“Is all well?”
Charity nodded and smiled. “All’s well.”
It was their way of communicating about the letter Faith had put in her care. Charity’s affirmative response meant the letter had reached its target. Pleased, Faith jumped in to help with the work. Her contribution to the buffet was a large kettle of baked beans, fresh biscuits, and a large apple charlotte.
When the women were done, they left the food warming and went to join the affair.
Many of the area’s free Black population were milling around the room greeting and talking to each other, and Faith was pleased by the turnout. Although women were not allowed to speak from the podium to promiscuous audiences, as mixed-gender gatherings like these were termed, the free women of Boston and its surrounding towns had shown up in great numbers. They were laundresses, maids, seamstresses, and cooks, and like Faith they’d come to support Mr. Freeman’s quest to free his wife, Letty, from bondage.
A small percentage of the community had been free for generations, but a majority of the people in the room had at some point in their lives been slaves, or as it was more politely termed in the northeastern colonies, servants for life. Some had been allowed to purchase their freedom, while others had been legally freed by Quaker owners at the age of eighteen, per the custom of many of the Friends. A few men and women had been freed for meritorious service or given their freedom upon the death of their owners, but many had come to freedom by wit and guile as runaways.
Although everyone in attendance knew the value of freedom, the community was divided over the future direction of the colonies. Her father and his Tory friends supported the King, while many of the younger men, led by Prince Hall, were rebels and minutemen. She just hoped both sides remained civil, and placed Mr. Freeman and poor Letty’s plight above politics. The last thing needed would be a heated argument or fisticuffs.
She saw her father approaching with Will Case, and she very much wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. To Faith, Will with his tall, sticklike frame resembled a praying mantis. Because of his successful soap-making business, many mothers in the area were constantly throwing their daughters in the middle-aged bachelor’s path, but he kept stepping over them in a quest to secure Faith’s hand. However, he was as boring as he was pompous, and she wanted nothing to do with him.
“Ah, here you are,” her father said brightly. He’d worn his best coat and breeches for the occasion and she thought the cravat around his throat made him appear very distinguished. She, however, was wearing the same mended gown she always wore for special occasions. “Is everything ready for the repast?” he asked.
“Yes, Father.” She turned to his companion. “Good afternoon, Will.”
“Faith,” he intoned, bowing at the waist. “How are you.” His nasally voice always made him sound like he’d smelled sour milk.
“I am well, and you, sir?”
“As well as a loyalist can be in these trying times.”
She smiled woodenly. “It is a struggle.” Almost as much as her struggle to show an interest in his welfare, she thought.
He continued, “I was just telling your father that I’ve recently signed a contract with some prominent customers in London. That’s quite a feather in my cap, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would indeed.”
“The British Army is showing an interest as well. Should the negotiations prove successful, I stand to become one of the wealthiest men in Boston, Black or White.”
“Then I’m sure you will share some of your blessings with Mr. Freeman this afternoon. His need is very dire, wouldn’t you say?”
By the startled look on his light brown face she could tell that he’d had no intentions what-so-ever, but she’d known that from the beginning. She’d had enough. Giving him a curtsy and a smile that she hoped didn’t appear too forced, she said, “I should go and see if Blythe needs my help with anything. It’s been a pleasure hearing about your successes.”
Faith didn’t have to look back to know that her father was displeased by her hasty exit, but she had no intention of spending her time listening to Will go on and on about himself. She found Blythe talking with Ingram and Charity. “Rescue me, please.”
“From what?” Charity asked with a laugh.
“William Case.”
Ingram smiled. “Still trying to win you, is he?”
“I’ve explained to both him and Father that the race is lost, but they seem to be deaf.”
Blythe said, “You could do worse, I suppose. He owns his own business and is quite successful.”
“I’m aware of his accomplishments because that’s all he talks about.”
Ingram nodded. “I have to agree, he is quite self-centered. But you should be married, Faith.”
“You sound like Father.”
He turned to his wife. “Charity, don’t you think it’s high time she married?”
“It’ll be high time when she says it is.”
“Thank you,” Faith said of her friend’s support.
Blythe added, “He feigned an interest in me some years back, but only as a ruse to get his hands on my property. I told him plainly that were I to marry him, I’d sign all I owned over to the church and shoot myself within a week. He stopped coming around.”
They laughed at the dry remark. Faith looked around the gathering. Some of the race’s White supporters were in the room now, too. Many of Boston’s radical thinkers not only supported events like this one, but often gave as generously as they could. “So do you believe Phillis Wheatley will really be here?” she asked her friends.
Blythe replied, “I hear she’s under the weather again. She’s always been sickly, even when she was a child. We’ll have to wait and see.”
As a way to boost attendance, the sponsors of this event had let it be known that the great poetess might attend and read from a few of her works. Although Faith preferred the ribald plays and poems of the Bard, she enjoyed Miss Wheatley’s poetry. As everyone across the colonies knew, Phillis had been only seven years of age when she was captured in western Africa and brought to Boston and sold to the wealthy tailor John Wheatley and his wife, Susannah. In the years since, she’d written many lines of poetry and held the honor of being one of the first women of the race to have her words published. She’d recently returned to Boston from a trip to London, where according to the newspapers she’d received many accolades while being squired around by one of her biggest sponsors, Selina Shirley, Countess of Huntingdon. Rumor had it that the Wheatleys had given her her freedom but Faith had no idea if the rumors were based on fact.
Blythe said, “Ah. Prince Hall has arrived, along with Nicholas.”
Faith turned and saw Hall at the entrance shaking hands and greeting those nearby. However, Nicholas Grey’s eyes were directed her way. Having that intense gaze burn her from across the room made her heart race. After offering her an almost imperceptible nod, he turned his attention to the man Hall was introducing him to. Shaken, she glanced her father’s way, hoping he’d been too occupied by his conversation to notice the silent exchange, but his terse eyes told all.
“Who is he?” Charity asked.
Ingram must have seen the contact, too, because he met Faith’s eyes with a frown reminiscent of her father’s.
Blythe explained.
Charity, who’d grown up in Lexington, responded with surprise in her voice. “That’s Primus’s son?” Her eye still on him, she asked her husband, “Did you and Faith know him when you were younger?”
Ingram was studying him, too. “No, he was nearly a decade older than we were so I didn’t know him well. Did you, Faith?”
She shook her head negatively. “No.”
Ingram added, “He supposedly he went over to the French during the war.”
Faith wondered how Primus had felt about his son fighting for the supposed enemy.
Charity’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Was it my imagination or was he looking directly at you, Faith?”
Before Faith could form an answer, the commanding sound of Prince Hall’s voice rang out. “My friends! Let us begin.”
Standing beside him was Octavius Freeman, a brown-skinned man of average height.
Prince introduced him to the crowd. The applause that followed seemed to embarrass Freeman. He nodded shyly as he acknowledged their support.
Prince intoned, “Through ingenuity and hard work, Mr. Freeman has already amassed twenty of the eighty pounds his wife’s owners have set as the price. We know that many of you have given to his cause before, but if you have even an extra coin to spare, please place it in the basket circulating the room.”
When Nicholas Grey walked out to where the men stood, the crowd quieted. Faith caught the raised eyebrow Charity shot her way. A quick glance over at her father showed his tightly set lips. She wondered if he knew what Primus’s son was about to do or say.
With all eyes on him, he began, “Please excuse my interruption, but I’d like to offer Mr. Freeman the sixty pounds that he needs.”
While Prince and Freeman stared at him with shock, Grey reached into his coat and withdrew a small drawstring pouch. He handed it to Freeman, who took it with wide eyes.
Grey then said quietly, “May you and your wife have a long life.”
Wild applause erupted. Prince was shaking Grey’s hand as if he might break it off at the wrist. Her father appeared to be stunned, and beside him, Will Case looked both skeptical and irritated. Faith didn’t know what to think but found the gesture outstanding. Sixty pounds was an incredible amount of money to simply hand to a stranger. She wanted to believe that Primus was somewhere up above smiling down in response to the extraordinary gift.
Prince shouted for the crowd’s attention. Freeman seemed unable to look away from the pouch in his hand. By the distance in Grey’s manner it was hard to determine if he was pleased with the results of his charitable gesture or not.
As the crowd quieted, Prince said to them, “I’ve been told that due to poor health, Miss Wheatley wouldn’t be able to join us this afternoon, but I had no idea that in her stead we’d witness something equally as moving. Ladies and gentlemen, this generous man is Nicholas Grey, son of the late Primus Grey.”
Surprised gasps came just before yet another round of applause. Grey bowed gallantly and Faith heard some of the women nearby sigh aloud in response. She wondered if he was aware of how many eligible young ladies the community had. His splendid features and obvious wealth were sure to have their mothers eyeing him speculatively.
Prince then announced, “Well, I suppose, there’s no need for any speechmaking this afternoon, is there?”
Everyone laughingly agreed.
“Then let’s ask the ladies to set out the food and we’ll celebrate Mr. Freeman’s good fortune instead.”
As the crowd descended upon the men to offer their congratulations, Charity whispered to Faith, “Nicholas Grey is very nice to look at, isn’t he?”
Faith shook her head in amusement and wondered what Ingram might say if he knew his wife was eyeing Primus’s son like a lollipop. “We’re needed in the kitchen.”
As the buffet line formed and began to move, Blythe, who always headed up the women workers at such events, handed Faith a tray that held three plates piled high with offerings from the buffet. “Take this over to Prince, Nicholas, and Mr. Freeman. The way they’re being mobbed, the food will be gone by the time they manage to get over here to the table.”
Faith could see a large group of people waiting their turn to speak to the men and she agreed. Making her way through the crowd, she finally reached them and politely interrupted. “Mr. Hall, Blythe sent you food.”
Prince excused himself from the man he was talking with and took the tray. “Thank you, Miss Kingston, and thank the Widow Lawson for her foresight.”
Behind her, Faith could feel Grey’s presence as well as she could her own breathing. Grabbing hold of herself, she turned to face him.
“Miss Kingston. How are you?”
“I’m well, Mr. Grey.”
“Thank you for the food,” he said.
Looking into his eyes was like looking into flames. “You’re welcome.” She read a muted sort of amusement in his manner but she had no idea what it might stem from. “That was a very generous gift.”
“My father was a warrior for justice. I did it in his honor.”
She saw Prince hand a plate to Mr. Freeman, who turned to Faith and bowed.
In response, she said, “You’re welcome, sir.”
Grey hadn’t moved, however. He was still looking down at her and assessing her; for what, she had no idea.
Charity was right; he was nice to look at, especially up close. “I need to get back.”
He gave her a simple nod but continued to hold her eyes.
She heard someone behind him say, “Mr. Grey, I knew your father well . . .”
He turned away, and Faith and her wildly beating heart slipped back into the crowd. When she looked over at her father, he was frowning.
The event ended an hour so later. Mr. Freeman left to see to the freedom of his wife, and the crowd began to exit in twos and threes. Charity and Ingram left as well in order to retrieve their son. Faith and the remaining women were in the kitchen attending to the cleanup when her father walked in.
“Faith, some of the Tories would like to meet while we’re all in town. Would you mind riding back with Widow Lawson?”
“Not as long as she doesn’t mind.”
Blythe looked up from the dishes she was washing in a big iron tub. “I’d enjoy the company.”
Her father bowed. “Thank you, widow. Faith, I will see you this evening.”
“Be careful on the roads.”
He nodded and left them to their work.
The kitchen was set to rights a short time later and the women began to leave for their homes. While Blythe made room in the back of her wagon bed, Faith carried out the items that were going inside. The last load was a large, heavy crate holding kettles and the gridirons the meats had cooked upon. Struggling with the weight, she stepped outside and stopped at the sight of Nicholas Grey talking with Blythe beside the wagon. Upon seeing her so loaded down, he came to her aid.
“Let me help you.”
Without argument the grateful Faith passed him the crate. “Thank you.” He was chivalrous as well as generous. She reminded herself that he also held her father responsible for Primus’s arrest.
When they reached the wagon Blythe said, “I’ll be back in a few moments. I need to speak with Mrs. Carstairs before she drives off. Faith, make sure we didn’t leave anything behind.”
“I will.”
Blythe hurried away, calling to and waving at Mrs. Carstairs.
“Where would you like this placed?” he asked, bringing her attention back to him.
She indicated an empty spot near the front of the wagon bed and he set it down.
Avoiding his captivating eyes she said, “I’m going to run back in and do as she asked. Thank you again for your help.”
“I’m giving a reception next week so that I may meet more of the community. May I interest you in being my hostess?”
Faith stopped and said, “You know I can’t agree to such a proposal.”
“Suppose I hire you to provide the meal then?”
“At a price, I’m assuming?” She and her father could use some extra funds.
“Name it.”
Faith rattled off a price she hoped would make him choke and rescind his offer, but he met her eyes as blandly as if she’d quoted the temperature. “Fine,” he said to her. “I’ll stop by the inn tomorrow and we can discuss the menu.”
She almost choked. “You’d pay so much?”
Enjoying himself more than he ever thought he would, Nick said, “I’d pay twice that amount for your services, Miss Kingston.”
“You make it sound as if I’m offering something illicit.”
“Are you?”
&nb
sp; In response to his tone and his eyes, a shimmering warmth flooded Faith that she’d never experienced before. She managed to say, “Of course not.”
“Pity,” he replied softly.
He was so dazzling, she felt dizzy for a moment. Fighting to regain her equilibrium, she told him, “Go away,” but the demand lacked strength. He was entirely too handsome and volatile for such an inexperienced woman as herself.
“I’ll go, but only because if I don’t, I’ll be asking you rude questions like: Have you ever been kissed, Faith Kingston?”
Faith had to close her eyes or fall over.
“Good-bye, Miss Kingston.”
When she opened her eyes he was walking away. She fell back against the wagon with relief.
“Are you all right, dear?” Blythe asked, walking up.
Faith hastily straightened. “Yes. Are you ready to leave?”
Blyth turned to watch Nicholas ride away before turning back. She eyed Faith for a quiet moment before saying, “I’m ready when you are.”
Chapter 5
Did you know my father was passing secrets to the rebels?” Nicholas asked Blythe. During their short conversation outside the church, they’d arranged to meet here at her home after the fund-raisor so he could speak with her about his father’s arrest. They were seated in her well-furnished parlor.
“May I ask why you’d think I would?”
“Because of what you were to each other.”
She smiled softly, “And that was?”
“Friends. Confidants. Lovers.”
Her sigh of response barely rippled the silence. “I miss him so.”
Seated in a nearby chair, Nicholas waited.
“He was all of that to me and more. Much more. When I heard he’d been arrested I paid bribes, called in favors. I tried to move heaven and earth to get him released.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No. One of the soldiers said they wanted to make an example of him to the rest of the race as to how dangerous it is to support the rebels. They’re hoping we won’t get involved in the fight, but we already are, or at least some of us are. Men like Kingston and his Tories are the exception.”
Midnight Page 5