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Back The Ninth Daughter
Chapters (37)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four

He bowed over her hand. “Until tomorrow then, m’am. Curtis—” He signaled one of the soldiers on the wharf. “Please escort Mrs. Adams back to Queen Street—”

“Good heavens, do you want the poor man killed?” Abigail stepped back. “This is Massachusetts, Lieutenant, not London. Women are quite safe to go about by themselves.”

“Not all of them,” returned Coldstone quietly. “But have it as you will, Mrs. Adams.”

He followed the merchant and his daughter down the steps to the wharf, where the last of the baggage had been loaded onto the launch. Mrs. Fluckner had gone aboard, too, and stood, cradling her lapdog, unwilling—for whatever reason—to set foot once more in the place that had become so suddenly dangerous for her and hers. Abigail stood for a time on the roadway, looking down at the gray green water lapping around the piers and the vessel’s black-wet sides, the bloody splashes of the soldiers’ uniforms, the brilliant hues of Miss Fluckner’s skirt where the wind took her cloak aside. Last of all the black maid was handed into the boat, and for a moment stopped and turned back.

And what does she think of it, who has not Scipio’s position in the household, nor Surry’s unshakeable trust in Sam’s ability to keep his family safe? Does she wonder what will become of her, should the family suffer financial reverses in the course of this unrest over the tea? In such circumstances, Abigail was well aware, frequently the first luxuries to be sold off were the chattel servants.

And yet for the briefest moment, Abigail had the feeling that the young woman was not looking at Boston, but at her.

Mr. Fluckner’s voice snapped, an angry and audible shout, “Philomela, get down here! Your mistress is calling!”

The slave turned away, and disappeared among the confusion of men as they made sail. Abigail tightened her scarves about her throat, and made her way back along the Battery March toward the town.

Nineteen

Nineteen

020

“You are crossing to Castle Island?” John set the basin of hot water on the corner of the table, brows diving down over his blunt nose the way they did in court when opposing counsel tried to slip some fact by him in a millrace of rhetoric. Abigail gathered up the last of the forks.

“Lieutenant Coldstone has offered to arrange an interview between myself and Richard Pentyre. I could ask you to escort me, but since I had rather our children did not grow up as proscribed orphans in the wake of your hanging, I think it would be better for all if Thaxter came with me instead.”

“And what will you ask Mr. Pentyre when you see him?” inquired John sarcastically. “If he murdered his wife?”