Trouble the Water_A Novel

by Jacqueline Friedland

  It wasn’t as if she had ever considered him anything more than a nuisance anyway, she tried to convince herself. She could very well get her own copy of Twelfth Night, couldn’t she just? Maybe not yet, but after she became a teacher, as she planned, she would have enough money to do as she pleased. At least to buy her own damned books. She wouldn’t need Douglas, or anyone else, to read with her.

  Abby stared down at the writing on her lap without seeing the words. What was it about Douglas Elling that she was incapable of shaking from her mind? Since the date of her first arrival, he’d vacillated between rudeness and benign neglect, shifting from rage to unexplained kindness. And then, just as she had begun dallying with the idea of Douglas as a friend, he’d deserted her, mysteriously quitting their regular visits.

  Well, why should she care anyway. She wasn’t some pet to be trifled with, there for his amusement only when it suited him. But she worried despite herself, perhaps she had offended him in some way. She could seek him out, instead of acting like a damned mouse, and ask outright why, suddenly, days had been passing without an appearance from him. Maybe she was being insensitive, she wondered, trying to adjust her perspective. Certainly, he must still suffer enormously from the great tragedy in his life, losing his entire family in one fell swoop. She couldn’t know how such heartrending grief would affect a person. Maybe it was she who was being selfish, waiting around for Douglas to materialize. Or perhaps she was simply too self-centered, assuming that his absence had anything to do with her at all.

  As she thought about his losses, her sense of exasperation began to dissipate. Her equilibrium shifted as a different understanding dawned. Based on what Larissa had told her, Abby must have been the first person with whom Douglas had forged any connection in years. Maybe he felt some sort of kinship with her because of his closeness to her father. And what had she done? Pushed and shoved, rebuking him until he had surrendered. How could she have been so obtuse? She had thought their last visit had gone rather well, but perhaps by then he’d already had enough of her recalcitrance.

  She would have to make this right. She would not add decency to the long list of amenities that Matthew had taken from her. She was going to find Douglas tonight, and she was going to be kind to him, come what may.

  IT WAS THE FIRST EVENING ALL WEEK THAT DOUGLAS had returned home from the wharf at a reasonable hour. Abby decided to seize the opportunity and attempt a visit with him prior to her supper with Larissa. It hadn’t been but five days since Douglas’s abrupt absenting of himself, but Abby had become more convinced by the hour that seeking him out was the proper way for her to behave. The last thing this unfortunate man needed was to be rejected by the first individual whose social company he had sought since the deaths of his wife and child. Her father had been very clear that an express purpose of her journey was to help this man.

  As Abby neared the study, she was surprised to hear Douglas already involved in a discussion with someone. It had been only a few minutes since he returned home. The door was closed, but she recognized Demett’s voice coming from within. She raised her fist to knock, but hesitated. Her meeting with Douglas might be more effective if they did not have an audience.

  “Thank you, sir,” Demett was saying. “I really want to help, much as you let me.”

  “All right,” Douglas answered. Abby could hear a clinking from within, and she imagined Douglas was pouring himself a drink.

  “It’s taken much planning, but the hours I’ve put in over the past few days seem to have paid off. You’re confident you can get a message back to Clover and be discreet?”

  Abby realized that something of substance was being discussed between the men, that she should either leave or make her presence known, but her curiosity overtook her senses, and she leaned in closer toward the door.

  “Yes, sir,” Demett answered with conviction.

  “Jethro Lions and Wyatt Holder will go to the Cunninghams’ property in four days. You know who they are, yes?”

  “Yes, sir,” Demett answered again. “Free blacks. Both live out near the Quakenbush farm.”

  “Right,” Douglas continued. “Lions and Holder will collect Clover from her cabin after midnight. She is to leave a wash-basin left of the cabin door so they know which shack is hers.”

  Abby knew she should not be eavesdropping, but she couldn’t tear herself away.

  “A washbasin,” Demett repeated, as if he was reminding himself already.

  There was silence for a moment, and Abby held her breath to listen for footsteps coming toward her. But then Douglas continued. “The men will help Clover off the property and guide her through the woods to the Ashley. They’ve agreed to take only her. No one else can accompany her. Make sure she knows.”

  “Yes, sir,” Demett answered one more time.

  “Other men will be waiting at the riverbank with a raft to carry her to Sullivan’s Island.”

  Abby struggled to comprehend what she was overhearing. From the sound of it, Douglas was planning a slave’s escape. It couldn’t be. This man who had seemed so self-involved, so reclusive, she could not have imagined it. She was simply unable to fold her mind around the idea of it. Douglas an abolitionist! She thought back, conducting a quick mental catalog of her few months at the Elling estate. No, he hadn’t acted in any way that would suggest he had been conducting unlawful activities. Perhaps there was more to it, something she was failing to understand. But then, she remembered with a start, there was that secret passageway in his office at the peer. And the long hours that he remained out from the house. She supposed it was possible—how really, could she know for sure? And a Cunningham slave, at that. She remembered Clover from her teatime with Gracie. Abby recalled the slave girl’s caramel complexion, her long dark braids, and her swollen belly.

  “I’ve arranged for her passage with a Northern exporter of pig iron, a ship’s captain sympathetic to the cause,” Douglas continued. “She will have to board during the dead of night and then be secreted in a wardrobe in the captain’s quarters for the entirety of the voyage. Once she reaches New York, she will be guided to an abolitionist community that will orchestrate the remainder of her journey.”

  “Meanwhile, we will stage a diversion in Charleston. When Clover is missed by the Cunninghams the morning after her escape, we’ll send a local boy to report that she’s been spotted traveling west. He will deliver the news that a pregnant Negro woman has been parading herself about in parts of North Carolina, professing to be a fugitive, escaped from the Cunninghams of Charleston. Court Cunningham will surely be offering a large reward for Clover’s return, so while the slave catchers are in hot pursuit of the fabricated Clover, the real Clover will be shepherded to safety.”

  Abby was stunned. Who was this man she had been living with these past months? Only recently had she ceased viewing him as a monster, and now it seemed he was quite the opposite. It felt as though there were a million questions coursing through her mind. How had he managed to make all these arrangements? How did he know so well what needed to be done? Abby was suddenly near bursting with pride for him. All this time she’d thought such horrible things about him, harbored unfair notions of his character. Meanwhile, he had somehow been connected to all sorts of people, revolutionaries risking their own safety, all for the benefit of others. Well good on him! She almost wished she could open the door and tell him so herself.

  “I’ll explain to Clover,” Demett was saying.

  “Right,” Douglas agreed. “I imagine once she reaches New York, she’ll want to continue straight to Canada.”

  Abby knew that in Canada, like England, slavery was no longer legal. She heard one of the chairs scrape against the wood floor, maybe Douglas pushing back, readying to stand. She started to back away, bending her body nearly in half to keep an ear near the door.

  “I believe this is going to work, but she is taking an enormous risk, and she must be made to understand,” he added.

  “She will be so grateful, sir.
With that babe in her, she needs every chance she can find, risks and all. We all recognize the need to be careful, that there ain’t no one can protect us if any of us get found out. It ain’t all on you, sir. Never was, you know.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he answered, and Abby detected a sudden bristling in his voice. She’d heard enough to know that she had best quit her position before she was caught listening. Clearly their plans required the utmost secrecy, and they wouldn’t take kindly to her nosiness. She scampered quickly and quietly from the dark hallway, dizzy from the bright light of her reeling thoughts.

  As she reemerged in the main foyer, she paused for a moment beside the gilded mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, and her gray eyes were too wide, as if they had been pasted into a state of surprise. She needed to pause for a steadying breath before joining Larissa, or surely the governess would recognize that something was amiss. The grandfather clock in the hall’s corner began to chime seven, prodding Abby to move along. She straightened her shoulders and made her way to the dining room.

  As usual, Larissa was already seated at the far end of the mahogany table when Abby arrived for supper, patiently sipping water from a crystal goblet. Candelabras flickered at both ends of the table, creating a tranquil glow so at odds with the frenzied thoughts careening through Abby’s mind.

  “Ah, darling,” Larissa smiled at Abby, “I was wondering if you’d forgotten supper.” She spoke gently, but Abby knew it was a chiding. Punctuality, of course, was one of the hallmarks of a proper young lady. Normally, Larissa’s correction would have ignited something inside Abby, the fury that always seemed too ready to take hold of her. But tonight, she felt something different, a pull toward Larissa and wonder that she wanted to confide in the woman, report what she had heard.

  “Good evening, Larissa,” Abby smiled politely instead.

  “I hope you won’t mind, dear. Jasper had something to take care of this evening, so he’s left the food for us to serve ourselves.” She gestured at the silver serving platters, each covered with its own silver dome.

  As Abby took her seat, kitty-corner to Larissa, the governess removed the dome from the largest platter, revealing slices of steaming roast beef surrounded by oversized potatoes and bright spheres of carrot. As usual, there was significantly more food than Abby and Larissa could finish on their own, but tonight Abby was too distracted to feel outraged about the waste.

  Larissa reached for Abby’s plate. “May I serve you?”

  “Pardon?” Abby looked at Larissa’s outstretched hand in confusion. What did Larissa want her to do?

  “Your supper, may I serve you?”

  “Oh, yes, yes. Thank you,” Abby picked up her own water glass and tried to take a calming sip. She saw that her hand was trembling and quickly reset the glass before Larissa would notice. She had better start conversing, else Larissa would certainly become suspicious.

  “I had a lovely afternoon studying in the rose garden,” she began as soon as Larissa had finished serving herself. “And I can report yet another day with my shoulder feeling quite fit.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. On both counts. It may still be several days before you are ready to return to riding horses though. What would you like to do with this newfound time? Perhaps shopping trips to town or we could invite some young ladies to come calling?”

  Abby had little interest in additional clothing purchases or social visits with strangers. “A trip into town does appeal, considering how many days have passed since I’ve left this house. Or do you think, could we go walking along the Battery? There is still so much of this city I haven’t seen.” Abby congratulated herself on keeping her concentration fastened to the topic at hand.

  Larissa pursed her lips, and Abby worried that she had again, exposed some ignorance, some lack of refinement.

  “Is something the matter, dear?” Larissa asked, peering into her face.

  Abby quickly looked away, fixing her eyes down on her plate. The juices from her roast beef had spread around the rim of her dish, creating a ring around its border, like a halo. She couldn’t let on. Surely Larissa was not aware of Douglas’s activities. Or perhaps she was aware, but Abby certainly was not meant to be. With a shock, Abby wondered if that was really a possibility, that Larissa was fully cognizant of Douglas’s secret work.

  “No, nothing,” she sputtered. “I’m sorry to have given you that impression.” She sat up straighter and began working at her food.

  Larissa studied her a moment longer and seemed to be formulating another question.

  Before Larissa spoke, Abby asked, “What about the Ashley River? Is that somewhere you have spent time for diversion?” Douglas had mentioned the Ashley in his conversation with Demett. Maybe Larissa would say something revealing if Abby kept her on the topic.

  “No, I can’t say that it is,” Larissa shrugged prettily and then continued. “But we could try it. We could go to the promenade at White Point Gardens, where the Ashley meets the Cooper before the rivers head out to the sea.”

  Abby nodded as she speared a piece of meat. She imagined the park must be somewhere near Douglas’s office if it was so close to the quayside. She was bewildered by her reaction to the information she learned earlier. None of this was her business, and she shouldn’t care. But she felt desperate to learn more about the abolitionist work Douglas was doing, about him. She had never known a person who stretched to such lengths to help others, took such risks. Suddenly the entire Elling estate seemed like a bustling mystery, full of activities she knew nothing about. She thought of the other staff, Jovian, Reggie. Jasper’s absence this evening. It was as though she was suddenly living inside a labyrinth of possibilities. She was struck too, by an overwhelming sense of shame at her own failure to take more notice of slavery since her arrival in Charleston. She had assumed the cruelty and suffering as a given, an immutable fact of life in America, but others were taking action. She had so drastically misjudged Douglas and ignored her surroundings. Her entire world now felt cockeyed, exposed. Nothing seemed more important than discovering more, about this place, about Douglas.

  “Sounds nice,” she answered absently as she wondered if they could visit Douglas at his place of business.

  “It might be courteous for us to visit Mr. Elling at his office too, no?” She startled herself by voicing her thought aloud. “It’s just that I’ve noticed he’s returned to the long hours he kept at the docks prior to my injury.”

  Larissa paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, tilting her head quizzically as she gazed back at Abby. Her tight bun listed along with her, and Abby had the desire to turn the bun like a nob, fixing Larissa’s head back into proper place. Had she given herself away?

  “Oh, has he?” Larissa asked, as she lowered her fork. Abby noticed a slight smile playing at Larissa’s pale lips.

  “What is it?” Abby asked.

  Larissa only raised her eyebrows and shook her head, belying her denial with a faint smirk.

  “No, I just thought it might be nice for him to receive a visit is all. He was kind to me when I was hurt. What?” Abby asked again, a little more forcefully this time.

  “No, I think it’s splendid,” Larissa answered with a satisfied smile. “You were so opposed to everything related to Mr. Elling, but it seems he’s worn you down. I’m glad of it. He’s a kind man, who could use good will from someone as lovely as you. It’s nice to see you giving him a chance.”

  So she hadn’t let on. Maybe she could use this, Larissa’s hope for her to connect in some way with Douglas. But still, she shouldn’t sound too eager.

  “Oh, right. I suppose I’ve been considering it. Maybe you could tell me more about him, what it is that you find so estimable? I’ve noticed he can be rather mercurial.”

  Larissa released a small puff of air in apparent agreement. “Better for you to get more acquainted with him and see for yourself. Why don’t you ask him to finish reading you that play? He could read it to us both.” She reached down
for her pocket watch and opened the silver cover with a practiced flick of her thumb. “Perhaps tomorrow. You should ask him tonight. I’m sure he’s still toiling away in his study. You can stop in on your way upstairs.”

  Abby had the distinct impression that Larissa would have liked to push her straight out of her chair and down the hall without delay, if only decorum allowed.

  “Um . . . all right,” Abby answered cautiously. She wasn’t sure what Larissa was playing at, prodding her toward Douglas like this, but she was satisfied by the proposed plan. With all the new information she had ingested tonight, her interest in that wonderful play had faded to a whisper. At the same time, her motivation to pursue Douglas’s friendship had increased exponentially, seeming to saturate every recess of her mind. How fortuitous that she had the play as an excuse, as a reason for suspense, a way to study him. So much had changed since this morning. Everything was exactly the same really, and yet, Abby wondered whether, when she came upon Douglas next, if she would even recognize him at all.

  17

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  1846

  As Abby approached Douglas’s study for the second time in one evening, she paused and pushed her palm against her chest, as if the force of her touch could calm the staccato flickering of her heart. Listening for a moment at the door, she concluded he was alone and finally chanced a knock.