“Mr. Brant?” Silvia sounded utterly horrified, and Rachel was, too.
“Eventually.” Gabriel sounded suddenly tired, and the lines in his face showed stark. “I am—not a slave here, though. I am … free.”
Free.
The word hung in the cold morning air, glistening and sharp as an icicle. No one spoke for a moment, but the unspoken words were as clear to Rachel as if they’d been shouted.
Then why did thee not come home? Or at least send word that thee was not dead?
“Have—has thee been well, Silvia?” Gabriel stood still, leaning on his crutch. He wore no wig and the cold wind lifted his fine, thinning hair so it shimmered for a moment, like a fleeting halo.
Silvia laughed at that, a high, half-hysterical titter.
“No,” she said, stopping abruptly. “No, I have not. I had no money and little help. But I have kept my girls fed, as best I could.”
“The girls. Pru and Patience, they’re with you? Here?” The excitement in his voice was unfeigned, and Rachel’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Perhaps he had been constrained from leaving, even though no longer a slave.
“Prudence, Patience, and little Chastity,” Silvia said, with a note in her voice that dared him to ask. “Yes, they are with me.”
He froze for a moment, looking closely at her face. Even from the back, Rachel could easily envision what Silvia’s expression must be: shame, defiance, hope … and fear.
“Chastity,” he repeated, slowly. “When was she born?”
“February the fourth, in ’78,” Silvia replied clearly, defiance uppermost, and Gabriel’s face hardened.
“I take it thee married again,” he said. “Is thy … husband … with thee?”
“I did not marry,” she said through her teeth.
He looked shocked. “But—but—”
“As I told thee. I kept my children fed.”
Rachel felt that she really must not be witness to such painful intimacies between the Hardmans. But a dried honeysuckle vine had attached itself to her clothing and her feet were sunk in the remains of dead tomato plants; the wind had died suddenly and there was no way she could move in the midst of this ghastly silence without detection.
“I see,” Gabriel said at last. His voice was colorless, and he stood for several moments, hands knotted before him, clearly making up his mind about something. His face changed as he thought, and the emotions of anger, pity, shame, and confusion smoothed into a hard surface of decision.
“I did marry,” he said quietly. “A Mohawk woman, the niece of the Sachem. He is—”
“I know who he is.” Silvia’s voice sounded faint and far away.
Another long moment of silence, and Rachel heard the tiny clicking noise as Gabriel licked his lips.
“The … Mohawk have a different notion of marriage,” he said.
“I would assume they do.” Silvia still sounded as though she were a hundred miles away, taking part in this conversation by means of smoke signals.
“I could—I could … have two wives.” He didn’t look as though the prospect of dual matrimony was a pleasant one.
“No, thee can’t,” Silvia said coldly. “Not if thee thinks I would be one of them.”
“I shouldn’t think thee would judge me,” Gabriel said stiffly. “I have uttered no word of reproach for—”
“The look on thy deceitful face is reproach enough!” The shock had worn off, and Silvia’s voice cracked with fury. “How dare thee, Gabriel! How long has thee been here, with every facility for writing and communication, and thee sent no word? Had I been a respectable widow, and had thee not separated us from Yearly Meeting and other Friends in Philadelphia—I would have married again, deeply though I mourned thee.” Her voice broke and she breathed audibly, trying to regain her control.
“But no one knew whether thee was dead, detained, or … or what! I couldn’t marry. I was left with nothing … nothing … save that house. A roof over our heads. The army took my goats and trampled my garden, and I sold everything other than a bed and a table. And after that …”
“Chastity,” Gabriel said, in a nasty tone.
Silvia was upright as an oak sapling, fists clenched at her sides and trembling with rage. When she spoke, though, her voice was calm and ringing.
“I divorce thee,” she said. “I married thee in good faith, I loved and comforted thee, I gave thee children. And thee has abandoned me, thee has treated me in bad faith and intend to continue doing so. There is no marriage between us. I divorce and disown thee.”