When everyone was done eating, Callie asked baldly, “What do we do with the bodies?”
“I saw the Royal Navy masts out in the Patapsco River earlier,” Peter said. “Within the next few hours, they’ll start bombarding Fort McHenry. I don’t know how long the fort will hold, but my guess is that quietly putting some bodies in the harbor within the next few hours will not draw much attention.”
After a startled silence, Callie asked, “Are lawyers allowed to suggest such things?”
“The aim of the law is justice,” he said in a steely voice that hinted at the man he would someday become. “Those three men broke in here to destroy three innocent women. Their deaths are just.”
“That’s very pragmatic,” she said. “I admit that I’d rather not try to explain what happened here, especially not with a battle about to begin.”
“Henry’s two bruisers can be disposed of that way, but Henry’s death must be officially confirmed,” Gordon said. “If Henry died unmarried, Molly and Trey are heirs to the Newell estate.”
Callie gave him a sharp glance. “He said in as many words that he would marry only after he’d dealt with me.”
Gordon wished he could kill Henry all over again. “In that case, the codicil to the will goes into effect and the estate goes to Molly and Trey, apart from your jointure and some individual bequests. As you probably recall, you’re their legal guardian until they come of age.”
Callie knew he was bluffing about a codicil to the will, but she must have had faith in his forgery skills. “I’m glad he chose me as their guardian, but does that mean I must take them back to Jamaica to run the plantation?”
“No!” The hoarse voice was Trey’s. He’d risen from his bed and was now clinging to the door frame of his bedroom. “I won’t go back there. Not ever!”
As Josh stood to help Trey to the table, Molly said in a voice quieter but no less emphatic, “Nor will I. Papa doted on us, but not enough to free us. We were slaves there. I will never, ever return!”
“I understand and agree. I don’t want to go back, either.” Callie frowned. “But that means the plantation will have to be put in the hands of a manager, which is often problematic for absentee owners, or it must be sold.”
“We can’t sell the plantation with its slaves,” Molly said flatly. “They’re our friends and they must be freed.”
“Molly’s right. I don’t want things to go on as they were before,” Trey said. Watching his grandmother warily, he poured a small amount of brandy into his glass of lemonade. Sarah didn’t object, but her expression said that was all he was going to get.
“There’s another possibility,” Gordon said. “Callie, didn’t you tell me that a neighboring plantation was owned by the Quakers and worked by free blacks? You could free the Newell slaves and sell the plantation to the Quakers with the provision that they keep on anyone who wanted to continue working there at a fair wage. It will greatly reduce the value of your inheritance, though.”
Molly and Trey exchanged a long glance, then nodded. “Let’s do that,” Molly said. “We don’t need to be rich, but we need to do the right thing.”
Callie smiled mistily at them. “I am so proud of both of you. This will be complicated to do at long distance, though. Peter, once we have a death certificate for Henry, should I contact my lawyer? He might have connections with lawyers in Jamaica, or know someone who does.”
“That depends on the lawyer,” Peter said. “Many work only locally, but Baltimore and Washington have lawyers with international connections. Who is yours?”
“Francis Scott Key, of Georgetown.”
“Mr. Key? Excellent!” Peter said enthusiastically. “I read law with my uncle, and he and Mr. Key are good friends. They’ve worked together on cases before. They’ll be able to find a good, honest lawyer in Jamaica to handle the probate, free the slaves, and sell the plantation after your ownership is confirmed. It will take time, of course.”
“I don’t know where Mr. Key is at the moment, but surely the world will settle down eventually,” Callie said. “Perhaps your uncle can start the process of declaring Henry Newell dead and let us know what legalities will be involved?”
“I’m sure my uncle will be happy to aid you.” Peter’s expression made it clear that any excuse to see Molly more often was welcome. “As for Mr. Key’s present location, I believe he’s currently a guest of the Royal Navy.”
Callie stared at him. “Why would he be on a British ship?”
“Mr. Key and Mr. Skinner, the American prisoner of war agent, sailed out to Admiral Cochrane on a truce ship to ask for the release of an American prisoner, an elderly doctor whose health is not good,” Peter explained. “They also wanted to get a list of other Americans who are being held prisoner by the British. My uncle said that because they are on board the British flagship, it’s likely they will be detained until after Baltimore is defeated.”
Trey made a growling noise. “And if Baltimore isn’t defeated?”
“No matter who wins the battle, they should be released afterward. Mr. Skinner has been the American agent for some time and he has always been treated with great courtesy.” Peter grinned. “He said British admirals set a very fine dinner table.”
“That’s good to know.” Callie frowned. “But how do we get Henry declared dead without my being accused of murder?”
“I have an idea, though you’ll probably all hate it,” Gordon said. “We could say that he was concerned about his stepmother and half siblings so he came to Baltimore in hopes of taking them to safety. Learning of his young brother’s injury, he accompanied us to the battlefield to help bring Trey home and was, alas, mortally wounded. There were enough bullets flying around North Point to make that plausible.”
“You’re right,” Callie said with a wry smile. “The thought of a heroic, concerned Henry isrevolting! But it would probably work if we all agree on the details of the story. It would even account for his body being here. Will the rest of you go along with that?”
“I’ll agree with what you say if asked,” Josh said, “but I couldn’t bring myself to say that devil came to Baltimore to protect Molly and Trey!”
