“Oh, but one day we shall!” the mother replied gleefully. “What promise this new industrial age holds! Each gentleman shall own a mansion, and each lady shall be surrounded by furnishings fit for a queen. Do you not believe that is true?”
“Um,” Hannah grunted, looking at her fingernails. But she did think about her own large house and the Johnsons’ enormous home, back in modern Snipesville.
As they waited for their refreshments, Hannah became uncomfortably aware that she needed to use the bathroom. But where were the restrooms? She asked the lady next to her, who immediately looked embarrassed that Hannah had brought up the indelicate subject of toilets. Lowering her voice so that her husband could not hear, she said, “I have heard that there are water closets in the retiring room.”
Hannah looked at her blankly. Water closets? Surely she could not mean flushing toilets? With a huge smile, Hannah called over one of the waitresses to ask for directions.
She found the “retiring room,” and it was, indeed, a real restroom. The regular sound of flushing was music to her ears. An old lady standing in line with her said giddily, “Isn’t this splendid? What a wonder of the modern age.” She held up a huge bronze coin. “Look, I have my penny ready!”
“What for?” Hannah asked. The answer came as they watched another lady fiddle with placing a penny in a slot on the door.
“We have to pay to pee?” Hannah exclaimed. The old lady tutted and looked away, offended by Hannah’s coarseness.
Grudgingly, Hannah pulled a penny from her purse. It was worth the expense to use a flushing toilet. And judging from the long lines, lots of people felt the same way.
By the time Hannah returned to the refreshment area, the food, if it could be called that, had arrived. The thin sandwiches were so old, they were curling at the edges. The coffee and tea were not steaming at all. Only the soda water looked fresh and appealing.
Hannah contemplated her sad little pork pie, and then took a bite of gristly pork and dry pastry. She washed it down with tea. The tea wasn’t just unsweetened, it was cold, and possibly, it was not even tea. The family next to her looked unhappy with their food, too.
“The company has a deuced monopoly of the catering,” said the outraged father. “I read about it in The Times. This company, Schweppes, was awarded the contract, and now they do as they please. I shall write a letter of a complaint.”
Hannah wondered if this was the same Schweppes that made the Ginger Ale her mother had liked? Surely not.
The Victorian mother next to Hannah returned to explaining the educational benefits of bringing her sons to the Exhibition. “We saw a knife with no fewer than eighty blades, and an astonishing bed, which tips out the occupant when it is time to rise. And my sons and I have met a real American slave!”
Hannah wasn’t really listening, and she took another tentative nibble from her dreadful pork pie. Suddenly, an excited thought struck her. “Did you say an American slave?”
“Yes,” said the mother, as she held up a sandwich to her younger son to encourage the reluctant little boy to eat it. “Of course, he is no longer a slave, since he lives in England, but he is certainly a Negro, and he said he was from the state of Georgia.”
Brandon! It had to be Brandon! “Where did you see him?” Hannah asked excitedly.
The lady gave Hannah a look of surprised delight. “Why, are you acquainted with him?”
Hannah spoke quickly, the words tumbling out. “Yes, he’s a friend of mine, and I’ve been looking for him for, like, forever. Please, where did you see him?”
The lady nodded across the nave of the Exhibition, to the other side of the transept. “We met just inside the entrance over there. However, I rather doubt that he’s still…”
But Hannah was already gone, moving as fast as she could in her heavy clothes.
Within ten minutes, Hannah was starting to despair of ever finding Brandon in the crowds that thronged the Crystal Palace. She had asked people if they had seen a black boy, only to be directed back to the Indian section, where an Indian man in a blue outfit with a pink sash and gold turban was among the exhibitors.
Turning back to the nave, Hannah wondered if she could hang around the exit to spot Brandon as he was leaving. But there were four exits. The situation seemed hopeless.
Just then, her heart leaped as she caught a momentary glimpse of dark, curly hair. She dashed through the crowd, which immediately cleared a way for the running girl in a large dress, and she almost collided with the boy before tapping him on the shoulder.
As he whirled around, she saw that he was not Brandon. “Uh, I’m sorry. I was looking for a friend who kind of looks like you.”
“You have a friend here who looks like me?” asked Jupe excitedly. He was thrilled by the idea of meeting a black Englishman.
Now it was Hannah’s turn to be surprised. “You’re an American!” she said in wonderment.
“Yes, miss. I’m a free American,” said Jupe proudly. “From Georgia.”
Hannah was about to tell him that she lived in Georgia, too, when she felt a heavy hand on her own shoulder. She spun around in alarm.
“Looking for me?” asked Brandon with a grin. “And what’s with the dress? You look like the Barbie doll my grandma uses for storing toilet rolls.”
With a great and very unVictorian whoop, Hannah threw her arms around him.
They both talked over each other’s sentences at first, until Hannah said, “Do you think Alex is here?”
“I don’t know,” said Brandon, “but it’s going to be hard to find him among all these white people, especially with everyone dressed the same.”
Henry and Jupe, meanwhile, stood by awkwardly, wondering if they were supposed to be part of the conversation. They eyed each other shyly.
“Excuse me,” Henry asked Brandon, “but who are these people?” He indicated Hannah and Jupe.
“Sorry, Henry,” said Brandon, reluctantly. “Um, this is my friend Hannah, and…” He looked at Jupe. “Sorry, but who are you?”
“My name’s Jupe, sir.”
Brandon looked curiously at him. “And you said you’re from Georgia, right? Where do you stay?”
“I don’t rightly know,” said Jupe, “because I’m free now, but I was born at Kintyre Plantation, near Savannah.”
“Where near Savannah?” Brandon asked urgently.
“Snipes County. You hear of it?”
Brandon’s eyes widened, and so did Hannah’s.
“Do you think that’s a coincidence?” Hannah asked Brandon.
Brandon shook his head.
Henry was getting really fed up with not being the center of attention. “I say, what is going on?”
“Shut up, Henry,” said Brandon. Henry was speechless at being spoken to like that. Brandon, meanwhile, had turned back to Jupe. “We’re looking for another kid from Snipes County, a white guy called Alex.”
Now Jupe was surprised. “Why, sir, I’m with a young gentleman from Georgia called Alex. Y’all might could find him in the United States exhibit. His name is Alexander Day.”
“That’s him!” Hannah and Brandon yelled simultaneously, and high-fived.
Hannah and Brandon asked Jupe and Henry to wait for them at the refreshment area. Hannah bribed Henry with two shillings for ice creams, before she and Brandon took off.
They explored what felt like every inch of the American section, but Alex was nowhere to be found. Finally, Hannah bent down and peered into a glass display case, as if her brother were invisibly hiding in it. She drew the attention of Mr. Meredith, who asked, “You looking for something, miss?”
Hannah had pulled out the calculator, and was now looking wonderingly at the little wooden box in her hands. “What is this doing here?” she gasped.
Mr. Meredith thought she was impressed. “Oh, that’s the calculating engine. Yes, it’s another fine example of American manufacture.”
Hannah punched the buttons as he spoke and thought carefully about what
to do next. “Well, it’s pretty impressive,” she said brightly as she put it back in the case. “Okay, I’m looking for… ALEX!”
She ran to her brother, and they fell into an ecstatic hug.
“Alex, is everything all right?” asked a voice from behind them.
Hannah looked up and saw the speaker, a well-dressed Englishman who was watching them with concern.
Alex reassured him. “Yes, Mr. Thornhill. This is my sister, Hannah. Hannah, this is my boss, Mr. Thornhill. He’s a lawyer in Savannah, and we’re here for the Exhibition.”
“Hi, pleased to meet you,” said Hannah, putting out a hand, which Mr. Thornhill observed with astonishment. He was almost as surprised by her English accent.
“You’re English,” he said. “How strange, when Alexander is American.”
“Oh, we’re both American,” said Alex, “but we were, uh, separated at birth, and I came to England with my, uh, our mother. After the divorce.”
Mr. Thornhill wasn’t buying it. “But how did you recognize each other if you were separated at birth?”
Hannah thought quickly. “Alex, did you say we were separated at birth? You idiot. You meant we were separated from each other three years ago, didn’t you? Anyway, great to meet you, Mr. Toadhall, but we…”
Just then, Mr. Meredith interrupted and saved the day. “Excuse me, Thornhill, but there’s a gentleman over there who has some questions about the plough, and I’m in the middle of negotiations with a fellow from Manchester. Could you kindly help me out?”
Mr. Thornhill nodded, before turning back to Hannah. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Day.” He bowed.
As he left, Hannah grabbed Alex by the shoulders. “Who is that guy? Never mind, tell me later. Now let’s go.”
But Alex hissed at his sister, “I can’t just leave….”
Now Brandon intervened. “Hannah, what are you doing for a living?”
“I’m kind of…” She tried to bluff, and immediately gave up. “Okay, I haven’t got a job right now.”
Brandon made up his mind what to do. “I’ve got to figure out how to get you two to Balesworth Hall with me. Hannah, stick with me. Alex, you have a steady job here, right?”
“Yes, I think so,” Alex said uncertainly. He supposed it was a job, although he never seemed to do very much that was very useful.
Brandon pulled out a pencil and scrap of paper. “Okay, wait until I get in touch. Where do you live? What’s your boss’s full name? ”
Quickly, Alex told Brandon, and Brandon wrote down the particulars of Carhart’s Hotel.
“So what do you want me to do?” asked Hannah.
Brandon had an answer. “Balesworth Hall needs a new housemaid, and I think I can talk Mr. Veeriswamy into hiring you to replace Jane. You have experience as a housemaid, right?”
“No, of course I don’t,” Hannah said sourly.
“Yes, you do,” Brandon insisted. “You’re experienced. And you’re very affordable. You will work for room, board, and a shilling a week. Got that?” Then he looked at Hannah’s clothes. “But you’re too posh… Look, can you dress kind of poor, and come to Balesworth tomorrow? You can take a train from…’
“Let me guess,” Hannah interrupted, “Kings Cross Station?”
“No,” Brandon shook his head. “They haven’t finished building it. You need to depart from the temporary station at Maiden Lane, get off at Balesworth, and then walk. Just ask someone to give you directions to Balesworth Hall.”
“Okay, I guess,” Hannah said reluctantly. Thinking about the clothes in the travel trunk back at the steamer, she had an uncomfortable feeling that the Professor had known all along what was going to happen.
At that moment, Henry ran up, breathless. “Brandon… Mr. Veeriswamy… has been looking all over for you! Lady Chatsfield… has a headache… we must leave now.”
Hannah asked Henry, “Where’s that kid Julep, or whatever his name was?”
“Jupe?” asked Alex. “You met Jupe?”
“Yeah,” said Hannah. “What’s with that kid? How did he wind up here?”
But Mr. Thornhill’s conversation with his customer was clearly coming to an end, and Alex thought it best for Hannah and Brandon to take off before there were more awkward questions.
Hurriedly, Brandon said, “Hannah, I’ll expect you tomorrow sometime. Alex, we’ll be in touch. Come on, Henry.”
But Hannah suddenly remembered something. “Hey, Alex, is that the Professor’s calculator over there in that glass case?”
“Yeah, it is, but it’s…” Alex hesitated when he saw that Mr. Thornhill was frantically beckoning to him. He whispered to Hannah and Brandon, “Go, I’ll catch up with you guys somehow!”
As Alex rushed to find out what Mr. Thornhill wanted, Hannah quickly slipped over to the display case, retrieved the calculator, and shoved it into her purse. Her hands shaking, she hurried toward the nearest exit as fast as her enormous skirts would allow.
Mr. Thornhill was not happy. “I heard your sister say that Jupe is here,” he hissed at Alex. “Why is he here, against my express instructions? Do you know?” Alex was nervous, but he decided to tell the truth. “He wanted to come, and I gave him the money. It didn’t seem like a big deal…”
Mr. Thornhill scowled. “Oh, did you not? Well, allow me to explain. Jupe’s presence is a distraction. The British have a bee in their bonnet about American slavery, and I have no desire to entertain endless debates on the subject with ladies, while I am attempting to do business with their husbands.”
This made no sense to Alex. “I don’t understand what that’s got to do with Jupe. He doesn’t even have to say he’s with us. In fact, I told him to stay clear of the American section.”
Mr. Thornhill looked over Alex’s shoulder. “Obviously, he did not pay attention, because he is right behind you.”
Jupe coughed nervously, afraid of what he was about to say next. “I was just wondering, sir, why did you want me not to come here? I’ve had fine conversations with English people, sir.”
Mr. Meredith had appeared next to Mr. Thornhill, and he jerked his head at Jupe. “Who have we here?”
“This is Jupe,” said Alex. “Mr. Thornhill set him free, and he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.”
Mr. Thornhill groaned, and Mr. Meredith smiled with amusement. “Well, Thornhill, you old rascal! I never knew you had abolitionist leanings.”
“Shhh!” said a stony-faced Mr. Thornhill to Mr. Meredith. “Have you any idea what this would do to my business in Savannah if word got back to Georgia? Alexander, escort Jupe back to Carhart’s.”
Now Alex understood. He grabbed Jupe’s arm, and turned up the aisle of the Crystal Palace, only to see Brandon headed in his direction with a small group of people. At the head of this group was the Indian man whom Alex had met earlier, and a finely-dressed lady wearing a pained expression.
Alex wondered who Brandon was with. But Mr. Thornhill was staring in shock at the lady. At that moment, she caught Mr. Thornhill’s eye, and froze.
Collecting herself, Lady Chatsfield approached Mr. Thornhill. “What brings you here?” “My business,” said Mr. Thornhill, when he had recovered his voice. “Do not worry. I am not here to interfere where I am neither wanted nor needed. Are you well?”
She gave him a hard look of distaste. “As well as I can ever hope to be, thank you,” she said icily. “I have made every effort to trace you during the past year. I regret to inform you that both of your brothers have died.”
“Both?” Mr. Thornhill looked shocked and saddened. “But how?”
“Alfred was killed in a hunting accident,” Lady Chatsfield said, “and you know that Charles was never a well man. He finally succumbed to consumption.” “But surely,” Mr. Thornhill said desperately, “One of them had a son…”
“No, neither produced an heir,” Lady Chatsfield said. “You must contact our solicitor, for you are now the Viscount Chatsfield, and you will need to decide what is to b
e done with the estate. In your absence, I have taken charge and occupancy of Balesworth Hall until I learn what it pleases you to do. But first, contact our solicitor. Come along, Veeriswamy.”
As Lady Chatsfield and her butler walked away, Mr. Thornhill called after them, “Look after her, Veeriswamy.”
Neither Mr. Veeriswamy or Lady Chatsfield turned around. But Sarah Chatsfield and Henry were now staring back at Mr. Thornhill. Suddenly, Sarah broke from the group, and ran to him. “Papa,” she said pleadingly, “You are my Papa, aren’t you? Won’t you come home to Balesworth Hall with Mama and me?”
Meanwhile, Brandon had quietly sidled over to Alex. “Don’t look now,” said Brandon, “but I think Mr. Thornhill just ran into his wife. And that means that we’re looking at Verity’s great-great-grandparents.”
Alex gaped in astonishment. Mr. Thornhill was Verity’s ancestor? Wow.
Meanwhile, Mr. Thornhill had leaned down and kissed Sarah on the cheek, and put a hand on her shoulder. “One day,” he said, “You will be old enough to understand. Now go, for your mother is waiting.”
Chapter 14: A Different Day
Hannah smoothed down her rough skirt as she sat alone in the open thirdclass carriage of the train to Balesworth, and sighed at the bittersweet memory of her pink dress. It had been so nice to be well-dressed, if only for a short time. Entering a tunnel, the steam engine belched out smoke, and Hannah coughed hard as the train moved through the pitch blackness. As she emerged into the light, the train slowed on its approach to Welwyn station. As soon as the engine hissed to a halt, someone jumped out of the carriage behind, and ran up to her.
It was Jupe. He cried, “You’re Miss Hannah!”
She was astonished to see him. “Julep! What are you doing here?” “Jupe. My name’s Jupe,” he said, opening the gate and climbing up. Hannah patted the seat next to her, inviting him to sit down. “Okay. In that case, my name’s Hannah, not Miss Hannah. You make me sound like some old Southern biddy. Where are you headed?”
Jupe seemed troubled. “Mr. Thornhill sure was angry that I went to the Exhibition. He’s sending me to where he found me a job, and he told me I had better not leave there.”
A Different Day, A Different Destiny (The Snipesville Chronicles) Page 31