by H D Coulter
“Let’s all get some sleep and put the whisky down. Fresh heads for tomorrow,” George spoke calmly, but was still pushing Joshua with some force towards the stairs.
“Bea, I didn’t mean... you know I love her...” Joshua tried to move round George to get to his wife, but she had turned her back on him and made her way back to the fire. She spoke icily, and quietly, but loud enough for all to hear:
“Go to bed Joshua, and why not see if you can sleep. Whilst I will come up with a plan to get them back and do all I can to ensure they are both safe.”
“I will stay with Bea - you two get some rest.” Beth stared at George, both of them forming a plan together without needing any words.
The thick air hung around them, and nobody spoke, almost in anticipation of another explosion. Then Joshua turned and made his way up the stairs, George following cautiously behind. Bea heard the door slam and poured herself another whisky. She was either getting used to the taste, or needed it too much to care.
“You know he didn’t mean that?”
She rubbed her fingers deeply across her forehead. “My head is full of things I know and don’t know. Last night my husband asks me to change who I am so that he can continue climbing the ladder at work, when we already have a house and a lifestyle that serve our needs, then he tells me he doesn’t know if our love is enough for him, before leaving me for an entire night. Returning late the next day with the smell of cheap perfume all over his clothes. Now my daughter and my friend are missing, probably held against their will somewhere by Victor Hanley, all for the sake of his plan and disturbed mind...”
“You think Joshua... last night – there was perfume?” She glanced up the stairs and lowered her voice. “He wouldn’t be that foolish, would he? Surely it was just an unfortunate encounter with someone soliciting on the way home, or... the wife of an acquaintance...?”
“I don’t know! Beth, why is all this happening? I don’t know how much more I can take.” Bea finished the glass in one gulp and made her way for another one.
“I don’t think that will help.”
“It seems to help him.” Bea gestured through the ceiling and towards the bedroom.
There was nothing Beth could say to that, and so she watched Bea’s shaky hand pour another two glasses, passing one to her.
“No, I- I don’t think I’ll like that.”
But Bea wasn’t listening. She crouched down by the fire once more and stared at the flames. Beth knew she had to stop her sister from thinking the worst over and over in her head.
“So, what’s the next step in the plan? I know you’re forming one, you don’t have to pretend you’re helpless in front of me.” There was the smallest hint of a smile in Beth’s voice, and Bea appreciated it.
“My gut is telling me that Hanley has taken them – I don’t know why or how, but his words yesterday morning keep sounding in my head: “I’ll make you come to me.” So, that’s the next bit, really: where would he take them – are they still in the city, or does he have other plans?”
“Wait, when did this happen?”
“Hanley came to the house yesterday.” Beth tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “He told me he wasn’t ready to give us up – including Sarah. Except he didn’t call her Sarah, he called her Jessie. I think he wanted me to... to admit he was right about everything, somehow, and go to him. - Later that night, after Joshua stormed out, Sarah told me everything – what she went through to become free, only to come face to face with that man again, who had done her so much wrong. And now, he has two out of the three of us, just as he said. He’s probably waiting for me to come stumbling through his door too, in search of them, just so he can show me how foolish I was to think I could ever have a life on any terms but his.”
“But if you’re right – and that’s exactly what he wants, then he must keep them somewhere he can control, somewhere you would find yourself at a disadvantage. What is your gut telling you?”
“I don’t know.” Bea stabbed the fire. “– I don’t know, I can’t think straight right now. He knows this entire country better than I do – he could be anywhere! Oh god, what chance do we have at finding them?”
Beth grabbed Bea by the shoulders and stared her straight in the eyes. “We can’t think like that; we will find them. It is up to us to bring back our family.” For the first time, Bea saw a bright, familiar fire in her sister’s eyes: the Lightfoot fire.
“Yes!” They chinked the glasses together, grimaced, and downed the rest of the whisky.
THE FIRE WAS STILL burning when they awoke, but someone had still placed a blanket around them. But in the morning, nothing had changed. The house was strangely still. There was no Grace waking her up, calling out for her Mama, no noises or singing coming from the kitchen as Sarah made breakfast, or warm smells filtering up the stairs. It was as if the rooms were still asleep. Unable to wake. Bea’s engorged breasts ached sharply, another reminder that Grace was missing, and Bea was lost without her. At least Sarah was there; she would protect her as though she were her own. Bea glanced at the clock; it was already past nine and then back at Beth. There was a thick fog clouding her thoughts and blurring her vision, calling out for coffee. The result of too much whisky, and too much emotion. Downstairs, there was a used pan on the side covered in fat, and a lukewarm pot with a thick scum of coffee lining the bottom. The men must be gone for the day without having said a word to anyone. Maybe that was for the best. She added a couple more logs and sticks to the stove before filling up the coffeepot again and placing it back on the ring. As it rumbled, she made her way up to her bedroom.
Scattered in a pile on the floor were Joshua’s clothes from the night before. She lent down and picked up the shirt. The nauseous, feminine smell was still there; she had not imagined it. She threw it back on the ground and made her way to the wardrobe to pick out a clean dress for the day. There was already water in the bowl on the washing stand. She scooped up a handful and splashed it into her face. As she blinked rapidly, recovering from the cold, and the vigorous rubbing she had applied with the small hand towel hanging from the wash-stand, she made out, on her velvet chair, a neatly folded piece of paper.
My love,
I am deeply sorry for the last two nights, and what was spoken. Forgive me.
I am heading to the harbour with George to gather information on Hanley’s latest movements.
We will find them, my dearest, and make our family whole again.
I will see you tonight.
All my love, Joshua.
The paper fell from her hand, landing back on the seat upside down. Her heart was numb; she saw the words, but couldn’t wholly take them in.
She dressed and pinned her hair back up. Taking one last look at the tainted shirt on the floor, she closed the bedroom door behind her. Downstairs in the sitting room, the coffee pot sat steaming on the side, next to a pair of cups, and a wide-eyed Beth.
“I thought I would let you sleep.”
“The smell of the coffee woke me.”
“Joshua left a note in the bedroom. The men have gone down to the harbour.” There was still a bitterness to her voice. Beth nodded and sipped her coffee.
“Did you want any food? I couldn’t stomach it, but if you want something, I’ll-”
“No, no, I’m fine for now – those two glasses of whisky would not agree with any breakfast.” Beth pulled a face, and Bea couldn’t help but chuckle.
They drank the rest of the coffee in silence.
“I’m going to get changed too.” Beth placed her cup on the side just as a large knock came from the front door.
Bea shot to her feet and ran to open it.
“Mr Winston, please come in.” Bea stood to one side and allowed him to pass. “Can I get you a tea, or a coffee?”
“Thank you, but no.” Again, he hovered in the doorway to the sitting room, refusing to enter and take a seat. “I have some news. I wanted to tell you straight away. A member of the commun
ity spoke to an informer at the docks who spotted Hanley leaving on his ship yesterday... with an infant, and a black woman.”
“Oh god, I knew it! Do they know where he went?”
“No – but I have my suspicions. I believe he has taken them to his plantation.”
“Where Sarah escaped from?”
“How are we going to get them back?” Beth stepped closer to her sister.
“By the laws of the South, he still owns Sarah; she is his property, and, forgive me for saying this, but Sarah told me something of your situation: your child is also his?” He raised his eyebrows at her, but there was no judgement in his tone.
“Sarah told you?”
“We hold no secrets.” Bea could see the love and the pain in his face all at once and what he must be going through too.
“Then, what can we do – we must be able to do something?”
“I have sent a letter to a conductor.” He instinctively lowered his voice as if the walls themselves had ears. “I will then be able to get news of them as soon as they arrive back at Drayton Hall.”
“No.” Mr Winston and Beth looked at Bea, both concerned at her tone. Beth put a hand on her arm, as though about to speak. Bea continued. “She is my child, my family. I have to do something, I cannot stand by and wait for letters or news.”
“But what do you propose to do – go down there yourself?” He said in disbelief.
“Don’t you see, that’s what he wants... That’s all he wants! He said to us, all of us, ‘You will come to me, the three of you.’ The only way I will get my baby back is to do it myself; to make him think he has won. If anyone else tries to act in my place, he will only twist the knife in harder. I will travel to the south, and bring them back, somehow. I am a white woman of some class now; nobody will look twice at me.”
“By yourself? It is not safe – you don’t know...”
“I will go with her.” Beth interrupted, placing a hand on Bea’s shoulder. Her sister nodded.
“We can say we are visiting family.”
The activist shook his head vehemently. “You may well be able to travel through to the Southern states, but getting your child and Sarah free is another matter.”
“I have faced Hanley before. I’m not afraid of him anymore; not now. I will do anything for my family, to get them back home again. With or without your help.”
Mr Winston saw the determination on her face. It might just work. Two white women, dressed well, travelling together to visit family wouldn’t attract too much attention, if they could rely on some kind of support network. “What about your husband?”
Bea swallowed. “It will only be the two of us.” Beth squeezed her hand. Their companion sighed, then bowed his head slightly. Looking up at them with a small smile, he held out both hands to the sisters.
“Meet me at the harbour in an hour.”
Chapter 34
“What are you going to tell Joshua?” asked Beth bluntly.
Bea shrugged her shoulders, as if suggesting there was only one option open to them. “I’ll write him a letter – if I told him now, I know he would try to stop us, say there is another way and I can’t have that. I truly believe this is the only way to get them both back.”
“He might want to come and help us. Having a man at our back could be useful.” Beth saw the stubborn side of her Da in Bea.
“He can’t leave work for that amount of time; he wouldn’t have a job to go back to, and he wouldn’t risk that.” Bea took another sip of her coffee as she tried to come up with what she was going to say to her husband.
“Surely that won’t matter compared to the chance of getting his daughter back?”
“You heard him last night. He doesn’t want to risk losing this. – I know he fought hard for me once, but I don’t know how far he would go for Grace and Sarah.” The pain of betrayal was still biting in her chest. “I will go as far as I need to. Can you honestly tell me he would let me?”
“Now Bea, you know that was said through a haze of drink, pain and anger.”
“I know him well enough – he meant it.”
“He loves that little girl, adores her, even.”
Bea placed down her cup back on the side table.
“Grace grew inside of me, right here. I fought so hard to bring her into this world. A mother’s love is different, its hard to explain but I would sacrifice myself for her... And if Hanley wasn’t coming after me, he wouldn’t have found Sarah and now... she has become family, another sister, I can’t let her live that life once more.” Bea paused, images of Sarah’s story flashing in her mind. “I promised, and it is my job to protect Grace from life’s evils, including her natural father... never mind him bringing her up in that world. It is time for him to be stopped.”
Beth grabbed hold of Bea’s hand and looked her straight in the eyes. “I am with you every step of the way – I just wanted to check that you had thought it through.”
“I have.”
“Then I will pack us a small trunk, and we will take our finest clothes; it will look more realistic if we have luggage for a family visit. You write your letter to Joshua, before the carriage gets here.”
Bea sat and stared at the blank piece of paper whilst Beth charged up and down the stairs carrying random items of clothing and small trinkets. What could she say to Joshua that would make him truly understand, without leaving him angry and feeling betrayed once again, severing their love for good? At least this way he could still keep his job, and his reputation; still have all this... what really mattered to him. She wrote.
Beth answered the knock at the door as Bea placed the letter carefully on the mantelpiece.
“Yes, we are, thank you... could you take this trunk please?”
“Very good miss.” The coachman nodded his head and lifted the heavy trunk with ease down to the carriage.
“Are you ready?” asked Beth, placing a travelling cloak round her shoulders.
“Yes.” Bea gazed around her home one last time, as if saying goodbye. “Oh – did you pack some things for Grace and Sarah?”
“Yes.”
Bea gently placed a hand on Beth’s shoulders. She was so grateful to have her sister with her this time. “Thank you for doing this, for coming with me.” Beth smiled at her warmly.
“I promised myself a long time ago that I would not let you go through anything alone again.”
“I love you.” Bea pulled her in her tightly.
“I love you too.”
THE HARBOUR WAS BUSY, loud, with men heaving cargo into the warehouses lining the banks. The carriage weaved in and out of traffic until it came to a stop in front of the same narrow pier that they had brought her to several nights before. Three ships stood in front of her, two as large as the fells she left behind in Ulverston, and a smaller vessel to their left. Mr Winston appeared at the top of the hazardous gangway connecting this lesser ship to the pier and walked down it quickly towards them.
“Mrs Mason, Miss Lightfoot.”
“Good morning, sir.” There was a determination to Bea’s voice that needed no further expansion.
“Please load the trunks on board, my good man,” Mr Winston instructed the ruddy-faced coachman. Then he turned back to Bea.
“You have a shared quarter on board; this is my ship, and the men are mine as well. I trust them, and know you will come to no harm during your journey, under their watch. A man called Jeb will meet you once you reach the docks in Georgia. - Once I left you, I sent word on a smaller, faster vessel that I use occasionally. But, the ship will leave you, and will return in two weeks. This is all the time I could give you; after that it will be another two months before it returns to the Carolinas. But I am warning you, if Hanley hears about a Mrs Mason or Miss Lightfoot in the area, he will learn about it. I would be surprised if he does not have eyes and ears in most of the larger towns. You must use false names. Jeb will know you from my description. He will greet you with the words: ‘The sky is clearing’; you must
reply ‘Yes, it looks like sunshine.”
“Thank you,” said Bea, placing a hand on his arm. “She is still alive – he needs her to look after Grace.” He nodded and shook first Bea’s and then Beth’s hands without a word.
For a moment, as they mounted the last feet of the gangway to the deck, Bea thought she glimpsed Joshua, six or seven docking stations up the boulevard, but she blinked hard, and told herself she was just imagining things. Grasping Beth’s hand, she took one last glance back to the chimney-pots of Beacon Hill, and pulled her skirts over the foot-rope and onto the creaking wooden deck. I’m coming, my love, I’m coming.
A WEEK HAD PASSED, and at last land was in sight. They packed their trunks quickly and paid their respects quietly to the captain and his crew. The small stone harbour shifted under their feet, unaccustomed to a stationary surface, and they grasped one another’s arms, as though standing on ice. A member of the crew helped them with their luggage as they stood there, awkwardly, unsure whether to make the first move. No one had really told them what Jeb looked like, and there were a handful of men standing around with various carts and wagons waiting for cargo to be unloaded that might be the guide they were looking for. Then Bea noticed one man standing beside a cart full of scrap metal. He seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties, his skin slightly darker than most other local traders, and she thought he kept glancing their way, all the while monitoring the positions of his neighbours. One by one the other men approached the sailors and gave them sheets of paper, before being allowed to load goods onto their wagon. But the man Bea had spotted stayed put. Once most of the men were satisfied, and the small harbour was almost empty, the stranger walked forward. His expression was blank, and his broad frame stood out proudly from under his clothes, which were covered with soot.
“The sky is clearing.”
“It looks like sunshine.”
“Come this way.” He grabbed hold of their trunk with a barely perceptible smile as they followed in silence.