The 15th Star (A Lisa Grace History - Mystery) (10 page)

“
Don’t worry dear, we will get him working on Thomas’s release immediately. You must remember that The Royal Navy is looking for money and that is why they sent you this letter. The good news is we have a good chance of getting him and his ship released. We must send it to Mr. Key at once,” Mrs. Mary gently lifted the letter out of Mrs. Nichols wavering hands and added it to the envelope before she handed it to Grace. It was clear that Mrs. Nichols did not want to let go of the letter, the only connection she still had with her beloved husband.

“
We will contact Mr. Key to negotiate Mr. Nichols’ release and that of his crew and ship. Dear, you will see we will get your husband back. This is a game to the British. We must play by their rules a little longer. This will not be the first case of this nature that Mr. Key has handled. He has been quite successful in his manner of negotiation with the British. We all have our trials in life to bear, and this is yours.” Mary sat back down next to Mrs. Nichols and comforted her as she slowly gained her composure.

Grace dropped a curtsey and went back to the kitchen to get her shawl and hat. She wanted to hide her face as much as possible as she was still embarrassed from the events of a few days ago. She knew no one could tell by looking at her that she had been violated, but for some reason she felt it showed. As Grace walked slowly to the solicitor
’s office, she thought about what the coming war might mean. She hoped Major Rivers would die in the war. If anyone had to be killed, it should be him. Grace knew thinking this way was a sin, but she couldn’t help herself. Grace felt sorry for Mrs. Nichols, having her man taken. Grace had seen it happen back on the plantation and the women acted the same way, all hysterical. Since Grace had only received bad things from the men she knew, she couldn’t understand the way those women were feeling. She knew what it felt like to be torn apart from those you love, but it had happened when she was so young that the separation had lost its sting and left a numbness in its place. Grace never knew her father and the way the plantation was run, she didn’t know if he was white or black. She didn’t want to know. She prayed Mrs. Nichols, who seemed to be a nice lady, had a better outcome than the slave women had had.

Grace was worried about the approaching war. She knew the British would bring ships first to Fort McHenry which was less than eight miles away. About a half-day walking away. The British would have to leave their ships and walk inland from the fort. They wouldn
’t be able to get too close to the port by sea, as ships were set up to guard its entrance. The river would be too shallow for the big battle ships to come in close, from what Grace had overheard as she made her deliveries to the ships on the docks.

Ma
’am had a gun. Grace had seen it. She knew the family would flee before the British got too close. Grace prayed that if the British did attack Baltimore by land, that they would have enough time to escape. With them being so close to the port she worried. Bethany and Caroline would talk about it at the kitchen table while Grace just listened. Caroline, being the young girl she was, was very excited by the prospect and all the excitement. She was too young to remember the horror of war.

Bethany would say,
“Grace don’t worry none, we will hear the cannons and the firing from the fort to the ships. Runners from the Fort will be bringing hourly reports and if we have to flee, I’ll have enough time to bake us several nice loaves of bread for the trip.”

Grace felt bad but knew if worse came to worse, she would run again. She would not be waiting for the soldiers to get close. Theirs or the British. Grace knew what soldiers did to women, young, old, black or white. Grace had spied a second pistol, kept in the cellar, at the bottom of the trunk where Ma
’am kept the deceased Mr. Pickersgill’s things. No mention had been made of this pistol and Grace was sure Ma’am had forgotten it was there. If a time came to run, she would take it, along with the bag of shot stored with it. Grace might strike out on her own. These women were too trusting. Grace would not make that mistake a third time. It hurt to think of leaving this life she knew, but if the time came, she would. While Grace’s thoughts were busy making plans for the future, her body too was busy working and had another plan altogether in mind.

*

***

*

Chapter 4 - September 1813

Her curse didn
’t come in August and now it wasn’t here again. Grace had been regular. It didn’t come. She felt the panic rise that night in bed when she was alone. She prayed to God, not to be with child. Especially not that evil man’s child.

“
Oh Lord, please no.”

How could she care for a child and herself? She imagined with horror a little girl, like she
’d been. How could she keep her safe when she couldn’t even keep herself?

During the day, Grace pushed the thoughts aside about her missing curse and did her work. Maybe it was just all the worrying she was doing about the war.

Another month, still no curse. Then the sickness. Every morning. She couldn’t stomach the smell of coffee and eggs in the morning and if Bethany fried anything, well, she almost didn’t make it through the back door.

The next week her skirt wouldn
’t meet. She had to tie a scarf around it to hold it up.

Bethany gave her long looks, she knew.

It was time to talk to Ma’am.

***

“Ma’am I need to speak with you,” Grace said to Mrs. Pickersgill later that morning as they sat sewing by the fire. The weather was getting chilly and a fire was always going in the parlor. Mrs. Rebecca, Ma’am’s mother, had a touch of the rheumy and needed the room warm to keep her hands from aching.

“
I’m going to be having a baby, ain’t no denying it anymore. I prayed to God, but he not listnen.” Grace started to cry, silent tears ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders started to shake she was so ashamed.

Mrs. Pickersgill took a breath, paused, and put the colors down she
’d been working on. “I suspected as much.” She sighed and put her hands primly in her lap.

“
Well, Grace, let us see, it takes nine months before the baby’s born, so—around April fifteenth. You will be having a spring baby. That gives us plenty of time to make some clothes. I believe I have Caroline’s old crib upstairs. We can move it into your room. It will be a snug fit, but you will want the baby close for nighttime nursing,” Ma’am said as she took a handkerchief out of her skirt, leaned over, and gently wiped away the tears from Grace’s cheeks.

“
Ma’am?” Grace couldn’t believe what she heard.

“
Well, we have a baby coming. We have to make plans,” Mrs. Pickersgill smiled.

Grace felt such a burst of gratitude, she almost started to cry.

“Caroline will be delighted to have a little one running around. The house will get a little less quiet, but if that is God’s will, who are we to argue?”

“
You have to start thinking about names, a boy and a girl name. The Bible is a good place to go for that.”

“
Yes Ma’am,”

“
I am sorry about the unsolicited advice, but you will just have to get used to it. It has been awhile since mine was young and I am going to want to show off all the knowledge God has blessed me with,” Mary laughed.

Grace laughed in relief. She would not be let go to fend for herself and the baby. They would keep her on. She almost felt excited, almost.

***

Chapter 5 - April 1
st
, 1814

Grace woke up that morning not feeling well. The baby in her stomach had been kicking up a storm. The baby bounced and stretched in a way that sent pangs down below and made her walk over half-hunched most the time. Miss Mary and Caroline were taking one last trip today to visit relatives in Maryland before the baby came. The weather had been hard this winter and this week looked like it would be a nice spring one. The baby wasn
’t due for another two weeks and most first ones were late.

Grace got up because she could hear the rest of the household stirring. Mrs. Pickersgill had been great. She
’d let her sleep in and helped her with her reading while they were working on the sewing. Grace looked around the room as she got up. The crib was ready. Mrs. Mary had given her a blanket, one of her old ones, from when Caroline was little. Not one of the good ones, she was saving those for her grandbabies, but it was soft and warm and beautiful to Grace. It was beautiful. Light blue and as soft as anything she had ever felt.

An unexpected thing had happened during her pregnancy. Grace had begun to love the baby in her belly. She wasn
’t sure when. Maybe it might have been the day she was given the blanket. This baby was a gift from God. She hadn’t felt that way for close to six months. Instead she had burned with anger and shame. Then one day while praying on her knees, the baby had kicked and that baby seemed to kick all the hate and anger and despair right out of her. She felt a hand, a hand of peace and love on her shoulder. She knew it had been an angel. An angel who brought her peace. Now she was excited and ready for this to be over. She longed to hold the baby in her arms. She wouldn’t have to share him or her with anybody. This was the first time in her life she would have something that was all hers.

Her pregnancy had been a good time in her life. Work had slowed down and Mrs. Pickersgill took pity on her. For once she let her have some restful times instead of finding busy work for her to do. This fall and winter had been the easiest of her life. When she
’d first discovered she was pregnant, she’d felt sure everyone would shun her. Except for a couple of the proper, meaner ladies of the church, everyone had been gracious and helpful. Gifts of used blankets, rags, and clothes had been given to her when she started to show. True, most were already worn and torn, but being a seamstress she could mend and make things look pretty and even hide the stains with clever patching disguised as decoration. Grace was grateful. It seemed most women loved a baby, no matter how it came into the world.

Grace had enough sewing work to keep her busy down by the fire in the kitchen. She could look out the window and watch everyone bustling to and fro, out shopping or working or whatever folks had to do. The ships were getting ready to sail and spring orders for colors picked up. After a rough winter, everyone including the captains of the ships liked their colors new.

She made her way out with her bedpan, took it to the back of the yard, and rinsed it after priming the pump. Then she went in to help with the breakfast. Mrs. Mary and Caroline were packed for a trip. The carriage was packed with trunks tied to the back, and both Mrs. Mary’s and Caroline’s valises were by the door. Mrs. Rebecca was not going. She was staying upstairs in her bed and Bethany was going to look after her. She would empty her bedpans, bring Mrs. Rebecca her meals, and light her fires. Bethany was busy frying eggs, hash, and heating some leftover pie from last night.

“
Mrs. Bethany you feed everyone like a queen,” Grace said. Grace finished carrying in the bucket full of water and hung it on the hook in the fireplace to heat it for washing the dishes, a chore Grace handled for Bethany.

“
Well you know I love to cook, especially when I get to help eat it,” Bethany said.

Grace and Bethany both laughed. Bethany was big from eating and she was a good cook. Widowed early in life with a son serving on a merchant ship, Bethany was hired to cook and clean. It was a good deal. Her eyes weren
’t good enough to work with a needle and thread. All in all, they made a nice little family. It was good to have others who pitched in out of love. It had grown out of each of their situations and of circumstance.

“
How are you feeling Grace? Put your feet up, and here’s a nice cup a tea.”

Mrs. Tommie Lynn sold Mrs. Pickersgill some tea that helped soothe Grace and kept her healthy during her time. The blend was made of flowers and herbs. It smelled good and didn
’t make Grace sick. She had been glad to have something warm to drink during the cold winter and spring months. Mrs. Pickersgill was of the opinion that civilized houses served a hot beverage, otherwise, what were fine china cups for? Grace’s cup was an old chipped one with delicate white flowers and green painted stems and leaves. It was from a set that Mrs. Pickersgill never used. Grace liked to imagine she was a lady while drinking from the thin china which appeared as fragile as a hen’s egg shell. It was still the nicest cup Grace had ever used, even if it was a castoff.

“
Thank you Bethany, you’s a true friend.”

“
Don’t get mushy on me, you with the baby blue’s and me always crying at the drop of a hat.”

Bethany missed her dead husband. Grace had seen her holding one of his shirts and breathing deeply to inhale his scent. She kept it hidden under her pillow. When Bethany
’s door was closed in the early evening. Grace could hear her as she prayed loudly, and thumped her heavy knees on the floor as she shifted her weight, while she asked for mercy for her son who was at sea. It seemed to Grace that sadness was never far from overtaking Mrs. Bethany’s mind.

Grace winced and put a hand on her belly as a sharp pain hit. She sat in pain and then took a sip of the hot tea, and hoped the warmth would help the baby settle down.