Wanting to nod, Ester looked out the window and waited for the sound of the carriage. They had to get to Bex before he was hurt. And before she’d fully committed to this marriage, he’d have to promise to take none of these risks again.
Ester dropped her face into her palms. She didn’t have much hope. Her heart was his, and he’d already risked breaking it.
…
The crowds at the Serpentine grew thick, gathering around the sand and the partially dried lake bed. Arthur had butterflies in his stomach. It would be his turn to speak soon, and he hadn’t written or practiced anything. How was he to speak his mind, when it was focused on Ester?
Ester.
Delicious kisses.
Welcoming arms.
All ruined by his deception.
Arthur had tricked her. He hadn’t lied but he’d made her a bath, made her comfortable, then left her alone. He shook his head. It was well past eight. She wasn’t still soaking in the tub. She had to know he’d left. A groan left his lips. The woman deserved to be the center of his world, and he’d deceived her. How would she ever trust him?
He was horrible. How would she ever be the woman to defend and believe in him, if she never trusted him? Tonight, he’d tell her everything and beg for one more chance.
No secrets would be between them, but she would have to understand his fight. Was that too much to hope for, to have understanding, trust and support?
The noise of the crowds whipped up again.
Arthur looked up and saw the rail-thin Wilberforce take to the bench that the organizers had made into an impromptu stage. With hands to his dark coat, he lifted his head, staring toward the growing crowd, the fire torches of the organizers. “Gentlemen, this stain on our hands, enslavement, it does not go away because it is an ocean away. This blot must be removed. The road to change is fraught, but let us not despair. Abolition is a blessed cause, and success will crown our exertions.”
A rumble swept the crowd as a fight broke out. A few men who looked thick, like Bow Street Runners, pulled the troublemakers apart.
Wilberforce raised his arms, capturing the onlookers, directing them to listen. “We have gained one victory; we have obtained, for these poor creatures, the enslaved, the recognition of their human nature, which we have shamefully denied. This is the first fruits of our efforts; let us persevere. Our triumph will be complete.”
The crowd howled as he stepped down. His footing looked less sure than it had in past years. The black armband engulfing his arm made him seem fragile, but how could a powerhouse for change be anything but strong? The man came over to Arthur and shook his hand. “The fight needs more young voices.”
He clung to the grip for a moment, as if it were a baton from an Olympian run. “Even an actor, sir?”
Wilberforce put a palm to Arthur’s shoulder. “Only a loud voice is heard over the noise. Don’t stop until this stain is no more. You know, Parliament can use loud voices, too.”
Arthur nodded. Parliament wasn’t for him. Too much scrutiny. He barely stayed above the likes of Phineas now.
Speaking of the reporter, the pest was off to the side. He fanned himself in the still air with the flyer created by the artist Wedgwood. The medallion printed on it was the dark outline of an enslaved man encircled with the words,Am I not a man and a brother. It pricked Arthur’s conscience. The plight shouldn’t be reduced to a throwaway.
Am I not a man and a brother?If only Arthur’s uncle had realized that. He’d never have murdered fifty men. He wouldn’t have been hanged for it, and he could’ve remained Arthur’s doting uncle, someone to admire.
A man shoved Phineas and the flyer fell from his hands.
Arthur bent down and scooped it up like it was a script. The paper, the image of the man, stirred words in his chest. Arthur leaped onto the bench.
“Brothers…”
“Yes, let’s listen to the actor,” Phineas said. “He married today. Bex, is the little wife about?”
“Brothers…” Arthur paused as he witnessed Ester and her friend coming toward the crowd on the same side as the reporter. They were easy to pick out, the only faces of color, the only women in the mix.
Ester’s arms were folded across her chest.
Arthur could tell she was fuming by her stiff stance. He didn’t know how to fix that or what to say to inspire the men of the rally.
“Choke.” Phineas roused a few to start the chant.
“Choke. Choke. Choke.”
