Shifted By The Winds (17 page)

Carrie leaned forward to speak to her driver. “Will you please wait here until I discover if anyone is home?” The look Crandall gave her made it clear he thought she was crazy for coming all this way without already being sure of a reception. She quite agreed with him, but there hadn’t been time to send a telegram and wait for a reply. As soon as the sun was up, she had walked down to the livery station to hire her transportation. If she was going to take advantage of no classes on a Saturday, she simply had to take the chance.

“Yes, ma’am,” Crandall said, his tone respectful even though his eyes communicated something else.

Carrie hid her smile as she climbed out of the carriage. She knew that all her driver really cared about was being paid. Her trip might be fruitless, but Crandall would still put money in his pocket. It was actually to his benefit for Biddy to be home because Carrie was paying him to wait until she was ready to leave. She hurried up the steps, rapped on the door, and held her breath. A broad smile spread across her face when she heard footsteps inside.

“Why, land sakes!” Faith cried as she opened the door. She called over her shoulder. “Biddy, Carrie Borden is here!”

Carrie hesitated, surprised at how nervous she felt. “I know you weren’t expecting me…”

Faith snorted. “Girl, you get yourself in this house. We’ve been looking for you to come back every day since you left. You certainly took your sweet time about it. It’s been almost a month!”

“Get that girl back here!” Biddy called from the parlor.

Carrie grinned with relief and turned back toward the carriage. “I will be staying,” she called loudly.

Crandall waved his hand and moved forward.

Carrie interpreted the look on Faith’s face. “I have already made arrangements for the driver to wait in that tavern just a few buildings down if y’all were home,” she assured her. “He will take me back when I’m ready.”

“Good,” Faith said, the relief evident in her voice. “We’ll send one of the children in the neighborhood to fetch him when we’re willing to let you go.” She opened the door and beckoned for Carrie to come inside, and then enveloped her in a warm hug. “It could be a while before we’re willing,” she warned.

Carrie sighed, more sure than ever that she had made the right decision. “It’s so good to see you,” she murmured as Faith kept hold of her arm to lead her into the parlor.

“Why has it taken you so long to come see us?” Faith asked in a scolding tone.

Biddy was sitting in her same chair when Carrie and Faith entered. “Leave that girl alone,” she admonished in her musical brogue. “She is right here now, isn’t she?”

Carrie hurried forward and planted a kiss on the soft, wrinkled face that framed the blazing blue eyes she remembered so well.  They drew her just as much now as they had when she’d first met this remarkable woman. “Hello, Biddy. It’s so good to see you again.”

Biddy smiled and waved her into the chair next to the window. “Have a seat, Carrie. Faith will bring some tea and cookies.”

Faith happily bustled from the room.

Carrie settled down in the chair, grateful last night’s storm had driven away the choking heat for at least a little while.

Biddy eyed her for a moment. “We were afraid we had scared you off with all our stories.”

“Absolutely not,” Carrie replied. “Classes and study have kept me busy every single minute. I wanted to get away so many times, but something always happened.”

“So what pushed you over the edge today?” Biddy asked, watching her with wise eyes.

Carrie flushed, not ready to talk it. She shook her head instead. “I came to hear more of your story.” She looked up as Faith entered the room carrying a tray. “And to hear Faith’s story,” she added, glad for the distraction. The look in Biddy’s eyes said the old woman would press her on that question again, but she was going to hold it off as long as she could. Carrie was looking for a way to navigate her latest struggle. She could only hope she would recognize it when it came her way. Whether she would find it here in Moyamensing, she had no idea, but she had learned not to ignore the impulse that had directed her here.

Biddy eyed her for a moment longer and then reached for the cup of tea Faith held out to her. “This is the first break in the weather for months,” she said casually.

Carrie relaxed. “I feel like I can breathe again,” she agreed, accepting the plate Faith held out to her. “The cookies look wonderful,” she exclaimed, her stomach growling in anticipation.

“You’re about to sink your teeth into some Irish oatmeal cookies,” Biddy explained. “This recipe has been passed down through the generations.”

Carrie took a bite and closed her eyes with a moan of delight as her teeth sank into the moist, chewy sweetness. “Oh…” she breathed. “They are wonderful.”

Biddy grinned, her eyes dancing with satisfaction. “The secret is plumping up those raisins with some strong Irish whiskey,” she whispered dramatically. “It takes an Irish cook to know how to make oatmeal cookies!”

“Or a black cook who knows the secret,” Faith said wryly.

“That, too,” Biddy agreed easily.

Carrie took another bite. “I can’t wait to tell the rest of my housemates about these cookies.”

“You’ll take some home to them,” Faith said.

“I was so hoping you would insist,” Carrie said demurely.

Biddy and Faith laughed, their eyes sparkling with approval.

Faith settled down into the other chair in the room. “I told Biddy you weren’t just a figment of our imagination,” she murmured.

Carrie smiled, so glad she had come. She had simply told her housemates she was going out for the day. She didn’t feel like explaining her reasons, and she didn’t want anyone else to join her. Janie, excited about Matthew’s arrival, had looked at her closely but said nothing.

Biddy nodded at Faith. “Carrie wants to hear your story.”

Faith smiled. “I’ll be happy to tell my story, but first you need to finish yours. We don’t want everything to get all jumbled up in her mind.”

“Which wouldn’t take much at this point,” Carrie said dryly.

Biddy closed her eyes for a moment. “My ninety-seven-year-old mind doesn’t remember where I left off when you were here before,” she confessed when she opened them again.

“You stopped at the point where Darcy’s lover was murdered when he tried to save her from more abuse by her owner,” Carrie replied promptly.

“That’s right,” Biddy said. She closed her eyes for another moment, obviously pulling memories forward. “Even though the courts mostly let owners do whatever they wanted—because they were themselves landowners who had their own contracted servants—the things Darcy’s owner did to her were even more horrible than they could bear. After Great-Grandfather Ian was murdered, the courts set her free.”

“That’s wonderful!” Carrie cried, glad there was a happy ending. The realization of what the woman must have gone through had made her feel ill many times during the last month.

“Being set free was definitely an improvement,” Biddy agreed, “but she had nothing and nowhere to go. A neighbor took pity on her and sent her up here to friends in Philadelphia so that her old owner couldn’t find her. About the time she got here, she realized she was pregnant from her lover.”

Carrie gasped. “Pregnant? She must have had so many mixed feelings.”

“I imagine she did. She had lost the man she loved, but at least she was going to have his child.”

“And she didn’t have to worry about the child being sold away from her,” Carrie said with relief.

Biddy frowned. “Not true. A family took Darcy in and cared for her during her pregnancy, but when my grandmother was born, she was taken as an indentured servant as payment.”

“What?” Carrie grappled with what she was hearing. “After all Darcy had been through? How awful!”

Biddy nodded. “Darcy stayed with the family because she wouldn’t leave her daughter, Fiona. She was, for all purposes, still a slave, but the difference was that they were kind to her.”

“How long?”

“Until Fiona was eighteen. She was set free then, but Darcy was already dead. Too many years of abuse had finally taken their toll on her health. She died from pneumonia the winter when Fiona was fifteen.”

Carrie squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, sorrow for the woman she never knew surging through her heart. “What happened to Fiona?”

“Fiona remained free,” Biddy said proudly. “She became a seamstress to very wealthy Philadelphians. She married another man from Ireland who had served out his contract, and had eight children.”

“Which one was your mother?” Carrie asked.

“Keela. She was the third child, and the oldest of the four girls.” Biddy smiled fondly. “My mother was a very beautiful woman, and also very intelligent. She learned from all Grandma Fiona told her, and inherited Grandma’s dressmaking talents. Instead of just making clothes, though, she opened a fashion consulting shop that outfitted the finest women in Philadelphia society. She was very much in demand.”

“How wonderful!” Carrie said enthusiastically, vastly relieved to know the terrible cycle of slavery and abuse had been broken. She looked around the house. “Didn’t you say you were born here?”

Biddy shook her head. “No, but I was only two years old when Mama and Father moved out here and bought the farm. Father was a very successful banker. He adored me and Mama, and didn’t want me growing up in the city. He wanted me to have room to run and play outside like he did as a boy on the farm he grew up on in upstate New York.”

Carrie glanced out the window at the crowded, bustling street. “So Moyamensing really used to be a farm?” It was difficult to believe.

Biddy nodded, her eyes glowing with memories. “The prettiest farm you ever did see. There were more than a hundred acres of rolling pasture. We grew apple trees and raised dairy cows. Father hired men to take care of everything. This house was surrounded by large trees and the flower gardens that were my mother’s pride and joy.”

“What happened?” Carrie asked, flushing when she realized how her question must sound.

Biddy smiled. “It’s a fair question. I grew up on the farm while it was still considered an estate, but then my father lost all his money in a bad business deal.” She frowned briefly. “He would never tell me what happened. I just knew that one day we had a glorious life, and the next day he was selling our life out from under us. A little bit at a time, he sold off our land. I watched as the farm filled with buildings and houses. By the time he was so desperate he had to sell all the land right around the house, the only thing being built was tenement houses for the poor Irish population.” Biddy closed her eyes. “It broke my father’s heart, but he didn’t know what else to do. My mother wanted to go back to the city and build up her fashion business again, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He died when I was just twenty-four.”

“What did your mother do?” Carrie asked, fascinated by the story she was hearing.

“Her spirit was broken by then. There wasn’t enough left in her to build up her business again. We didn’t have much, but we had enough. She used what little money was left to make sure I continued my education.”

Carrie gazed at her. “I didn’t know women could go to college in 1800.”

“They couldn’t,” Biddy replied promptly. “The first women weren’t allowed into colleges until right after the war. You and your friends are helping pave the way. Not only by being in school, but especially by being in medical school. That’s something I could only dream about when I was your age.”

Carrie looked at her sharply. “You wanted to be a doctor?”

“More than anything,” Biddy answered, her voice tinged with regret. Then she waved her hand in the air. “It doesn’t do any good to moan about the past. My mama knew how badly I wanted to learn, so she did the only thing she could do—she brought in tutors of every kind to teach me. If any of the teachers—all of them men—treated me with any degree of condescension, they were gone the next day.” She smiled. “I lost a lot of teachers, but I also had some very wonderful ones who understood women could do anything men could. They treated me like that, and I thrived.”

Carrie thought about the stuffed bookshelves in the library above her head. “And your father? Did he support your desire to learn?”

Biddy smiled slightly. “I suspect Father thought it was a frivolous waste of time and money, but he adored my mother and would do anything for her. She wanted me to be educated, so he went along with it. He never discouraged me, but he certainly never encouraged me,” she mused. She looked at Carrie. “And you? Women medical students are very rare in the North. I suspect they are even rarer in the South. How did you attain your education?”

Carrie smiled. “My mother was convinced I only needed training to become a typical plantation mistress. My father understood the very idea made me ill, so he championed me. He made sure I had tutors, and he gave me free run of the plantation on my horse, Granite.”

Biddy pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. “He sounds like quite an extraordinary man.”

“He most certainly is,” Carrie said fervently. “It took him a little while to come around on the slavery issue, but he embraced women’s equality long before anyone else in the South did.”

“And your mother?” Faith asked.