Patricia Potter (4 page)

“Slavery’s going to pull this country apart,” Mr. Brown said.

“Not if the damned abolitionists will leave our property alone,” countered the Biloxi planter.

“No one has the right to sell human beings,” Brown said.

“Property, Mr. Brown, property. And because they are valuable property we treat them a sight better than you treat free workers in your factories.”

Meredith only half listened. She knew the arguments. She had heard them a thousand times. But no argument, she knew, would ever quiet Lissa’s cries in her mind. Or her own nightmares, which continued to this day. It had always taken iron control to ignore these conversations until she learned, finally, to block much of them out. She could not change things with words.

“Miss Seaton?”

She looked up, surprised. She had not heard Captain Devereux’s amused drawl.

“I fear we have been boring you and Miss Frazier with all this talk of politics.”

“Oh no. I just love listenin’ to men. I don’t understand it, but it all sounds so…so important.”

Quinn used his fingers to cover the smile on his lips. She was worse than he had thought possible. He might just kill Cam tonight for arousing his interest. Or better yet, he’d condemn Cam to an evening with Miss Seaton.

Although he seldom demanded much from his women, he doubted whether he could tolerate her level of vacuousness. Even if it had been twelve years since he had truly shared a bed with a woman.

Despite the rakish reputation he had cultivated, he had had no opportunity to pursue amorous adventures for eight years. And in the four years he had been back in America, he had had only brief uninvolved encounters. Yet each had been fraught with danger. He could never let the woman see, or feel, his back or ankles, or there would be questions he didn’t want to answer. And then there were even more complicated reasons he didn’t care to explore. So on the few occasions he had allowed himself release he did so nearly fully clothed, and he chose women who would not ask questions and who asked very little in return.

“Don’t you think, Captain…?”

Now
he
could be accused of inattention, Quinn thought dryly as he tried to pay heed to his guests.

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“That we should protect our property?” said one of the slave hunters. “Your man, for instance, the one who delivered the invitation for dinner…Now he must be worth a lot. Or is he a freeman?”

It was an impertinent question, even for a slave hunter. The others at the table looked embarrassed, but Quinn merely looked disinterested.

“Two thousand dollars to be exact,” he said, the answer almost as tasteless as the question.

“And you’re risking taking him up North?”

“There’s the Fugitive Slave Act,” Quinn said carelessly. “And he tried to run once. He won’t do it again.”

The pure callousness of his tone sent a shiver down Meredith’s back. She remembered the man’s limp and she wondered if that was the result of an escape attempt. Looking at Devereux’s cold blank eyes, she suddenly felt it was possible. Any attraction she might have felt for the gambler, even the childhood memory, disappeared, and only a chill remained.

“I’m afraid we’re distressing our lady guests,” Devereux said smoothly. “I think a change of subject is in order.”

One of the Carrolls flushed. “Beg your pardon, miss,” he mumbled.

It was John, Meredith remembered. The other was Ted. She would sketch their likenesses as soon as she returned to her room. She could pass the sketches on to the Parson near Vicksburg, and he would see them distributed throughout the Underground Railroad.

She jerked up as if startled. “I’m sorry, I’ve been daydreamin’, I fear. I suppose it’s been the long evenin’ and all these fascinatin’ politics. My little ol’ brain can just absorb so much. If you will excuse my aunt and myself…Captain Devereux, and gentlemen.”

Meredith rose, her aunt following with a relieved sigh, and all the men stood as one, murmuring their farewells. She nodded her acknowledgment and they left the room, leaving Captain Devereux studying them with a strange gleam in his eyes.

He glanced around the table and noticed that no one else seemed to have paid mind to the woman’s last sentence. He was the only one, apparently, who realized he had been excluded from the word “gentlemen,” despite the presence of the two slave hunters.

He wondered for a moment whether it had been deliberate, and then decided it had not. Miss Seaton didn’t appear to have the gumption or intelligence to fashion so subtle a barb. It was, he decided, his imagination again.

“Now who,” he said, “would like to indulge in a friendly game of cards?”

C
hapter 2

“
I HAVE NEVER
been so humiliated in my life,” Aunt Opal said. “Those men. Can you imagine a Devereux inviting them to his table? I couldn’t eat a bite.”

She had consumed considerably more than a bite, in fact, but Meredith refrained from the observation.

“It was rather…bad taste,” she agreed.

“Bad taste indeed,” Opal huffed. “I’ll tell his brother about it, you can be sure. And I’ll not eat at that table again. And I’ll not allow you to do it either.”

“I have no intentions of doing so.” Meredith soothed her aunt. “I was just as shocked as you.”

“Well you didn’t sound like it, talking to them like they were…were…decent people.”

“Remember, Aunt, that Brett Devereux controls my trust fund. I didn’t dare be impolite.”

“Humph…”

“It’s all over now,” Meredith said. “I’ll send Daphne to your room to help you undress.”

“And that girl…you don’t know a thing about her.”

Meredith sighed. “She seems willing enough.”

“I know but she’s…well, almost white. She’ll probably just take off like the others.”

I hope so.
The words were locked inside her, but she thought them nonetheless. Both Daphne and that man of the captain’s. The thought brought back Quinlan Devereux’s dark countenance and mocking smile. How could someone so handsome be so cruel?

But she reassured her aunt, and led her to the stateroom adjoining her own. Despite the older woman’s protestations, Meredith always insisted on two rooms, claiming her aunt’s proximity was chaperonage enough. Now Meredith shared her cabin only with Daphne, who slept on a cot.

Meredith needed her privacy. Required it. It was the only time she could really relax and think. Even with Daphne, she had to be on guard. Now she would have a few moments alone while Daphne attended to her aunt’s needs.

When she opened the door to her cabin the girl was waiting inside. Meredith had ordered food for her earlier, but the plates appeared barely touched. She was still eating little more than a bird, drat it. No matter what she did, Meredith couldn’t seem to tempt her into a better appetite. She was already so slender, so small. Daphne now curtsied nervously, then rushed next door to do Meredith’s bidding.

Meredith sighed deeply, relishing the silence. She was able to unhook her own heavy dress, and she slipped quickly into a nightdress and dressing gown. She then unpinned her hair, brushing the long golden tresses as her mind wandered back to the strange scene at dinner.

Why did Captain Devereux have to be so confounded attractive? And so much of an enigma? A dangerous one, she reminded herself. He was probably every bit as ruthless as his reputation deemed him to be, and he obviously had few, if any, human feelings. What had happened in those missing years that had changed him so? What had made those laughing eyes into such closed ones?

She wished suddenly that she’d paid more attention to the rumors about the scandal surrounding him. Some said the law had been involved. Some said a woman. What was certain was that Captain Devereux had disappeared for a number of years, and in that time both his father and older brother had died while waiting for the return of the long missing middle son.

Well, it didn’t really matter. She would be home in a few days, and she would probably never see the man again. She would take great pains to avoid the
Lucky Lady
in the future. There were certainly plenty of other boats.

She quickly made notes on the dinner conversation and on the Carroll brothers, then slipped into bed. She pretended to be asleep when Daphne came in and settled quietly on the cot.

But she couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing those shuttered blue eyes of Captain Devereux and wondering what terrible things they’d seen. And much as she tried, she couldn’t stem the swell of bitter disappointment that swept over her as she realized her knight’s silver armor was only rusted tin.

Meredith woke to the sound of her own scream. The nightmare again.

Miss Merry! Miss Merry!
The terror was as vivid as it had been so many years ago, as real. But as the cries had increased in volume with each nightmare, the voice had also grown in age, until it had become a woman’s voice.

I have to help,
Meredith thought desperately. I
must.
She reached out, and then she was falling…and the cries rose to a crescendo in her ears.

“Miss Meredith, Miss Meredith.”

She felt gentle hands shake her, and the voice was soft, not the hopeless wail that shattered the peace of her night. Gradually, her heart slowed its frantic pace, and she opened her eyes.

Daphne was standing above her, her face creased with worry in the flickering light of the oil lamp she held. “Are you all right, Miss Meredith?”

Meredith wasn’t altogether sure. Her body was rigid with tension and soaked with sweat. She put her hand to her cheek and felt the moisture, and knew she had been crying.

She swallowed painfully and put out a hand to Daphne, reassuring her. “It was just a…bad dream. I’m all right now. Go back to sleep.”

Daphne hesitated. She had only been with her new mistress three days and she still wasn’t sure what was expected of her. She was grateful that Miss Meredith had rescued her from the slave jail and auction, but she had learned painfully not to expect a great deal from those who owned her. She had trusted once. She could not trust again.

She knew only one thing now. Obedience. So she nodded and went back to her cot and lay down, grateful she was sleeping in this comfortable cabin rather than the slave pens below where many of the servants spent the night. She had spent time there, in another boat, when being taken to New Orleans for sale. Miss Meredith seemed kind enough, but Daphne knew she was subject to her mistress’s every whim. And she knew nothing of the household to which she now belonged. She trembled as the future yawned so terribly frightening in front of her.

Meredith could almost taste the girl’s fear across the room and wished with all her heart she could do something to alleviate it. She had made tentative efforts, but there was so much distrust in Daphne. Meredith would have to take one step at a time.

She waited until she heard Daphne’s breathing relax and knew she was asleep. Then she rose soundlessly, carefully, and went to the window of the cabin. It was near dawn, the deep black of night was fading into a softer gray. The sun would not be far behind. She knew she would be able to sleep no more and she felt a great need to be completely alone, to taste the fresh air of morning and watch the sun rise.

She brushed her hair, leaving it down and free, and slipped on a petticoat and plain gown, not bothering with the stays. She would wear her cloak. She doubted if anyone other than a few tired members of the crew would be awake to see her at this hour.

Meredith blew out the oil lamp and slipped out quietly, passing several cabins along the narrow passageway. The
Lucky Lady
was like a ghost ship now, empty and silent. She opened the door to the deck, relishing the first whisper of a breeze.

The deck was wet; it must have rained during the night, although she had heard nothing. Only a few clouds remained above, and those moved quickly along. It was August, but the air felt fresh and intoxicating. Seeing no others on deck, Meredith shook off the hood of her cloak, and let the wind ruffle her hair as she looked east toward the rising sun. Lining both sides of the river were great oaks, and the first tentative rays of light shimmered over the drops of moisture on their leaves. The sky itself was awash in pale gold, then pink, and she exclaimed with awe as a rainbow appeared, its beautiful muted colors reaching down to tease the wide river. It was almost as lovely as the one she had captured on canvas months before, the one she had sent North for sale.

The rainbow of promise.
She swallowed, the familiar lump catching in her throat. How meaningful those words had become to her. She had first heard them years ago in Cincinnati when she had visited Sally Grimes, her best friend at the convent school. Meredith had just finished school and her brother had been eager enough to get rid of her. He would not have been so pleased, she thought with some amusement, if he knew that Sally’s grandparents were secret abolitionists, and she was visiting the very foundation of the Underground Railroad.

In Ohio, Meredith had attended a lecture by a former slave and read many narratives of fugitive escapes. Most moving of all was one by Frederick Douglass, who equated freedom to the “rainbow of promise.”