Dark Shadows (31 page)

The girls shook their heads, looking shocked at the very idea of it.

“All right – but you understand that you are staying here with a cruel woman? And you understand why I have to tie you up?”

They looked at each other and nodded.

Nelson said, “I’ll go find rope now. You gotta take off that dress, Miss Mercy.”

Mercy looked at her wet bloodstained gown. “I’ll go look for something to put on and see if there’s anything else we can take with us, like money and food.” Mercy suddenly grabbed Nelson’s hand. She said, “Nelson, you do want to come with me, don’t you?”

“You saved me, Miss Mercy. I’m yours now. I’m gonna look after you. Ain’t no more harm going to come to you, not while you got ole Nelson. But where we gonna go?”

“Don’t worry about that just yet. Tie the girls up and then come look for me.”

Nelson nodded.

When Nelson left the room, Mercy turned her attention to the girls. She was calm and poised and couldn’t understand why she wasn’t still screaming with the shock of it all.

“I know you’re scared, but these were bad men. This one,” she said, pointing to Eddie, “was going to have me killed tomorrow. Your mistress was going to cut my throat.”

One of the girls spoke for the first time. “He
was
bad. He took me every day, and he was real rough. I’s real glad he’s dead,” she added, spitting on Eddie’s dead body.

“Please, don’t tell on me when your mistress gets home. If coppers come, tell them that a bandit or a thief killed these men. Will you do that for me?”

The girls looked at each other.

Mercy could only guess what they were thinking. She hated the thought of leaving them here with Du Pont.
But she was about to embark on a perilous journey with one slave and couldn’t, wouldn’t, take responsibility for three. If the girls agreed and stuck to a story, they wouldn’t be harmed. But if du Pont threatened them and they told her the truth, du Pont would beat them and send all hell after Mercy. She wouldn’t give up until she’d crushed Mercy for good.

“I’m asking you to lie and to never tell the truth about what happened here. And you mustn’t blame Nelson, because he didn’t do anything. I killed the men.” Mercy was pleading with her eyes.

The two girls nodded in unison. “We ain’t gonna say nothing ’bout no woman being here, we promise,” one said. “And may the sweet Lord bless you for killing that evil on the floor.”

Mercy sighed with relief. She couldn’t be sure if they would stick to their word, but if they could, even just for a day or two, it would give her and Nelson a good head start.

“Thank you. Now, do either of you know where your mistress keeps money?”

“I do,” one said. “I seen her one day with a money box in her bedroom. I knows she puts money in her boots too.”

“Could you go get all the money for me?” Mercy asked her.

The girl beamed. “I can do that.”

“I can get you some food,” the other girl said.

Chapter Fifty-Two

A heavy cloud covering hid the stars and moon. In the barn, Mercy held a lantern up whilst Nelson saddled a horse for her. She had never felt so alive or so grateful to still
be
alive. The shock of what she had done had worn off, yet she could scarcely believe she had killed two more men. She was still shaking, hanging on to an outward calm for dear life, but she was traumatised. Had she been alone, she would still be sitting on the floor and weeping.

She felt no guilt or sadness at the murders just done. She felt no pity for Eddie and the giant slave or for herself and her present situation. But she needed Jacob. There was nothing she wanted more than to be in his arms right now, for he would make everything right.

She stared into Nelson’s beaten face. Nelson would hang for these murders if he stayed. Madame du Pont would accuse him, wondering at the same time how he broke loose from his chains. The idea of taking Nelson somewhere safe was ridiculous. She didn’t know the country. She hadn’t even had a chance to see the bulk of Portsmouth. Yet her instincts told her to help him, for she could never live with herself if he was blamed for the murders she had just committed. Had Madame du Pont arrived home, Mercy would have shot her without hesitation. This thought also scared her.

The two slave girls had tended to Nelson’s back. He hadn’t cried or uttered a sound when they cleaned and disinfected his wounds. The only indication of his suffering had come from his tightly clenched fists, his trembling lips, and his face, which perspired.

She had saddlebags filled with food and water. She was taking blankets and spare clothes, and now both she and Nelson wore thick winter jackets. She had dollar bills stuffed inside the bodice she still wore. There was money, and plenty of it, stuck to her right and left breasts. Even stealing money couldn’t conjure up guilt.

She also took shackles and the key that fit them. They lay heavy inside a bag which would be right next to her at all times. She had a feeling they would come in handy at some point, for what woman travelling alone would allow a slave to walk unshackled beside her on the road?

She had gone through the cupboard in the hallway and had found ammunition for the guns. There were two different types. She compared the balls inside the rifle’s barrel with the balls in a box and found them to be the same. Nelson showed her how to load the Colt. He used to do this for old Massa Stewart, he told her. She watched him fill the barrel’s compartments with powder. Then he pushed in the conical balls and finally greased each compartment, telling her that this would stop one compartment from igniting another. She had the packhorse laden with everything she could think of, including a small pan for cooking, but there was no room for Nelson to sit on its back. “I still don’t see why we can’t have a horse each,” Mercy told him. “It’s not as though there’s not enough of them.”

“Miss Mercy, if those white folks see me, a nigger slave, on a horse, they’ll shoot me dead for real. An’ I ain’t never sat on a horse.”

“Me neither. But we’ve got to do it or else we’ll never get far enough away from here. I’m not going to get up there on that horse and watch it go at a snail’s pace with you walking beside me. We’ll just have to share a horse for now and hope we don’t fall off.”

“There ain’t no problem riding together at night, I reckon. Ain’t no one in them woods for miles,” Nelson said.

“Good. We’ll get as far away as possible, and then we’ll rest when the sun comes up.”

“But I got to take you home to your folks,” Nelson said.

“We’re not going home. I thought you knew that. I know your mistress better than you do. She’ll have us both hanged. Just finish getting the saddle on and then we’ll see about where we’re going.”

Mercy, aware of Nelson’s questioning stare, thought again about what she was going to do.

Home and family? No. She couldn’t go back to Portsmouth. She had murdered two men. Nelson would be blamed for their deaths, for there was no reason to connect her to the Mallory farm. Du Pont and Portsmouth were very much connected, though. Du Pont would go to the sheriff, crying about her murdered men, especially Eddie. She would report her missing money, and Nelson would be hunted like a fox. And what if du Pont spotted her as Eddie had? The old hag would find a way to get to her and might even accuse her of the killings out of spite, with or without proof. And the two slave girls, whose names she hadn’t even bothered to ask for, might be tortured into telling du Pont or the sheriff the truth. She couldn’t bear to think about that.

Jacob had understood why she murdered the man in Liverpool, but these killings were becoming a habit! She was a multiple murderess now and wouldn’t be safe in Portsmouth, not from the law or from du Pont. And those she now loved – what would they think of her if she appeared in Portsmouth with this story?
No, I destroyed any hope of getting back to Jacob because I pulled that trigger.

What if they waited here until morning to kill du Pont? That would finish off the sordid tale completely, and she would never have to think of the vile woman again. But she remembered Jacob’s story about Nat Turner, the slave. Nelson would not only be blamed for killing the two men but also a white woman. He’d be hunted from here to the north, east, and west. They would use dogs and trappers. He’d be caught eventually and sliced up as a dog’s fleshy meal. Blimey, the situation was bad enough without adding du Pont to the list of killings. Sweet Jesus, Mercy thought, what was she becoming?

Mercy thought hard. She’d heard that slaves were free in the North and lived among the white people there. They had houses, ate in restaurants, mixed at parties, and had jobs. She believed it because Isaac had told her so, and he was from a place called Boston, which lay far north of here.

She wanted Nelson to have the freedom and choice to live his life in any way he saw fit. She barely knew him, yet the sight of the beating he had taken, probably because of nothing more than Du Pont’s whim, was unforgivable. If she allowed him to take the blame for the murders, she’d never live with her guilt and would never, ever be able to face Jacob again. She would get Nelson to the very first Northern state she could reach, and then she’d think about going back to Portsmouth. She’d tell everyone that bandits or Indians had abducted her. She had plenty of time to weave a story, and she would live with it every day until the words were intimately familiar and believable to her own ears. She would cry like a Southern lady.

Mercy was inspired to be more optimistic about her future. Pessimism was being overturned by hope. Some of her fears were probably unfounded. With the powerful Stone family by her side, du Pont couldn’t and wouldn’t dare show her true colours. Du Pont was calling herself Margaret Mallory and was hiding her sordid past; that much was obvious. She wouldn’t be accepted as du Pont if her Liverpool background was made public. Jacob would never allow her to go unpunished for her murderous acts in Liverpool. He had often told Mercy on the ship that one day he would avenge her and all the other poor women whose lives du Pont had destroyed.

No, Mercy decided. Du Pont was not strong enough now or in any position of power to threaten her. So after she got Nelson to the North, she
would
go back.

She smiled for the first time. She was going to see Jacob again after all, but only after she had completed her mission.

Mercy told Nelson to get on the horse. She was wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of breeches held up with braces. She had crumpled her own soiled clothes, and they were inside one of the saddlebags. She would bury or burn everything she’d worn today. She pulled her hair high into a knot and covered it completely with Eddie’s hat. She tied the leather hat strings tightly round her neck to keep it from falling off. She looked comical but didn’t care.

She snuffed out the candle inside the lantern. Nelson pulled her up onto the horse’s back to sit in front of him. Her body seemed high off the ground, she realised with some trepidation. She turned towards Nelson, as much as was possible, and said, “You know, I learned a lot of things on the ship I was on. We’re going north, and I know a bit about the stars.” She looked up. There were no stars. “The North Star is up there somewhere, and I know how to follow it. We need to get into the woods and ride as far and as fast as we can – and pray we don’t fall off this animal.”

“Where we goin’? You wanna go right or left?” he asked, obviously confused.

“Go to the right and hope we don’t end up in the middle of Portsmouth. Pray that we’ll have a clearer sky tomorrow night. We’ve got a long way to go, and I intend to set you free, Nelson Stuart!”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Jacob, Hendry, and Isaac sat nervously waiting for the sheriff to update them on the investigation. Mercy had been missing for three days. Isaac had gone to pick her up for the party and had been deeply worried when a distraught Handel told him that she had not returned from her outing that morning.

Isaac and Hendry had gone straight to Sheriff John Manning, who had immediately asked for a posse to be put together and dispatched to all areas of Portsmouth, its outskirts, and east as far as Norfolk. A missing white woman was a serious event. As the hours passed, it became clear that Mercy was either lost or had been abducted. No one dared to mention murder just yet.

Jacob had returned to Stone Plantation with Elizabeth, filled with emptiness and regret. He’d begun to notice his bride’s numerous and infuriating habits. He knew that he was far from perfect, but it seemed to him that Elizabeth, for all her Southern breeding, failed to see any of her character flaws, which were as serious and as disappointing as a one-legged turkey with no chestnut stuffing on Thanksgiving Day. That might not be the best analogy, Jacob admitted, but a flawed turkey was as serious as it got where he came from!

Elizabeth was discourteous in her opinion of others. She didn’t give a damn about the well-being of anyone but herself, and she spoke constantly about her own desires, from her wardrobe to her ideas on how to completely remodel everything in Jacob’s house in order to leave her indelible mark upon it. She had pounded him with questions about Mercy, even on their wedding day, and had insisted that the Englishwoman was just too common and would therefore never be invited to any picnics or balls at Stone Plantation.

Elizabeth wasn’t that different from any other Southern woman he knew. She was a product of a traditional upbringing in which girls were spoiled and bred for marriage, without intellect or good sense being involved in their tutorage. Elizabeth followed the Southern idea that all wives had a duty to conceive but were not necessarily expected to enjoy lovemaking with their husbands. They had made love only once.

Mercy had spoiled him for life. He now knew the joy of being with a selfless, lovable woman who displayed an open and honest character, a disarming smile, a curious mind, and a natural passion. She was invisible now yet always present. She was in his soul. Her thoughts were his and his hers, to the point where no words were necessary between them.

He’d heard her calling him. He knew he was imagining her voice, but a nagging, urgent need to see her had brought him to Portsmouth this morning. He’d been home for four days and was in his honeymoon period. But Jacob had been determined to see Mercy, thus he’d put his foot down.

He’d found Elizabeth at the breakfast table. He grasped a bundle of papers in his hands and hoped he looked sufficiently worried for her to ask what was wrong with him. When she carried on eating, saying nothing but offering a good morning, he’d taken matters into his own hands.

“I have to go into Portsmouth this morning. I’m taking my fastest horse and won’t be away long. Hendry forgot to take some very important papers with him, and he’ll need them for the port authorities.”

“Oh, but you can’t go, Jacob!” Elizabeth moaned and stamped her foot under the table. “What will folks around here think? This is our honeymoon. I want to be alone with you here. And you did promise to talk to me about the new colours for our bedroom today. It’s not fair!”

“I know, my sweet, but I’ll be gone just a few hours. I’ll bring you a nice surprise back,” he said.

“You will? What will you bring me? No, wait. Why don’t I come with you and I can choose? You’ll have to wait until I change, though. I should look my best. I don’t want those silly girls in Portsmouth thinking I’ve let myself go just because I’m a married woman, now do I?”

“No, of course not,” he said, sounding appropriately shocked at the idea. “But that’s why it’s better if I go alone, so that I can get back to you as quickly as possible with a nice new gown that will make you the envy of every woman in Portsmouth.” Jacob was growing agitated at the sound of her voice. He added for good measure, “And I’ll bring you a new bonnet to go with it. No girl in Portsmouth will ever laugh at you, my dear.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” she gushed.

Elizabeth was forgotten now as Jacob continued to wait with Hendry and Isaac.

Sheriff John Manning, a long-time friend of the Stone family, had taken over the new sheriff’s building whilst Jacob had been in England. He had his own small but private office and deputies under his command. The entire building had been refurbished since Portsmouth had been incorporated as a city
.

Sheriff Manning was
ensconced in his office with a woman, and the three men were growing impatient and aggravated with him and with each other.

Jacob’s face was ashen. He tried to digest the terrible news that had been delivered to him within minutes of his arrival at Hendry’s Portsmouth house. There he’d found Belle and Hendry, who had tried their best to explain what had happened. Jacob had raged at both of them for not getting a message to him the moment he’d returned to Stone Plantation.

“There are at least fifty men out of Portsmouth involved in the search – and about a hundred covering Norfolk. It’s New Year’s Eve today, but they’ll keep looking regardless. I’m sorry, Jacob,” Hendry said. He noticed Jacob’s pallor and shook his head. “You must feel like hell, but understand that you have a new wife who already suspects you’re in love with Mercy. The last thing we wanted was for you to up and leave Elizabeth your first day home to look for another woman – especially when that woman is Mercy!”

“I am living in hell,” Jacob told him honestly. “And I am sorry for bringing my hell to your door. I’ll apologise to Belle, of course. She didn’t deserve my outburst, especially with her being in a fragile condition.”

“She understands, and she’s tougher than she looks. But damn it, Jacob, I’ve never seen my Belle cry as much as she has these last few days. She knows all about Mercy’s ordeal in Liverpool and is beside herself with worry. She loves Mercy. We all do.”

Jacob turned then to Isaac. He had been surprised to see him still in Portsmouth. He’d thought he’d never see him again. “Isaac, I’m sorry about the things I said to you before I left. Thanks for being here. When you were out with the posse, were there no signs – nothing to give us hope?”

Isaac shook his head. He told him that he’d barely slept in three days and was dead on his feet, but he’d go out again today, this time overnight. They were widening the search. “Three days have passed, and I believe Mercy has gone – really gone.”

“I don’t believe that! You know how tough she is,” Jacob barked.

Hendry put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and forced him to look at him. “Jacob you’re not thinking straight or being realistic. Mercy left our house, a stone’s throw from all the stores she needed. There were no corners to turn, no dark or dangerous alleyways to get lost in, and just one street to manoeuvre. It was mid-morning. There is no way Mercy could have lost her bearings. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She would have asked directions.”

“What are you saying?” Jacob asked him with a thunderous look.

“I’m saying that I – we – believe she could have been taken by someone or numerous people, but that’s just one theory.”

Flashes of anger and then anguish alternated in Jacob’s eyes. If this was what had happened, he’d kill the bastard responsible. That was his only thought and the only words he could hear in his mind.

“Have you considered that Mercy might just have decided to leave of her own accord because of your marriage?” Hendry asked. “We can’t overlook the possibility.”

“No!” Isaac butted in, surprising Jacob and Hendry. “No, Hendry, you’re wrong. I saw Mercy the day before your party. I took some medicine to her. Though she was still weakened by the virus, she was also excited and happy. She didn’t run away. My gut tells me she didn’t.”

Jacob stood. He’d had enough of sitting and waiting. He didn’t like what he was hearing. He would lash out at someone very soon if he wasn’t careful. “Who is he in there with?” he demanded of the deputy on duty.

“Some woman called Margaret Mallory,” Jacob was told. “She’s been coming in here for two straight days. Her overseer and a slave were murdered out at her farm – used to belong to the Gibsons.”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah. I remember old man Gibson. That’s a tough break for a woman to handle.”

“Well, I reckon she’s a tough old bird, if you ask me. She’s English, been here about three or four weeks. The dead overseer came with her on the ship – name of Eddie Gunn. Been with her for years, she said.”

Jacob’s head spun. Eddie Gunn? Mercy’s abductor in London had been called Eddie. He was du Pont’s henchman and one of the men who tried to burn the women to death. Was it possible?

“So she’s all alone now?” Jacob asked him, trying to sound calm, attempting but failing to steady his fast-thumping heartbeat.

“Yep. Says she’s all alone and scared. One of her slaves has run away too. Guess he did the murders. We’re out looking for him.”

“And where was she when the men were murdered?”

“Away at the time, visiting with the Harpers – some party or other. Lucky for her, cos the damn nigger would have had her too, I reckon.”

“Yeah, she’s a lucky woman,” Jacob agreed.

“Yep. There were just the two men and two nigger girls in the house. Them nigger girls were tied up in the kitchen alive, but they didn’t see a damn thing, so they told me.”

The name Eddie and the fact that he and this mysterious Mrs Mallory were both English must surely be a coincidence. Could du Pont be in there? He needed more answers.

“So how come the two girls saw nothing?”

“I dunno, Mr Stone. All they said was that it was a big fella, wearing a jacket, gloves, and some sort of mask covering his face. All they saw was a pair of eyes.”

“A mask, huh?” Jacob said. He wondered why a slave from the farm, known by the two girls, would be wearing a mask. That didn’t make any sense …

“I saw the bodies, Mr Stone,” the deputy said. “There was blood everywhere. That poor Englishman never stood a chance. The fella had three holes in his back and half his ear shot off – in the damn back! Can you believe that shit? That nigger’s gonna get strung up as soon as he’s found. You just wait and see. Ain’t gonna be no trial. Trouble is, we’ve already got two posses out on account of that missing Englishwoman. What is it about the damn English? It was a nice, quiet Christmas, and then the English came and blew the damn city down with their shenanigans.”

Jacob had a hundred more questions, but finally the office door opened; he spun round ready to face the woman who would confirm or deny his suspicions.

Sheriff Manning escorted the woman out. Jacob recognised her immediately. His mouth went dry, and his heartbeat quickened again. She had less paint on and a more conservative wig, light brown in colour. She was dressed in mourning black, but it was her. The woman was like a chameleon. By now, Hendry and Isaac were also on their feet. They saw the woman and looked to Jacob, who warned them with his eyes to say nothing.

Jacob casually turned to the window. Hendry and Isaac also turned from her and began a soft-voiced conversation.

Jacob’s mind raced, but his conclusions were quick to come. Du Pont and Eddie had something to do with Mercy’s disappearance. His gut told him that. He knew Mercy and her past better than anyone – better than Isaac, who only knew the half of what happened that night in Liverpool.

This was no coincidence. Du Pont, Eddie, and Mercy were inextricably connected.

Jacob’s heart soared. If Eddie was dead and if a slave was dead, then maybe, just maybe, Mercy had been the one to kill them. He knew this theory was bordering on the ridiculous: a defenceless young woman being abducted and then getting away by shooting two grown men. But he also knew that if Mercy
were
dead, du Pont wouldn’t be here. The missing slave was puzzling. Had he taken or killed Mercy?

Damn it, it was time to get out of here. There was no going home for him, not yet.

He felt sure that Mercy was out there on the run, either afraid of being caught for murder and/or eaten up with guilt. He smiled to himself.
That’s my girl Mercy
, he thought with pride.
You’re alive. I know you are.

Jacob looked out onto the street with thoughts of murder on his own mind. He would take revenge on du Pont regardless; that was a given. But now he needed to concentrate on Du Pont’s parting words with Sheriff Manning. He blocked out everything but the sound of her voice.

Margaret Mallory dabbed at her tear-stained eyes after glimpsing Jacob, Hendry, and Isaac. She recognised them instantly. Christ, she’d known she might bump into some of her American customers at some point. She’d come here to this part of the world because of them and their gentlemanly ways. But if they recognised her, she’d be finished in this city. City? Bloody stupid – Portsmouth was as small as her neighbourhood in Liverpool!

With her back to the men, she spoke softly to the sheriff, who was waiting patiently for her to stop crying. “As I said, you can find me at the Langton Boarding House. I’m not living in that house of death on the Hampton Roads another minute, not until that slave has been caught and hanged. I think I’d die from lack of sleep. I’m so alone and vulnerable, you see. If only I had a husband to protect me.” She sobbed a little more.