Alden nodded. Thomas may not be legally free, but in this case, he was free to choose his own future. “When Mr.Duvall and Mr.Payne ask about us, just tell them the truth.”
“Can’t see that I have a reason to lie,” Thomas said with a tip of his hat. “I don’t know anything.”
The snow continued to fall outside the hotel window, covering the cobblestones on the street. Alden’s stomach rumbled. Even though Isaac didn’t complain, Alden knew he must be hungry as well.
Alden reached for his cloak. “Stay in the room while I’m gone.”
Isaac sat on the bed closest to the window. “Can I read while you’re away?”
“You can read all you want in the room, but whenever we go out, you must act like my slave.”
Isaac looked confused. “I am your slave.”
“I mean—” Alden stopped himself.
“Missus Eliza gave me to you,” Isaac said, as if Alden might have forgotten. “And I ain’t goin’ anywhere unless you sell me to someone else.”
“I’m not going to sell you,” Alden assured him.
Isaac leaned back against the headboard, looking quite pleased.
As Alden stepped out onto the cold street, he prayed no one on the ship tomorrow would suspect what he had done.
He would protect Isaac with his life if he must, for Benjamin and Naomi’s sake.
Chapter 11
West End
December 1853
Thomas returned to the Duvall farm more than a week earlier than expected, saying he’d already taken Alden to the wharf in town. Victor didn’t care a lick about Alden, but he’d been stewing since yesterday over what Eliza had done. He already hated his wife, but she’d propelled his hatred to an entirely new level.
Victor had insisted the coachman turn right back around, transporting him to Scott’s Grove in the dark. Thomas said the two carriage horses needed rest before they started another journey, and none of the other horses on the farm were strong enough for the journey.
Victor began to reprimand him for his impertinence—and his laziness—until he saw the animals collapsed on the straw in their stalls. And he saw snow piling up on the ground outside.
There was no sense finding themselves stranded on the road, no matter how much he wanted to leave. Isaac would be safe enough with the Paynes, though John would put him right to work. Perhaps, after Victor rescued him, the boy would have a greater appreciation for his life here. A few days of hoeing or cleaning out the barns would be a good reminder of his comforts back in West End.
He spent the first hours of the night packing. Then he settled into his bed, but sleep evaded him. Every time he tried to close his eyes, all he could see were Mallie’s eyes looking back, haunting him.
Leaning over on his pillows, Victor lit a candle and tugged on the brass knob of the writing desk drawer. He shoved asideDavid Copperfield—a ridiculous story that he and Isaac hadn’t yet finished—and a copy of a brilliant new novel,Moby-Dick. They’d read the book about the whale twice.
Under the books and smattering of letters was a portrait he’d painted of Mallie after his father died, the image wrapped in a cream-colored silk. Eliza didn’t know he had kept it. At one time, he’d had to keep it hidden, but Eliza never came to his room anymore.
He lifted Mallie’s portrait from the silk and examined her face in the candlelight, the amber-colored eyes and slender nose and smooth skin free of any blemish. So very beautiful in those months before Isaac was born.
Mallie had been everything to him. A perfect rose among inferior weeds. A diamond buried in Virginia’s red clay, waiting for someone like him to cut and polish and refine her beauty. He’d never known a fairer woman. Nor one so challenging.
His mother and then the Honorable Arthur Duvall protected her while they were alive, as if Victor meant to harm her. He had wanted nothing more than to love Mallie, to keep her as his own.
Arthur the Honorable couldn’t stop him from beyond the grave.
Still, Mallie had resisted him, but in the end, she’d had no choice but to succumb. He hadn’t wanted to be so harsh. He knew what was best for her—for both of them. He’d only wanted them to be together.
He held her portrait up to his chest.
Thou saw’st the locked lovers when leaping from their flaming ship; heart to heart they sank beneath the exulting wave; true to each other, when heaven seemed false to them.
