During the scramble of the gift exchanges, Maggie found herself studying Aunt Lucille. Somehow her aunt appeared less sad. Perhaps it was the cheerful color of her new dress that brought a glow to her cheeks.
Later as they ate, Aunt Lucille joined in the conversation. Even her eyes appeared to be brighter, as though life had come back. Although Maggie was curious, she kept quiet. To ask questions might stir up memories that had finally been settled.
At one point, Aunt Lucille cuddled baby Henry on her lap, talking and cooing to him and smiling. Maggie tried to catch Hannah’s eye to judge her reaction to this change, but Hannah was much too busy tending to the dinner. What with all the other excitement, the matter was soon put out of Maggie’s mind.
Jacob announced to the younger boys that they would all go sledding after dinner—an announcement that brought forth noisy cheers.
“Marvelous idea, Jacob,” Uncle Reuben said. “Take them out and let them burn off all their uproarious noise. Why, they sound like a bunch of revivalists at a barn meeting.”
Suddenly a quiet hush fell on the table. Maggie wondered if her uncle knew that the Pierces not only believed in the new revivals but had attended a few of those “barn meetings,” as well. Even Father was speechless and looked extremely uncomfortable.
But good old Ben was never at a loss for words. “I must say, Reuben, I have to agree with you. The cries of joy in a revivalist meeting are every bit as spontaneous and genuine as the joy of a little child. And often just as exuberant.”
At that point, Hannah jumped up to ask who needed what,
and the conversation went on from there as though nothing had ever happened.
Maggie felt badly that Uncle Reuben could have been so insensitive, but Ben and Judith didn’t seem to care what had been said.
“You’re going sledding with us, aren’t you, Maggie?” Jacob had cornered her in the kitchen as she was helping Hannah with the cleanup.
“I can’t, Jacob, really …”
Caleb, who was standing nearby, echoed the invitation. “Oh yes, Maggie, please do come with us. It would be ever so much more fun with you along.”
Ever since the Christmas ball, Maggie had felt years older, as though the evening had been her graduation into womanhood. Now they were asking her to come and play as a child. She just couldn’t.
“Go with them, Maggie girl,” Hannah encouraged. “Your childhood is fast slipping away. Run off and have fun while you can. Christmas comes but once a year. Enjoy yourself.”
Evan appeared at the kitchen door red-cheeked. He’d been fetching the wooden sleds out of the carriage house. “Come on, gang, what are you waiting for?” Looking at Maggie, he said, “Put your hoops away, Maggie. Let’s go have fun!”
What could she say? It did sound like fun. Tripping to her room, she changed into her day dress and left off her hoops. Wrapping her cloak around her and fastening her clogs to her feet, she ran out to join the boys.
“Let’s go to the far side of Copp’s Hill,” Jacob said. “The best hills are there.”
Evan and Jacob each pulled a sled, with Adam and Burke on one and Caleb on the other. Maggie squinted from the sun’s glare off the snow. Together the little band trudged through the deep snow, laughing and talking until they reached the best hill. Squeals and shouts sounded through the cold, still day as one after another they took turns sliding down the hill, coming to a stop at Commercial Street near the ferry.
Evan and Jacob raced one another, lying on their stomachs and trying to catch the legs of the one in front. Then the younger boys tried it, upsetting one another and rolling in the snow, squealing with laughter.
Maggie’s rides down the hill were tamer than the boys’. She skillfully guided the sled as Evan had taught her to do when they were younger. She was quite out of breath as she pulled the sled back up the hill after her turn.
“Ride with me,” Jacob dared her. “I’ll show you how fast a sled can truly fly.”
“And I’ll give you a push off,” Evan said.
Against her better judgment, she sat on the long, wooden sled and let Jacob climb on behind. With a great thrust, Evan pushed them to the brink of the hill and let them go.
Maggie had never gone so fast. Her hood was down, and the air was whistling past her ears. If they didn’t stop at Commercial Street, she was sure they would fly right out over the Charles River—perhaps landing on the other side!
Just as they came sailing down toward the road, a horse-drawn sleigh appeared out of nowhere.
“Look out!” Maggie screamed.
Instantly, Jacob turned the runners, and the sled veered sharply away from the danger, landing both of them in a deep snowbank.
Maggie had a mouthful of snow, and her cloak was thrown over her head. As she slowly sat up and shook the snow from her face and eyes, who did she see in the sleigh but the elegant Adelaide Chilton with both Clark and Oliver out for an afternoon ride. With a little gasp, Adelaide exclaimed, “Why, Maggie Baldwin! Whatever are you doing? And who is this boy?”
CHAPTER 11
Consequences
Maggie was completely mortified. How she longed for the ground to open and swallow her up. Thankfully, Evan had seen the approaching danger, jumped on the other sled, and come down after them.
“Hello, Adelaide,” Maggie sputtered as Jacob helped her to her feet. Clumsily, she attempted to pull her cloak around her plain, soaking-wet day dress.
In the nick of time, Evan, leaping from his sled, came over to the Chilton sleigh and jumped up on the running board. “Merry Christmas to you,” he said, diverting their attention from Maggie. “Adelaide, Clark, Oliver.”
“Why, hello, Evan,” Adelaide answered, her voice going softer. She pulled one hand from her sable muff and adjusted the hood of her elegant cloak, also trimmed in sable. “Your sister very nearly got run over. Whatever are you doing out here?”
“You know how brothers can be,” he explained. “I insisted she come along to help Jacob and me with the younger boys. They are quite a handful, you know. And she’s such a regular sport, always ready to help. You’ve not met Jacob, I suppose. Jacob, let me introduce you to the Chiltons.”
Maggie had never heard her brother say so much or say it so fast. He introduced Jacob to them, explaining that Jacob’s father was editor of the News Letter. Of course they recognized the name.
“Father does quite a lot of business with that paper,” Clark commented. “I say, Oliver, we’d best be on our way. Our guests will think we got lost.”
“You’re so right.” Oliver gave the reins a little shake, and the horses stepped out.
“Bye, Maggie.” Adelaide gave a little wave, then tucked her hand back into the sable muff. “See you on Sunday.”
Maggie made an effort to wave back. By now she was shivering and soaked through to the skin.
After the sleigh had pulled away, Maggie turned to Jacob. “How could you? How could you put me in such an embarrassing situation? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Whatever will they think of me now?” She spun around and took off down the road.
“Where are you going?” Evan asked.
“Home,” she answered. “To get warm.”
“Does it matter so much what the Chiltons think of you?” Jacob called out.
Maggie couldn’t answer. It mattered much more than she dared admit.
Late that afternoon, a drier, warmer Maggie said an awkward good-bye to Jacob when the Pierces left. She couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for causing her such horrid embarrassment. He did apologize, of course, and she mouthed words of acceptance, but inside she was still angry.
Since Christmas fell on Wednesday, there was to be no dance instruction that week. Then on Sunday, the Chilton family left immediately after church to entertain their out-of-town company. Maggie had to wait a full week before she faced Adelaide. She prayed that her sledding misadventure would be forgotten in that time. Almost daily, she chided herself for getting talked into doing
anything so childish.
Privately, Evan scolded her for taking her anger out on Jacob. “He had no way of knowing the Chiltons would drive along at that moment, Maggie. He felt badly about the whole episode, and you only succeeded in making him feel worse. It’s hardly fair.”
Maggie knew that. She also knew that Evan had boldly stepped in to talk to Adelaide, which he would never have done under other circumstances. Still, the hurt wouldn’t go away.
The new year of 1741 arrived with little fanfare. On New Year’s Day, Father gathered everyone into his study to pray for the forthcoming year and to give specific thanks for all that the Lord had done for them in 1740.
The next day, as Maggie stepped up to the Chiltons’ front entrance for dance instruction, tight knots formed in her midsection. She tapped the door knocker, and there was Adelaide.
“Maggie,” she said excitedly, “I knew it would be you, so I told the butler to let me answer. Come in. Come in. It’s going to be ever so much fun today. Oliver is still here!”
This was an unexpected development. Maggie had assumed the Chilton boys had returned to school and that she wouldn’t have to face Oliver until spring. As the dour-faced butler took her wraps in the front entryway, Maggie could see Oliver coming down the hall toward her.
“Ah, Maggie, there you are. A pleasant turn of events that I should be here to dance with you once again. Clark is tending to business, but I had the afternoon free.”
Maggie murmured her thanks as they moved into the parlor, where Celia, Pert, and Mr. Helver were waiting. No one had said anything about the sledding upset or her despicable appearance on Christmas Day. Then Maggie realized that the Chiltons were too well trained and polite to even mention it. Part of her was thankful; the other part wished they would refer to the event just so she could defend herself.
Dance instruction hour had never been so merry. Oliver’s blue eyes twinkled with gaiety as he spun her about to the lilting melodies coming from the spinet. Mr. Helver presented new dances, which they walked through slowly before stepping out to the music. If Maggie was confused about other things, she knew one thing for sure—she loved to dance.
At half past the hour, they stopped to rest. As they sat about the parlor enjoying cool glasses of water, Oliver came over to where she was seated on the sofa.
“I didn’t know before that you were friends with the Pierces, Maggie,” he said.
So now the conversation would come back to the awful incident. Maggie braced herself for the worst. “My father and Benjamin Pierce grew up together,” she explained. “They’re as close as brothers.”
“But are you aware that the Pierces attend the Brattle Street Church?”
“Not all the Pierces,” she replied. Oliver paused. “Not all?”
“Hannah Pierce lives with us—that’s Benjamin Pierce’s older sister—she attends North Church with us. You’ve seen her there.”
“I wasn’t aware of who she was. At any rate, Benjamin himself is quite outspoken in support of the revivalists.”
“So he is.” Maggie couldn’t imagine what this subject had to do with her. She knew Ben was not only vocal about the revivals sweeping New England, but he also had written a few editorials about them in his paper.
Reaching over to a small table, Oliver picked up a book and handed it to her. “Since Mr. Pierce is so persuasive and since you happen to be in his company and that of his son’s, you may want to read this book by the Reverend Chauncy.”
She took the small bound book in her hands, still puzzled.
“This book explains in great detail,” Oliver went on, “the evil dangers of the revivalists. They are all charlatans, you see, causing disorder. Quite simply, they are itinerant preachers who jump up and talk with no prepared sermons. It’s a frightfully lazy manner of preaching.”
Maggie had heard most of this before, and she was amazed at Oliver’s concern for her beliefs. “Thank you, Oliver. I appreciate the gift and your thoughtfulness very much. I shall read this from cover to cover.” Perhaps this book would answer some of the questions about the revivalists that had plagued her for so long.
“Enough of all this serious talk,” Celia said, jumping to her feet. “Let’s get back to dancing.”
Following the instruction, Oliver politely excused himself with a low bow. “I’ve a horse to see about in the stables, so I’ll leave you ladies to your teatime.”
After Mr. Helver fetched his greatcoat and left and the girls prepared to retire to the nursery, Pert came up to them. “Maggie,” she said, “I’d like a few words with you before you go up to tea, if you don’t mind.”
“Why, I don’t mind at all,” Maggie answered. She followed Pert back into the parlor, where the woman spread her satin skirts out on the sofa and motioned for Maggie to pull up one of the Windsor chairs.
“Maggie, I’ve been given to understand you met with an unfortunate mishap on Christmas afternoon. Am I correct?”
So here it was! Maggie could hardly bear to look at Pert’s lovely face. Adelaide’s mother was as perfectly put together as a delicately painted china doll. “Yes, ma’am, that is correct.” She toyed with the small book Oliver had given her.
“I know you have no mother, Maggie,” Pert said softly, with no condemnation in her voice, “and perhaps you’ve not received all the good training you’ve needed. You’re thirteen now, is that right?”
Maggie nodded.
“In two or three years, you will be of marriageable age, and it would behoove you to think now of preparing to be a lady of refinement. The best way to prevent unfortunate instances such as that which occurred on Christmas is to think as a lady rather than as a child. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
Pert tapped her fan to her forehead. “The mind, Maggie. Become a lady first in your mind. Train yourself to think as a lady would in all circumstances.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try.”
Pert reached out to pat Maggie’s hand. “I feel certain you will, my dear.” She stood and drew Maggie to her feet. “After all,” she said, smiling and spreading her fan, “who knows but what someday you may become part of the Chilton family.”
An unwelcome blush crept into Maggie’s cheeks, and she found she had no words. Pert laughed aloud at Maggie’s embarrassment. The laughter tinkled through the air like notes from the spinet. “Go along now. Join the girls and have a delightful tea.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
As Maggie turned to go, Pert added, “And please read the book Oliver gave you.” “Oh, yes, ma’am, I will.”
The girls were all abuzz by the time she entered the nursery.
“There you are, Maggie—at long last,” Celia said. “I thought you would never come. Hurry and sit down. Adelaide has a secret to tell, but she refused to tell it before you got here.”
Maggie stepped quickly to her chair to sit down, still amazed at the conversation she’d just had with Pert. Her tea had already been poured, and she took a sip, grateful for the uplift it gave her.
Adelaide passed the cake basket and waited till Maggie chose a dainty piece with sugary icing. “My secret is that I’m to travel to Salem by stagecoach to visit our friends, the Drurys.
I’m leaving as soon as the snow thaws enough for the coaches to travel again.”
“Why, that’s a wonderful secret,” Celia said. “I’m so happy for you.”
“But that’s not the best part.” Adelaide leaned forward. “The best part is that the two of you are invited to come along.” Maggie nearly choked on her cake.
“Oh, my!” Celia said with a little gasp. “I’ve always wanted to go to Salem. What a wonderful surprise to share, Adelaide. Thank you. My mother will be overjoyed.”
“What about you, Maggie?” Adelaide asked. “Will you be able to come with us?”
The thought of expensive coach fare ran through Maggie’s mind. “You’re so very kind to ask. I would dearly love to go. But I will have to discuss it wi
th Father.”
“What do you think he will say?”
“I think he will be very pleased,” she answered, but she wasn’t at all sure what he would say.
“Be sure to explain that your coach fare will be paid,” Adelaide said, passing the cakes around one more time.
Maggie gave an inward sigh. Her way would be paid. If that was true, there should be no objection from her father. What an exciting day this had been. “I can tell you his answer Sunday morning at church,” she said.
Just then the door opened, and in walked the most beautiful dark-skinned girl Maggie had ever seen. She was dressed in a simple printed linen frock covered with a flowing white apron. Over her rich black curls, she wore a white ruffled mobcap.
“Melee!” Adelaide said sharply, “How many times have I told you not to enter unless you knock?” Tap, tap, tap! Adelaide knocked on the table. “Knock! Knock at the door first. Or wait until I summon you.” Turning to Maggie, she said, “Maggie, this is Melee, my slave girl. My Christmas gift.” The lovely girl gave a little curtsy. “Melee sorry.” Under her breath, Adelaide said, “She’s really rather addlepated. I’d hoped for a girl with more intelligence. She knows a little English, but not much. My work is certainly cut out for me.”
Maggie looked at the girl again. Her skin was the color of polished mahogany, and her high cheekbones gave her face a look of chiseled distinction. Her slender frame was rather thin, as though she had not eaten well. She stood straight and unbowed, even after the harsh scolding, but her black eyes were filled with great sadness.
Maggie felt sorry for Melee and gave her a sympathetic smile. How terrible it must be to be taken from your family and forced to work for someone else! She couldn’t believe that slavery was a good thing, no matter what others might think.
CHAPTER 12
The Journey
The apprehension Maggie felt as she asked permission to go to Salem was as much in fear that Father might say yes as fear that he would say no. In spite of the times she’d spent with the Chiltons and with Celia, she continued to feel like an interloper, as though she didn’t really belong.
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