Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

up his plate, and grunted. If I had ever done such a thing, Momma would have switched my behind for having the manners of a pig. Even Miss Mary Finch had asked with a “please” and a “thank you” when Momma served her dinner.
    This is New York,
I reminded myself as I crossed the room and took the plate from his hand.
The rules are different.
I loaded his plate down with the last slices of tongue and set it in front of him before retreating to my corner.
Everything is different.
    My belly growled and grumbled in its cage. The smell of the tongue and mustard and the cheese filled the room and made my mouth water. I had eaten a bowl of corn mush at sunrise and only dumplings at midday. To distract the beast in my gullet, I tried to read the names of the books on the shelves without turning my head. My eyes were as starved for words as the rest of me was for dinner.
    It was hard to read from the side like that. I wanted to pull down a book, open it proper, and gobble up page after page. I wanted to stare into the faces of these men anddemand they take me home. I wanted to jump on the horse in the painting and fly over the hills. Most of all, I wanted to grab my sister by the hand and run as fast as we could until the cobblestones disappeared and there was dirt under our feet again.
    â€œGirl,” Lockton said. “Bring us more bread, sliced thin. And some of Becky’s apricot jam. I’ve missed the taste of that.”
    I curtsied and hurried out of the room, leaving the door open a crack so I could easily open it when I came back with my hands full. Across the hall came the quiet conversation of Madam and Lady Seymour. I paused but heard no mention of Ruth.
    Shhhhh …
    There was fresh bread on the kitchen table, but it took a piece of time to find the crock of jam. I used one of my sharp knives to slice the loaf, set out the slices on a clean plate, and put the plate and jam on a tray. It was taking me too long to finish a simple chore. I feared the master would be angry with me, and I was angry at myself for being afraid.
    I was just about to push open the library door with my foot when the master said, “Compliments of His Majesty, gentleman. There’s enough money here to bribe half of the rebel army.”
    I stopped and peered through the crack.
    Madam’s linen chest, the one that she had fussed about when we arrived, was in the middle of the library floor, the top thrown open. Underskirts and shifts were heaped on the floor beside it. Lockton reached into the chest and pulled out two handfuls of paper currency.
    â€œHuzzah!” said Inkstained as Goldbuttons let out a low whistle.
    â€œDo you have a man ready?” Lockton asked.
    â€œTwo,” Shabbywig answered. “One will operate out of Corby’s Tavern, the other from the Highlander.”
    â€œGood.” Lockton crossed back to his desk. I could no longer see him, but his words were clear. “Every man willing to switch sides is to be paid five guineas and two hundred acres of land. If he have a wife, an additional hundred acres. Each child of his blood garners another fifty.”
    â€œMakes me want to marry the next lady I clap eyes on,” Goldbuttons said.
    Lockton chuckled.
    I gave the door a little push and it swung open. “Sir?” I asked in a hushed tone.
    â€œEnter,” Lockton said.
    I walked in. The other men did not look my way. I was invisible to them until they needed something.
    â€œJam,” he said with a smile. “Put it right here.”
    I placed the tray in front of him and took my place again in the corner. The men spread the jam on the bread and drank their wine, discussing politics and war and armies over the stacks of money on my master’s desk. The smell of apricots filled the warm room. It put me in mind of the orchards down the road from Miss Mary’s place.
    I kept my face still as a plaster mask, but inside my brainpan, thoughts chased round