
****
“I do not feel good about this,” Portia whispered as the two women arrived at Helena’s door. The door was unlocked, and the same two young women were sitting by the window as before. And they gave Mary a curious look when she followed Portia in.
“Since Mrs. Green had no objection,” Portia told them, “I asked Mrs. Higgins to come up and keep me company until I must leave.”
She glanced toward the bed. The light curtain of gauzy fabric had been lowered, and Helena was apparently sleep. She turned back to the women.
“You know, I shall be watching her if you need to be doing something else.”
The two young women looked at each other indecisively. Finally, they stood up.
“We do have a great deal to do before dinner,” one of them said.
“You need not fear,” Portia told her, ushering them toward the door. “I shall send for help if there is any need. My friend and I shall sit right there where you were sitting.”
Mary took one of the seats vacated by the attendant as they went out. Closing the door behind them, Portia went directly to Helena’s side.
Her mother’s eyes opened, and she stared up into the vicinity of where Portia was standing. Neither spoke a word. Portia squeezed Helena’s hand, and the older woman returned the gesture before closing her eyes as the door opened again and one of the attendants reappeared. Portia went to meet her.
“The cook sent up some broth for the mistress a few minutes ago, miss.” The young woman pointed to the untouched tray on the bedside table. “She was sleeping so peacefully that we didn’t want to disturb her.”
“I shall see to her food. No worry.”
“And Mrs. Green also came around again and mixed another cup of medicine for the mistress. You should give that to her as soon you can get some food into her.”
“I shall take care of that, too,” Portia assured her, relieved that tly, thead not given Helena more of the drug that appeared to induce sleep. “Thank you for telling me.”
As soon as they were alone again, Portia quickly introduced Mary to her mother. Helena was still a bit groggy, but was obviously forcing herself to focus on her daughter’s words.
“We haven’t much time. But there is a carriage that will come around to take us around four. If I can get you down to it, we shall be sailing for Scotland tonight.”
“So I was not dreaming all of this. The whole thing is real. You want me leave here with you.”
It was not a question but a statement. But the tone was not one of enthusiasm. Mary shot her a warning look, and Portia sank down on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hand.
“Do you wish to stay here? To live as you are now?”
Helena paused, considering her answer. “I would gladly stay if I did not have this Methuselah, Mrs. Green, constantly telling me what to do. I would stay if there were no lock on my door. I would be content if I were given none of these medications that they have been plying me with of late.” Both of her hands clutched Portia’s. “I would stay and be forever happy if you could come and stay here with us. But the Admiral won’t allow that.”
Portia was relieved that her mother understood. There was no hope for them if they were to stay.
“These people,” Helena continued, desperation creeping into her voice. “They are squeezing the very breath out of my body. They are killing me. Sometimes I almost grieve that I am still alive.”
“But you do not need to live like this,” Portia whispered. “You do not need to put up with all this mistreatment. I can take you so far away that he shall never be able to find us. We can start anew, together.”
“But I have nothing.” Her voice cracked. “For so long I have been dependent on someone for every drop of water and crust of bread. I no longer know what the world looks like beyond these walls that have become my prison. I have no friends, no kin that we could go to who can help us.”
Helena stared at the bed curtains wafting in the light breeze.
“And I cannot see. How can I go anywhere?”
“You have me. I can take care of you. I shall be your eyes,” Portia said passionately. “Once again you shall have your freedom. You shall live again. And we shall be together. Is that not enough?”
“’Tis enough for me,” the older woman whispered through her tears. “But you shall do this for me…when I was never the mother to you that I should have been?”
“Neither of us is to blame for what is past. All we have now is the future.” Portia glanced at the door as voices could be heard passing it. “This is not an opportunity that shall present itself every day. If you are willing to take my hand, to trust me, then we have a chance.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, Helena took her hand and sat up. Slowly she moved her feet off the edge of the bed. She had difficulty with her balance as she stood up, and had to sit again. Mary came around the bed and held Helena’s other hand. Together, they helped her to a dressing table by the window.
“You cannot get me out of this room without them knowing.”
“I shall take care of those details,” Portia said reassuringly. “Now Mary, if you would see to my mother’s hair, I shall search through that dressing room for something for h
er to wear. Do you have a gray dress, Mother?”
****
Mrs. Green finished her afternoon inspection of the household and was going up the stairs to look in on Helena when the shouts of “Fire!” rang out from the kitchen. Immediately, she rushed back down the stairs.
A handful of the Admiral’s men were rushing from the servant’s hall to the kitchen, and most of the kitchen staff was running out. The smoke was billowing in thick clouds from the doorway and, between the two groups of people, there was a pure chaos in the hall. She found the cook who had managed to push through the bodies into the servant’s hall. Sweat was pouring down his round face, and he was swabbing it with a soot-covered cloth.
“’Tis not so bad as they’re making it out to be,” the man said over the din. “There is some smoke, but we’ve already doused the fire.”
“What happened?”
“One of the scullery maids saw the new companion bring the mistress’s tray down. I’m not saying for sure, but I think she must have placed the thing too close to the baking ovens. I think the napkin on it caught fire, and then the grease cloths caught, and then the—”
“But you say you doused the fire.”
“Aye, the bloody thing is out. Does the Admiral…”
“The Admiral went to see the governor this morning.”
“Thank God,” he muttered, turning away.
The cook went to a bench along the wall and plunked his ample frame down. Mrs. Green saw one of the girls who had been up with Helena helping the others push open the windows.
She took her by the arm. “Who is upstairs with Miss Helena?”
“Miss Edwards and her friend…the parson’s wife.”
An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of the housekeeper’s stomach. She worked her way to the doorway of the kitchens and she saw what the cook said was true. There was no fire visible. Even the smoke was diminishing. She headed back through the servant’s hall and hurried up the steps.
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