by H D Coulter
“Rabbit?”
Bea chuckled at the look Sarah gave her. A knock on the back door interrupted, “My Da...”.
Sarah opened the door to the small runner boy she uses occasionally.
“Miss Sarah, I have a note for you.” Sarah stared at the handwriting on the paper. “That smells good.” The boy commented as he walked closer to the stove.
“If you come back in a couple of hours, Sam, you can have a bowl if you like?” Bea could hear the crack of wax and the unfolding of paper as she reached for a plate on the kitchen table. “In the meantime, would you like a biscuit?”
“Cheers, Mrs Mason.” Sam took one for his hand and two for his pocket.
“Sam, tell him I’m on my way.” Sarah placed a dime in his hand, “go quick.” He nodded his head as if reading her mind and bolted out the back door.
Sarah took her apron off and walked over to the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” Bea called out.
“Nothing, Mr Winston needs help with a matter.”
“Sarah, I know when you’re withholding from me. Let me help if I can be of use.” Sarah paused on the first step. “Please, Sarah.”
“Bea, you haven’t been out of the house in months, and it is too risky. I thank you for the offer, but please stay here with Beth and Grace.” Sarah turned back around and headed up the stairs with Bea following her.
“Why is it risky? What’s wrong?”
“It is an urgent matter for the meeting house Mr Winston needs help with. Bea, I don’t have...” Sarah placed on her cloak.
“I’m coming with you. I want to help.”
“Bea...”
“Why take me to the meetings if not to help?” She grabbed her cloak from the hook as Sarah opened the hallway cupboard and took out a large bag. “Let me tell Beth we are leaving.”
Sarah nodded her head, knowing she would not win this battle. In a matter of seconds, Bea was back downstairs and followed Sarah out the front door to a waiting carriage.
BEA REMAINED SILENT on the ride, watching them pass the unfamiliar houses as the carriage headed down the south slope. The children played in the narrow streets, running alongside certain carriages. They were all skin and bone, with their dirty rags hanging off their slim frames. It brought her back to the scene she had witnessed in Ulverston, when Joshua came to her aid as she helped poor David to his feet. It had only been a few years. But how readily she had forgotten. That even across a vast ocean, people, living conditions, hunger, never changes. Even in Boston, on Beacon Hill, they force families to work night and day with little to show in their pockets and no food on the table. A surge of guilt hit her that she was now in this comfortable position, able to afford fine pieces of meat from the butchers when there were others starving. What would her Da say or do?
The streets gave way to the harbour. A scene she had not seen since she first arrived. She glanced around for a sighting of Joshua. What would he say if he saw them now? Without realising it, she leant back, away from the carriage window. The harbour was loud from men shouting to one another as they removed crates from the ships. Horse’s hooves clicking against the cobles as carts slipped past, and the overwhelming smell of manure mixed in with salt and burning wood filtered in through the window.
“Bea, when we get out – what you will see might shock you at first, stay close and I will tell you what needs doing.”
Bea spun the lace around her wrist and nodded. “Don’t worry about me. Just tell me how I can help.”
The carriage stopped in front of a warehouse. The door opened and Mr Winston greeted them.
“Sarah, thank you for coming – Mrs Mason?”
“She wanted to help.”
He gave Sarah a disapproval look before continuing. “Martha is inside waiting for you.”
“Is it bad?”
“They lost one on the journey.” Mr Winston said in a disappointed tone. He opened the door to a vast, dark room filled with large wooden shipping crates as he held a lantern out in front of him, lighting the path. Bea felt her heart beating fast in her throat as past images flashed into her mind. She felt her hand being grabbed as Sarah glanced back at her. Slowing her breathing down once more. Mr Winston placed the lantern on a crate as he moved it to one side, revealing a hidden door. He picked the lantern back up and signalled for them to follow him. Bea’s eyes adjusted to the warm light which filled the secret room and couldn’t believe what she saw.
In front of her were five metal framed beds. Men, women and a single child occupied three of them. One man looked injured, whilst they lay the other man on a table with a woman bent over him.
“Martha, Sarah has arrived.” Mr Winston announced.
“Sarah, did you bring your bag? Good, I need more cloth.” The woman glanced back as Sarah instantly made her way over to the bent over woman.
“Miss Fisher?” Bea remarked, struggling to comprehend.
“Mrs Mason?” Said Martha, mirroring the same tone.
“She came to help.” Added Sarah.
“Then come here, I need you to hold this.” The command shook Bea out of her daze. She took off her cloak and stood next to Miss Fisher and placed her hand on top of the blood-soaked cloth and pressed down on the man’s thigh. “Firmly and when I tell you, I want you to lift off the cloth whilst I replace it with another.” Bea nodded. It was a strange sensation as the warm, red liquid pooled over her fingers and stained her hands. She gazed at the unconscious man. His black skin had a tinge of grey and yellow to it and looked like he had already crossed the veil. Without warning, a flash of Mr Gregson’s face and his eyes, void of life, crashed into her head as the smell of blood filled her senses. “Now.” Martha’s stern voice brought her back to the present. Bea lifted the heavy rags off the gaping hole and dropped them to the floor. “Press down again.” Bea watched as the blood seeped into the cream rags, creating shapes before it consumed it completely. “Keep your hands there. I need the bleeding to slow down before I can sow the wound shut.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She watched Miss Fisher make her way to the other wounded man. Standing side by side of Sarah as they worked together on the man’s shoulder. What happened to these people? She noticed the Mother and child clinging on to one another, staring at Bea with a fearful, suspicious look. Then she realised she was the only white person in the room. For them, she represented what they had escaped from, who did this to these people. Bea shifted her gaze on to Mr Winston, who was talking to another man on the far side of the room. He had his back towards her, and the other man held his head low. She couldn’t see his face, but could tell they were deep in conversation. He planned all this; he was the one who helped these former slaves to freedom; but how?
Without noticing, Miss Fisher was standing next to her once more, lifting her hand. “Good, the bleeding is slowing down. Pass me a needle and thread.”
Bea took her hand off Miss Fishers and made her way to a small table where everything was laid out. There was a bobbin of blue cotton thread, a knife, and a small, dented metal tin with a few scattered needles in it alongside a stack of torn pieces of fabric. As Bea reached out for the thread, she noticed her hands covered in blood. Her heart raced as the same images flashed into her mind, but before they could take hold, she shook them free. Not now. She searched for a cloth to wipe them clean. “Now Mrs Mason.” Without thinking, Bea wiped her hands across her dress and then grabbed hold of the thread, cut a yard off with the knife and picked up a needle.
“Good. Now I need you to stand at his head. He might stir or wake whilst I do this. You need to hold him down and try to calm his nerves. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Bea said firmly. She gently placed each hand on his shoulders and felt the muscles underneath contract at Miss Fisher’s actions. Her face was calm, as if it were a sock she was mending. Bring together all the threads to create a single line. But the more she sowed, the more the man stirred.
Without warning, the ma
n’s eyes shot open with a look of horror in them as he stared straight at Bea. “No.” He yelled out and tried to move from her hold. A coat of sweat covered his skin as he cried out in pain.
“Please, you need to stay still. Miss Fisher is healing your leg.” Bea whispered.
“Find something to bite on to, I’ll take over.” Mr Winston slid his hands over Bea’s as she pulled hers out. “Calm, you are free, and we are fixing you.”
Bea raced over to Sarah’s bag and searched for a wooden peg, something.
“Here.” Sarah put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a wooden peg before turning her attention to her man.
“Thank you.” Bea grabbed the peg and raced back to man crying out in pain. “Bite down on this.”
“Bite down.” Mr Winston repeated. The man shifted his gaze and did as he commanded.
AFTER THEY DID ALL they could, Sarah and Miss Fisher packed the wounds with moss and herbs, as they had done on Bea, and then wrapped them with a clean cloth.
“The cart is outside waiting. It is dark enough to transport them to the boarding house.”
“I will come with you. They need some tea for the swelling, and I’ll stay to watch them through the night.” Ordered Miss Fisher.
“Thank you, Sarah – and Mrs Mason, for your help this evening.” Mr Winston hovered, reaching out his hand to shake. Sarah took it and removed her hand just as fast. Glancing up at his face and blushing at his smile.
“I’ll come by in the morning and help, but we had better be going.” Sarah turned and gathered her supplies back into her bag.
Mr Winston enclosed his hand around Bea’s. “Thank you for coming.” Bea was void of words and replied with a smile. She carried Sarah’s bag as she helped the wounded man back through the warehouse and on to the cart. The harbour was quiet now, with only a few men gathered around the fire pits darted along the wharf, waiting for their next shipment.
“You and Mrs Mason take the carriage back. I will ride with the cart.”
“Thank you, Abe. I will be round at eight.” He nodded his head and turned towards Bea.
“You’re made of stronger stuff than I had imagined.” And he smiled at her filthy, bloodstained dress.
“If I can help, please let me know.” He replied with a tilt of his head.
IN THE SHADOWS, HANLEY watched as they loaded the black slaves into the cart, followed by Bea and then someone he hadn’t expected to see. It had been fourteen years since Jessie had escaped. And even though she had aged, he knew it was her. But what was she doing standing next to Bea?
Chapter 28
The night before, Sarah hid their dresses in the wash house as they came up with excuses for their late outing. The meal had been served and finished. Beth and Grace were settled in their beds, whilst Joshua was in his study. The house was still and quiet. Bea tried to process what she had seen and her newfound regard towards the members of the meeting house. Was it the link she was looking for regarding the underground railroad?
JOSHUA HAD BOUGHT THE explanation of her joining a new charity, helping the poor, which she fully intended to do today. Beth knew a charity connected to the school she volunteered at and gave her the address before she left for the day.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Said Sarah as she stacked the wooden blocks in a tower alongside Grace.
“No, but thank you. I think its best if I go alone.” Bea smiled as she watched them play. “Yesterday, when we were in the carriage, for a moment I had forgotten what it was to be poor and what I had seen in Ulverston could be mirrored in any town. When I saw those children and the living conditions on the Southside – I realised I need to do more to give back, and I’m now in a position I can do that.”
“Don’t be so harsh on yourself and you are giving back what you did for those people last night and – being a mother. You needed time to heal. But it is good that you want to reach out. I think...” Sarah paused for a moment. “You need to tell Joshua the truth and that you are part of the meeting house. He will find out one day and it’s best if it came from you. What are you worried about?”
Sarah was right, she needed to tell him. She felt awful lying to him this morning, but she also knew that he might put a stop to it and that couldn’t happen.
A knock at the door cause them both to jump. “Are you expecting anyone?” Asked Sarah.
“No.” Bea held her hand out to stop Sarah from rising. “I’ll get it.” She smoothed down her dress, double checked her pieces of lace covering up the scars, and saw her unruly auburn hair flying out of her bun in the mirror before opening the door. But she wasn’t ready for what she saw. “Captain Hanley?”
He stood there in a gentleman suit, the same one she had seen at the christening. His skin still held a honey tone to it, although it had seen a winter in Boston. He was clean and respectable to anyone seeing him at the door, but his scent remained. Bea took a deep breath as images flashed into her mind. Not now.
“I thought it was about time we had a brief chat and for me to finally meet my daughter.” He placed his worn leather boot across the doorway. There was no closing it now.
Bea instinctively backed away from the door and stood in front of Grace as he closed the door behind him.
“She’s not your daughter, Captain Hanley. She is Joshua’s child.”
“We both know that not to be true.” He gave her a suggested grin that brought an old pain to shoot through her body and catch in her throat. “I give him credit for taking on another man’s child, but I am her father.” Hanley pulled out his pipe and filled it from a pouch in his pocket. Behind Bea, Sarah picked Grace off the floor and held her tight. “You can’t hide behind Beatrice, Jessie.”
“Jessie? Her name is Sarah, and she is part of this family.” Bea watched him as he walked into the sitting room, towards the fireplace.
“Would you mind?” He picked up a splinter of wood by the fire and lit it without waiting for a reply. A billow of smoke engulfed his face. “I think someone hasn’t been telling the truth. Jessie here is my slave, my property, who ran off some fourteen years past, but she is still mine. Just like you are and so is the child.” His tone was smooth, like silk. He exhaled another cloud before taking a seat in the armchair by the fire.
“She is not your child – she is mine; she is loved, she is innocent.” Bea could feel herself getting pulled back into the dark pit. Using all her strength, she yanked herself back to the present. “None of us, belong to you. I think you had better leave.” Bea reproached, stepping between them once more.
“That’s the fire I love.” He jumped to his feet like an excited child and stepped in front of her. “At the trial it had gone out, I would have thought you’d have fought harder, but you gave up.” He reached out to touch her face. Bea battered it away and took a step back.
“What you did, broke me. Why? Why did you do it?” Her voice cracked. She reached her arms around her back, protecting them.
“Look what came of it, my sweet daughter.” There was a laughter to his voice that brought a chill to the stuffy room.
“What do you want?”
“I want what is mine. You think what you have here is real, but it’s all a delusion. The boy trying to rebuild what he lost because of you. Forcing you to play a role which isn’t you. This society, his society. I have been watching and I know you’re not happy, unless you’re sneaking around behind his back. What would he say if he knew?”
“You can’t tear us apart. You’ve already tried that, and it didn’t work. Is that your plan?”
“I gave him this,” gesturing to the house and placed his pipe on the mantlepiece. “And I can take it all away, unless...”
“Unless what?” The anger was exploding out of her as she stared up at him, causing him to grin. Grace behind her began crying as Sarah gently bounced the little one in her arms. “I’m not yours. I never was. Neither is Sarah nor Grace. I think you are the delusional one here, Victor.”
He leaned in
further, his face floating above hers. She could see the lines under his eyes and whispered, “we shall see about that.” Bea took a step back and glanced at Sarah, holding Grace with a fearful look on her face. “I will make you come to me. All of you.” He said a little louder, pointing at each one.
“Leave!” Bea bellowed.
Hanley strode around Bea and tried to stroke Grace’s cheek as Sarah pulled her away. “It’s good to see you again, Jessie. What luck.” He laughed as he pulled his hand back.
Bea moved towards the door and held it open for him. “Leave.” She repeated with a more of a controlled voice.
He stopped in front of her, leaned in, and said. “You loved me first, you’ll love me last.”
“Goodbye, Captain Hanley.”
“See you again soon, Mrs Mason.” As soon as Hanley stepped over the threshold, Bea slammed the door shut.
Sarah turned pale and placed Grace back onto the rug. “How? Why?”
A nauseous sensation surged in her gut and knew she had brought this man back into her life.
“You know, Hanley? Was he...” Sarah quickly raced into the hallway and grabbed her cloak.
“Not now – I need to find Winston.” Sarah turned back around and faced Bea. “Once Grace is down tonight, I will tell you all of it, my journey and the part that man played in it, but for now, I must find Winston.” She turned, checked to see if Hanley had left, and dashed out the door.
Chapter 29
Joshua spent the morning going over his papers as George flitted in and out of the office, either bringing fresh cups of coffee or more papers for Joshua to go over. He tried to remove Hanley from his thoughts. Convincing himself that he couldn’t do anything. None of them had done anything wrong and exposing their past would only expose Hanley to his? Today Joshua worked through lunch to clock off early to spend more time with the family.