tonight.
If Hannah did open the door, hopefully she would see only a hump of bedcovers and think it was Elisha ill in bed.
She stepped toward the door, listening. When she didn’t hear Hannah’s voice, she propped open the door and glanced both ways.
“Good-bye,” she whispered as she reached for the bowl beside the basin.
The sooner he left the plantation, the better it would be for all of them.
Chapter Seven
Sarah dipped her pen into the inkwell and began to write in tiny lettering that only the eyes of youth could read. She had no choice but to write small. She could ill afford to buy any more paper, and even if she could afford it, it was almost impossible to obtain.
Before he left, Father had stashed a large box of linen paper among the other supplies in the basement. She could do without tea or sugar, but with her family gone and most of her friends occupied, she needed the companionship of her pen and paper. Now that her supply was dwindling, she cherished it even more.
In the afternoon light, she bled her heart onto the linen, pouring out all that was inside her. The compounding doubts of how much longer she could manage the plantation, of how she longed to travel somewhere—anywhere—beyond Williamsburg . . . And she wrote of how she loved Grayson. Oh, how she had loved him and still did to this day.
One day, when they found Grayson, perhaps she would give him the letters so he would know she had never forgotten him. That her heart had never loved another. Everyone talked of Seth and Lydia marrying the plantations together. No one knew—not even Grayson—how much she had cared for him. He thought of her as Seth’s younger sister, the girl who loved to dream.
They were both dreamers—not knowing or even caring a whit about how they would actually pay for a voyage around the world. He once told her he could secure her a passage to Europe or the West Indies or wherever she wanted to go, and she never doubted in his ability to do it.
She dipped her pen again and wrote how she missed him, how she anxiously awaited his return. She wrote the same thing in each letterand pretended the ending would be like the endings in many of the novels she and Mrs. Pendell exchanged. Where good triumphed over evil. Freedom triumphed over tyranny. And the man she longed for returned.
Wind beat branches against the windows of the house, and the old house creaked. She signed her letter as she always did.
Madam Knight
The woman who longed to wander.
She sprinkled pounce on the ink and let it dry before she put her letter into a box and hid it behind two books on the shelf. She never said anything specific about her friendship with Mrs. Pendell in her letters to Grayson, in case someone discovered the letters. Nor did she tell him how she was assisting the Patriots.
It would be dark within the hour, and she would check then to see if the courier had come. Thomas told her there had been whisperings about more British soldiers coming into Virginia.
It was strange that she hadn’t received a message about their arrival.
“I know you are hiding something,” Hannah whispered.
“Whatever do you mean?” Lydia said as she pulled blue thread through the white canvas sampler in her lap. Hannah had been pestering her for almost a week now about her secret. She had visited Nathan only twice in the past week, in the evenings when Hannah was preoccupied, so she wouldn’t jeopardize the life she had helped save.
In her absence, Prudence and Elisha had cared well for him, but this morning Prudence said she feared Nathan was not eating enough. Somehow Lydia would need to obtain more food for him.
“Why have you been frequenting the coach house?” Hannah asked.
Lydia looked up from her sampler. Mother might be embroidering a pillowcase nearby, but she wouldn’t whisper like Hannah. It would only make her seem guilty. “I have not been frequenting any place. I have been taking evening walks.”
Hannah tilted her head.
If Hannah did open the door, hopefully she would see only a hump of bedcovers and think it was Elisha ill in bed.
She stepped toward the door, listening. When she didn’t hear Hannah’s voice, she propped open the door and glanced both ways.
“Good-bye,” she whispered as she reached for the bowl beside the basin.
The sooner he left the plantation, the better it would be for all of them.
Chapter Seven
Sarah dipped her pen into the inkwell and began to write in tiny lettering that only the eyes of youth could read. She had no choice but to write small. She could ill afford to buy any more paper, and even if she could afford it, it was almost impossible to obtain.
Before he left, Father had stashed a large box of linen paper among the other supplies in the basement. She could do without tea or sugar, but with her family gone and most of her friends occupied, she needed the companionship of her pen and paper. Now that her supply was dwindling, she cherished it even more.
In the afternoon light, she bled her heart onto the linen, pouring out all that was inside her. The compounding doubts of how much longer she could manage the plantation, of how she longed to travel somewhere—anywhere—beyond Williamsburg . . . And she wrote of how she loved Grayson. Oh, how she had loved him and still did to this day.
One day, when they found Grayson, perhaps she would give him the letters so he would know she had never forgotten him. That her heart had never loved another. Everyone talked of Seth and Lydia marrying the plantations together. No one knew—not even Grayson—how much she had cared for him. He thought of her as Seth’s younger sister, the girl who loved to dream.
They were both dreamers—not knowing or even caring a whit about how they would actually pay for a voyage around the world. He once told her he could secure her a passage to Europe or the West Indies or wherever she wanted to go, and she never doubted in his ability to do it.
She dipped her pen again and wrote how she missed him, how she anxiously awaited his return. She wrote the same thing in each letterand pretended the ending would be like the endings in many of the novels she and Mrs. Pendell exchanged. Where good triumphed over evil. Freedom triumphed over tyranny. And the man she longed for returned.
Wind beat branches against the windows of the house, and the old house creaked. She signed her letter as she always did.
Madam Knight
The woman who longed to wander.
She sprinkled pounce on the ink and let it dry before she put her letter into a box and hid it behind two books on the shelf. She never said anything specific about her friendship with Mrs. Pendell in her letters to Grayson, in case someone discovered the letters. Nor did she tell him how she was assisting the Patriots.
It would be dark within the hour, and she would check then to see if the courier had come. Thomas told her there had been whisperings about more British soldiers coming into Virginia.
It was strange that she hadn’t received a message about their arrival.
“I know you are hiding something,” Hannah whispered.
“Whatever do you mean?” Lydia said as she pulled blue thread through the white canvas sampler in her lap. Hannah had been pestering her for almost a week now about her secret. She had visited Nathan only twice in the past week, in the evenings when Hannah was preoccupied, so she wouldn’t jeopardize the life she had helped save.
In her absence, Prudence and Elisha had cared well for him, but this morning Prudence said she feared Nathan was not eating enough. Somehow Lydia would need to obtain more food for him.
“Why have you been frequenting the coach house?” Hannah asked.
Lydia looked up from her sampler. Mother might be embroidering a pillowcase nearby, but she wouldn’t whisper like Hannah. It would only make her seem guilty. “I have not been frequenting any place. I have been taking evening walks.”
Hannah tilted her head.
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