“Did you see him leave?” Father asked Maggie. She had not. She was too busy staring at this horrible place. Living in such squalor was unimaginable to her.
“I was going to send him, but …” Her father was pulling his leather pouch from his waistcoat pocket. “Maggie, we must … There is a grocer’s shop over on Water Street at the corner.” He dropped a few shillings in her hand. “Take the lantern from the carriage and go purchase cheese, bread, and a little tea.”
Fear gripped at Maggie’s insides. Go out on that street? Alone? What is Father thinking of? Then she looked at the sick lady and the sad little girl.
“The shop may be closed,” she told him, straining to steady her voice. “What should I do then?”
“I know the grocer,” came Ann’s quiet voice from the corner.
“Of course you do,” Father said gently. “And he would recognize you. Will you show Maggie the way?”
Ann nodded.
Having the little girl along was some comfort, but not much. Maggie had heard stories of people who’d been beaten, robbed, and left for dead on these back streets. The cold wind blew down the alleyway as they went outside. Ann’s shawl was thin and ragged. Carefully, Maggie stepped up on the carriage and lifted out the lantern.
“I’ve not had a nice light before,” Ann said.
“Well, you have one now.”
The shop was closed, but Ann knew the way to the back, where she knocked and knocked until the grocer’s wife came to the door.
“Why, it’s little Ann,” the lady said in surprise.
Maggie quickly introduced herself, explained the situation, and asked if they could purchase a few items.
The woman shook her head and pursed her lips. “There’s no more credit….”
“No, no,” Maggie said. “I’m making the purchase.” She rattled the coins in her hand.
“Oh, mercy me, that’s much different. Come along.”
Maggie waited as the tea, bread, and cheese were packaged, while Ann walked about studying each and every barrel, as well as every counter. From the pennies Maggie received in change, she purchased one piece of candy and handed it to Ann. The girl’s eyes fairly sparkled.
Back at the room, Father had laid a small fire in the fireplace, and water was heating in a kettle. Maggie brewed the tea and watched as her father helped Sarah Cradock take a few sips from a cup. When he was satisfied that she could swallow nourishment, he prepared to leave, giving Ann specific instructions for her mother’s care through the night.
When they were back in the carriage, Maggie’s father thanked her for assisting. “This certainly wasn’t what I had planned, but that’s the way of a doctor’s life.”
“Father, did you know that Sarah Cradock is not a nice lady?”
“Perhaps not, Maggie, but right now she’s a very sick lady, and that’s all that matters.”
That night, as Maggie lay warm and cozy in her own featherbed, the entire Baldwin house seemed different to her. There were no servants such as the Chiltons had, but she had a father who cared for her and a loving nanny who doted on her. She was warm and dry, and foodstuffs overflowed in both the pantry and the cellar.
Even the next day as she went about her work, Maggie was unable to get the picture of hungry little Ann Cradock out of her mind. In her studies, she’d learned many scriptures that talked about helping the poor. She mulled over an idea of how she might help Ann.
The following Thursday, after another delightful dance lesson had left them breathless, the girls gathered in the nursery for tea. During a brief lull in the conversation, Maggie told the girls about Ann Cradock, her dying mother, and her lack of food and warm clothes. “It occurred to me,” Maggie said, as she nibbled a slice of lemon cake, “that perhaps we could give her some of our old clothes.”
While Maggie expected some reluctance from her friends, nothing could have prepared her for the outburst that came.
Celia stiffened instantly. “Have some street urchin wear a dress of mine right out there in the marketplace? I should say not! What if someone recognized it?”
“Besides,” Adelaide joined in, “wherever would such a ragamuffin wear a fine frock of silk and satin? One doesn’t put finery on a sow who goes back to wallow in the mud.” Adelaide set down her teacup and placed her hand softly on Maggie’s arm. “Maggie, my dear, I know you mean well, but stop a moment and think—you can’t be expected to dress all the beggars in Boston.”
“No, I suppose you’re right,” Maggie agreed. “I guess I spoke too quickly. I had not thought the situation through.” How she wished she’d kept her thoughts to herself. What must the girls think of her? But no matter, for soon they were talking of other things such as plans for the upcoming Christmas ball.
As the days passed, excitement of Maggie’s upcoming thirteenth birthday crowded out all thoughts of Ann Cradock. And Thanksgiving preparations almost crowded out Maggie’s birthday.
Annually, the governor proclaimed a Thursday either late in November or early in December for the colony’s giving of thanks, and this year it was to be the last Thursday in November, the twenty-eighth—five days after Maggie’s birthday on the twenty-third.
Hannah had already set aside a good store of spices and molasses as well as a barrel of flour for when the Thanksgiving baking began in earnest. In a wooden cage in the dooryard, a fat chicken and a gobbling turkey were held until time for Hannah to lop off their heads and pluck them.
Together, Maggie and Hannah had shopped for the perfect fabric for Maggie’s ball gown, but now there was precious little time to sew on it. “After all the fuss of Thanksgiving is over,” Hannah promised, “we’ll spend every spare moment on your dress.”
The Pierces came for dinner to celebrate Maggie’s birthday. Hannah had prepared simple fare, since the best of everything was being saved for Thanksgiving—and the Pierces would be with them for the holiday, as well.
Following their meal, Evan and Jacob slipped out of the house and returned from the stable with Maggie’s gift of a new sidesaddle. Everyone, even Father, teased her about wanting to sit upon such a contraption, but she rubbed her fingers over the smooth leather, admired the tool work, and was extremely pleased. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “I thought you were going to find one that had already been used. This looks brand-new.”
“Favor was with me,” Dr. Baldwin said, giving her a teasing wink.
She might never know how her father managed the fine purchase—or exchange—whichever it was. She turned to Evan and Jacob. “Let’s go to the stable. I want to try it out.”
“One moment, young lady,” Hannah interrupted. “What about the rest of your gifts?”
“More? There’s more?”
Laughter rippled around the table. “Most young ladies would be demanding more,” Ben said with a chuckle, “but our Maggie is happy with just an old sidesaddle.”
Of course it wasn’t “just an old sidesaddle,” but, as usual, Ben was teasing her.
“Here’s my gift,” Hannah said, handing over a small tissue package tied up with embroidery thread. Gently, Maggie pulled off the thread and unrolled the paper. There lay a piece of the most elegant lace she’d ever seen. “Oh, Hannah!”
“We’ll use it for the ruffled sleeves and the inset of the bodice of your ball gown,” Hannah said. “How will that be?”
“Perfect,” she managed to whisper.
“And look!” Caleb said, bringing out a bigger parcel from the drawer of the sideboard. “Just look what else. We all got this for you—all of us together.” He waved his hand about the table, which meant even Ben and Judith had joined in.
Maggie marveled that the talkative Caleb had been able to contain this secret.
The brown package lay lightly in her lap. Her nervous fingers picked at the tight knot in the twine until Jacob reached over with his jackknife. “Allow me.”
She held the package out, he cut, and the cord fell away. There in the paper lay a pair of soft kid danci
ng pumps—all in white. The high square heels would make her feel even more like a lady. She could scarcely believe her good fortune. She looked at the smiling faces surrounding her.
Hugging the shoes, she said, “Thank you, all of you. Thank you for your kindness and thoughtfulness.” Then she went around the table hugging everyone—everyone except Jacob, that is.
Later that evening, she and Jacob and Evan scurried out through the cold night air to the stable. It was too dark and too cold to ride, but she saddled Amaryllis with her new sidesaddle and then mounted and walked her up and down the length of the stable.
Evan took one of the lanterns and checked each of the stalls, talking softly to each of the horses as he did so. Jacob had hung the other lantern on a nail on the wall.
“It’ll take some getting used to,” she told the boys, “but I like it. I like it very much. This is how a lady is supposed to ride.” She came back to Amaryllis’s stall and stopped. Jacob reached up to help her down.
“Thinking of you dancing the night away at the Chiltons’ ball will take some getting used to, as well,” he said.
“You don’t approve of dancing?” she asked.
Evan stepped up to rejoin them. “I don’t think that’s what he’s getting at, Maggie,” her brother said, smiling. To Jacob, he said, “I’d most gladly let you go in my place, my friend. I find the whole idea frightfully dull. But Father insists that I go.”
“He does?” Maggie said. “I mean, he did? He’s told you to go?” Things were moving too quickly. Her mind seemed to be swimming.
Evan laughed. “Father informed me we’re all going, even Hannah. He said the whole family was invited and the whole family will go. Can you imagine Caleb eating up all the refreshments?”
This was turning out to be Maggie’s best birthday ever. As much as her father disliked such social gatherings, she realized he was doing all this for her.
It wasn’t until later in the evening after all the company had gone home that she was able to think more about Jacob’s comment. Why wouldn’t he want her dancing at the Chiltons’—unless he meant he wanted to be there dancing with her? Suddenly, her face grew very warm in spite of the chill in her unheated bedchamber.
Soon they would all move their feather ticks downstairs to be closer to the heat through the worst of the winter. She slipped into her long nightgown and buried herself beneath the warm quilts.
It seemed strange that Jacob wished he were attending the ball and Evan wished he were not. Do people always want what they don’t have? she wondered.
And why should the Baldwins be invited to this ball anyway? It made little sense. By a strange twist of fate, her stepgrandfather had deeded this fine house to her father and also left him a tidy sum of money. In reality, Maggie was the daughter of an Irish immigrant mother and a hardworking doctor father. Her family was no different than the Pierce family, but they were invited to the ball and the Pierces were not.
The more she thought about it, the more like an imposter Maggie felt. How confusing life could be.
CHAPTER 9
The Christmas Ball
The day before Thanksgiving, Maggie went to the market with Hannah to pick up a few last-minute items. As yet there hadn’t been enough snowfall for the sleigh to be brought out of the carriage house. Maggie hoped they could take the sleigh to the ball. What fun that would be.
The streets around Faneuil Hall and Dock Square were elbow-to-elbow with holiday shoppers. That morning Maggie had helped Hannah butcher the chicken and turkey and dress them out. That night the fowls would be put on to boil.
“Let’s buy a sugarloaf and a few candies just for the fun of it,” Hannah was saying. “The little ones will enjoy a special treat.”
“So would I,” Maggie said with a laugh. “That is, if I can find room for candy after all those pies you’ve baked.”
“We’ll make one more stop in here, and then we will go to your father’s shop to see if he’s ready to drive us home.”
As she turned to follow Hannah into the shop, Maggie spied a small girl dressed in thin rags walking along the street. She immediately recognized Ann Cradock. Maggie wondered how the girl didn’t freeze with only her brown shawl as protection against the raw November wind.
Maggie drew her cloak more tightly about her and hurried into the warmth of the store. By the time they came out again, the girl was nowhere to be seen.
With most of the holiday meal prepared, the Baldwins set off Thanksgiving morning for a meeting at the church. Hannah and Father had successfully convinced Uncle Reuben and Aunt Lucille to come to the Baldwin home for the day. And, of course, all the Pierces would be there.
There were many guests at the church meeting since family members from out of town were home for the holiday. Fair weather and favorable travel conditions had increased the number greatly. The usual Sunday two-hour sermon was shortened because the pastor knew the parishioners had mountains of food at home waiting to be consumed.
Two extra members sat in the Chilton pew—Clark and Oliver were home from Harvard for a few days. Maggie had never met the Chilton brothers because they were gone from home much of the time. When not at school, they were usually off traveling. Both looked dapper in their elegant powdered wigs and gold-trimmed greatcoats.
In the churchyard following service, Adelaide immediately steered Maggie toward the Chilton brothers. “Maggie, come meet my brothers. This is Clark,” she said, indicating the older of the two, “and this is the one who teases me mercilessly,
Oliver.” The two bore little resemblance other than their nice smiles. While Clark’s face was lean and chiseled, Oliver’s was fuller, softer, with blue eyes that laughed in merriment.
“And this is Margaret Baldwin, daughter of Dr. Baldwin,” Adelaide said to her brothers, “but we call her Maggie.”
Both young men gave jaunty bows on introduction. “My pleasure, Maggie,” said Clark simply. But Oliver held her hand a moment longer than Clark and said, “I understand you will be attending the Christmas ball that Mother is giving. I’d be honored if you held a place for me on your dance card.” His blue eyes danced as he spoke.
Maggie swallowed quickly, trying not to choke. “I believe I could find a place. Thank you for asking.”
There was no chance for further conversation, because it was time to go. At her family’s carriage, Evan leaned over and whispered, “What did the Chilton boys have to say to you?”
She gave him a puzzled look. It wasn’t like him to ask such a thing. “If you’d wanted to know, you could have come over and been more sociable yourself,” she snapped. He asked nothing further.
Throughout the rest of the day, Maggie’s heart pounded every time she remembered Oliver’s words. The excitement of his invitation greatly overshadowed the day of feasting. In fact, she almost looked forward to the day being over and all the guests leaving.
A game of “button, button, who’s got the button,” was of little interest to Maggie, but since Evan and Jacob were good sports to play with the little ones, she joined in as well. After several parlor games were played, Judith put her boys down for naps. Maggie seized the moment to head for the stable. Jacob and Evan followed.
“If you ride sidesaddle,” Jacob warned, “we may race off and leave you.”
“Go right ahead,” she said coolly, firming the lovely new saddle on Amaryllis’s back. “I’ve ridden alone before. I can do it again.” The truth was, she rarely ever rode without a chaperone.
Evan looked at her over the back of his horse. “That’s a fine way to talk to Jacob. Are you feeling all right?”
“I believe you asked me that same thing the other day. Of course I feel all right.”
“Then why are you acting so oddly? You haven’t been yourself all day.”
Maggie led Amaryllis out of the stable without answering, chiding herself for wearing her feelings in broad view. She moved to the mounting block, which she needed now that she rode with hoops. A jump and a swing up just woul
dn’t do. She was in the saddle before the boys came out.
“I would have helped you if you’d waited a moment,” Jacob said. His tone sounded hurt, but Maggie ignored it. She couldn’t help how Jacob chose to feel.
In spite of Jacob’s warning, the boys didn’t ride off and leave her; rather, the three of them sauntered along at a slow gait. Today they chose to ride through the pastures near and around Copp’s Hill. They rode along chatting about small things of little consequence. It was a relief to get out of the stuffy house. The air off the Charles River felt cool and refreshing on Maggie’s face.
As they rode down the hill toward the Charlestown Ferry,
Jacob suddenly recognized someone boarding the ferry. “I believe that’s Mr. Leverett down here. He accompanied the Reverend Jonathan Edwards to our church last week. Excuse me while I go extend to him a greeting.”
Maggie waited with Evan as they watched Jacob ride to greet the man, talk a few moments, then ride back to rejoin them. The name Jonathan Edwards was one that Maggie had heard often from Adelaide and Celia.
“I fail to understand how you could associate yourself with ones who are in such a spirit of error,” Maggie said to Jacob as they continued the ride.
“And how do you see it as a spirit of error?” Jacob asked. “Unlearned men who’ve not been ordained, jumping up to speak before they’ve even written out thoughtful sermons—of course it’s in error.”
“How can you pass judgment when you’ve not even heard what they have to say?”
“The scriptures instruct us to do things decently and in order,” she said stiffly. “I’ve heard about the disorderly tumults and indecent behavior. Wild people waving their hands and shouting—that’s not how church should be conducted.”
“When men like Jonathan Edwards and George Whitefield preach, thousands flock to hear them. Can all those people be wrong?”
“It’s not difficult to lead weak people astray,” Maggie said, which was something Celia had often remarked. “Revivalists shouldn’t be allowed to come into another preacher’s area. They’re too dangerous.”
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