by H D Coulter
“Mama.” Her little voice formed the words with a kind of brave delight, and she crawled towards her mother eagerly.
Bea couldn’t stop the tears from starting at the sight of her child. It had been over two weeks; how much she had changed. “My darling... My baby! How much I have missed you. Look at you crawling to Mama.” Grace stumbled a few times and Bea made to move closer and pick her up, but Sarah placed her hand out to wait, showing her how strong her daughter had become. As Grace reached Bea, she scooped her up, pressing her little body against her chest, feeling how she had grown since last she had held her.
“I love you, my little one... how much Mama has missed you. But I’m back now, and will never leave you again.”
Hanley crouched down beside Bea and stroked Grace’s cheek, which had become wet from Bea’s tears. To her surprise, at this gesture, Grace turned her head and held her hands out for him to take her. Without a word, he slipped his broad hands in between Bea and her child, and slid her into his arms, Grace beaming up at him, overexcited at the sight of her Mama after so long a separation. “We have become very fond of each other, haven’t we, my sweetheart?”
Bea wanted to snatch Grace back, to shout at him, to never take her baby away from her again, but she held her tongue. She glanced at Sarah, who was giving her a warning look. How much she had missed her friend. Bea stood up and walked over to her, took the outstretched hand.
“It is good to see you again. Are you?” Bea muttered under her breath.
“No.” She confirmed, shaking her head. “I have stayed with Grace the whole time.”
“Jessie was about to get Grace ready for bed and give her a bath. Would you like to stay and help? We can have dinner in an hour?”
“Can I? I would be so grateful.” Bea gave Hanley a broad smile, playing the dutiful lady.
“Of course, you will want to spend as much time as possible with them. I will see you in the dining room in an hour.” He handed Grace back into Bea’s longing arms.
“Thank you, Victor.”
Bea noted his expression at her using his christian name. Hanley was both his name and his trademark, like his father before him. He didn’t say another word, gave them all a deep bow and then left, closing the door behind him.
Bea paused for a minute, waiting to hear the footsteps head down the hallway. “Thank you, Sarah, for taking care of Grace – I am so... He hasn’t hurt you?”
“No, not a jot... he has kept me by Grace’s side the whole time like a true nurse, thank goodness. I didn’t know if...”
“Of course I came for you – so did Beth - and Joshua and George followed too, ignoring my request.” Bea pulled a familiar look that reminded Sarah of Beacon Hill.
“You have a...” The nursery door opened, and two black women came through with a small copper bath for Grace. They were all dressed in the same peacock blue the uniform for Drayton house slaves.
Sarah pointed to a spot in front of the fire as Gabby came in, holding one jug of boiling water and another of cold. Bea could see they weren’t exactly happy talking orders from Jessie, but no one spoke out of turn. They gave Bea a wary look as they brought in two more jugs of water, adding slosh after slosh until Sarah was happy with the temperature.
She stood up and moved closer to Gabby. “We are leaving. Come with us. I left you behind last time. You are strong enough to make this journey; you don’t belong here.” Bea tried to stop Sarah after her first words, but it was already too late.
“When? With them?” Gabby spun round and studied her former friend, aghast.
“Yes. I will send word to you when it is time.”
Gabby stepped closer to Sarah sharply, causing Bea to rise to her feet. “Tell me now!”
“Gabby, we must trust each other. If everythin’ goes to plan, I will come and find you.” The sound of footsteps grew closer once more from down the corridor.
Gabby left quickly in the opposite direction and made her way down the stairs. Bea kept her eyes on the doorway for a few moments, her mind full, feeling intensely uneasy.
“Do you think... do you think that was right, to tell Gabby? What if she tells Hanley?” she whispered, as Sarah came to sit beside them once more.
“I owe her... the last time I fled, I felt that... it doesn’t matter, the point is, I left her behind. From the mark on her face... he took his anger out on her when he couldn’t find me. She was only fifteen.”
Bea saw the guilt Sarah held. “I trust you. So if you trust her, then it’s fine with me. I just hope she is as brave as you, for all our sakes.”
“SHE HAS GROWN SO MUCH - and in the space of just a few weeks.” Bea held her naked baby out in front of her, inspecting her delightedly, as she wriggled around in her hands, excited for her bath. She noticed how her form had changed; how her legs and arms were slimmer somehow, no longer those of a chubby baby. She was becoming a young child now, a little girl who was growing into herself.
She placed the bouncing Grace into the bathwater, which she splashed about instantly, making little noises as her imagination came alive. Bea couldn’t help but laugh along with her daughter as she played in the water. When Sarah joined in too, it felt as though no time had passed at all and they were back in Beacon Hill, almost a family once more. A thought came to her: the chase had changed for Hanley. She had seen it as he held Grace, the love he had for her – or his version of what love was... he would never give that up. There was only one way this could end with Grace, Joshua, Sarah and herself being free from him forever.
Sarah laid the thick cloth on the rug beside them. “We don’t have long; you’ll need to freshen up soon.” Bea noticed how Sarah’s voice had changed, her accent taking on a southern twang again. “I have found our way off the plantation. Each mornin’ Hanley struts me and this little one, around the grounds, showing off what he says will be hers one day – well, one o’ those times I saw a small path leadin’ north through the swamp.”
“Swamp?” Bea’s expression reflected the image that flashed into her mind; the pair of them wading slowly through treacherous swamps in the darkness, clutching Grace as Hanley raced after them.
“Swamp land and mountains surround the north in Georgia, that’s why it is so hard to find freedom headin’ out by foot. Winston came up with the plan for us folk to head east to the sea, and secure tradin’ ships. But that only helped a few, else they’d have caught on to us; the rest had to try the way north.”
“He misses you. I think that’s why he has been helping me.” Bea gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry.”
“You need to stop saying you’re sorry! None of this is your fault. I knew the chances of bein’ found and brought back.”
“There are laws against what he did.”
“It doesn’t matter, law or no law, to them I’m property, an’ reputation come to that. Ain’t no white man in these parts goin’ to turn a blind eye to a double-escape. They will always want what they own.” Sarah shook her head as the old, morose thoughts spun webs in her mind.
“But we can’t head north; they are waiting for us eastward, at a dock on the river.”
“If we head through the swamps, the tracks will show less, and show North, but from the woodlands, past the mire-edge, I know a way back round to the river.”
“On foot?” Bea picked up Grace, swaddled tight in towels, holding her tight against her body.
“Unless you have a carriage or a cart, it’s by foot - we can strap Grace to us – if we are to run, this is the only way.” Bea saw the determination in Sarah’s face and nodded.
“It has to be tonight, to meet the boat.”
“You keep the Captain happy and I will pack what we need.” Sarah rose to her feet and walked over to a small wooden chest in the corner of the room. She opened the lid and dug her hand in deep and pulling out a blanket. She laid it out in front of Bea and unwrapped it like it was Grace in her hands. The silver sparkled in the fading sunlight before she realised what she was actually looking at.<
br />
“Where on earth did you find that?” Bea said in a harsh whisper.
“The community smuggled it in.”
“Sarah... we can’t...”
“We might need to fight, and this will help.” Sarah covered up the loot and gave Bea an uncompromising stare. “He won’t think we have this. The men, the slave catchers he’ll send after us, won’t expect it either. I ain’t coming back here ever again. I will find my freedom again, or die trying.”
The new reality weighed heavy on her and the journey ahead of them. With a small smile, Bea passed the now sleepy Grace to Sarah, and gave her a light kiss on her head. “Mama loves you, darling.”
She stood up, straightened down her skirt, and fixed her hair in the mirror. It was the best she could manage. She moved to the door as Sarah stepped forward, leaned in and gave Bea a hug with Grace still in her arms, who seemed to enjoy being sandwiched between the two sweetly scented bodices. Sarah slipped a small parcel from her pocket and slid it into Bea’s hand. “You know what to do.”
Chapter 41
Hotel, Georgia.
“What do you mean she has left – again?”
“Hanley invited her to the house – what could she do? He found out that she is here; I don’t know about you two– we thought it was the best chance to get them out. We are running out of time... Unless you have a better plan?” Beth rounded on Joshua, her stern voice more than a match for his anger, and it remained him of Bea, always fixed in her resilience.
“We need to trust Bea; she always has a plan,” interjected George, stepping between them.
“She told me where to meet her tonight, with Grace and Sarah.” Beth waved the letter Bea left with instructions.
“Where?” George held his hand to see the note.
“We need to get hold of a boat and meet her at an old dock up the river.” Beth turned her back and continued to pack the wooden chest.
“And what if she doesn’t turn up?” Joshua couldn’t stop fidgeting. Shuffling on the spot, opening and closing his fists as he fought against sinister thoughts.
“She will be there.” Beth replied with an irritated tone. “So we need to be ready for when she is.”
Joshua marched over to George and asked to read the letter. He slumped down at the writing desk and studied each word to form a plan. Beth continued to throw clothes at the trunk in silence. Whilst George looked like he was drawing in the air as he mumbled to himself.
“So,” Joshua said, smiling ever so slightly, “Where are we going to get our hands on this boat? I have a plan.”
Chapter 42
Drayton hall, Georgia.
DRAYTON BUTLER STOOD at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Bea. “Mr Hanley kindly asks if you would join him in the drawing room before they serve dinner, Mistress.”
Her body gave an involuntary shudder at the name. “Thank you.”
“If you would follow me, Mistress.” Bea walked behind him, her dress making a crunching, shuffling sound down the echoing corridor. A door stood ajar, the warm illumination from within flooding the end of the hallway. Her hand picked at a loose thread from her lace. She couldn’t shake the nauseous feeling in her gut. For Grace, she told herself, for my family.
Hanley stood grandly against the light of the fire, a large glass of whisky in his hand. The butler strode behind Bea and picked up a silver tray from a sideboard, offering Bea a glass of wine.
“I wasn’t sure of your newfound tastes in such liquors.”
“Wine is... thank you...” Her hand shook a little as she reached out to take the glass.
“Please.” Hanley placed his hand out to suggest one of the comfy seats beside him as he himself took one.
Bea took little slips of the delicious wine. She felt her nerves subside a little as she drank. Silence fell between them. What was there to talk about in this mirage of an occasion?
Hanley held his glass out for the butler to refill. “Thank you, Albert. So, Beatrice: how are you finding your first visit to the South?”
Bea, taken back by such a civil question, paused before speaking. “I- ah... hot, the heat is sticky.”
“Yes, nothing like Ulverston.” He let out a small chuckle. “It can be quite hard to acclimatise to it at first, but I’m sure in time you’ll settle in around here.”
Settle in? He’s expecting her to stick around, and this was now home. She hadn’t realised she had finished it until she found Albert topping up her glass. The wine tasted good, and she enjoyed the relaxing sensation it brought, but she couldn’t let her guard down. She cast her gaze around the room; anything to avoid casual eye contact with the man who had violated her, tried to take her life and now kidnapped her child.
The silence was deafening. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, ask him why. But that wasn’t part of his game, and she had to play by his rules. Tonight, however, he wasn’t his usual aggressively self-assured self; he seemed nervous somehow as he drank another glass of whiskey.
“You have a lovely home.” The words stuck in her mouth as if she was chewing on a stale biscuit.
“You think so? I don’t find that I can spend as much time as I would like here. I bought it just over fifteen years ago from another British family. It makes a pleasant home with a child about – you and Grace would be happy here. She is a merry girl -,” he smiled as if reliving a memory of her laughing, “you have done an outstanding job of raising her.” He reached his hand out and gently placed it on top of her own. He did not grip it, did not stroke it. Instead, simply pressed her hand into the arm of the chaise. His touch felt strange. As if it was his twin sitting next to her.
Bea took another sip. Her throat was dry and had an unusual taste. “Thank you... I dearly love her – I couldn’t....” She stammered.
At the sound of the dinner bell chiming in the distance, Albert reappeared and politely cut her off. Hanley removed his hand and sat back in his own seat.
“Dinner is ready, sir.”
“Thank you, Albert.” Hanley rose to his feet and gave the empty glass back to the butler. “Shall we?” He held out his other hand in front of Bea for her to take.
“Thank you.” This time she placed her hand gently on top of his, shutting off her emotions. It was all a game. Albert held out the silver tray to collect her own half-finished glass of wine as Hanley guided her out of the room.
The dinning room was large enough to hold a grand dinner party, with twenty chairs tucked underneath the polished mahogany table. Nearest to them, at the end of the table, two chairs remained out, with a bouquet of roses and wildflowers presented between them. They were her favourite flowers. Next to them were two sets of cutlery and an assortment of plates, each with a thin gold rim. Dotted around the room were four house-slaves, dressed as English footmen standing behind each chair. Bea glanced at the slave behind her who had his head down low, but he seemed to sense her uncertainty, drew the chair out for her to take.
“Thank you,” she whispered, so that only he could hear.
The head house-slave, the housekeeper in fact, she presumed, raised her hand for two other women to enter holding plates filled with various dishes. Another, who looked ten years their junior, collected a wine decanter and made her way to the table. The eldest woman poured the red liquid in to the cut-crystal glasses in front of them. Each person waiting on them kept their heads down as they served, and Hanley did not look at them in his turn. Rather, he continued to stare at Bea, who was morosely transfixed by the silent staff before her.
“This must be strange for you.”
“Pardon?”
“I know about your feeling towards slavery, here in the South; how you attend the abolitionist meetings, and the unconventional relationship you have with Jessie.” Hanley spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as though discussing a minor difference in local politics as he tucked into the fish which had arrived on their plate.
Bea kept her eyes down and picked at the fish, which she did not recognise. Her churning stomach
made it difficult to eat.
“You probably know about my past, and my... prior experience of the slave ships. Yet you never asked about my version of events.”
“What could you possibly have said to justify what you did to me?” Her tone was full of bitterness as she held his gaze.
A smirk crept across his face. “We will never know, will we Beatrice.... you were so ready to judge me.”
“I did not judge you – not until you raped me and offered me up to be hung for murder!” She scrunched up her face at the accusation.
“You judged me as soon as your precious Mason boy told you I was no good. Nothing has passed between us of that nature when you turned me down.” There was almost a chuckle in his voice. “You are not so innocent, not as righteous as you like people to believe, Beatrice.”
“I never claimed to be righteous. I have my faults, like everyone else. But what you did...” She paused, remembered people were listening, and forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls of fish before one of the house slaves took the plate away. She took another gulp of wine, steadying her nerves. He was trying to bait her into saying or doing something that she might be ashamed of later, and she couldn’t rise to it. Another plate filled with roast beef, potatoes and gravy. The meat crumbled into the juices in her mouth and reminded her of Ulverston, when they would have braised mutton on special occasions.
“We are more alike than you might think,” he replied calmly, placing a mouthful of food in his mouth.
“We are nothing alike, you and I.”
He let out another chuckle at the look of disgust on her face, followed by her unexpected reaction of pleasure at the food. “We both came from an angry household - not so much your father, I grant you – but we both have tried to free ourselves from our constraints and find our own path, to the dismay of those about us. And we have both failed.”