“What if someone stops us?”
“If necessary, I’ll be white. In fact I will dress carefully and speak as though you are my servant. Can you do that?”
“Miss Bébinn,” said Templeton, “I can’t let you do this. She’s my aunt, my blood.”
“You have a family and work here that must be done,” I said. “Don’t worry.” I looked at Dorinda and kissed her forehead. “She is my family too.
“Dorinda,” I told her, “get some rest. We’ll leave in the morning. I don’t know how long the trip will take. We can’t risk you missing Mr. Louden.”
“Thank you. I know it’ll be all right. Got this far. Going back will be nothing. I’ll have you with me.”
“Templeton, find us a small cart, anything a horse can pull. I’ll bring food for us when I come back in the morning.”
“You’ll tell Mr. Colchester? He won’t like it.”
“Yes, I will do it now.”
But I didn’t want to leave. I fell to my knees at Dorinda’s lap and took her hands. I held them to my face, wet them with my tears.
“It’s gonna be all right, honey,” she said. “You go on. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Mr. Colchester was in his study with Mr. Parma and Mr. Morgan. I knocked at the door and entered. They seemed to be studying a large map spread out on his desk. Mr. Colchester looked up, and I noted his surprise.
“May I have a word with you, sir?”
He nodded and escorted me to the library, where he closed the door, took a seat, and waited. “Yes, Miss Bébinn?”
“Mr. Colchester, I want a leave of absence for two or three weeks.”
“Now? When we’re on the brink of a war? What to do—where to go?”
“To escort a lady friend back to her chaperone, who will see her the rest of the way home. She came all this way to see me.”
He stood, alarmed. I wished he had stayed in the chair. It was easier to speak to him when he was at my eye level. He paced the room. “What lady? Where does she live?”
“She is Templeton’s aunt, but she’s a slave in the home where I was a child. At Catalpa Valley Plantation.”
“Louisiana? You can’t make it that far, two women alone. You can’t be serious!”
“She was sent with a man who brought her as far as the river. I intend to help her cross again and meet him in Kentucky.”
He frowned. “Why would her owner allow this? And why, if she’s Templeton’s aunt, doesn’t she stay here and remain free?”
I swallowed. “Her owner is my half sister. She is Calista Bébinn.”
“You’ve always said you had no relations.”
I lowered my eyes to the floor. “Sir, I didn’t mean to lie to you. Calista’s mother sold me into slavery, and she is still the mistress of Catalpa Valley. She was jealous and angry that Papa left land to me. Calista didn’t know where I was. I was as good as dead to them and they to me.”
“This is madness. I won’t let you anywhere near such a place or such a person.”
“Yes, sir, but I am not going back. My sister has sent word that it is not safe. But I do intend to help Dorinda, who came all this way to bring word of my family.”
He went to the window and stood looking out, silent.
“How far will you go?” he finally asked.
“If he is not at the river, then I will take her into Kentucky. There is a Union camp nearby. But if I must, I’ll travel as a white woman and pretend Dorinda belongs to me. I’ve done this before.”
“The devil you have.”
“I can do it, sir.”
He came back to me. “But you would return alone.”
“I will use the carriage circuit, a road well traveled. I will ride where there are people.”
“Promise me to return in a week—”
“I cannot. We will be too slow, and I don’t know what the road holds for us.”
Mr. Colchester moved closer. “When do you go?”
“Early tomorrow morning, sir.”
He went to a desk, took out paper, and began to write. “Carry this letter with you. It says I am your employer. You may need it if you have to go into Kentucky and anyone questions your freedom. And you must have some money.”
He pulled a wallet from his pocket and offered me bills totaling about twenty dollars. I wanted to protest—he paid me a salary, after all. But I thought better of it. Some circumstance might require a large sum. A bribe perhaps. I could give most of it to Dorinda for her journey with Mr. Louden.
While he wrote, I took the opportunity to voice what was most on my mind. “Mr. Colchester, you may have joined the militia before I return.”
“It is possible. My plans are not yet made.”
“It is my understanding, sir, that your plans include—” I paused. “You are going to be married?”
He stopped writing, put down his pen, and looked up at me. “Yes. What then?”
“In that case, sir, I should move into the village, even if the cottage is not rebuilt.”
“To get you out of my bride’s way, I suppose?”
“Sir, I am not a servant, and she may protest that I have no role in the running of the household.”
“True!” he exclaimed. “It would not fit in with her orderly ways.” He looked at me some minutes.
When he didn’t continue writing, I finally asked, “Before you go, sir, could you make arrangements for me? I have a cot in the schoolroom. Perhaps a room can be added. Or I could stay above one of the stores?”
He nodded and finished his writing. “I will take care of it. But I do hope to take leave of you properly before I go off to war.”
“I shall pray for that, sir.” I took the money and the letter and folded them carefully. “But for now, farewell. Thank you.”
“You say farewell now? But you go tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir, as early as we can.”
“You will not join us after dinner?”
“No, sir, I must prepare for the journey.”
“It is to be farewell.”
“Yes, for the present.”
He said nothing else, and I grew impatient. I wanted to pack and rest. I had no time for his confusing behavior. I bowed slightly and hurried away.
That night I opened the trunk I kept stored in my closet; the trunk I had arrived with and not touched since; the trunk that held, in a small compartment, the pistol Miss Maude had given me. I remembered how to clean and load it, which I did, but I wished I had the time and a place to practice firing it. I would have to trust my memory. Next, I wrote a letter for Dorinda to give to Calista. It was a joy and a relief to know she would read the words. I thanked her for the locket and told how I agreed with her that I should stay away from Catalpa Valley for now. But I begged her to write to me if she could get anything across the battle lines. Most of all I was grateful at the prospect that I might see her again and come home at last.
Dorinda and I started our journey at first light. We took a leisurely pace so as not to call attention to ourselves. But if anyone had noticed us, they would have seen what we appeared to be: two women in a small single-horse carriage talking pleasantly with each other. There was much about Catalpa Valley that I still wanted to know.