The Abolitionist’s Secret
Read The Abolitionist’s Secret Online
Authors: Becky Lower
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Historical
Becky Lower
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Becky Lower ISBN 10: 1-4405-5590-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5590-9
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5591-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-44055591-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © istockphoto.com/Igor Demchenkov, Anne Power
I’d like to thank my siblings for providing me with all the background I could possibly want in order to create a realistic portrayal of the inner workings of the large Fitzpatrick family. Without you guys, I would never know how to portray sibling rivalry, competition for affection from our parents, or how to love someone because they’re your sister or brother but still not approve of some of the choices they make in life. Heather and Jasmine’s relationship springs not only from my imagination but also from some of my real-life family moments.
So, thank you to my sisters Pat, Cathe and Sherrie. And to my brother, John, who will forever be known as “Buzz” to his four sisters.
Author’s Note
One cannot set a book in America in the decade prior to the Civil War without making mention of the rising tensions in the country during that time. In my attempt for historical accuracy, I searched for a few significant events that really happened in 1856, and used them as the backdrop of my story. The bones of the story are set in fact, but the fleshing out of the plot is pure fiction.
For example, Downing’s Oyster Restaurant was a popular eatery in New York City at the corner of Broad and Wall Streets. It was owned by a free man of color named Thomas Downing. His son, George, ran the Underground Railroad stop at the restaurant, and both men were involved in the abolitionist movement from 1825 through 1860. As the years progressed, this stop became well known among escaping slaves and the people who were searching for them. Guests at the restaurant frequently had their meals interrupted as slave mongers disrupted the kitchen looking for escaped slaves.
Other examples of true events in my story include the scuffle over slavery on the Senate floor between pro-slavery Congressman Preston Brooks and anti-slavery advocate Congressman Charles Sumner, and the border war between Kansas and Missouri, which was the first battle to take place involving the military. Tensions were ratcheting up in the country, and it was a turbulent time to live in America. The war may not have begun until 1861, but the fighting started long before that.
While there are other details in the book that are historically true, this is essentially a work of fiction.
A portion of the proceeds of this book will be donated to the Oberlin Underground Railroad Center Project in Oberlin, OH.
New York City, April 1856
The hair on the back of Heather Fitzpatrick’s neck rose. She glanced around the opulent restaurant, trying to find the cause of her discomfort. Her eyes locked with those of a military officer sitting with two other men at a table across the room. A bolt of electricity ricocheted between them. Heather could not move for a moment, or break the contact. She finally forced her eyes away from him and placed the menu in front of her face.
“Whatever is the matter, dear?” Her mother asked. “Don’t tell me you are coming down with the same stomach upset that Jasmine has.”
“No, Mother, it’s nothing. I feel fine.” She placed a hand on her stomach, willing it to stop fluttering about.
Thomas Downing, a free man of color and the owner of the restaurant, came to their table. “Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, how nice to see you again. And young Miss Fitzpatrick.” He nodded in Heather’s direction.
Heather’s mother, Charlotte, glanced up from the menu. “Hello, Thomas. We’re here tonight to sample some of your exquisite oysters.”
“Best in the city. You know, I row out every morning to the fishermen in the harbor and pick through their catch to find the finest oysters from the bay for my customers.” Thomas smiled, his white teeth flashing in his dark face. A bottle of chilled champagne sat in a bucket of ice. Thomas opened it with a flourish and filled the three glasses at the table with the bubbly pinkish liquid.
“The table setting is just lovely, Thomas,” Charlotte said, sliding off her long white gloves and touching the fresh flowers in the center of the table. “Your attention to detail is impeccable, as always.”
“Why, thank you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. That’s a mighty fine compliment, coming from you. Now, may I start you off with your usual appetizer?”
Heather’s father, George Fitzpatrick, answered, “I see no reason to break with tradition, Thomas.”
As Thomas departed to see to their appetizers, Heather said, “I love coming here. You know, my friend Mary Rose told me her family would not dream of coming to any restaurant owned by a Negro, regardless of the quality of the food.”
“Fortunately, we’re a bit more enlightened than that,” her father replied quietly. “We’ve known Thomas, and his son George, for a long time now, and we know the good they do for the cause. If, by us patronizing their restaurant, it enables them to help one more person, we are happy to come here.”
Charlotte turned her attention to Heather and George. “It’s so nice to have this quiet evening before we begin the season in earnest. Shall we toast to a successful Cotillion?” She raised her champagne flute.
George clinked his glass to hers, and added, “Here’s hoping we can marry off both of our twins without any touch of scandal coming our way this year.”
Heather giggled. “Oh, Papa. Neither Jasmine nor I are anything like Ginger. We won’t give you any cause for concern.”
Charlotte’s glass clinked lightly against Heather’s. “Well it’s true you two have been looking for a husband since you were born, so I don’t think our ultimate goal of finding suitable mates for you will be a problem. But you never know with Jasmine. She is a bit indiscriminate with her feelings. She will bear watching, even if you won’t.” Charlotte’s laughter joined Heather’s as they sipped their champagne.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick?” A deep voice broke into the festivities. All three Fitzpatrick’s turned to look at the man who spoke. Heather’s heartbeat stuttered as the officer who had been across the room now stood only a foot away from her.
Charlotte and George stared at the man for a short moment. Then, they both rose to their feet as they recognized him.
“Lieutenant! How nice to see you. We weren’t expecting you for several more days.” Charlotte said as the officer bowed to her. Then, he turned and shook George’s hand.
Charlotte whispered, “Heather, do stand up.”
Heather rose on unsteady legs as her father introduced her to Lieutenant David Whitman.
“This is the young man we met last year in St. Louis. You remember me talking about him, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Heather curtsied slightly as the lieutenant bowed. He stared into her eyes and held her captive with his gaze for longer than what society deemed appropriate. The air crackled and hummed around them. Heather finally moved her gaze from the handsome lieutenant and glanced at her parents, wondering if they, too, had been aware of the current in the room. They looked nonplussed.
From her parents’ description of the Army officer who aided in the great railroad disaster the previous year, Heather pictured an older and more reserved gentleman, not someone who exuded such bold masculinity. And certainly not someone who could render her speechless with a mere glance across a crowded restaurant. She swayed slightly. A blush crept up her face as he continued to peruse her.
“Will you join us, Lieutenant? We were about to order our meal.” Charlotte laid her hand on his arm.
“No, I’m afraid not. I stopped in here to sample some of Downing’s famous oysters and ran into two of my father’s business associates this evening. We’re just finishing up, so I must decline your offer.”
Charlotte continued, “Does your family live close by, then?”
David smiled, “No, ma’am. My father’s property is near Savannah, Georgia. I must return to say goodnight to the men. But I do plan to take you up on your invitation to tea two days hence.”
“I’m counting on you being there, and being properly introduced to both of my daughters.”
“Without fail, I look forward to your gracious invitation,” he replied and turned away from their table to return to his company.
Heather watched the lieutenant as he joined his companions and they took care of the bill. For the first time since noticing him, she spared a glance at his acquaintances. Surprised at his rather rough compatriots, she glanced back at her mother and tilted her head slightly toward the table where the men sat.
“Mother, do you think the men with the lieutenant are slave mongers? Look, one of them even has a whip woven around his mid-section.”
“Yes, it looks that way,” Charlotte whispered back. “I wonder if the nice young lieutenant is aware of the profession of his companions. Look at the way those two are checking every dark face among the staff.”
Heather remained watching as David rose from the table and took his leave of the men. The bounty hunters remained seated for a few minutes longer before they left the dining room.
“Maybe now we can eat in peace,” Heather replied as she placed a hand over her stomach. As she relived the way her body responded when the lieutenant’s eyes were on her, she seriously doubted she’d be able to eat a morsel of the restaurant’s fine food.
Thomas Downing returned to their table. In a hushed tone, he said, “I apologize, but service is going to be very slow this evening. We have some men in the kitchen, bounty hunters, who are looking for an escaped slave. They show no signs of leaving anytime soon. Would you care to wait?”
George sighed and replied. “No, Thomas, regrettably, we’ll have to take our leave for the evening without sampling any of your food. I know the last time the slave mongers came in here and upset your kitchen, they shut things down for hours.” George laid some money on the table to cover the cost of the champagne, and shook hands with the man. “We’ll be back again soon.”
“I am so sorry to have ruined your evening.”
Heather replied, “You haven’t. Nor have the slave mongers ruined our evening, Mr. Downing. But if those men find whoever it is they’re looking for, that poor person’s evening, and their life, will be destroyed. I hope their search is fruitless.”
“Hush, Heather,” replied her father. “I dare say we don’t need to incite those bounty hunters further. Let’s get along home before trouble ensues. I wish no harm to come to either of you.”
• • •
George led Charlotte and Heather out through the mahogany and glass doors of the restaurant, as the voices from the kitchen grew louder.
“Our carriage is in the alley. I think you’d best come with me, since it’s not safe to leave you two alone out front while I get Robert to bring the buggy around.”
Charlotte suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
Heather bumped into her mother’s backside. “Hear what? Why are you stopping? Didn’t Papa just tell you we should hurry away from Downing’s front door?”
“No, wait. Just listen carefully. Don’t you hear a baby crying?”
Heather stood still and listened. At last, she made out a faint whimper. She pointed in the direction of the sound.
“It’s coming from the alley.”
The three of them darted into the dark and narrow road, which smelled strongly of rotting oyster shells. About halfway down, they halted in their steps and looked around. A baby began crying again.
“The sound is coming from over here,” Heather said as she moved behind a pile of refuse. She gasped. “Oh my word.”
