wharf had stirred her up somehow, though how the two men passed their time was really none of her concern. But should she warn Tippy that the man she loved might be guilty of frequenting the dens by the river?
Later, after returning to her own home, Blessing struck a match and lit a candle to guide her way to bed. Then she heard a quiet knock at her kitchen door. The very stealth of it galvanized Blessing. Candlestick in hand, she opened the door.
Two people slipped inside but remained in the shadows, away from any window. Blessing recognized one of her visitors, a young man from Joanna’s church, and with him was a petite black woman. Blessing didn’t need to ask why they’d come. Another runaway.
“All the other stations are being watched,” the young man said. “Can she hide here till it’s safe to move her?”
Blessing didn’t waste words. “Follow me.” She led the two swiftly up the stairs to the second story and into the attic. There she ran her hand across the wall until she found the catch that opened the secret door. She waved the woman inside. “I’ll bring up food and water soon.”
The runaway slave nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” She slumped, exhausted, onto the pallet along the wall, giving one last shudder of fear.
Blessing saw by candlelight the woman’s face—it was lovely. And then she understood why the other houses were being watched. She rarely hid slaves; her home was reserved as a last resort, thus making it safe for the most-wanted runaways. This woman was no doubt some master’s prized mistress, and he was willing to pay top dollar for her return—probably four to five times the usual bounty on an escaped slave.
“Thee’ll be safe here,” Blessing said, sickened by the woman’s plight, and shut the panel.
The young man pattered down the steps behind her and, back in the kitchen, peered out the dark window.
“Perhaps thee should stay too,” Blessing cautioned. “The watch might take thee up for being out at night.” Or he might be set upon by ruffians.
“That might be best,” he agreed.
She waved to the back door. “Thee can sleep with the driver over the carriage house. He has an extra bed.”
He nodded his thanks and hurried outside. She closed the door and sank onto a chair at the kitchen table, wearier than ever. Head in her hands, she felt all the evils in this world piling up around her. The face of Gerard Ramsay came again to her mind, and she couldn’t help the sudden indignation that welled up inside.
Did privileged Gerard Ramsay comprehend the realities of life? Babies were being born into poverty and worse. Women were living in bondage to procurers. Black men andwomen were fleeing soul- and body-destroying shackles. And all he could think of was having a good time. If he were here, she would shake him till his teeth rattled.
She would warn Tippy not only about Stoddard’s appearance by the river, but that Ramsay was a bad influence on the man she wanted to marry. Resolved, she shoved away thoughts of Ramsay—a spoiled, probably dissolute gentleman—and prayed for the little baby with the whimsical expression who might not live through the night and the desperate runaway hiding in her attic. Spiriting her from the city unseen would be a challenge even for Blessing. The Lord would need to provide a way—Blessing couldn’t think of one.
SEPTEMBER 3, 1848
As church bells rang the next morning, Blessing walked toward the meetinghouse for First Day worship, troubled and feeling her lack of sleep. Did some slave catcher guess that a runaway might be hiding in her house? She had the sensation she was being watched, followed—an impression she had experienced often even as a child, since her parents’ home had frequently harbored runaways.
With effort she concealed her unease, especially resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder. But whenever she heard a sound that would have naturally prompted her to turn around, she obeyed the urge. More
Later, after returning to her own home, Blessing struck a match and lit a candle to guide her way to bed. Then she heard a quiet knock at her kitchen door. The very stealth of it galvanized Blessing. Candlestick in hand, she opened the door.
Two people slipped inside but remained in the shadows, away from any window. Blessing recognized one of her visitors, a young man from Joanna’s church, and with him was a petite black woman. Blessing didn’t need to ask why they’d come. Another runaway.
“All the other stations are being watched,” the young man said. “Can she hide here till it’s safe to move her?”
Blessing didn’t waste words. “Follow me.” She led the two swiftly up the stairs to the second story and into the attic. There she ran her hand across the wall until she found the catch that opened the secret door. She waved the woman inside. “I’ll bring up food and water soon.”
The runaway slave nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” She slumped, exhausted, onto the pallet along the wall, giving one last shudder of fear.
Blessing saw by candlelight the woman’s face—it was lovely. And then she understood why the other houses were being watched. She rarely hid slaves; her home was reserved as a last resort, thus making it safe for the most-wanted runaways. This woman was no doubt some master’s prized mistress, and he was willing to pay top dollar for her return—probably four to five times the usual bounty on an escaped slave.
“Thee’ll be safe here,” Blessing said, sickened by the woman’s plight, and shut the panel.
The young man pattered down the steps behind her and, back in the kitchen, peered out the dark window.
“Perhaps thee should stay too,” Blessing cautioned. “The watch might take thee up for being out at night.” Or he might be set upon by ruffians.
“That might be best,” he agreed.
She waved to the back door. “Thee can sleep with the driver over the carriage house. He has an extra bed.”
He nodded his thanks and hurried outside. She closed the door and sank onto a chair at the kitchen table, wearier than ever. Head in her hands, she felt all the evils in this world piling up around her. The face of Gerard Ramsay came again to her mind, and she couldn’t help the sudden indignation that welled up inside.
Did privileged Gerard Ramsay comprehend the realities of life? Babies were being born into poverty and worse. Women were living in bondage to procurers. Black men andwomen were fleeing soul- and body-destroying shackles. And all he could think of was having a good time. If he were here, she would shake him till his teeth rattled.
She would warn Tippy not only about Stoddard’s appearance by the river, but that Ramsay was a bad influence on the man she wanted to marry. Resolved, she shoved away thoughts of Ramsay—a spoiled, probably dissolute gentleman—and prayed for the little baby with the whimsical expression who might not live through the night and the desperate runaway hiding in her attic. Spiriting her from the city unseen would be a challenge even for Blessing. The Lord would need to provide a way—Blessing couldn’t think of one.
SEPTEMBER 3, 1848
As church bells rang the next morning, Blessing walked toward the meetinghouse for First Day worship, troubled and feeling her lack of sleep. Did some slave catcher guess that a runaway might be hiding in her house? She had the sensation she was being watched, followed—an impression she had experienced often even as a child, since her parents’ home had frequently harbored runaways.
With effort she concealed her unease, especially resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder. But whenever she heard a sound that would have naturally prompted her to turn around, she obeyed the urge. More
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