Read Online The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn by Lori Benton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lori Benton
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rather be dead.”
She turned to stare in horror at the bed. Had she said such a thing, with her mother lying dead right there? Time and the world and her heart shattered, falling to pieces.
The man was speaking again, but his words were slow to penetrate. “Is there somewhere you can go? Kin to take you in, protect you?”
Tamsen stared at him. She was alone. The friends she had in Charlotte Town wouldn’t be her friends if the truth she’d just discovered wasmade known. What was the truth? That her mother hadn’t been the daughter of a Spanish merchant, as she’d always believed, but a slave? She looked down at the innocuous little box, its key still protruding from the lock. She’d always known her mother held the key to their freedom. She hadn’t imagined a literal key. And the box, the papers. Whatever was she to do with them? What could she do? Whatever plan her mother had for the box’s contents, it had died with her.
“There’s no one.” She clamped her hand across her mouth and fixed her gaze on the only person left who seemed to care about her plight. The young man’s chest rose and fell beneath his deerskin coat, as if his heart pounded like hers, as if he, too, sensed the world knocked off kilter. But when he spoke, his voice was steady.
“Tell me how to help you. What do you want to do?”
To be given that choice now, after the one person she’d wanted to make it with was snatched away … It was too cruel.
“There’s nothing I can do.” Except bury her mother and marry Ambrose Kincaid, and spend the rest of her life trying to lessen the misery of everyone around her … if not her own.
The man took a step nearer, his eyes holding hers, something growing in them at odds with her panicked, spiraling thoughts. Something strong and calming. “There’s one thing. I can get you away from Hezekiah Parrish. And that planter. You don’t have to marry him. Not if you don’t want to.”
“You mean run away … with you?” As she said the words, realization burst upon her. “That’s what Sim and Dell have done—run away together.”
Her mother had known. Her mother had been complicit. Go on out to Sim .
“I think so,” the man said. “But it’s you I’m worried for. Listen. I can take you where you won’t be found, but it’s got to be now. Right now. If your stepfather gets hold of you, I misdoubt I’ll get near you again.”
Fear clawed at her. “What about Mama?”
Compassion moved his face, but his voice held firm. “She’ll be seen to. There’s good people in this town. If I judge your stepfather right, he’ll make a decent show of things.”
The injustice of it was a wailing in her soul. “He did this.”
“I know he did. But the truth will keep. Right now we’ve got to get you someplace safe.”
Tamsen glanced aside at the box her mother had spent her last breaths to tell her of, its soul-rattling contents spilled across the floor. Then she looked back at the man watching her, earnest and ready for anything, it seemed. “You’ll help me? Truly?”
“I will.” A simple answer, unadorned with explanation, yet it had the power to dispel all but one clear thought: escape .
“All right.”
He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her trust. Then his jaw firmed. “Your stepfather said he’d be back for you? How long since?”
She couldn’t think. The past moments were stretched and blurred.
The man reached for her, his grip on her shoulder urgent. “Tamsen, how long have we got?”
“Half an hour? I don’t know.” She started moving about the room, gathering up a hairbrush, a set of pockets, heading for the clothespress for her riding gown.
From the doorway he called to her. “What’re you doing?”
She turned, petticoat and fitted jacket draped over her arm. “Packing.”
“No time. Just get that cloak. By morning you’ll want it. I’ve all else we need.”
Dumbly obeying, she stuffed the hairbrush into a pocket and snatched her cloak
She turned to stare in horror at the bed. Had she said such a thing, with her mother lying dead right there? Time and the world and her heart shattered, falling to pieces.
The man was speaking again, but his words were slow to penetrate. “Is there somewhere you can go? Kin to take you in, protect you?”
Tamsen stared at him. She was alone. The friends she had in Charlotte Town wouldn’t be her friends if the truth she’d just discovered wasmade known. What was the truth? That her mother hadn’t been the daughter of a Spanish merchant, as she’d always believed, but a slave? She looked down at the innocuous little box, its key still protruding from the lock. She’d always known her mother held the key to their freedom. She hadn’t imagined a literal key. And the box, the papers. Whatever was she to do with them? What could she do? Whatever plan her mother had for the box’s contents, it had died with her.
“There’s no one.” She clamped her hand across her mouth and fixed her gaze on the only person left who seemed to care about her plight. The young man’s chest rose and fell beneath his deerskin coat, as if his heart pounded like hers, as if he, too, sensed the world knocked off kilter. But when he spoke, his voice was steady.
“Tell me how to help you. What do you want to do?”
To be given that choice now, after the one person she’d wanted to make it with was snatched away … It was too cruel.
“There’s nothing I can do.” Except bury her mother and marry Ambrose Kincaid, and spend the rest of her life trying to lessen the misery of everyone around her … if not her own.
The man took a step nearer, his eyes holding hers, something growing in them at odds with her panicked, spiraling thoughts. Something strong and calming. “There’s one thing. I can get you away from Hezekiah Parrish. And that planter. You don’t have to marry him. Not if you don’t want to.”
“You mean run away … with you?” As she said the words, realization burst upon her. “That’s what Sim and Dell have done—run away together.”
Her mother had known. Her mother had been complicit. Go on out to Sim .
“I think so,” the man said. “But it’s you I’m worried for. Listen. I can take you where you won’t be found, but it’s got to be now. Right now. If your stepfather gets hold of you, I misdoubt I’ll get near you again.”
Fear clawed at her. “What about Mama?”
Compassion moved his face, but his voice held firm. “She’ll be seen to. There’s good people in this town. If I judge your stepfather right, he’ll make a decent show of things.”
The injustice of it was a wailing in her soul. “He did this.”
“I know he did. But the truth will keep. Right now we’ve got to get you someplace safe.”
Tamsen glanced aside at the box her mother had spent her last breaths to tell her of, its soul-rattling contents spilled across the floor. Then she looked back at the man watching her, earnest and ready for anything, it seemed. “You’ll help me? Truly?”
“I will.” A simple answer, unadorned with explanation, yet it had the power to dispel all but one clear thought: escape .
“All right.”
He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her trust. Then his jaw firmed. “Your stepfather said he’d be back for you? How long since?”
She couldn’t think. The past moments were stretched and blurred.
The man reached for her, his grip on her shoulder urgent. “Tamsen, how long have we got?”
“Half an hour? I don’t know.” She started moving about the room, gathering up a hairbrush, a set of pockets, heading for the clothespress for her riding gown.
From the doorway he called to her. “What’re you doing?”
She turned, petticoat and fitted jacket draped over her arm. “Packing.”
“No time. Just get that cloak. By morning you’ll want it. I’ve all else we need.”
Dumbly obeying, she stuffed the hairbrush into a pocket and snatched her cloak
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