Ella Wood

by Michelle Isenhoff

  He was quiet, contemplating the dark recesses of the garden. “Have you spoken to your aunt?”

  “No. She’s never heard of the Maryland Institute, and I’m not sure how she’ll react to it. She’s so steeped in the old ways.”

  “But she does know something about independence,” he reminded her. “She’s taken quite a liking to it. And she has a mind of her own.”

  Emily chuckled. If ever an understatement had been spoken…

  “See what she says,” Jovie suggested. “But if she doesn’t cotton to the idea, I’ll take you to Maryland myself.”

  Ripples of emotion lapped over her like the gentle waves of the river—hope, relief, encouragement. She hadn’t realized how despondent she’d grown until Jovie’s offer washed it away. “You would do that for me?”

  He seemed surprised. “Of course.”

  “I mean, you’d oppose tradition? You’d withstand my father’s disapproval?”

  “He has no hold on me.” He touched her cheek. “Emily, I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I believe in you completely.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Come with me,” she said. She truly wanted him along. “Please? You can help burn the hours. And I want to hear more of your thoughts on medical science.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m more than positive.”

  He squeezed her hand. “How can I say no to that?”

  They parted on easy terms after making plans. Jovie would spend the following day with his parents and arrange a carriage to the train station the day after. She sat outside alone, letting the moonlight seep into her skin and set her heart aglow. Jovie had lifted a tremendous burden from her shoulders. How she hoped he was also right about the war!

  Just when she thought the world might be setting itself upright, Lottie flew headlong into the garden. “Herod’s goin’ to have Ketch whipped again, Miss Emily,” she shrieked in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to tell him. Honest!”

  “Calm down, Lottie,” Emily said, catching the girl to steady her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Herod! He know Ketch gunna run tonight. He gone off to tell Mr. Turnbull!”

  29

  Horror propelled Emily to her feet. This couldn’t be happening. Not tonight of all nights. “We’ve got to stop him!”

  Emily raced toward Ketch’s cabin with Lottie pounding right behind her, struggling to explain her error. “I listened at de doorway, Miss Emily. When Ketch an’ Lizzie was talkin’. I didn’t mean to tell Herod, but he was braggin’ how he gunna marry Lizzie, an’ I jus’ couldn’ stand it no mo’. I tol’ him—”

  “Hush, Lottie. Do you want the whole world to hear you?” She could wring the girl’s neck. Their whole plan was in jeopardy!

  She pounded up the porch steps and threw open the door without knocking. “Ketch! Herod knows. He’s gone to find Turnbull.”

  The black man’s face hardened into a fearsome mask. Without waiting for explanation, he sprinted past her, muscles knotting in his thick arms.

  “Lottie, stay here with Robin,” Emily ordered and raced after him.

  By some good turn of fortune, Mr. Turnbull’s house lay dark and silent. Emily caught sight of two dark silhouettes sprinting in the direction of the mill, one thin and athletic, one thicker, stronger. She had little doubt that tonight Herod would pay for every stroke of the lash that Ketch had suffered. And she wouldn’t waste one ounce of sympathy.

  She turned back for the cabin. “Lottie,” she said sternly when she entered. “Do you know what would have happened if your foolish words found their way to Mr. Turnbull’s ears?”

  The little girl directed her shame toward her bare feet. “Yes’m.”

  Emily crossed her arms. “Ketch would have been severely punished, and you would have hurt Lizzie deeply.”

  Lottie wiped her arm across her nose. Her sniffles sounded loud in the quiet room.

  Emily took pity on the tiny, miserable figure. Kneeling beside her, she lifted her chin. “You admire Lizzie very much, don’t you?”

  Lottie nodded.

  “And you want her to have a chance to be free, far away from here, correct?”

  Another nod.

  “Then let this be a lesson learned. You must never speak a word of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Miss Emily. I swear.”

  “I believe you.” Emily stood up. “Stay here with Robin until Ketch returns and make up for some of the damage you’ve done.”

  She did not see Ketch again that evening. Lizzie went to him the same as she always did, and her face reflected her anxiety when she returned. Emily laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Did he catch Herod?”

  Lizzie nodded. “He bound and gagged down by de river. Ketch gunna take him along.”

  “What?” Emily exclaimed. “That’s not part of the plan.”

  “What choice we got, Miss Emily? Leave him and he gunna spill everythin’. But if Herod disappear too, he look jus’ as guilty. Ketch gunna let him go far downriver. When he get caught or make his way back, ain’t no one gunna believe he snatched away.”

  “And he’ll get the punishment he deserves from Turnbull,” she finished thoughtfully. It was brilliant, really. Herod only knew that Lizzie and Ketch were in on the plan. By dumping him before the schooner came through, there was no way he could incriminate anyone else.

  Late that night, Zeke smuggled Robin to her room. Emily tucked him into her own bed where he quickly fell asleep. She lay awake for hours, worrying about Ketch adrift on the river and envying Robin’s peaceful oblivion. But eventually the warm comfort of his tiny body lulled her to sleep.

  Lizzie arrived in the morning, Larkin bound to her with a length of cloth. Emily still couldn’t pinpoint a resemblance to any men she knew. “Josephine tol’ me dey already lookin’ fo’ de runaways. I’ll stay wid de boy and finish packin’ yo’ things. You go ’bout like always.”

  Emily needn’t have worried that someone might read the strain in her face. No one paid her any mind. Four years had passed since an escape was last attempted from Ella Wood. The disappearance of three slaves—Ketch, Robin, and Herod—sent ripples into the farthest corners of the property. Emily avoided most of the excitement by spending large portions of her day secluded in her room with Robin, who needed no laudanum to keep him quiet. He had lost his father once before. He understood the stakes all too well.

  But Emily administered the sedative the next day before tucking the child among the dresses in one of her trunks. The footmen who carried her luggage downstairs noticed nothing amiss. No link was made between Emily’s exit and the ongoing manhunt, though Marie expressed her dismay.

  “What is your hurry?” she protested when Emily announced her departure. “Margaret hasn’t even answered my request yet, and you have a week at least before your father returns.”

  “I’m not in a hurry, Mother. I just don’t think that waiting around will serve any purpose.”

  “And what if Margaret isn’t expecting you?”

  “I could stay a few days with Abigail.”

  “You cannot impose yourself on them uninvited and unannounced.”

  “Why not? Is that more improper than disowning a child? Or are you afraid I might cause you embarrassment when the details get out?”

  Marie sighed. “At least wait for me to accompany you. I’ll take you to our house in Charleston where you can stay for the time being. You cannot travel alone.”

  “Mother,” she said. “Father kicked me out. That doesn’t come with a chaperone. I don’t live here any longer. You’ll have to get accustomed to my being on my own.”

  Marie bracketed her face with trembling hands. “I never imagined it would come to this. I thought your father would change his mind.”

  “You needn’t worry yet,” Emily comforted. “Jovie’s coming to deliver me as far as Charleston. Something will work out.”

  She understood her mother’s fears. They had terrified her too. But unlike her moth
er, she had thought through options beyond the proper boundaries of high society. Her year in Detroit had prepared her well for living among the working class. The prospect didn’t unsettle her as it would her mother. At the moment, however, she had far more urgent things to consider.

  When Jovie arrived, she hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “I must go. I’ll write,” she promised.

  Marie let her go reluctantly. “I will continue to plead with your father.”

  Emily passed the next three hours in animated conversation, willfully avoiding Lizzie’s eye and setting aside thoughts of Robin sleeping in her trunk. Her cheerful energy felt deceptive. This was Jovie, after all. But she knew he would never agree with what she was doing. She drew on her dramatic abilities once again and played the perfect companion even while her nerves twitched and her pulse thundered as loudly as the train speeding over its steel rails.

  In Charleston, over Jovie’s protests, she demanded to be delivered not to her aunt’s but to her own familiar house. He left her there with the promise to return for supper and went on to secure a room in the boardinghouse he had occupied during school.

  The staff asked few questions when Emily appeared on the doorstep, and she spent the afternoon making final preparations for the evening. Several of her dresses had already been altered to fit Lizzie. She supplied her with undergarments, socks, gloves, and shoes. Then she purchased a long, thick mourning veil. Lizzie’s skin must be completely covered when she boarded the steamship.

  By dinner they were ready, the trunk packed and two tickets to Philadelphia aboard the SS Hornbill tucked inside. They would await Ketch at the battery gardens after sundown. From there they would retrieve the trunk with Robin inside, and Ketch would carry it the few blocks to the wharf. The steamer, one of few still in service, was scheduled to depart at 4:00 a.m., when high tide would begin its ebb toward the sea and darkness would hide them from the telescopes of Union warships.

  Emily slumped onto the bed, fighting the hysteria that strove for a fingerhold on the perimeter of her mind. Lizzie approached, holding Larkin and pushing Robin ahead of her. She already looked like the matriarch of the tiny family. “Miss Emily, we wanna thank you for all you doin’ fo’ us. It somethin’ we won’t never forget.”

  Suddenly, Emily realized this would be their last evening together. The details that had been filling her mind fell away and made room for a rush of sadness. She would dearly miss Lizzie—her oldest, truest friend.

  “Lizzie, you’re a free woman now. You must call me by name.”

  The former maid smiled. “I’d like dat fine…Emily.”

  The two women embraced. “Thank you for so many years of service, even when I took it for granted.” She pulled away. “Oh! I have something for you!” Emily rummaged in a second trunk and pulled out a book stolen from her brother’s closet. “Don’t tell Jack.”

  “Africa Revealed,” Lizzie read. She looked up, her eyes shining. “Thank you, Mi—Emily.”

  “And here’s my Uncle Timothy’s address and a letter explaining who you are and why you’re in Philadelphia. I didn’t have time to mail it ahead. He’s an abolitionist. He’ll help you.”

  Lizzie reached for the letter at the same instant a knock sounded at the front door below. Emily took a long, weary breath. “I wish Jovie wasn’t coming until tomorrow.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Lizzie assured her.

  Emily shored up her shoulders. Just a few more hours.

  Tandey met her on the stairs. “A young gentleman in de parlor to see you, Miss Emily.”

  She fixed a casual smile onto her face and stepped in the room. “Jovie, you’re a few minutes early. Supper won’t be served until— Thad!” she exclaimed in delight.

  He grinned and caught her up in a close embrace. “Surprised?”

  “Yes, very!” Her skin telegraphed its pleasure through every nerve line in her body. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Jovie told me.”

  “Then you’ll know I’ve been banished from my home.”

  His eyes expressed concern and sympathy. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ll contact my aunt tomorrow, and Jovie has already offered to help me investigate the Maryland Institute.”

  “You mean you still intend to go through with it?” he asked, stiffening slightly.

  “With what?”

  “With your plan to go to school, of course.”

  She extracted herself from his arms. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I thought you’d be more concerned about the breakup of your family. Apparently I was mistaken.”

  “I am concerned about my family.”

  He looped his thumbs in the front of his trousers. “But not enough to fix it.”

  “You don’t know my father like I do.” She scowled. “There’s no ‘fixing it’ with a man that stubborn. This isn’t the first time he’s banished me, you know. I spent a year in Detroit because I wasn’t meeting his expectations.”

  “Maybe you should try a little harder.”

  She crossed her arms. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours.” He laid a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. “I’m just concerned that you may be acting too hastily. Family is important, and I don’t want to see you lose yours.”

  “So you think I should give up the thing I want most in the world?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair in an obvious effort to hold back his frustration. “I mean, maybe you should slow down. Put school off awhile. Give your father a little more time to get acclimated to the idea.”

  “He’ll never acclimate to the idea.”

  “You won’t know that unless you try.”

  Her fingers started scratching her arms of their own volition. She didn’t want to give her father another chance. He was impossible!

  “Jack told me how close you were to him. In five years, in ten, you would regret your decision. Don’t choose that path without first trying a better one,” he finished.

  Emily’s teeth crammed together so forcefully that the ache pushed into her jaw. A small part of her admitted he was right. The rest of her thoroughly resented his meddling. She was just about to retort when a second knock sounded at the door. A moment later, Tandey admitted Jovie.

  His smile faded when he saw the irritation on her face, then it hardened into displeasure at the sight of Thad. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just trying to make Emily see reason before she makes an impulsive decision she will later regret.” Thad’s tone had cooled considerably.

  Jovie glanced at Emily then back to Thad. “It doesn’t look like she appreciates your suggestions.”

  The green of his eyes had iced over, and Emily saw the same fierceness she had witnessed the afternoon of his kiss. She closed her eyes in dismay. Hadn’t Jovie given up those hopes that she might feel something romantic toward him? Judging by the rigid line of his posture and the firm set of his jaw, he had not.

  “You’d prefer to help her shatter something dear to her? Something that might prove irretrievable?” Thad asked, his hands clenching into fists on either side of his hips.

  “It is Emily’s choice,” Jovie retorted. “And if developing her gift is what she chooses, I will see she gets the opportunity.”

  As the two young men drew battle lines on opposing sides of the parlor, Tandey poked her head into the room. “Shall I tell Betsy two guests for dinner?”

  Emily’s frustrations boiled over. “No, I believe I’d prefer to eat alone tonight.” She glared from one young man to the other. “I will not be the scrap of meat that caused a dogfight.”

  She grabbed Thad by the front of his shirt and gave Jovie a shove, propelling both of them out of the parlor. “Jovie, I appreciate your escort today, but I do not need further protection. Thad, just go.”

  “Emily—” />
  “Go!” Emily ordered, pointing out the open front door.

  The young men exchanged scathing glares and stalked, one behind the other, into the twilight.

  30

  Emily strained her eyes in the darkness, hoping to see Ketch’s form approaching, praying he didn’t encounter any guards. Lizzie danced beside her like a small child in need of an outhouse, hugging Larkin tightly. “Calm down,” Emily warned in an undertone. “You’ll draw attention.” A few pedestrians still strolled the garden paths, braving the stiff wind that had kicked up with the setting of the sun. And knots of refugees from the nearby Sea Islands, fleeing the raids of Union soldiers stationed at Hilton Head near Port Royal, camped in the shelter of trees and statuary.

  “I can’t help it. What if he doesn’t come?”

  “He’ll come.” He had to come. Robin was sleeping soundly in the trunk, Lizzie had donned her fine gown, and the steamer would leave in just a few hours. Ketch had to be on it.

  His familiar outline loped up the walk a few minutes later, and Emily sagged with relief. As he drew near, however, she saw he had the unmistakable look of a field hand. She chastised herself for not considering that detail. A fine lady’s serving man would never dress so shabbily. But it was too late to be fixed now. “Ketch!” she hissed.

  He veered in their direction and together they strolled up Meeting Street to retrieve Robin. Lizzie and Emily had sneaked the trunk down the steps before their walk and hidden it behind some shrubbery. Ketch lifted it handily. “Ain’t nearly so heavy as a barrel o’ rice.”

  Emily wished she’d been able to fill it with more items they would need, but only so much fit inside with the little boy. “Shhhh,” she warned with a finger to her lips. “From now on, let me do all the talking.”

  She led them through darkened streets, jerking each time the rising gusts sent debris skittering across their path. More refugees watched them pass from alleys and doorways. She felt entirely too conspicuous. What ladies would walk to the waterfront after dark in the company of a field hand and without the presence of a gentlemen? At the very least, they would have sent their luggage on ahead, but a carriage would have alerted the household to their escape.