Understanding Mercy

by Janelle Ashley

  That night after dinner, she slipped out of the house. This time the butler led her to Mr. Berkeley’s magnificent parlor. She warmed her hands by the fire, and when Mr. Berkeley walked in the door, she thought her heart would pound out of her chest.

  He seemed to have this affect on her and now it was beyond awkward. He stood before her, looking at her questioningly, but she couldn’t say the words.

  Finally he asked, “Did you want to sit down?”

  She nodded and sank into a comfortable leather chair as he sat across from her without ever taking his eyes off her face. When she still said nothing, he asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yes, there is. That is why I’m here.” She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I need a favor. A huge one and I don’t know who else to ask but you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You know that Cordelia is a horrible person.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you imagine being her slave?”

  “No.”

  “I have come to care for Daisy and Cordelia’s father has offered to sell her to me. Of course, I’d immediately set her free. She could stay with me and be my maid if she wanted to. I desperately want to get her away from Cordelia and her mother. She has whip marks all over her back right now.”

  Fidgeting in her chair, Mercy continued, “Mr. Turner will sell her to me for one hundred dollars. You once offered to pay that amount to keep me from getting punished. I was wondering if the offer would still hold to set Daisy free. I know you don’t know her, but she is a wonderful girl.”

  She placed her head in her hands and stifled a sob. “If you don’t help me, I don’t know what to do.”

  His deep, soft voice washed over her as he said, “I will help. Wait here.”

  Several minutes later he returned and handed her a beautifully carved little chest. “There are one hundred coins in there. One hundred dollars.”

  She opened the lid and stared at the coins, her eyes lifted to his. “How can I ever thank you?”

  He sat in the chair across from her and leaned back. “I’m doing it for Daisy. I spend a great deal of time fighting against slavery and here is a chance to set an actual slave free. How could I refuse?”

  “You are a good man, Mr. Berkeley.”

  “So you have told me before.” He sat forward in his chair. “Is there anything else?”

  She nodded slowly.

  He let out a slow breath of impatience. “What is it, Miss Creed? I’m busy.”

  “I wanted to bring you a book I thought you might like.”

  “A book?” He said the word like he had no idea what a book was.

  “Yes.” She pulled it out of the pocket in her coat and handed it to him. “I found it in our library. It’s about Arabian horses. Since you have one, I thought you might enjoy it. I wanted to give it to you.”

  He took it from her and glanced at it quickly. “Thank you. I’ll read it on my journey.”

  “You are going on a journey?”

  “Yes, I am. I leave tomorrow, in fact. It’s more than a journey. I’m leaving Boston.”

  “But why?”

  “I cannot stay here, Mercy. I’ve already lost over half my shipping contracts. I need to go establish new ones and hope these wicked rumors don’t follow me to the other side of the world.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “France. Then later the Caribbean.”

  “But if you run away, won’t it make you look more guilty?”

  “I’m not running away, I’m walking away. I know I’m not guilty. Let people say what they want.”

  “But you finally found a home here in Boston.”

  “That was short lived wasn’t it?”

  She glanced around, “You’re selling your house?”

  “I don’t have time to sell the house. For now I’m just going to let Cecil and his new wife stay here.”

  “Cecil is getting married?”

  “Yes. I’m going with them to the courthouse in the morning, and then I’m leaving on one of my ships in the afternoon.”

  A sick feeling settled inside her. She should be happy he was leaving—but she wasn’t. Fighting tears, she asked, “Do you have to leave?”

  “I don’t have to, but I want to. I have no real reason to stay.” He stood and looked down at her. “You don’t want me, Mercy, and I don’t want to stay and watch you find someone else. I couldn’t bear it.” He walked to the door and rested his hand on the doorknob. His broad shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh. He turned and looked at her with heartbroken eyes. “I hope you find happiness, Mercy. I truly do. Maybe when I see you again you’ll have found the man you want and be bouncing his baby on your knee.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, he slipped out the door. She wondered if she’d ever see him again. Glancing around the elegant room that looked and smelled like him, she then sank back into his deep, leather chair. A punishing wave of grief washed over her. Unable to hold her tears at bay, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Understanding Mercy

  Understanding Mercy

  Chapter Ten

  Boston, November 1786

  The cold Autumn wind sliced through Addison like a knife as he stood at the railing of the ship while it slipped into the entrance of Boston Harbor.

  So many questions and uncertainties sliced through him as well. Everything about this trip unsettled him, but he’d put it off as long as he could. He saw the lighthouse on Beacon Island sending forth its radiant light and as always he thought of the words his dear friend Benjamin Franklin had spoken to him so many years before— In many ways, this is a dark, storm filled world, and those who show God’s mercy to others are like that lighthouse, shining out a welcoming light to those longing to find a safe harbor.

  Not much had changed. He still wanted to feel as if he’d found that safe harbor. Addison missed Benjamin Franklin and now that he was back in America, he would have to make a trip up to Philadelphia to see him. But he needed to come to Boston first unfortunately.

  John Hancock was desperately sick, had been so for quite some time. His wife had not come right out and asked him to visit, but the words were implied in the last few letters she’d wrote him.

  Hancock had been given the tremendous honor of being elected as the President of the United States in Congress, but he’d been too ill to attend any of the meetings in New York. His little boy, John, was only seven years old, and Addison certainly hoped he didn’t have to grow up without a father the way Addison did.

  A two year break from Boston’s busy tongues had been nice, but the break was over and the gossip would begin again soon.

  Oh, well. He had no choice. He needed to focus on Cecil and his little family. That is why he was here. Lifting his spyglass to his eye, he scanned the dock looking for Cecil. It had been much too long, and he couldn’t wait to see him again.

  Sure enough, Cecil stood on the dock with his wife and baby son Royce. The little boy was Addison’s namesake, Royce was Addison’s middle name, and yet he’d never even seen the little boy.

  If it wasn’t for seeing Hancock and Cecil, he would never come back to Boston. It held too many painful memories.

  He hoped he didn’t have to see Mercy again. Certainly she would be married and with a baby, or at least a little one on the way.

  He hoped if he saw her she would be fat, pregnant, or had lost her good looks so he wouldn’t be attracted to her any longer. He looked up at the cloud covered sun and snorted with embarrassment. What a stupid, petty thing for him to think.

  The ship came to a jerky stop and after bidding adieu to his French crew he crossed the rope bridge and instantly found himself welcomed by Cecil and his sweet little family. His friend handed the baby to Addison with a proud smile. “Meet your godson.”

  Addison gazed down at the happy little baby in his arms. “He is beautiful, Cecil. Truly. How old is he now?”

  “Six months. It’s
about time you see him.”

  “Yes, you are right. It’s about time.” With a genuine smile, he looked at Cecil’s wife. “Good job, Mrs. Branson.”

  “Call me Jane.” With a sweet laugh, she teased, “I hope he doesn’t grow up to be as handsome and charming as his godfather, or I’ll be so busy chasing all the girls off with a broom, I’ll never have anytime left over to get my work done.”

  He laughed and she took his arm and led them toward the waiting coach.

  “I’ve made a meal for you fit for a king, complete with three kinds of desserts.” She patted his flat stomach. “Apparently you don’t like desserts as much as my Cecil.”

  “Hey,” Cecil patted his own bulging belly and acted like he was offended.

  Later, after dinner as Addison and Cecil drank tea by a roaring fire, his friend asked, “So tell me, are you going to marry this French countess of yours?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “She isn’t the marrying kind. I find Blanche amusing, but I certainly wouldn’t want her to be the mother of my children someday.”

  “Does she want to marry you?”

  “I don’t think so. She likes to go to parties and balls and bedazzle men. Countless men. She is quite good at it. From the moment she discovered I was living in France she has certainly pursued me, but I think she mainly likes the challenge. If I ever stopped running, she would probably get spooked and take off in the other direction. She likes her life the way it is—spending her dead husband’s money and dodging all the men who fall at her feet.”

  Addison gave him a wry smile. “One thing about her though, I don’t have to worry she is after me for my money. She is probably wealthier than me.”

  “I doubt that. Not many people in the world are wealthier than you.”

  Taking a sip of tea, he spoke over the rim of the cup, “These last two years have been extraordinary.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. When you lost all those accounts here in Boston two years ago, I thought it might be done for.”

  “I thought so too. Thank God, we were both wrong.”

  “Yes, literally, thank God. He has always had His hand on you in a special way. He seems to delight in blessing you.”

  Addison cast Cecil a puzzled frown. “Why would you say that?”

  “You left a Bible in your office when you moved to France. I took it and started reading. Suddenly, all the random puzzle pieces of my life started coming together and making sense. When you have God’s word and God’s perspective in your heart, you see everything differently. Jane and I started going to a wonderful church with a real man of God, not like the idiot who kicked you out of his church. This pastor has a heart and nurtures those who are hurt or downtrodden. In fact, he doesn’t mind if dust gets on him when he is helping those who are in need. You would like him, Addison, and our little church. I know you would. It would mean a great deal to me if you would come with me this Sunday.”

  “I’ll come with you. Of course I will.”

  “Good, I’m glad. I want you to understand the joy I have.”

  “I don’t see how going to church gives you joy. Over eighty percent of Bostonians go to church every Sunday, but most of them don’t seem terribly happy to me unless they are gossiping about someone or tearing them down.”

  “Don’t be bitter. You have encountered some bad apples, but that doesn’t mean all apples are bad. Some people go to church like they go to a club or a meeting, forgetting the words they hear the minute they walk out the door. But others go because they truly want to know God.” He leaned forward and his cheerful face became serious. “Addison, do you ever feel as if you have a hole in your heart, like something is missing?”

  “All the time.”

  “I did too. But I don’t anymore. I have the Lord in my heart and my family by my side. I want the same for you, Addison. I truly do. I want you to be happy like me.”

  “I’m glad you are happy. You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that.”

  Cecil leaned back comfortably against the back of the chair and crossed his legs. “Speaking of families, Luke Ainsworth invited me to his wedding the day after tomorrow. I told him you would probably be staying with me and he said he would love for you to come as well. In fact, he came back later with a handmade invitation for you.”

  “I’ll go. I like Luke Ainsworth.” He paused for a moment and then asked with concern, “Oh, wait, is he marrying Priscilla Brown?”

  “Yes, he is. Finally.”

  He set down his teacup with a thud and rolled his eyes. “Great.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to go, after all. I’m sure Mercy Creed will be there. and I don’t want to see her again.”

  “Why not? Are you still pining for her?”

  Yes. But he wasn’t about to admit it. “I never pined for her.”

  “Then what is the problem.”

  “Did she ever get married?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know. But come to the wedding with us. You are more handsome and successful than ever, Addison. Show the girl what she missed out on. Show her you have gone on with your life just fine.”

  Something about that did sound satisfying and with a slow nod he agreed, “I suppose I’ll go to the wedding.”

  Little Royce woke up from his nap and his mother plopped him in Addison’s arms with a bottle. The sweet, little bundle gazed up at him as he greedily ate and it made Addison laugh. “He loves food like his father.”

  “Yes, in a lot of ways he is like me, but I hope and pray he grows up to be an amazing man like his godfather.”

  “Thank you, Cecil.” He rubbed his finger along the baby’s soft cheek, and with a lump forming in his throat, he choked out, “I want one of these. I want one of my own someday.”

  ****

  Priscilla sat as still as she could while Daisy twisted some pearls into her long, dark hair and arraigned it in a towering pile on her head.

  “There,” Daisy announced with a pat on her shoulder, “I think this is the best hairstyle yet. What do you think, Mercy?”

  Mercy sat on the side of her bed swinging her legs back and forth and studied Priscilla’s hair.”Turn to the side.”

  Priscilla quickly obeyed.

  “Yes, I like that hairstyle the best and I love what you have done with the pearls, but maybe pull a few curls out so they hang down her back.”

  Daisy loosened a few curls.

  Mercy nodded. “Yes, that is it. Perfect. Now you just have to remember how you did it, so you can do it the same tomorrow.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Mercy encouraged as she smiled up at her.

  Priscilla examined herself in the mirror some more. “I like it Daisy. You are truly gifted with hair.”

  “I should be. I had to fix Cordelia’s hair enough.”

  Letting out a deep sigh, Priscilla dramatically laid her arms across the dresser and rested her head on her shoulder. “Must you say that name? Since her family got in a few days ago for the wedding I think she is going to drive me insane. If Cordelia’s mother and my mother were not sisters, I would never have to endure her again. But now I’m getting married and I won’t have to be in the same house with her again, thank God.”

  Through gritted teeth, Mercy murmured, “I just hope I can avoid her. If she starts anything, I swear…Oh, never mind. Just talking about her gives me a headache.”

  Standing, Mercy crossed the room and placed her hands on her best friend’s shoulders. “Priscilla, you are going to make the most beautiful bride that ever was.”

  “Only until you become a bride someday.” She looked up at her with a cheeky smile. “And when do you think that day will be?”

  What could she say? When Ian saves up enough money? How could she know when that day would be? Ian had been telling her for two and half years that it would be soon. Somehow his definition of soon, and her definition of
soon, didn’t seem to be the same thing.

  Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know. Soon I hope.” There was that stupid word again. Soon.

  Priscilla twisted around in her chair and looked up at her with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, I have a surprise for you, Mercy.”

  “What is it?”

  “Addison Berkeley is coming to my wedding.”

  Just the mention of his name caused her heart to flutter in her chest like a dozen birds inside trying to get out. She steadied herself by leaning against the back of chair and mumbled, “He’s…a…he’s back?”