“Of course not,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Then I can’t imagine who it might be.”
“Your Miss Labrie.”
The man spilled his coffee on the ledger. “That’s ludicrous!”
“Not according to Lorinda,” she said, seeming quite pleased that she had secured her husband’s attention. “Frankly, it doesn’t surprise me one bit. Another slave disappeared at the hotel while I was staying there.”
Mr.Kirtland looked as jarred as he had when he saw the sketches of Isaac. Yet his demeanor remained resolute. “I don’t have time to go to a trial.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “But I need someone to escort me.”
Victor glanced over at Fanny, her lips still puckered in a pout, before looking back at the proprietor. “Perhaps I could accompany your wife,” he offered.
Mr.Kirtland studied him for a moment and then waved his hand. “By all means—be my guest.”
Fanny promptly recovered her enthusiasm. “You are a saint, Victor Duvall.”
After Fanny rushed out of the lobby, presumably to retrieve her new gown, Mr.Kirtland motioned him closer to the desk. Victor thought he was going to warn him in some way, tell him to treat his wife like a lady.
“She always gets what she wants,” Mr.Kirtland warned.
He nodded, understanding. “I never let a woman control me.”
Mr.Kirtland leaned back in this chair. “We’re all controlled by something.”
Victor disagreed. “Only if we give our power away.”
He promised to escort Mrs.Kirtland to the trial, but didn’t say he would escort her home. If the law had found Isaac, he wouldn’t leave the courthouse without him.
Rain poured on Sacramento all morning, a methodic trickle that turned the planked streets into streams of mud. Rodney had locked Stephan and Persila in the jailhouse until the trial, and no amount of pleading on Isabelle’s part would convince the judge to release them into her care.
Judge Snyder hadn’t jailed her, but he made it quite clear that he would do so if she didn’t appear at the courthouse again by two. The ultimatum wasn’t necessary. She wouldn’t run away from her steward or the woman he’d tried to rescue.
Mr.Webb had already secured one of the two attorneys left in Sacramento. The other lawyer would gladly take her money, but he wouldn’t fight well for them—only Judah had the reputation for opposing slavery, and she didn’t know where to find him.
Because they were Negroes, the law wouldn’t allow Persila or Stephan to testify this afternoon, even to defend themselves against the charges. But the judge would let Isabelle testify, and she didn’t need a lawyer to speak the truth.
After today, every resident in Sacramento would know that she opposed the institution of slavery, but no one must find out that she was also a runaway slave. If her secret were exposed, Persila and Stephan wouldn’t have anyone to speak on their behalf.
She dressed in a simple black gown, and the keys to both her boxes hung around her neck. In her hands, she carried the small Oxford Bible that Aunt Emeline had given her long ago. She would pretend that her aunt was in the courtroom with her, praying as she spoke.
When she opened her door, the dining room was empty except for Isaac. He was sitting at the piano, fingering the keys.
She brushed her hand across the piano’s rosewood case. “Have you ever played?”
He flashed a smile. “A few times.”
“You’re welcome to practice on this.”
“Thank you,” he said, his smile growing. “Are you walking to the flower gardens?”
She shook her head. “I have an appointment to keep.”
“I can watch over the hotel while you’re gone.”
Turning, she glanced up at the staircase. “Where is Mr.Payne?”
