Mockingbird's Call (5 page)

“Great!” Benjamin slapped him on the back. “I knew I could count on you.”

Five

“Ouch.” Amelia reached up and grabbed Tabitha's hand. “That's the third time you've pulled my hair. What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better.”

“Don't try that on me, Tabitha. I know you too well.” She took the brush from Tabitha's hand and laid it on the dressing table, then turned to face her friend. “Tell me what's on your mind.”

Tabitha's eyebrows drew together in a frown. “You need to go down soon. Turn around and let me finish your hair.”

“Unh-unh.” Amelia shook her head. “I'm not going down until I find out why you're acting so strangely.”

“I. . .I can't talk about it.” Tabitha turned away from her and faced the window.

Amelia said nothing. She and Tabitha had grown up together, even though Tabitha was a slave and she was the master's daughter. She had shared her dolls with Tabitha, and then when she learned to read, she'd shared her lessons with the young slave. Papa would skin both of them alive if he knew. It was illegal to teach a slave to read and write, but neither of them had considered the law when theywere younger. As long as they never divulged the truth to anyone else, they would not get in trouble. Amelia's conscience pricked her a little at the thought. Was it wrong to lie to others for a good cause?

“It's. . .the c–cook's son.” Tabitha's words were slow, as if she was carefully considering each one.

“The cook's son.” Amelia clapped her hands together. “Is he handsome? Smart? Does he make your heart beat faster?”

“No, no.” Tabitha turned to face her once again. “It's nothing like that. Nothing romantic. He. . .he's an escaped slave.”

Amelia could feel a lump rise in her throat. She didn't like the sound of this, but she couldn't back out on her friend now. “Go on.”

“He. . .he's a conductor.”

The word fell between them like a boulder. A conductor. That meant he was part of the Underground Railroad. He was helping other slaves make their way to freedom. It was a noble cause, and one that Amelia would like to support, but she knew better. Hadn't she already paid a high enough price for her dealings with slaves? She looked at Tabitha's troubled face. “I see.”

“He's got a group out in the barn. One of them's been shot. A young boy.”

The blood drained from Amelia's face as she considered the pain and fear the child must be feeling. “What happened?”

Tabitha knelt on the floor in front of her. Tears ran down her cheeks. “You know there's safe places where runaways can hide out.”

Amelia nodded. No one knew exactly how many slaves had found their way to freedom in the past decade. Or how many had died trying. People caught harboring runaway slaves were breaking the law. It was a scary choice to make, especially since Tennessee had seceded from the Union last spring.

In the short time she'd been here, Amelia had discovered Knoxville was a town divided over the issue of abolition. Some believed each state should have the right to decide whether or not to outlaw slavery, while others were staunchly opposed to allowing slavery at all, and still others depended on slave labor to run profitable businesses. Even though she had found her aunt and uncle to be a little more liberal in their attitude toward slavery, she would never have dreamed of this possibility. “Are you saying my aunt and uncle are helping slaves get free?”

“Oh my, no.” Tabitha placed her hands over Amelia's. “They'd have a fit for sure. But it's the cook's son. He's in a bad fix. The station where he was supposed to hide was found out, and the escapees were almost captured. So he brought them here and asked his ma to help.”

A knock on the door made both girls jump.

“Stand up,” Amelia whispered. Then more loudly she called out, “Who's there?”

“Amelia, honey, it's about time for you to come downstairs.” Aunt Laura's voice was bright and cheerful. She was obviously looking forward to the party, having no idea that disaster could strike the whole family at any moment.

“I'll be right down,” Amelia tried for a light tone to match her aunt's. “Tabitha is putting the final touches on my coiffure.”

“All right, dear. Your uncle and I will be waiting for you.”

Amelia held her breath until she heard her aunt's receding footsteps. She turned to Tabitha. “I can finish my hair. You go and help the cook's son. I won't need you any more tonight.”

A slight smile turned up the corners of Tabitha's mouth. “You'd look a sight for sure. You don't know anything about fixing hair.”

The clock on her mantel ticked away the minutes as Tabitha expertly twisted her hair up off Amelia's neck and fastened it into place with jeweled pins. A few tendrils escaped on either side of her face and at the nape of her neck, giving her a soft but sophisticated look.

“You look real nice. You're going to be the prettiest girl at the party.” Tabitha's words did not match her expression, which was still drawn in a frown.

“Thank you, Tabitha.” A few days ago Amelia had been so excited about her new gown. It was one of her fanciest, a daring style that bared her arms and nipped in at her waist before expanding outward to form a wide bell that swayed as she moved. Now she was more concerned with the dire straits of the people hidden out back.

She stood and went to her bureau, thankful she had thought to bring her medicine bag, and pulled out strips of bandaging and forceps. “I don't know exactly what you may need, but this should help.”

“Thank you.” Tabitha tucked the forceps into the belt at her waist and dropped the bandaging into her pocket. Then she walked to Amelia's bed and picked up the Spanish lace shawl she'd laid across it earlier. “You need this.” She arranged the soft material over Amelia's arms to fall just below her shoulders, then pushed her toward the door. “Go enjoy your party and don't worry none.”

“Please be careful.” Concern made Amelia's throat tighten. She would rather have helped Tabitha than go downstairs and play the part of an empty-headed debutante. “Promise you'll come get me if you need help.”

Tabitha nodded and shooed her out of the room.

Lord, please protect my friend and those poor souls she's trying to help.
Her prayer brought Amelia a feeling of peace as she descended her aunt and uncle's narrow staircase, but she wished she could do more.

She took a deep breath and concentrated on the designs on Aunt Laura's flocked velvet wallpaper. It was a new pattern, forest green in color with small birds perched on wide oak leaves. Aunt Laura had glowed with pleasure when Amelia had complimented it.

Amelia's skirts brushed both the polished balustrade and the wallpaper as she descended. Her heart was pumping hard by the time she reached the first-floor landing, and she pinned a wide smile on her face. She pushed her worries about the slaves to the back of her mind. It was very thoughtful of her relatives to have planned this party for her, and she was determined to enjoy it. . .or at least appear to.

Her aunt and uncle were a sweet couple, both somewhat rounded from their comfortable lifestyle. Uncle Francis, a canny investor with an eye to the future, had made a fortune by purchasing stock in such inventions as a machine for drilling through rocks, boilers for use with the new steam engines, and Elisha Otis's hoisting apparatus that moved cargo vertically. Uncle Francis had explained to her the uses for such a contraption, but Amelia could not understand his enthusiasm. Whatever its purpose, the device had earned her uncle an ample income, enough so he could spend most of his days enjoying the company of his peers at a gentlemen's club downtown.

Aunt Laura was a collector. She loved filling her home with fancy furniture and stylish knickknacks. Nearly every surface held some interesting object that her aunt loved to talk about. She was like one of the birds on her wallpaper, collecting leaves, twigs, and bits of fluff for her nest. Together, her aunt and uncle made a charming couple, quite different from what she expected when Papa banished her. She had thought she'd find herself in a prison-like atmosphere, surrounded by sour jailors who resented her presence. How wrong she had been.

“There she is.” Uncle Francis's booming voice was as warm as a summer breeze. He chucked her under the chin. “You're as pretty as a picture, m'dear.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Even though Amelia only stood some three inches above five feet, she was as tall as he, although his girth easily outstripped hers. Dark blue eyes, a Montgomery family trait, twinkled at her above his beard and mustache. He was dressed in a brown cutaway coat with a gold vest underneath, his attire showing that he kept abreast of current fashion. “You're looking quite handsome yourself.”

She turned to her aunt, who was resplendent in a gown of rich puce satin. Tiny pearl buttons decorated the bodice from the collar to her waist. The sleeves were wide at the shoulder and elbow and tapered to a narrow cuff fastened with more pearl buttons. The skirt, made of the same material as the bodice, was full and boasted a deep flounce. “And you are also looking lovely this evening, Aunt Laura.”

“What a sweet child.” Aunt Laura wrapped her in a perfumed embrace. “Always saying the nicest things to your old aunt and uncle.”

Amelia emerged laughing. “It's easy when I am staying with such kind, handsome hosts. How many guests do you expect to have this evening?”

“Only a small, intimate group for dinner,” her aunt answered. “Our son, Benjamin, will be here, along with some new friends of his from college. And a few friends of mine from around town will be coming, with their sons and daughters.”

Uncle Francis cleared his throat. “Our dinner table will only accommodate forty guests, so we were quite limited in our selection. But never fear, many more will join us after dinner for the ball.”

Aunt Laura nodded. “I wouldn't be surprised if we had upwards of two hundred guests.”

“I see.” Amelia tried to keep the trepidation from her voice. Forty guests for dinner? And many more later? She hoped she could find enough unexceptional subjects to discuss. Growing up on a remote, self-sustaining plantation had not prepared her for fancy parties or witty dinner conversation. She prayed she would not embarrass her hosts by saying or doing something to mark herself as provincial.

She prayed even more for Tabitha, as she knew what occupied her mind most were those attempting to gain their freedom. . .and her inability to tamp her desire to help.

❧

It was easy to see which house belonged to Benjamin's parents from the number of carriages lined up in front, waiting to disgorge their passengers onto the brightly lit stoop. An unexpected feeling of homesickness swept over Jared as he was reminded of parties his own parents and great-aunt had hosted for one or the other of his sisters.

A slave hurried to take their horses. He slid from the saddle, ready to be free of the tired mount he'd rented from a livery stable near the college. His horse had been only slightly faster than walking across town. Benjamin's sleek roan, a stallion he'd raised from a colt, had fought his rider all the way, trying to move at a gait faster than amble.

Jared brushed his coat and straightened his cravat. “I was beginning to think we wouldn't arrive until after the party was over.” When he received no response, he looked up to see that Benjamin was halfway up the front steps. With a sigh, he hurried after his friend.

At the front door, he had a moment to take in the scene before being introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. He could see no sign of the cousin who was the guest of honor. His gaze lit on a tall, thin girl with curly brown hair who was standing slightly behind Benjamin's mother. That must be her. His dreams of renewing his acquaintance with the girl on the train died a quick death. He could feel his smile slipping, but his sympathy was roused by the obvious discomfort on the young lady's face. He shook hands with Benjamin's parents when introduced then turned to the poor uncomfortable girl.

“This must be the sweet cousin I've heard so much about.” He smiled down at her, hoping to ease her discomfort. “Hello, I'm Jared Stuart, Benjamin's roommate at East Tennessee University.”

The young lady's mouth dropped open in shock. He wondered at her surprise. She was the guest of honor, after all. She dropped a stiff curtsy as he bowed.

She said nothing, so he cast about in his mind for something to say. “I understand that you are also from Nashville, where my family now resides.”

“N–no, sir.” Her voice was so low he had to bend forward to make out what she was saying. “I. . .my. . .fa–family is fr–from Knoxville.”

Jared frowned. Had he been mistaken? He looked around for Benjamin and spotted his friend some distance away, standing on the edge of a circle of guests. He turned back to the girl, who looked like she'd rather be anywhere than standing next to him. Her hands picked at the material of her skirt, and her gaze flitted from one place to another in the room.

“There you are, Faye.” A round-faced woman in a white dress more suited to a debutante than a matron advanced on them. Her brown hair was pulled tightly back from her face and disappeared under a fancy lace kerchief. She turned a smile on Jared, making him feel a little like a rabbit about to become dinner for a mountain lion. “And who is your new friend?”

The girl swallowed twice and shook her head.

Irritation was evident on her mother's face, but she pushed it back and smiled at him. “Hello, I am Beatrice Downing. I see you've already met my daughter.”

So this was not Benjamin's cousin. Jared introduced himself again and made his escape as quickly as possible without appearing rude. As the orchestra began tuning up in preparation for the dancing, he strolled over to the knot of people to find Benjamin. Why had his roommate deserted him amongst all these strangers?