Ebb Tide (Ella Wood Book 3)

by Michelle Isenhoff

“Dis be crazy, Miss Emily.”

  “Please, Sarah. Mr. Black has made threats against my family. This may be the only way I can guard against them.”

  Sarah pursed her lips in disapproval.

  “If you ever do get in trouble, if Mr. Black ever acts…inappropriately…Lottie told you where to go, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Then will you do it?”

  Sarah’s face was grave, her eyes still large and frightened. Finally she nodded. “All right, miss. I’ll do it.”

  ***

  The effects of Emily’s near disaster accumulated after she’d left the scene of danger, clotting together like butter in a churn as she cleared the window and sprinted for home. Heat, cold, and nausea seized her by intervals, and her hands trembled so badly she could hardly let herself into the house. Terror metabolized into exhaustion as she peeled off her muddy clothes. She curled into a ball beneath a stack of blankets, but it was hours before she eased into black oblivion.

  Dawn failed to wake her. Breakfast passed unnoticed. Only when Abigail pulled the pillow from her head and laid a cool hand on her brow did she open her eyes. “Are you ill?”

  Emily blinked and sat up. “I don’t think so.”

  “I thought perhaps you’d caught your death of a cold, braving a rainstorm in the middle of the night.”

  A new alarm jarred her into wakefulness. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  “I just found out. But if you want to keep it a secret, you’d best clean up the soggy jumble on your floor. Were you out all night?”

  “Only an hour.”

  “It’s past eleven. You’re sure you’re well?”

  “I feel much better than yesterday.” Emily yawned and stretched. It was the first sleep she’d enjoyed since the night before the baby’s arrival. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “I think Dr. Wainwright has tended too many fat, pampered aristocrats. Deena said slave women can have a baby in the morning and pick cotton in the afternoon. She told me to do whatever I feel like doing.”

  “Is Deena rocking Elsie?”

  “Every chance she gets.”

  “She’s going to miss that baby when you leave.”

  “I’m going to miss her help.” Abigail tossed an envelope onto the bed. “Apollo’s already taken my letters to the post office. He returned with this.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll send in Lottie to help you clean up.”

  Emily had already shifted her focus to the return address. Mr. Gregory Heatherstone, Baltimore. It must be news of Jeremiah. Seized by a sudden alarm, she ripped open the envelope and scanned only the first few lines before her scream brought Abigail hastening back into the room.

  Dear Emily,

  Thy brother bid me contact thee with all haste. He spent the past fortnight here in the city with a recruiting party from his regiment. His health fares well, so fear not, but his mind was in a state of high agitation. For the morning of the same day he begged leave to visit me, he sighted a friend of thine here in Baltimore. He bid me tell thee Jovie Cutler lives…

  16

  Emily burst out her bedroom doorway only to crash headlong into her mother. Marie grabbed her by the arms, examining her sharply. “Are you all right? I heard screaming.”

  “I’m perfect!” Emily laughed and pulled her mother into an impromptu dance. “I’m more than perfect. He’s alive!”

  Abigail watched her friend’s antics with amusement.

  “Who’s alive? What are you talking about?”

  Instead of answering, Emily threw her arms around Marie’s neck. “Where’s Father?”

  “He’s in the sitting—”

  She flew down the hallway.

  “What on earth—?” Marie looked to Abigail, who just smiled and returned to her own bedroom, using the wall for support.

  Emily waited inside the door, dancing on her toes impatiently, and erupted the moment Marie crossed the threshold. “Mother, Father, I’m leaving for Baltimore this afternoon!”

  “What?” Marie gasped, exchanging a glance with William, who sat in the wheelchair beside a sunlit window. “Emily, you can’t be serious!”

  “I’m completely serious. Mother, Jovie Cutler is alive!”

  Dead silence followed the announcement. Marie dropped into a chair beside William, one hand at her throat. “It can’t be!” she whispered.

  “Jer—a friend spotted him in Baltimore. I’m going to him. Today. I have to find him!”

  William held up a hand to slow her down. “What—about—the war?” he asked in his halting speech. “The armies.”

  Emily paused. She had forgotten. Soon—very soon—the weather would allow for a renewal of hostilities. Perhaps they were mobilizing even now.

  “Emily, this is foolishness,” Marie chastised. “Let Mr. Cutler and the authorities work this out.”

  “No! I need to go.” Emily dropped to her knees before her father. “There must be a way, Papa. I did it once before.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  She looked up at him pleadingly. “Because I’m in love with him.”

  Marie looked on in disbelief. “Emily, you never said a word!”

  “What difference would it have made? You’ve had enough to worry about.”

  Marie cut her eyes to her husband, barely recovered, seated in his deceased sister’s chair.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. Jovie’s alive.” Her heart fluttered about the room on butterfly wings.

  “Edna will want to know,” Marie said. “We’ll write to her and Walter immediately. We could have answers in just a few weeks.”

  “No, Mother,” Emily insisted. “I’m going. I’ll take a blockade runner. Or ride one of the carriage horses. Or walk if I have to. But I’m going.”

  “Take Apollo.”

  It was William. Acknowledging her decision. Granting her independence. Giving his permission and a strong, trusted servant. Emily understood fully the momentousness of those two tiny words. She grasped his good hand. “Papa, Apollo isn’t like Zeke. I can’t guarantee his return.”

  “Take him.”

  Emily nodded. “Thank you.”

  Marie rose, resignation in the tilt of her chin. She could not win against them both. “It’s utter foolishness,” she said. “But if you insist on going through with it, I’ll have Josephine prepare a basket.”

  She left, leaving Emily alone with her father. Their eyes met, and there, behind the drooping lid, she found the man she had lost. Her picture of him was far clearer now, with all his faults and brokenness apparent. But he was there, deep within those eyes. Strong. Proud. Her father.

  “Be careful.”

  It was all he said.

  It was enough.

  ***

  “Might I hab a word, Miss Emily?”

  She looked up from the trunk standing open to receive the disarray blanketing her bedroom. Lottie stood beside her holding a neatly folded petticoat. “What is it, Zeke? We’re a little busy at the moment.”

  “It be Sarah, miss.”

  Fear winged through the open doorway. Emily peeked her head into the hall, pulled Zeke inside, and closed the door. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Thad done beat her up pretty bad.”

  “Like Lizzie?” she whispered in horror.

  “No, miss. Not like Lizzie.”

  “Where is she? Did she run away?”

  “She hidin’ where you tol’ her to. Wilson foun’ her an hour ago. ”

  Emily closed her eyes. “Did Thad see us together?”

  “Wilson didn’t say nothin’ ’bout dat.”

  He must have. Somehow he must have found out. She grabbed his sleeve. “Zeke, she can’t go back to him. When I leave, she has to come with me.”

  “You think Mr. Thad ain’t gunna find out you went north de same day Sarah gone missin’? He gunna follow you and steal her right back. Ain’t no tellin’ what he do to her den.”

  “Wel
l, she certainly can’t stay here.”

  “An’ we can’t do nothin’ till dark settles.”

  “Then I’ll think up an excuse to delay.”

  Zeke stared at her long and hard. “Miss Emily, you know what you doin’?”

  “No, but I’ll think of something.”

  His gaze lingered another moment then transferred to Lottie, who had watched the whole exchange through eyes as round as billiard balls. He nodded to her, glanced once more at Emily, and left the room.

  “What you gunna do, Miss Emily?” Lottie whispered.

  Before she could think of an answer, a fist cracked the front door like a battering ram. “Emily Preston! Come out here now!”

  Emily felt the color leave her face.

  Marie’s voice drifted up from the entryway. “What on earth? Thaddeus Black, what in God’s name are you doing to my door?”

  Thad must have pushed inside, because his voice suddenly amplified. “Where is your daughter? She has some explaining to do.”

  “Get out of my house!”

  “I’ll leave when I’ve had my say. Emily! Get down here!”

  “Apollo, send for the constable!” Marie shrieked.

  Abigail appeared in the hallway, wide-eyed and frightened, just as Emily squared her shoulders and stepped from her room. “Don’t go down there, Emily. He’s insane!”

  “If I don’t, he’ll come up here looking for me.”

  “What did you do to make him so upset?”

  “Nothing.” She stepped onto the first step and added beneath her breath, “Yet.”

  William wheeled himself clumsily out of his bedroom, banging into both sides of the doorjamb. He waved her back. On his lap he held open a beautifully carved wooden box. Emily recognized it at once. Inside, on a cushion of blue velvet, lay a silver dueling pistol.

  “Emily!” Thad bellowed.

  Emily slid the pistol into her skirt pocket.

  “What do you want, Mr. Black?” Her descending form held the poise of an Egyptian queen.

  Thad charged to meet her, face flushed, shirt open at the neck, blue eyes flashing fire. He’d cut a formidable figure on a bulwark somewhere, in defense of the Charleston perimeter. Unfortunately, Thad employed all his talents to serve himself. “Where’s my slave woman?”

  “Which one? You own two dozen.”

  “You know which one.”

  “How could I possibly know that?”

  “Because I saw you speaking with her when you broke into my office in the middle of the night.”

  Marie gasped and turned to her in astonishment, but Emily didn’t let the tiniest flicker of emotion disturb her facade. “Have you been drinking, Thad?”

  He grabbed her wrist—the one not concealed in her pocket—and yanked her off the bottom step. “I’m not drunk and I know what I saw. You have Sarah, and I want her back.”

  “So you can rape her?” The words sliced all other sound from the room.

  Emily jerked at her arm, her own fury rising. “I haven’t seen any of your slave women. Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you. I wouldn’t condemn a dog to your household.”

  He raised his fist, and Emily thought he would strike her again. Fingers tightened on the steel in her pocket. But the eyes of seven witnesses halted him. He flung her away instead, jamming a finger between her eyes. “I’ll find her. And I’ll see you in jail for stealing my property.”

  “Search all you want. She’s probably long gone. Or dead. I’d choose either over belonging to you.”

  His hatred burned into her eyes and ate through the back of her skull. Without another word, he stormed out the front door.

  Marie rushed to her side. “Emily, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mother.” She wouldn’t begin shaking until the danger passed.

  “I can’t imagine that man! Believing he saw you in his house last night? He’s mad!”

  “A raving lunatic.”

  The dead calm of her voice made Marie peer at her more closely. “You weren’t in his house last night, were you?”

  Emily watched through the front window as Thad kicked his horse into a gallop.

  “Emily, tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

  She smiled. “I am about to leave for Baltimore. Don’t you think that will prove difficult enough without trying to bring a runaway slave across the border with me?”

  She turned and climbed the stairs with trembling knees.

  ***

  Thad’s assault provided exactly the excuse Emily needed to delay until the next day. By the time she’d “recovered” enough to embark on her journey, hasty arrangements were already in motion to move Sarah far from Fairview. Emily would meet up with her later. But first, she had to create the appearance of departing without her.

  Emily had no clear travel plans. She would ride the train north as far as it would carry her. After that, she’d have to make it up as she went along. Trudy would be accompanying her. She’d eagerly accepted when Emily invited her along. And Apollo. Sarah would make four. Emily had no idea how long the trip would take, but she knew it wouldn’t be accomplished quickly. Food would become an issue. She went personally to oversee the packing of a substantial basket.

  Herod ambushed her on the way to the kitchen. “You’re leavin’,” he stated with less animosity than usual.

  “News spreads fast.”

  “It be true about Mr. Jovie?”

  She nodded.

  “And you takin’ Sarah wid you?”

  Her head snapped up in surprise. He couldn’t possibly know anything, could he? “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Ain’t nothin’ happen in de big house a secret. I know Mr. Thad come by.” He studied her keenly. “You helpin’ her escape, ain’t you?”

  Had Lottie let something slip again, or was Herod simply that astute?

  She drew on every ounce of poise she possessed. “Herod, I am leaving for the train in one hour. If, during that time, you see Thad’s maid, you can level your accusations. Otherwise, keep them to yourself.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you have work you’re supposed to be doing?”

  “Take me instead o’ Apollo.” His request was blunt and direct.

  “I can’t do that, Herod. My father hasn’t granted his permission.”

  He scoffed. “Since when do you ask permission?”

  He had her there. How could he understand the delicate balance of her new relationship with her father? The promise she’d made her mother? “I can’t, Herod.”

  His scowl grew more fierce. “You takin’ Trudy. You gunna let her free jus’ like you did Paxton and Stella.”

  “Herod, how do you know all this?”

  He snorted. “Black folk can’t run off widout a mighty big farewell ’less dey been let go.”

  She lifted her chin defensively. “Paxton and Stella and Trudy are my slaves, to do with as I wish. Someday you will belong to me as well, and I promise you I will manumit you then. But right now you belong to my father.” She shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, I cannot bring you with me.”

  “You can’t? Or you won’t?” Pure malice flared in his eyes. He made no attempt to disguise it.

  Emily took a step backward. He hated her with a deep, volatile loathing. It wasn’t just about Lizzie, she realized. Or reading or hypocrisy or any of the other things he’d accused her of. He despised her because she had helped others escape, but she’d always passed over him.

  She took another step backward. “I’m sorry, Herod,” she repeated and hastened her steps toward the kitchen. Peeking out the window, she was relieved to see him striding back toward the slave village. Her pulse was pounding. Herod sometimes caused feelings of anxiety or distrust, but never had she felt so unnerved. She was suddenly glad for the miles she would be putting between them.

  Within the hour, Emily bid good-bye to her mother and father and Abigail on the front porch. Marie maintained her usual composure, but her eyes were red-rimmed and her embrace fo
rced the air from Emily’s lungs. “I will pray for you every day,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, Mama.” She knew how hard this was for her.

  William’s send-off was much more pragmatic. Their emotional exchange had already taken place in the sitting room the day before. She leaned down to peck his cheek, and he cupped the side of her face in one hand. It was almost casual in its efficiency, and Emily felt grown-up in his presence for the first time. “Good-bye, Papa.”

  Only Abigail seemed to understand the joy Emily was feeling. Her smile was jubilant. “Go find him,” she whispered as they embraced around little Elsie. She waved the travelers all the way down the driveway.

  Emily couldn’t force back a grin as she settled across from Trudy and Apollo. Jovie was alive! And she would be seeing him soon. She gave a last wave as the carriage turned onto the road and began the trek to the railway station.

  Emily had foregone her trunk and carried only a single bag. When they reached Baltimore, she would fetch her belongings from the attic of Mrs. Bentley’s boardinghouse. She had, however, packed the letter issued to her by Mr. Woodward last spring verifying her as a student at the Maryland Institute and a beautiful strand of pearls from Aunt Margaret’s jewelry box to fund her trip. She felt guilty selling such an heirloom, but she knew Aunt Margaret would have approved. Trudy carried her few belongings wrapped in a blanket. Apollo took charge of the basket of food.

  They boarded the train at Ladson without incident. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She would disembark at Seven Mile Station—more than halfway to Charleston—where Wilson had walked all night to hide Sarah. There, far from nosy eyes, Emily would re-board with all three Negroes and continue her journey.

  Emily found a seat and let her nerves settle. She smiled as the train began pulling out of the station. “That went smoother than I hoped.”

  Apollo nodded his head toward the window. “I ain’t so sure.”

  Emily followed the direction he indicated. There was Thad, pounding up to the depot on horseback. She sat up in alarm and watched as he exchanged words with the stationmaster. Then a curve in the track blocked him from sight.