Authors: Patricia Hagan
Another ripple of approval went through the room, and it was Captain O’Grady who echoed the opinion of all by reverently declaring, “It’s beautiful. Perfect. A midnight rose to signal a voyage to freedom.”
And also, Erin thought, it was a perfect means to vindicate a bittersweet memory.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nanny Bess hummed contentedly as she
dusted bric-a-brac in the parlor. Everything was going well. Erin was seldom at home, working day and night at the waterfront. The business had grown since she had taken over, and in addition to the sailings to freedom, the regular runs of cargo to Europe were becoming more and more frequent. She was capable, knew what she was doing, and people liked to deal with her.
The only thing that worried Nanny Bess was the way Erin was totally dedicated to her work. It was her whole life. She took no time off for relaxation, much less socializing. Not that men got any romantic notions, anyway, the way she presented herself. And it just wasn’t healthy how she locked herself off from life, all because of that swine, Ryan Youngblood.
Hearing the loud clang of the knocker, Nanny Bess laid down her dusting cloth. Smoothing her apron, she went to the front door, opened it, took one look, and quickly started to close it.
“Nanny Bess, what’s wrong?” Ryan immediately stuck out his foot to block the door. “Surely, you haven’t forgotten me after all these years.”
Nanny Bess commanded herself to be calm, lest she arouse instant suspicion. “Yes, of course, Mr. Youngblood,” she said in an attempt to recover. Swallowing against the dizziness, she continued, “We’ve just had some robberies in the neighborhood lately, and I’m leery about who I open the door to.” Dear God, she could hardly think past the giant roaring that had begun in her head, and felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat.
He wondered why she had even opened the door if she was all that afraid, but let it
go.
He stepped into the foyer without being invited, for he had no reason to think he wasn’t welcome. “I need to see Charles. Since it’s so late in the day, I thought he’d be here instead of his office. I came all the way inland this trip, and…” He paused, struck by her strange behavior. “What is this all about?”
Not about to reveal the real horror, she drearily informed him, “Mr. Grudinger passed away.”
It was Ryan’s turn to be taken aback. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. I’ve been out of touch with everything lately. I’ve had some personal problems, and…” He fell silent, not knowing what else to say, afraid of saying too much.
Despite his sorrow at hearing of his friend’s death, Ryan was more concerned with his relentless quest. He had learned much on his trek north, paying plenty for the information, of course. He now knew Mother Bethel was actually a church rumored to help fugitive slaves. He’d dared hope Jason Harnaby’s dying clue meant Erin had escaped and gone to Mother Bethel for aid. Filled with renewed hope, he became even more determined to find her, no matter what obstacles he’d have to surmount. He was wondering if he dared ask Nanny Bess for help in the wake of her bizarre behavior.
Nanny Bess was regaining her self-control, and fear was quickly shifting to anger with the reality that standing before her was the monster who had coldly, cruelly banished her dear friend to slavery. “Is there anything else you want?”
He blinked, snapped from his musing by her sharpness, and ventured to request, “Do you suppose you could put me up for the night since you’re keeping the house open? I’m sure Charles would approve,” he finished with a lame smile. Actually, he was hoping she would warm up a little, so he could try to find out how much she knew about what went on at Mother Bethel.
She was quick to refuse. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Someone else owns the house now. I work for them.”
“I see.” Curious, he probed, “By the way, when did Charles pass away?”
“A few months ago.”
His brow furrowed. “His estate must have been settled fairly quickly if the house has already changed hands. What about his business? When I was here last time, we discussed my investing in it. Could you by any chance give me the name of his attorney? If it’s still for sale—”
“No. It sold, too. Now if there’s nothing else…” She held the door open wider, indicating he should leave.
Ryan reluctantly stepped out on the porch. Knowing it was now or never, he said bluntly, “Just one more question. Do you know where I can find a church known as Mother Bethel?”
She slammed the door in his face.
Leaning back against it, she could hear the pounding of her own heart, there in the stillness of the house. Oh, how she chided herself for not being more composed, but it was all such a shock. Somehow, he had found out Erin had escaped and traced her to Philadelphia. Worse, still, he knew Mother Bethel had something to do with it.
She had to warn Erin, lest he be suspicious and wait outside in the shadows and see her when she came home. It would be late, too, because Erin had said that morning before going to the waterfront that she wouldn’t be back till after midnight. A ship was ready to sail the next night and the signal had to be left.
Nanny Bess peered through the sheer curtain that hung on the glass windows beside the door. She was relieved to see Ryan walking down the street. That meant his next step would be to try and locate Mother Bethel, which he’d be able to do as soon as he found out it was really the African Methodist Episcopal Church he was looking for.
She knew, with rising panic, she needed to warn Parson Jones, but Erin had to come first.
Ryan had wanted to kick the goddamn door down and do whatever it took to make her tell him what the hell had her so spooked. And why had she looked at him as if he were scum? He’d never been rude or unkind to her in all the times he’d visited Charles. And she might have had a bit of compassion. After all, hearing of his friend’s death had been a shock.
Later, he vowed, struck with resentment, he would go back and get some answers. For the time being, he was exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep.
Tomorrow, by God, he would start out on his own to find Mother Bethel.
Hailing a carriage-for-hire, he clambered on board.
“Where to, sir?” the driver wanted to know.
Ryan leaned back against the smooth leather seat and jocularly said, “Unless you know where to find Mother Bethel, take me to a good hotel.”
“Which do you prefer, sir?”
He sat up straight, not sure he’d heard right. Slowly, he repeated himself.
“I heard you, sir,” the driver said patiently. “So, where do you want me to take you? A hotel, or to the African Methodist Episcopal Church?”
A short way behind, someone else hailed a carriage.
“Just follow that one up there,” Zachary ordered tersely, “and it will be worth your while not to let them know they’re being followed.”
He was tempted to advise the cabby it would probably cost him his life if he did.
Zachary was a driven man. In the past weeks, as Ryan had doggedly trailed Erin to Philadelphia, he had been close behind. No matter that his plantation was probably falling apart back in Richmond. With his partner dead and his house burned down, he was thinking only of revenge.
If Youngblood succeeded in finding Erin and Arlene, he would have it at last.
Erin walked slowly along the pier. She found the sound of the gentle lapping of the water against the pilings soothing, melodic. She drank of the pungent air, shivering with the ecstasy of the world—her world.
What a long path she’d trod to reach it, she mused, and how long ago, a lifetime ago it was, even to contemplate that other time, when she had reveled in the glory of a man’s arms, a man she so foolishly believed shared her dreams, her love.
The sad reality was that never, ever would she have thought it mattered to Ryan that she could be considered mulatto. True, he was a slaveholder, but by necessity and heritage, not choice. A kind man. A gentle man. With compassion for those in bondage. Or so she thought.
Erin had tried to cast him from both mind and heart but had failed. She continued to be haunted by thoughts of what might have been, the happiness that could have been theirs.
So it had come to this, she sadly accepted, pressing the silken petals of the fragrant rose to her lips.
Loneliness.
Emptiness.
The only joy in life to be found was in helping others escape misery, while she seemed doomed to encapsulation within herself.
Midnight Rose.
That’s what they were calling her—the Free Soilers, the Quakers, Mother Bethel’s followers.
Midnight Rose—the enigmatic zealot. Dedicated and devoted. Admired and respected.
But Erin cared nothing for the praise. To her, working day and night for the cause was a panacea for a heart that would not heal.
And despite all resolve, the memories came whispering back, memories of a warm spring night when her heart had first been invaded.
She kissed the rose, quickly knelt to place it on the pier.
That was when she heard Nanny Bess frantically calling to her from the shadows. She hurried over, apprehensive. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
Nanny Bess was standing by the office door, the glow of a lantern above revealing her stricken face. Erin tensed. Whatever it was, it was bad. Giving her a gentle shake, for she appeared to be in a stupor, Erin said, “Come on. Tell me. Quick.”
Nanny Bess, out of breath from running after leaving the carriage, could only sob, “Oh, God! Oh, God!”
Placing an arm about her shoulders, Erin tried to draw her into the office.
Nanny Bess pulled back, shook her head in protest as the words came out in a frenzied torrent. “He’s here! Ryan is here! In Philadelphia. He came to the house. He wanted to see Charles. I told him he was dead. Then he wanted to stay the night, but I said no, and then he asked if I knew where to find Mother Bethel. Oh, God, Erin, don’t you see? You’ve got to run!”
Erin could only stare at her in horror, blood turning to ice, every muscle, every nerve in her body rigid.
“He’s here! Ryan is here!” Nanny Bess repeated, voice rising hysterically. “You’ve got to leave. He can claim you’re a runaway slave and take you back, do whatever he wants to with you. Nobody can stop him. Don’t you see?”
Woodenly, Erin began to nod, for she knew Nanny Bess was right. Finally, she summoned her voice past the constricting lump of terror. “I’ll leave with Captain O’Grady tomorrow night. It’s my only chance. But what do I do till then, if he knows about Mother Bethel? I can’t go there for refuge. And I don’t dare go back to the house.” She was frantic.
Nanny Bess lifted a trembling finger and pointed to the outline of the
Freedom,
majestic in its silhouette against the fog rolling in. “There. Go on the ship and stay there. Alert Captain O’Grady, and he’ll post guards to make sure Ryan can’t get on board. It’s your only chance. Hurry. Go now. I’ll pack your things and bring them tomorrow.”
Erin was wild with fear but also stricken with worry over what would happen to Morna Lines. “I might not come back. It won’t be safe for a long, long time. You’ve got to keep the ships sailing, Nanny Bess. You’ve got to keep getting the fugitives out to freedom. You’re going to have to become Midnight Rose.” Erin’s voice broke.
Nanny Bess was sobbing, clinging to her. “I will. I swear it. You’ve worked too hard, and, oh, child, please, just go and get on that ship. It’s the only safe place. When you tell Captain O’Grady what’s happened, maybe he’ll pull anchor and sail at dawn, and—”
“No!” Erin wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ve left the signal. The crates with the fugitives will be loaded late tomorrow. We sail at midnight then. Not before. Now get back to the house, in case he comes around again. Be calm. And I’ll see you when you bring my things on board.”
“Godspeed.” Nanny Bess tore from her embrace, blew her a kiss, and disappeared into the night.
Erin turned and ran as fast as her trembling legs would carry her, and she did not stop running until she was on the
Freedom
and pounding frantically on Captain O’Grady’s cabin door.
Ryan walked aimlessly along the pier. Haunted, restless, he was more puzzled than ever after his visit to the church.
He had spoken with a preacher by the name of Absalom Jones, and when he introduced himself, Jones had got that same gleam of hatred in his eyes that Ryan had seen in Nanny Bess. Why? What provoked such instant animosity?
He got nowhere with his questions. Jones denied any involvement, of any kind, with runaway slaves. Further, he claimed he’d never heard of an Erin Sterling, or anyone by the name of Arlene Tremayne. And he had expressed indignant concern that any such rumors about his church should exist, for the congregation, he assured, was God-fearing and law-abiding.
Ryan had finally exploded and said all he wanted was to find his wife, and that was when Jones leaped to his feet and demanded that he leave, saying if he didn’t, he’d have no choice but to send for the law, because he’d have no trouble at his church.
So Ryan had been walking the streets of Philadelphia ever since, finally wandering down to the waterfront. He was filled with despair; he didn’t know which way to turn.