Page 28 of The Indigo Heiress

27

My life had lost its relish when liberty was gone.

Olaudah Equiano

All thoughts of Leith Buchanan had flown from Juliet’s mind when she’d arrived home, at least for the time being. Since she and Loveday had been in Williamsburg, the previous fugitives had been provisioned, then continued on their way as new arrivals reached the tunnel. They’d come from Carolina and for a time could go no farther than Royal Vale’s winter kitchen and cellar. The couple’s baby soon turned feverish and fretful, causing them all concern.

“They need thawing out,” Rilla told Juliet and Loveday. “A warm fire and clean bedding and clothes. Rest and plentiful food.”

“Tonics too.” Mahala shared what she’d taken from Loveday’s stillroom. “Your remedy for fever worked straightaway and relieved the babe. Didn’t even use tincture of opium to help her sleep.”

“Though it’s hard to travel in winter, they came at a good time, with your father away and the overseers busy with Christmas leave till now,” Rilla said, returning to her cooking.

Ambrose and Grace and little Mary seemed safe for the time being, warm and well-fed near the kitchen hearth. Juliet found herself wishing they could stay longer, till spring, when the weather cleared. What brutalities had made them run? Were they about to be separated and sold? She daren’t ask. She only concerned herself with the present, as it overwhelmed her to think about their past and their future.

She sat down to pen Aunt Damarus another carefully worded letter prior to the family’s coming to Philadelphia, if they made it that far. For once her own personal woes were pushed from her thoughts.

Rilla watched over the new arrivals with the zealousness of a grandmother as the winter wind howled what seemed to be a warning. All of them seemed to share an unspoken thought. How could the family continue to freedom in such conditions?

“May I hold her?” Juliet asked tentatively, sitting on a stool beside the cellar’s hearth, where they bedded down.

With the smile of a proud parent, Grace handed her Mary. Tiny and doll-like, the child seemed content to sit upon their makeshift bedding and play with a rag doll and teether. She turned wide eyes on Juliet, her dimpled hands suspended until she seized the necklace Juliet wore and brought it to her mouth.

“That’s no play-pretty, child,” Grace cautioned as Juliet smiled and exchanged it for the teether.

For some reason the Buchanan twins sprang to mind. Cole and Isabella. Though they tugged on her heart in a hazy, secondhand sort of way, she had little sympathy for them living in so elevated a place as Ardraigh Hall when the child on her lap had no home.

“How old is she?” Juliet asked.

“Born last year when the cotton bloomed,” Grace answered without elaboration.

“She’s of a calm temperament, seems like,” Loveday observed, sitting down beside them.

“For that we’re thankful,” Ambrose said from the doorway. “Can’t have her fretfulness give us away.”

Loveday nodded, brow creased with concern. “I wish we could keep you here till the weather warms.”

“How far is the coast on foot?” he asked.

“About twenty-five miles east of us,” Juliet told him. “What do you know of the journey?”

He thought for a minute. “Needs be we go to salt water near a place called York. We’ve heard clear to Carolina that a ship’s captain has a sloop there anchored on the river north of town.”

“He flies a flag with a dove like the one painted on the warehouse where he docks.” Juliet spoke slowly and softly. “He’s Quaker and a well-respected seaman—one of the Friends who’ve pledged to help you gain your freedom. He’ll carry you to Philadelphia, where you’ll meet more Friends who’ll help you there.”

Lord, please let it be.

The next afternoon, Juliet met with the overseers in Father’s stead. Of the four—Whalen who oversaw the corn, Kilgore who managed the grain, Nash who supervised the indigo, and Riggs—it was always Riggs who most worried her. Ringed around Father’s desk, hats in hand, greatcoats in various stages of wear, they were an unsmiling, serious lot.

“My father will soon return, but in his absence I’m acting in his stead. He’s requested your account books to review now that it’s the start of a new year.” Juliet chose her words carefully, crediting Father for leaving Hosea at Royal Vale. He stood behind her chair, an imposing presence, ready to assist in whatever needed doing. “Once Father returns, he’ll meet with each of you separately regarding contracts.”

Or would he, in lieu of further contracts, tell them he was leaving Virginia for good? She felt duplicitous in light of what she knew, and that alone stole whatever confidence she’d mustered for this meeting.

Taking a breath, she addressed plantation repairs that needed tending, as well as the overseers’ sundry needs and complaints. Through it all she sensed Riggs’s resistance. He even cracked his knuckles in a most maddening manner. He clearly resented her being a woman who deigned to tell him what to do. But his resistance went far deeper, she knew. Hosea had cautioned her this morning that Riggs likely had a spy in the quarters, privy to what she and Loveday were doing in the tunnel and elsewhere. That alone turned her to ice.

Riggs was cunning, resentful, and as unpredictable as the weathervane atop their cupola. Juliet had argued vehemently for his dismissal in the past, as had Mama, but Father refused. Never had Royal Vale boasted so competent a tobacco grower, and with their cavernous debts, the risk was too great to hazard the crop and production to a newcomer, no matter how well recommended. Or so Father said.

After an excruciating hour, Juliet ended the meeting abruptly if only to have Riggs out of her sight. The men filed out, and she sat, shaken, realizing she’d eaten nothing since yesterday.

“Would you like some breakfast, Miss Juliet?” Hosea’s concerned voice reached out to her. She’d almost forgotten his presence.

She nodded, though she’d lost her appetite. “Gunpowder tea and toast, thank you. Then I’ll return to Father’s business.”