Freedom Bound Read Online Free Page B

brim, Charlotte saw determined blue eyes,
clean-cut features and ivory skin. The woman’s hair was so
well hidden that Charlotte could not tell what the colour
was. Her face, though worn, was not old. She looked about
thirty years of age.
    â€œThee must be Mrs. Schyler. I have been expecting thee.”
She turned to Posy. “I’ll help thee to carry the box inside.”
    â€œNo! Please,” said Charlotte. “Let me.”
    Mrs. Doughty stood aside to make way as Charlotte and
Posy carried the trunk inside. After they had set it down,
Charlotte reached for her pocket. Even though she needed
to be careful with her money, she wanted to give Posy a
penny.
    The pocket was not there. Frantically she felt about in the
space between her skirt and petticoat. In an instant her fingers felt the ends of the cloth tapes that had held her pocket
to her belt. The tapes had been slashed.
    â€œOh! No!” She felt tears spring to her eyes and struggled
not to cry, but this was too much.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” asked Mrs. Doughty.
    â€œMy pocket is gone! My purse was in it, with all my
money.”
    Mrs. Doughty took her hand. “Come sit down. Thee is
white as a sheet.”
    Charlotte, her hand in Mrs. Doughty’s, turned to Posy.
“I’m so sorry! I wanted to give you a penny for your help.”
    â€œThem pickpockets,” said Posy, “they so quick. They cut
the strings and a body don’t feel a thing. But never mind
about giving me money. Thank you for the thought.”
    Posy stepped outside, picked up the handles of her cart
and trundled it off down the street.
    Mrs. Doughty led Charlotte to a chair, one of two plainwooden chairs that stood in front of an empty fireplace,
along with a simple wooden settle.
    The room was square, with no pictures on the walls. There
were no draperies at the windows—just plain shutters. The
tall floor clock in its wooden case was unadorned.
    Three small children were sitting on a braided rug in the
centre of the room, playing with alphabet blocks. There were
two little girls, about six and five years of age, and a boy of
about two. Like their mother, the children wore black. Lifting their heads, they regarded Charlotte with solemn eyes.
    â€œThese are my little ones,” Mrs. Doughty said. “Patience is
the eldest, then Charity, and then Joseph.”
    â€œHow do you do?” Charlotte hardly knew what she was
saying. Her thoughts were on her stolen pocket. It wasn’t
just money that she had lost. Nick’s letter was gone.
    â€œVery well, I thank thee,” each girl answered. Joseph merely stared.
    Mrs. Doughty left the room, returning quickly with a
tumbler of water.
    â€œThee must take such a loss with forbearance.” When she
handed her the water, Charlotte noticed that her hands were
red and raw. “There are more important things in life than
money.”
    Charlotte sipped the water. “Important or not, money is
necessary if I am to pay for my lodging.”
    â€œLet’s not worry about that.”
    â€œI don’t like to be beholden.”
    â€œSince thee has no money, I welcome thee not as a lodger
but as a guest.”
    â€œBut I can’t accept your hospitality without giving anything in return. There must be something I can do to help
you.”
    â€œDo not fret. I do it for thy husband’s sake. Nick is a
friend, though not a friend.”
    This curious statement caught Charlotte’s attention. “A
friend but not a friend?”
    â€œOthers call us Quakers, but the Society of Friends is
what we call ourselves. Thy husband shares our beliefs about
war and slavery.”
    â€œNick is a man of peace. That’s why he served as a courier
but never as a soldier.”
    â€œIt’s hard to preach peace in a time of war. For the most
part, we Friends are tolerated. But our situation has worsened of late, as much because of our abhorrence of slavery
as because of our