Midnight Rose

by Patricia Hagan

  Victoria jumped, startled at his sudden, growling cry. “What did you say?”

  Her hand flew to her throat in fear as she looked at him, saw his eyes bulging, the cords standing out on his neck, the way he was starting to shake all over. He’d pressed his fists together, as if he were squeezing with all his might to destroy something deep inside him. “I-I said,” she stuttered, “th-there was a rose. I heard Annie tell her she’d found a rose at the grave. I think it was a signal, because she met him later, and—”

  “Stop!” He leaned out the carriage window to yell up at the driver.

  With a sudden lurch, the horses were reined in, and Ryan bolted out the door. Victoria watched, stunned, as he ran to untie his horse. Mounting, he swiftly dug in his heels to send him into a thundering gallop.

  Victoria poked her head out the window to command the driver shrilly, “Don’t just sit here, you ninny! Get after him. Fast!” She braced herself as the horses took off and the carriage began to rock from side to side. A knot of terror rose in her throat, but not over the precarious ride. She was afraid of what Ryan might do.

  He rode at breakneck speed.

  Eliza heard him coming up the road. So did Ebner. And both of them exchanged looks of wide-eyed wonder as they stood together just inside the front door.

  Ryan rode right up to the porch, dismounting only when he reached the door. Without so much as a glance in their direction, he charged upstairs.

  Then they heard it—the sounds of glass breaking and furniture smashing as Ryan commenced to destroy what was left of his dream.

  Eliza began to weep. Lord, it wasn’t right, none of it.

  Ebner winced with each sound from above. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered over and over. “Oh, sweet Jesus, help that poor boy.”

  By the time the carriage pulled up and Victoria leaped out to charge into the house, all was silent. She looked from Eliza to Ebner, who wouldn’t meet her terrified, questioning gaze. Rushing by, she made her way upstairs.

  Ryan was standing at the window of what had been Erin’s bedroom, hands bruised and bloody. The room was in shambles.

  Aghast, Victoria lashed out, “Have you gone crazy? How dare you—”

  “Yes, goddamn it, how dare I?” he cut her off to rage. “How dare I think she loved me! Never,” he roared, “never mention her name again. And tomorrow, I want every rose on this property destroyed.”

  Victoria stared after him as he left to cross to his room, slamming and locking the door.

  What was it about the roses that upset him so?

  With a sigh, she supposed it didn’t matter. And she really didn’t care about the mess. Eliza would clean it up. Maybe she’d invite Ermine over for tea in the next few days, so they could start planning how to redecorate. Ryan would get over it all eventually.

  But still, she couldn’t help being curious about the rose and why it triggered such a violent reaction.

  Erin was still amazed to think how Philadelphia was such an important harbor, when it lay nearly 110 miles from the sea. At the junction of the Schuylkill and Delaware rivers, one of the crewmen on the flatboat that took her on the last leg of her journey explained it was due to the shipbuilding there. He said the masts, spars, timber, and plank came from the state itself. The wood of the mulberry came from the nearby Chesapeake, and the evergreen and red cedars were imported from the Carolinas and Georgia.

  “The distance from the sea doesn’t really matter,” he’d boasted, “though there is some objection due to the river freezing in the winter. But that’s just for a few weeks. Besides, the greatest port in Europe, Amsterdam, is inaccessible almost all winter long. When the water warms just a wee bit here, fleets of merchants are waiting to go out and come in. There’s fine corn and flour and pork and beef, lumber and iron. Little time is lost, and trade actually increases those months.”

  Erin had a flash of memory about Ryan’s interest in Philadelphia shipping but pushed it back. She didn’t want to think about those days when she foolishly thought she might be falling in love with him.

  On arrival in the city, Erin and Lucy Jane said tearful good-byes. Lucy Jane would continue north to join her family, vowing if ever she saw her husband again, she would kill him.

  Erin could so easily empathize, for she had the same sentiments for Zachary. “Just try not to look back,” she echoed advice she constantly gave herself. “Thinking about it keeps it alive. It’s best to let it be dead.”

  “I wish you luck finding your mother. How long do you think it will be before you can get passage?”

  Erin said she honestly didn’t know. “I don’t have any money, and the American Colonization Society, I understand, doesn’t have enough funds even for the freed slaves, who’ve got the legal right to go. I can’t expect help there, but I’ll probably try.”

  “What do the runaways do that want to get out of the country if the society can’t help them?”

  “They have to find a way to get smuggled on board.”

  “So what will do you?” Lucy Jane hated to leave her new friend, whom she’d learned to love as a sister in the past weeks.

  “When I was here a few months ago, I left some money to be used for people in situations like mine. Maybe others have donated to the cause too, and I can find assistance there.”

  “But what if you can’t?” Lucy Jane persisted.

  “Don’t worry. I guess I could always get work as a fancy girl.” She winked, and they both laughed, but deep down Erin was frightened as she wondered what would happen if indeed there were no aid available from Mother Bethel.

  With Lucy Jane on her way, Erin set out from the harbor, walking all the way into the city. Her feet were soon blistered and aching. Though she looked and felt dowdy in the gray muslin dress and black wool cape Jason had managed to find for her back in Jamestown, she was grateful to have even that much. She’d been cast out of her home with only her gown and robe. Ryan could have had the decency at least to send along the clothes she’d brought with her. But he had no decency, she thought with bitter rage, promptly admonishing herself for allowing his memory to invade once more.

  Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Food had been scarce on the flatboat. The four-man crew got the bulk of the rations for the two-day journey from the bay. Erin knew it was only fair. After all, the men were working, and she and Lucy Jane were riding free, thanks to the owner being a secret Free Soiler and willing to provide passage for the last leg of the journey to freedom. Still, she felt weak from not eating, and the way to Mother Bethel Church was long.

  It was nearly sunset when she got there, and her heart sank. The building was dark and no one appeared to be around.

  Fearing she couldn’t stand up much longer, and not wanting to pass out in the street, Erin dragged herself across the lawn and into the shadows. Much better, she felt, to rest on church grounds, but could not deny being afraid. Never in her whole life could she remember feeling so alone.

  There was a small porch at the rear, and she managed to make it there before she collapsed wearily to the stone floor.

  And that was where Pastor Jones found her early the next morning, shivering from the cold in her exhausted sleep. It was not unusual to find the destitute and homeless on the church’s doorstep, but he was startled to recognize Erin. Despite her dirty, shabby clothing and her mussed, stringy hair, there was no denying she was the same lovely young girl he’d met some time back.

  He shook her awake, and she couldn’t tell him why she was there, not right away, for her teeth were chattering too fiercely. He helped her inside and wrapped her in a blanket from the sofa in his office while he got a fire going in the grate. At last, with a mug of steaming coffee, huddled before the warmth of the blaze, she was able to explain.

  He listened sympathetically to her tragic tale of woe, wondering how any man would want to rid himself of one so lovely as well as intelligent, no matter what her heritage.

  His heart went out to her, and it was with deep regret he had t
o deny her plea for help. “I know it doesn’t seem fair after you gave so generously when you were here before, but that money was used to help others like yourself, and we just don’t have the funds right now. I’m sorry, Mrs. Youngblood.”

  “Sterling,” she corrected, more sharply than she intended. “I don’t consider myself to be Mrs. Youngblood any longer.”

  “I can certainly understand that.”

  “And I can understand a shortage of funds. I’m just grateful you and I together were able to help Letty. I heard she got away safely. And my mother, too. Now I’ve just got to find a way to follow after them. I’d best get started.”

  “Not till you’ve had something to eat. At least I can offer you a hot meal.”

  “Which I will gratefully accept.”

  It was later, as she prepared to go, that Pastor Jones clasped her hands to offer up a prayer for her safe deliverance. He then worriedly asked, “What will you do, my child? Where will you go? Why not stay here, and we’ll take up a special offering, and—”

  “No.” She shook her head, politely cutting him off. “There’s no time. I’ve got to leave Pennsylvania as quickly as possible and follow my mother. She’s sick, and she’ll need me to take care of her. All I know is she was sent to a place called Sierra Leone, in Africa.”

  “It’s a British colony in West Africa that’s been openly receiving freed blacks for the past thirty years or so.”

  “Do you know much about it?”

  “Only that it was initially a private venture of antislavery humanitarians. They were hoping to accomplish two things—a home for unwanted ex-slaves and a base for legitimate trade into Africa. The trade venture didn’t work out, though. The colony wound up being taken over by the British government. It’s still a haven for free slaves, however, and your mother will be safe there.”

  “That’s a comfort. I’m sure my stepfather will never stop looking for her if he finds out she wasn’t sold into slavery as he intended.”

  “Do you have to go there, too? We could use you here, Erin.”

  “I know, and believe me, I’d like to help, but I feel driven to try and find her, Pastor Jones.”

  Soberly, somberly, he whispered, “I pray that you do, my child. I pray that you do.”

  Pastor Jones insisted she take money for carriage fare. Temperatures had dropped even lower, and the skies were cloudy and overcast with the threat of rain. A chilling wind was blowing in from the channel, and it was no kind of weather to be out walking, especially in her weakened condition.

  When the carriage pulled up in front of Charles Grudinger’s house, it was nearly dark. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep at Mother Bethel, but after eating so much of the delicious meal Pastor Jones had prepared for her, she had curled up on his sofa and slept all afternoon. He had not wanted to awaken her, feeling she needed the rest.

  Dressed as she was, Erin did not dare go to the front entrance. Instead, she went to the door that opened to the alley in the rear, where deliveries and service calls were made.

  Nanny Bess peered out a window in response to her knock, calling sharply, “Who is it? We aren’t expecting anyone.”

  Erin gave only her first name.

  Promptly opening the door to motion her inside, Nanny Bess exclaimed, “Glory be, I’d never have known it was you. What on earth has happened? Your clothes, your hair…” Her voice trailed off; she was embarrassed because she’d gone on so. It was obvious the once glamorous and richly dressed young woman had fallen on hard times.

  Erin proceeded to tell all, and Nanny Bess listened with eyes growing ever wider with each word she spoke. “I need to talk to Mr. Grudinger,” Erin finished in pleading. “I don’t have any money. Mother Bethel can’t help, either. And I’ve got to get to Sierra Leone and find my mother. I was hoping, praying, he’d grant me passage on one of his ships.”

  They were sitting in the kitchen. Nanny Bess had guided her to a chair at the table. She didn’t say anything as she took Erin’s wet cape and offered her one of her robes. Finally, when Erin was warm, comfortable, and holding a mug of steaming coffee in her trembling hands, Nanny Bess told her Mr. Grudinger was not well. “The doctors think it’s his heart. He seldom gets out of bed anymore. He’s gone to sleep for the night, and I don’t want to wake him up.

  “In fact,” she admitted, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea even to let him know you’re here.”

  “But why?” Erin was desperate to know, a sinking sensation in her stomach. “Surely he’ll help me, and I know he was involved in transporting freed slaves back to Africa, and—”

  “That didn’t work out.” Nanny Bess cut her off brusquely. “The Colonization Society was having money problems, so he got involved with packet services instead.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I do know is that I don’t have anywhere else to go, and if he can’t, or won’t, help me, then I’ve got to try and slip on board to stow away and hope I don’t get caught.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

  “That won’t be necessary. Mr. Grudinger has been generous to me through the years, and my needs have been few. I have money saved, and I can book your passage on one of the packets myself. He owns two of them. But they also carry cargo, and they don’t sail from port till they have a full load. There’s only room for about twelve passengers, but I’ll see what I can do about getting you on the next one out.”

  “Thank God.” Erin breathed a sigh of relief, but sensing there was something she wasn’t being told, she asked suspiciously, “Why don’t you want him to know I’m here?”

  “Because I’d have to tell him everything, how your husband sold you into slavery, which technically makes you a fugitive. He wouldn’t dare let you go on one of his ships then. He’d be afraid he’d lose his contract with the government to carry mail if it became known he was illegally transporting runaways.

  “Whether you like it or not,” she hastened to add, “Mr. Youngblood is a rich and powerful man. Quite well known and highly regarded. If he finds out you escaped and were brought north, you can be sure he’ll have people looking for you. Mr. Grudinger would not want to be involved.”

  “But you will help me?” Erin felt the need to be assured, reaching to clasp Nanny Bess’s hand.

  “Of course I will, but I wish you were going to stay here. I could use your help.”

  Erin shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

  Nanny Bess understood, then dismally shared her own fears. “Mr. Grudinger isn’t going to live much longer, and I won’t have a home myself when he’s gone. But that part doesn’t worry me. What does is wondering what I can do to help Mother Bethel.”

  “You’ll find a way,” Erin assured her, reverently adding, “Your kind always do.”

  Nanny Bess flashed a wide grin and impulsively reached to hug her. “And so does yours! I won’t be at all surprised to see you back here one day. I’ll sure be praying it happens.”

  “Maybe. Right now I’ve got a long journey ahead of me.” Pain assaulted her as she remembered Rosa’s dying prediction that she’d go far, far away, because she’d worn gray on her wedding day. Sharing the superstition, she offered the comment, “I don’t believe in things like that, but it makes me wonder.”

  “Maybe it works both ways,” Nanny Bess voiced her hope. “Maybe it’ll bring you back again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Several more weeks passed before Grudinger’s packet in the harbor was fully loaded with cargo. Erin passed the time by helping at Mother Bethel in exchange for a cot in the basement, since Nanny Bess stuck to her resolve that it was best Mr. Grudinger not know she was about. There was much to be done at the church anyway, where the homeless and hungry were fed daily.

  Erin liked working from dawn till dark, so that when she finally went to bed, she was too exhausted to dream. For despite her resolve to forget the past, she miserably had no control over her heart during sleep. So many nights she would awaken from having envisioned Ryan’
s strong arms about her, only to weep in sorrow for what was, what might have been.

  She was glad when word came of a definite departure, for winter had descended, and no one could be sure when the river would become ice-locked and impassable.

  Nanny Bess went to the dock that morning to see her off. She’d provided new clothing and money to help Erin become established once she reached her destination. “This packet, the Freedom, goes directly to Liverpool. From there, you’ll be sailing off the coast of Portugal, then Africa, and finally reach Sierra Leone in about another ten days after you leave England.”

  Erin tried to express her gratitude, but Nanny Bess said it wasn’t necessary.

  “We’re all in this together, child. Helping each other. That’s what it takes to get through this life.”

  Erin hadn’t thought much about Nanny Bess providing her with false papers of identification, listing her under the assumed name of Miss Edith Starling. But she realized why that was necessary when the captain obligingly showed her the information he had to keep on all his passengers: their age, sex, occupation, and nationality. So, there would be no document of Erin Sterling ever having crossed the Atlantic.

  As on her previous voyage, Erin fell in love with the sea. While the other passengers gathered in the saloon for card games and such, she delighted in following the crew about, fascinated to observe the inner workings of the ship.

  The captain, Dolan O’Grady, invited Erin to his quarters each night after dinner. While he enjoyed his daily allowance of one glass of brandy, along with a cigar, Erin listened, entranced, as he told her all about his life at sea, what it was like to be on a packet line.