“I’m sorry.” Edith put her hand on his as her own eyes filled with tears.
Wade shrugged. “After Ma died I grew tired of the daily arguments with Father about the subject of slavery, so I left our plantation, boarded the next riverboat, and never looked back.” He narrowed an intense gaze at her eyes. “No one was more surprised at Jube’s appearance here than me. You have to believe that.”
“I do.” Edith squeezed his hand. While her heart broke for him, joy flooded her chest and happy tears mingled with the sad ones slipping down her face. “I’m sorry I accused you of engaging in such wickedness. Please forgive me.”
Wade shook his head, took her hands in his, and gave her such a sweet smile her heart ached. “Nothing to forgive. What else would you have thought?” For a long moment, his gaze dropped to their clasped hands. When he looked back up at her, his expression turned serious. “Edith, I know that you and your family are sympathetic to the abolitionist movement. To what extent I know not, nor do I care to. But please be careful. Jube is ruthless, and he won’t make exceptions because of your family’s connection to me.”
For the rest of the evening Edith’s heart danced along with her feet as she partnered Wade in every dance. As they waltzed to the tune of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” she knew she’d lost her heart to him.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Wade murmured later as he lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a warm kiss on both of them, setting every nerve in her body firing like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Hope shone in his unwavering gaze. “May I call on you soon?”
Edith nodded. Though Father had declared Wade’s visits too risky, he didn’t know Wade’s story. When he learned of Wade’s feelings about slavery, he would doubtless have no problem with welcoming him to their home again. “Yes,” she finally managed, wondering if he could hear her hammering heart.
After Wade and the other guest had left, Edith’s heart still waltzed as she worked to put the music room back to rights. She passed a window that looked onto the back portico and thought she glimpsed Wade’s profile. Sure that she must be mistaken, she slipped behind the table holding the little decorated Christmas tree and peered through the window.
Outside on the porch Wade stood talking with another man. The other man, almost a head taller than Wade, struck a match to light a cigar. The momentary orange glow illuminated one side of his face and Edith could make out a crescent-shaped scar.
Chapter 8
Wade exited the jewelry store with a new spring in his step. Though less than two weeks had passed, it seemed an eternity since he’d held Edith in his arms and their hearts had beat as one as they waltzed over her brother’s music room floor. He’d hoped to visit her the next week and ask her father’s permission to court her, but when he suggested to Edwin that he take the company records to Lancaster as he used to, Edwin had shaken his head, saying his father was sick in bed with a bad cold. “Half the town seems to have come down with the coryza. I’m just glad we got the Christmas party over. I’m keeping Sophie and Archie inside near the hearth.”
Every day hence Wade inquired into the elder Applegate’s health as well as that of Edith, who, thankfully, seemed to have escaped the sickness. Finally this morning Edwin, at Wade’s inquiry, announced that his father once again enjoyed robust health, forcing Wade to suppress a whoop of joy.
Smiling, he patted his chest above where he’d tucked the little box from the jewelry store. Now if Edith accepted both his gift and his request to court her, his cup, as the scriptures said, would overflow with blessings.
As he strolled down the snow-dusted boardwalk, a sight outside the tobacco store across the street wiped the smile from his face. Two fellows who stood there talking looked a lot like Jube’s cohorts.
Wade hadn’t seen his brother since the night of the Christmas party when Jube came by Edwin’s home to ask Wade to return with him to Mississippi, so Wade had assumed that Jube and the others had long left Madison. While Jube’s uncharacteristic show of brotherly affection had touched Wade, he’d declined the offer without hesitation or regret. The differences between his view of slavery and that of Jube and their father—the differences that had driven Wade from Mississippi three years ago—remained.
Curious, Wade crossed the street. Careful to stay out of sight of the men, he made his way to the alley beside the tobacco store. Staying close to the building, he craned his neck to listen to their conversation.
“Now that Jube’s back on his feet again, we’ll be headin’ over to Lancaster tonight to search that Quaker school and the little stone house across from it.” The man paused to take a bite off a plug of tobacco. “Word is,” he said around a jaw full of chaw, “the place is a station on the Underground Railroad.”
The other man nodded and spat out a brown stream. “Feller by the name of Applegate lives there with his girl. Pa of the feller Jube’s brother works for.” He gave a derisive snort. “A bunch of abolitionists accordin’ to Bob Rea and others here who feel as we do.” Anger hardened his lowered voice. “Rea says if we can catch that Applegate bunch hidin’ runaways, he’ll push to get the old man put behind bars.”
Fear for Edith and her father shot through Wade like a lightning bolt. The man had said they’d be raiding the house tonight. Darkness came by six o’clock and it was already past noon. Moving with both speed and stealth, he made his way to the back of the tobacco store then ran the rest of the way home, his heart hammering as much from urgency as exertion.
Not stopping for a midday meal or to don a heavier outer coat, Wade saddled his horse with less than steady hands. He could no longer afford the luxury of remaining neutral about the subject of slavery, nor could he concern himself with how Edith and her father might receive his warning. His contention to Edith that he didn’t care to know the extent of her family’s involvement in the abolitionist movement had blown away on the December wind. With the prospect of prison facing the woman he loved and her family, the time for beating about the bush had passed.
Pushing his horse as hard as the weather conditions allowed, Wade traversed the snowy roads between Madison and Lancaster in record time. At least the snow flurries had stopped and the sky had cleared.
Jumping from his horse, he scaled the stone steps to the front door in two strides. His pounding heart matched the blows of his fist on the door. Dear Lord, let them believe me, and help us conceal anyone hidden here.
Edith opened the door and stood stunned. “Mr. Beaumont,” she finally managed when the breath had come back to her lungs. “Edwin never mentioned you would be coming today. Is there a problem at the plant?”
“No, but I have come with urgent information.” Wade took off his hat and circled the brim in his hands. “Please, may I come in?”
The temptation to deny his request, call him out for a liar, and shut the door in his face tugged hard. In the end, a lifetime of practiced etiquette and Christian charity compelled her to invite him in.
“Mr. Beaumont. To what do we owe this visit?” Father’s voice behind Edith held as frosty a tone as she’d ever heard from her parent.
“Mr. Applegate. Edith.” Wade’s gaze swung between them as he kept turning his hat in his hands, his look so genuine, so intense, that Edith had to remind herself that he couldn’t be trusted. “My brother, Jube, and his slave catchers are convinced that this house is a station on the Underground Railroad.”
Edith felt the blood in her veins freeze. When it began flowing again, her heart hammered. Had Wade come to inform them that he planned to report them to the sheriff for being in violation of the Fugitive Slave Act?
“And where did your brother get such a notion?” Nothing in Father’s voice betrayed the tumult Edith knew he must feel.
“I do not know, sir, nor is it important.” Impatient urgency gave a sharp edge to Wade’s voice. “I do not know if you are hiding people on these premises, but if you are, you must know that Jube and his men are more than thorough in their search for runa
way slaves.” His throat moved with a hard swallow. “They will not leave a stone unturned.”
Remembering Father’s maxim that a winning army remains on the offensive, Edith raised her chin in defiance. “If you brother and his men are waiting somewhere outside, you have our permission to invite them in and they can look for themselves.” While Mose had alerted them to expect a “package” this evening, no guests resided at present.
Wade shook his head. “They are not outside, but they are coming this evening.” His gaze locked on Edith’s. “Please, you must believe me. Like I told you at the Christmas party, I’m on your side. I wish to protect the runaways too.”
“Is that what you told your brother on Edwin’s back portico after the party?” Edith hated the tears filling her eyes. “I saw you out there talking with him. Were you telling him how you’d duped me into believing you are not a slave catcher?”
Wade groaned and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his gaze narrowed to a near glare. He frowned and emotion thickened his voice. “I am not a liar, Edith. I meant every word I said to you. Jube came to ask me to return with him to Mississippi, but I told him that while I will always care for him and Pa and will continue to pray for them as Ma did, I cannot go back to that life.” His look turned pleading and his voice softened. “Please, you must believe me.” Moisture welled in his blue eyes. “If you like, I will put my hand on the Holy Scriptures and vow that what I’ve told you is the truth.”
Warmth filled Edith’s chest, melting the icy block of distrust she’d allowed to encase her heart concerning Wade since the Christmas party. To her shame, Father spoke first.
“There is no one else here now, but I have word that Mose Taylor, Dahlia’s father, will be bringing passengers tonight from Georgetown.” Father stepped toward the pegs on the wall that held his hat and coat. “We must warn Mose not to come.”
Edith shook her head. “No, Father. You must not go out into the cold. You could get a setback and catch your death.”
Wade nodded. “Edith is right, Mr. Applegate. You stay here. Edith will show me to Mr. Taylor’s home.”
Father sighed but nodded agreement. “Of course you are right.” He gave Edith and Wade an encouraging smile. “I’ll stay here and pray that you reach Mose before he leaves with the group, but I will prepare the hiding place for the passengers in case they arrive.” He touched Wade’s shoulder. “You can leave your horse here and take my horse and buggy.”
Wade shook his head. “A horse and buggy would be too slow. Besides, my brother knows my horse. If he should arrive in my absence, it would alert him that something is not right here.” He grinned at Edith. “If it won’t offend your sensibilities, we’ll need to ride tandem on my horse.”
In truth, Edith couldn’t have described the sensation curling in her chest at his suggestion offensive. Hoping he didn’t notice any deepening color in her warming cheeks, she lifted her chin. “Decorum must take second place when lives are at stake, Mr. Beaumont.”
Indeed, thoughts of decorum never entered Edith’s mind as she and Wade covered the roads between Lancaster and Madison at a near canter, her arms wrapped around his waist. The icy December wind, the lengthening afternoon shadows, and even the uncomfortable riding position felt trivial in comparison to warning Mose and his group of runaways.
When they finally reached Jefferson Street in Madison’s Georgetown district, Edith guided Wade to the Taylors’ home. She peered around his shoulder at the line of neat two-story stone houses crowded close together. “It’s the green one between the white and ochre-colored houses.”
Wade nodded, dismounted, and helped her down.
Edith slipped into his arms and for a moment the world and the worry that had consumed her mind over the past hour and a half vanished. As their gazes met, an understanding passed between them that needed no words. The next moment his lips found hers and they floated in a beautiful sphere devoid of all thought.
His horse shifted and emitted a soft neigh, slamming Edith back to reality.
Wade released her and cleared his throat, an almost embarrassed sound as if he regretted the kiss. His voice—the first words she’d heard from him since they’d left Lancaster—sounded dispassionate. “Go knock on the door. I’ll tie up the horse.”
Her face burning and her heart hammering, Edith somehow managed to scale the two stone steps to the door on wobbly legs.
In answer to Edith’s three soft raps, Polly Taylor opened the door. Her eyes grew wide with a look of alarm and she clutched her throat. “Miss Edith,” she said, her voice a near squeak, “is Dahlia all right?”
“I haven’t seen Dahlia.” Confusion and mounting fear mingled in Edith’s chest.
“Come inside.” Polly’s sharp glance bounced between Edith and Wade, who’d joined Edith on the steps. She moved aside to allow them entrance. Without another word, she bade them follow her to a small room next to the kitchen. There Mose lay on a little bed swathed in a green and yellow comforter.
“Mr. Taylor.” Audible relief filled Wade’s voice. “We’ve come to advise you not to make that planned trip to Lancaster, but I see you’re in no shape to go out tonight.”
“No.” A spate of coughing interrupted Mose’s answer.
Polly eyed Wade with suspicion.
Edith put a reassuring hand on Polly’s arm. “It’s all right, Polly.” Her pulse quickening, she gave Wade a fond smile. “Wade is an abolitionist too. He wants to help us.”
Wade stepped behind Edith and cupped her shoulders with his hands, sending delicious warmth through her. “My brother and his band of slave hunters are planning to search Mr. Applegate’s house in Lancaster tonight for runaways. We came to warn you not to take passengers there tonight, but I see our concerns were for naught.”
Polly crossed her arms over her chest and began to shake, a look of terror twisting her comely features. Gasping, she pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh dear Lord, no. My baby, my baby!” Tears streaming down her face, she looked at her husband, whose look of anguish mirrored her own. “Oh dear Lord, help us. What have we done, Mose?”
Fighting the fear rising like floodwaters in her chest, Edith grasped the distraught woman’s arms. “Polly, what are you talking about? Where is Dahlia?”
Mose began to sob. “We heard that slave hunters were comin’ to search all the houses here in Georgetown.” His dark eyes brimmed with anguished tears. He shook his head. “We thought that Lancaster was safe.” He looked at Edith, and his tortured expression that pled for understanding ripped at her heart. “Dahlia begged us to let her guide them to your place. Said she knew she could find it, even in the dark. The people promised to take care of her.” His voice snagged on the ragged edge of a sob. He gave Edith and Wade a vacant, helpless look. “If them slave hunters find Dahlia with the others, they’ll take our baby away with the rest of ’em and sell her down south.”
Chapter 9
Wade knelt beside Polly and took her hands in his as fear and anger swirled in his chest. He strove to keep his voice both calm and confident. “Mrs. Taylor, I will find Dahlia and bring her back to you safely. I promise.” As he gazed into the frantic face of Dahlia’s mother, he prayed he could keep his promise.
Edith stepped to Mose’s bedside. “How many are with her?”
“Four; a husband and wife and two young men.” Mose sniffed and dabbed his wet eyes with his shirt cuff.
Wade rose from Polly’s side to join Edith. Noticing the fringe on her blue wool scarf quivering, he marveled at the steadiness of her voice. Seized by the desire to reassure her, he slipped his arm around her waist. He reached his free hand out to Mose Taylor, who gripped it as if clutching a lifeline. “I will bring Dahlia back to you, Mr. Taylor, you have to believe me. But every moment is precious. What route have they taken?”
Eager to head out in search of Dahlia and the runaways, Wade struggled to take in Mose’s directions. The thought that he and Edith might have passed the group somewhere between Lancaster
and Madison felt maddening. Edith’s confident nods lent calming assurance. She knew this country far better than he.
Wade joined Edith in reiterating parting words of comfort and reassurance to the Taylors before heading out in search of Dahlia and the runaways.
Edith’s confident voice in Wade’s ear directing them through the winter gloaming along roads, country lanes, and rutted cow paths bolstered his own courage. Yes, this was the woman he wanted—needed—at his side each day for the rest of his life.
By the time they neared Lancaster, the pale light of a full moon bathed the countryside beneath a canopy of sparkling stars strewn across the inky sky.
“Stop.” Edith put her hand on Wade’s shoulder as he guided the horse through a little copse of pine trees bordering a wood. The warm breath of her whisper felt delicious against his ear. “I think I saw something move in those trees ahead.”
Wade reined the horse to a halt, and before he could stop her, Edith slipped off the animal’s rump. He dismounted and followed her through the trees.
“Dahlia, is that you? It’s Miss Edith.” The urgency in her whispered voice held a measure of restrained panic.
A soft rustling of dead leaves to their left drew his attention.
“Miss Edith?” At Dahlia’s faint but distinctive voice, relief swooshed through Wade.
The next moment Dahlia’s face appeared out of the darkness from behind a Scotch pine tree, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you and Mr. Beaumont doing here?”
Edith fell to her knees and embraced Dahlia. “Oh, praise the Lord! Thank You, Jesus!” Emotion thickened her whispered voice, muffled against Dahlia’s head. She started to stand and stumbled as if her legs wouldn’t support her, and Wade reached out to help her up. “Mr. Beaumont and I have come to take you back home, Dahlia. It’s not safe for you out here.”
The Underground Railroad Brides Collection: 9 Couples Navigate the Road to Freedom Before the Civil War Page 13