These Tangled Threads

by Tracie Peterson

The minute services ended, Daughtie darted from her pew and down the aisle. She willed herself to maintain a modicum of restraint as she greeted the preacher in her most cordial voice. Holding her head high, she sauntered out the front door and down the street in a most dignified manner. Rounding the corner and finding the street deserted, she abandoned modesty, hiked her skirt, and bolted off toward Liam’s house. She slowed only occasionally to glance over her shoulder, assuring herself she wasn’t being followed.

  Bounding up the front steps, she hesitated just long enough to catch her breath and then rapped on the front door. It seemed an eternity before Liam peeked out from behind the opaque lace curtain that covered the ovalshaped glass in the walnut door.

  He opened the door only wide enough for Daughtie to slip through. “Hurry,” he commanded, nearly closing the door on her skirt while pulling her forward. “You weren’t followed, were ya?”

  “No. I was careful. Besides, folks are still at church.”

  “You’re not,” he replied, obviously unwilling to accept her simple explanation.

  She pushed back the hood of her cloak and placed her Bible on a small cherrywood table near the foot of the stairs. “The streets were deserted, but I did keep a watchful eye,” she said while removing her cloak. The sound of crying immediately captured her attention, and she glanced up the stairway. “Did the babies sleep last night?”

  Liam gave her a weary smile. “No—and neither did I. Just as well, though, since the rest of the slaves arrived in the middle of the night. I don’t know if I would have heard them had I been sleepin’ soundly.”

  “Wonderful! I’m pleased you had help with the babies.”

  “Help? Those poor people were so exhausted I couldn’t have possibly asked any of them to stay awake with those cryin’ babes. I’m thinkin’ the twins are sufferin’ with what my mother called a sour stomach. Do ya think maybe the goat’s milk isn’t agreein’ with them and that’s the cause of all their discomfort?”

  “Colic may very well be the problem. Let’s have a look at them.” Taking the lead, she hurried up the steps, the sound of the babies’ cries growing louder as she neared the bedroom. Opening the door, she hurried to the babies and lifted one of them into her arms. “He’s drawing his legs up as though he’s having stomach pain,” she said. “How long since you fed them?”

  “About an hour. They shouldn’t be hungry.”

  The muffled sound of a baby’s cry in the next room caused Daughtie to turn toward Liam. “Another one?”

  He nodded. “The woman that was with them has a babe—a little girl. I’d guess her to be six months old, maybe a little less.”

  “I think God has answered my prayers. He’s sent us a wet nurse for the twins! Where is she?”

  Liam nodded toward the door. “The far bedroom— across the hall,” he said. “But she’s likely tryin’ to sleep.”

  “Well, her baby’s awake, so I’m sure she’ll be up and about. Do they know about the twins?”

  “They questioned whether their friend had arrived. I told them she had and that she’d given birth, but that’s all. We didn’t talk much. I gave them food, put the men and boys in one bedroom and her in the other. Thought I could be hidin’ them better today. I didn’t figure anyone would come snoopin’ around last night.”

  “I think those runaway slave hunters come looking any time of the day or night. You’re fortunate they didn’t appear during the night—or early this morning. It’s probably more important the runaways are in a safe hiding place; they can always sleep once they’re in a secure place. Why don’t you go and instruct the men? I want to talk to the girl. I’ll tell her about the twins and see if I can convince her to nurse them. Once she knows her friend has died, I’m certain she’ll want to help,” Daughtie replied, striding off toward the room with one of the twins in her arm. She tapped on the door and waited a moment before turning the knob and entering.

  “Who’s you?” the wide-eyed girl asked while shrinking back into one corner of the room. The young woman’s ebony skin glistened in the sunlight that now filled the room. A baby lay cradled in her arms, contentedly nursing at her breast.

  Daughtie glanced toward the infant in her own arms and pulled the piece of swaddling away from his face. “He’s only a day old. He has a brother—twins—born to your friend. I’m sorry to tell you she died after giving birth. Were you close?”

  “Sistas. She was my sista,” the girl replied, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Can you bring ’im closer?”

  Daughtie drew nearer. “We’ve been feeding the boys milk from Mr. Donohue’s goat. It doesn’t seem to agree with them. Do you think you could . . .”

  The girl nodded and formed her other arm into a cradle for the newborn. “You gonna let us take ’em wid us?”

  Daughtie handed over the infant and smiled at the girl. “That’s our hope. We were concerned you might not be able to take them. What’s your name?”

  The dark-skinned girl looked up at Daughtie, her eyes still wet with tears. “Dey call me Florie.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Florie. I’m Daughtie Win-field.”

  “Thankee, ma’am. Where’s de odder one?” she asked, peering down at the baby.

  “He’s across the hall in Mr. Donohue’s room. I don’t want to overburden you with three babies. Is there anyone who will help?”

  “My husband and my brodder are with de odder men. They’ll hep tote ’em. We got a far piece to go ’fore we get to safety?”

  Daughtie nodded her head. “It’s still quite a ways before you reach Canada, but I’m certain there are excellent safe houses on the remainder of your journey. I know you’re going to reach freedom,” Daughtie said, giving the girl an encouraging smile.

  Florie didn’t appear completely convinced as she placed her child on the bed and began nursing her newborn nephew. “Ain’t gonna be easy keeping three babies quiet. Appears we gonna need a lot of hep from de Almighty if we gonna make it.”

  Daughtie gave the girl a gentle smile. “If it’s any consolation to you, I’ll be praying for all of you, Florie.”

  CHAPTER 23

  London

  Addie fluttered into the parlor while tucking a wisp of hair behind one ear. “John, I’ve been sorting through our things, and we really need to finish packing our trunk. Why don’t you put down that book and come help me,” she urged, a rosy hue coloring her plump cheeks.

  Giving his wife a fleeting smile, John enveloped her hand in his own. “I don’t believe there’s a need to begin this flurry of activity so early in the evening. We’ll have ample time later, my dear. Besides, I’m rather enjoying my book. I’d much prefer to have you sit with me and relax for a while.”

  “Really, John! You men just do not understand the amount of time it takes to properly arrange for a long journey. And then there’s Elinor. I need to oversee her preparations. I simply can’t wait to complete everything,” she explained.

  When she sat down beside him, John exclaimed, “Ah, good,” and patted her hand as though he were patting the head of his favorite hunting dog.

  “I haven’t acquiesced, John. I thought perhaps you might reciprocate my altruistic behavior if I sat with you for a while.”

  “I see,” John replied. “It would seem your behavior is less than altruistic, then, isn’t it?” he asked with a grin.

  “I suppose it is,” she replied with a giggle. “But do say I’ve been successful in gaining your assistance.”

  “How could I possibly refuse you after such honesty? Just let me finish this chapter, and we’ll go upstairs.”

  Addie leaned her head against his shoulder and compliantly waited while he finished reading, her mind racing with all she must accomplish before they sailed. She jarred to attention the moment John snapped the book together.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Absolutely!” She moved off toward the stairway, glancing back to assure herself he was really following. “I can hardly wait to see Mintie. It see
ms ages since I’ve shared a cup of tea with her.”

  John gave a hearty laugh. “How can you miss the old girl? You receive at least one letter a week telling you every scrap of gossip that’s occurring in Lowell. I dare say, I doubt you’ve missed out on one jot of chitchat since we departed.”

  “Well, that’s true enough, but sitting down and talking over a cup of tea is quite different from receiving a letter.

  Besides, Mintie’s my sister, my only living relative. She can be cantankerous, but I still love and miss her.”

  “I find it’s been easier to accept Mintie’s shortcomings since we’ve been in England. I fear once we set foot in Lowell, your sister’s overbearing attitude will become more annoying. What does she say about Lawrence Gault? Is he still calling on her? The man must be a saint—or a fool; I haven’t decided which. I can’t imagine why he’d put himself through such torture. After all, there’s many a woman in Lowell who would treat him like a king.”

  Addie turned to face John at the top of the stairs. “Mintie has mentioned Mr. Gault from time to time, but she hasn’t said enough to make me think he’s become a steady suitor. But who knows? She may want to surprise us. She may be wearing a ring by the time we arrive back in Lowell.”

  John reached up and scratched his head. “For Lawrence’s sake, let’s hope not.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Addie chided gently.

  “Hmm. Perhaps not, but at least it was truthful. Now, what is it you’re expecting to accomplish before bedtime? And what’s all that giggling down the hall?”

  “I set Bella and Elinor to work before I came downstairs. They’re busy sorting through Elinor’s belongings. Once they’ve set things aside, I’ll go through them one final time before packing her trunk.”

  “Seems it would save time to just let her pack. Why do you need to go through everything?”

  Addie glanced toward the ceiling. How could she possibly make a man understand that a young girl could not be left to her own devices at such an early age? “She’ll be packing nothing but bric-a-brac and leaving all her important belongings behind.”

  John shrugged his shoulders. “She has Bella helping her, and if she forgets something, we can replace it when she gets to Lowell.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand—there are some things that can’t be replaced, John. It will be best for me to help.”

  “I suppose that’s up to you, but I still think you could save yourself time and effort by allowing them to complete the job they’ve started. In any event, it sounds as though they’re enjoying themselves.”

  Elinor held up a moth-eaten woolen shawl and giggled. “Shall I take this, Bella?”

  Bella laughed at the sight. “I think that wrap has outlived its usefulness.”

  “We could put it with the pile of belongings to be packed. It would likely prove interesting to hear Aunt Addie’s reaction to my choice.”

  “No need to cause her undue anxiety. She’s already worried we won’t be prepared in time to sail, and she’s most anxious to return home.”

  “I thought she liked England.”

  “She does, Elinor, but she misses being in her own home—and I’m sure she’s longing to be reunited with her sister. They’ve never been separated for such a long time.”

  “Well, she seems rather old to be missing her sister,” Elinor whispered.

  Bella carefully folded a green plaid dress and placed it on top of several others. “Age doesn’t diminish feelings for those we love. In fact, our affection for others usually increases as we grow older.”

  “Are you anxious to get back to those you love?”

  “I suppose you could say that. I long to visit with my friend Daughtie. She’s my dearest friend and I miss her.”

  “Who is it you’re missing? Your husband, perhaps?”

  Bella turned to see Taylor leaning in the doorway and graced him with a glowing smile. “I’m always pleased to see you, Taylor. However, I was telling Elinor that I miss visiting with Daughtie.”

  “I’m sure I can’t take Daughtie’s place, but I’d be pleased to spend the remainder of the evening visiting with you. Surely you two have done enough sorting and folding for one night.”

  “I doubt Aunt Addie would agree with you, but I can work on my own until bedtime,” Elinor replied.

  “Do you mind if I leave you?” Bella inquired.

  “Taylor will thrash me if I keep you here,” she replied, then beamed a smile in her brother’s direction.

  “I appreciate your willingness to go on without me. Just don’t place any more moth-eaten items with the clothes to be packed,” Bella warned as she and Taylor exited the bedroom.

  Taylor cocked an eyebrow. “What was that all about?”

  “A little prank Elinor was plotting.”

  “I trust you discouraged her childish behavior.”

  Bella’s lips turned up in a winsome smile. “We need to remember that she is only a child; she’s bound to enjoy a little mischief from time to time. If memory serves me correctly, I participated in my share of childish behavior.”

  “You? Why, that’s difficult to believe,” Taylor said with a boisterous laugh. “Now, tell me, what is it you’re so anxious to discuss with Daughtie?”

  Bella walked to the dressing table and seated herself. “It’s her most recent letters,” she said, letting down her hair.

  “All that business about the walkout?”

  “No. Although I must admit I’m anxious to hear all of those details, too,” she said, beginning to brush her hair in slow, methodical strokes. “My primary concern is that her letters are filled with talk of Liam Donohue. I had hoped she was going to take an interest in Ivan Ketter, the new doctor. I had a letter from Ruth, who says that Dr. Ketter is quite smitten with Daughtie. However, Daughtie continues to discourage his advances.”

  “Exactly what is it that concerns you?”

  “Daughtie is helping Mr. Donohue furnish his house, choosing the draperies and furniture—that sort of thing. From the tone of her letters, it appears as if her visits to his home are the most important part of her life.”

  Taylor stroked his chin. “What would you have her write about? Her day-to-day life in the mill? I doubt either of you would find that very interesting. I imagine her jaunts to Liam’s house are the bright spot in her life. She merely wants to share that with you.”

  Bella continued brushing her hair. “She invited him to attend a meeting at the Pawtucket church—and sat beside him.”

  “She attended a public meeting and sat beside a man. My, that is shameful. You would never have done such a thing, would you?” he asked with a grin.

  Turning on her chair, Bella stared up at her husband. “He’s an Irishman, Taylor. You understand the ramifications of such a relationship. Daughtie will be ostracized if she begins keeping company with him. Her letters sound as though she’s developed feelings for him. It would be better if she directed her interests toward Dr. Ketter.”

  “I thought she wrote that she was attending the Blowing Out Ball with him.”

  Bella nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Perhaps I am overreacting, but Ruth—”

  “Don’t take too much stock in what Ruth says. You’ve told me over and over again what a sensible girl Daughtie is. I doubt there’s any more to this than her willingness to assist Liam. She’s likely finding pleasure in the diversion. Liam’s an honorable man, Bella. He knows Daughtie’s unavailable— at least to him.”

  “But Daughtie believes all people are equal. She’s studied her Bible, and since we’ve been in Lowell, she’s forsaken much of the Shakers’ doctrine. However, she still holds to their belief that God is the creator of all mankind. If she believes she’s living what the Scriptures proclaim, she doesn’t care what others think.”

  “Then why are you so concerned? Daughtie’s capable of looking after herself.”

  “That’s my point—she isn’t capable of knowing exactly what such behavior c
ould mean to her future. She could be fired from her job in the mills; then what would she do? I don’t want her to ruin her future.”

  “You’re worrying needlessly, my dear. We’ll soon be home and you can express your concerns. However, you need to remember that Daughtie must make her own decisions.”

  “I understand, but I’ll still be offering my guidance and— Who can that be?” Bella asked as loud knocks sounded at the front door, interrupting her midsentence.

  Taylor shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t think we were expecting anyone. I’m not certain whether Uncle John is still downstairs,” Taylor said, striding toward the hallway. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

  The sound of angry voices drifted up the stairs. Bella moved into the hallway, listened for a moment, and then tentatively edged down the steps. She stopped before reaching the bottom of the stairway, bewildered at the sight of two lawmen threatening to arrest her husband if he didn’t immediately produce his uncle John.

  “If you men will give me just a moment, I’ll see if I can find him. I believe he’s already retired for the night,” Taylor explained.

  “None of your excuses. We’re here to arrest him, and we’re prepared to search this entire house if necessary.”

  Bella could listen to no more. “My husband said he would go and fetch his uncle. I think you’ll find that solution much more expedient than searching the house. Once you’ve met with Mr. Farnsworth, I’m certain you’ll see there’s some mistake.”

  “There’s no mistake. John Farnsworth is guilty of crimes against the Crown. There’s ample proof of his treason,” one of the men replied before turning back toward Taylor. “Now go and get him, or we’ll take matters into our own hands.”

  Bella watched as Taylor hastened up the stairs. “And what are these charges against Uncle John?” Bella inquired, moving closer.

  “We told you—treason,” the other lawman answered irritably.

  “Yes, but since you’ve already completed your investigation, I was wondering if you could explain the exact acts of treason of which he stands accused.”