Driving them home, Deborah had nothing to say, although by the look of her face, her mind was not idle. She flicked the reins loosely against the back of the horse until Napoleon had enough of it and stopped abruptly in the middle of the road, turning to look at her as if to ask if she had taken leave of her senses. Deborah stared back at him mildly, as though half asleep, and after a moment, Sarah took the reins from her hands and drove the remainder of the distance to Beulah Land. Someone waved from the front yard of the Anderson farm, but it was nearly dark by then, and Sarah waved back without knowing who it was. Glancing at Deborah, who sat still with her own thoughts, Sarah felt lonely and wished Leon were home again.

She had begun to conjecture hopefully the time of his return when she received a letter.

My dearest—

I am delayed, just as I hoped to be on my way to you. We had more or less concluded our business arrangements here when this morning Aunt Pea summoned me to her house and entreated me to make a journey for her.

You will never guess!

An unsigned broadsheet has come to her in an envelope in the mails. It advertises performances of a certain Roderick Conyngham Shakespearean Company in Charleston, South Carolina, for the coming week. Among the performers listed there is a Mrs. Lauretta Savage!

Aunt Pea is agitated with hope and eagerness for me to go there and to discover if it indeed be—she has every expectation that it will be—your sister, her niece: and she also asks that I ascertain exactly what are her present circumstances. So you see, I shall have real news when next we meet!

A sloop is set to sail from Lower Rice Mill Wharf this very evening, and I have bought passage aboard it.

If his family asks, Bonard wishes to say he will remain here at the City Hotel until I return, and then we shall come home together as originally planned. It is but a short delay.

Until then, my beloved, I am your devoted husband,

Leon

4

Leon had been to Charleston only once before, and that as an escapade with Bonard when they were students at the Samuel Holt Academy. He recognized Sullivan’s Island on the right and James Island on the left as they came in, but when he stepped ashore and followed the porter with his luggage to a hotel, he found that he remembered little else beyond the amiable atmosphere of the waterfront and the pleasant smells of cooking food that filled the air, of which he could easily identify coffee and fish and garlic and chocolate and hot pepper.