“Do you think I should step away from it?” Charlotte looked up to meet her eyes.
“I think that is something only you can decide.”
“Sister Altha would warn me about eternal damnation.”
“Such is a concern in any life,” Sister Martha said so softly Charlotte could barely hear her words. “I worried for many years about such a fate for my daughter in the world, but one day the Lord delivered me from those worries. While Sister Altha often tells me I should be sterner with the young sisters in our Society, I have come to believe that each must find her own path to the Lord. Sometimes that path leads through our village just as yours has, and when that happens, then it is good to tarry here until you are sure of your true way.”
“But I see no way.” There was despair in Charlotte’s voice.
“You will. There is a reason your feet have been set on our path. Perhaps you will decide our way is good. We feel much love one for another here in this place. The laboring of our songs brings joy down to us. We give our hands to work and our hearts to God. It is a good way. A way of much peace for those whose feet are firmly set upon our path.”
“As yours are,” Charlotte said.
“Yea, as mine are.” Sister Martha smiled and patted Charlotte’s arm before she stood up. “The Ministry would like you to correspond with Mr. Wade, for they feel he will send firsthand news of the conflict he warns is about to take place. The elders and eldresses are much interested in knowing the movement of the troops in case there is some way to buttress our villages from disasters that might come upon us due to the war. But if you choose not to, I can write in your stead and not reveal that you are among us.”
Charlotte ran her fingers across the writing of her name on the envelope in her lap. “Nay, I will write.”
“The Ministry will, of course, read whatever you write before it is posted,” Sister Martha warned.
“That will cause no concern.” Whatever words she decided to write would reveal nothing of her heart, even though Sister Martha did speak the truth when she said Charlotte’s heart ran after him.
“Very good. You will be supplied with paper and ink.” Sister Martha was obviously pleased with Charlotte’s decision.
For two days, Charlotte mulled over what she might write to Adam. In the end, she kept her letter short and to the point.
Dear Adam,
Thank you for your letter. I have lost my place at Grayson, so I am here at Harmony Hill. The Believers have received me among them with great kindness. Mellie was here with me, but she had no desire to stay. I am much relieved to know she is safe although now I am the one puzzled as to how Mellie ended up in Boston with your sister.
It seems there are puzzles all around. Some more terrible than others like the prospect of sister states taking up arms against one another. Such a thought saddens me. Saddens all of us here at Harmony Hill and worries us as well. If you have the time or opportunity, we would count it a boon if you would share with us the progress of the war or the possibility of peace from your front row seat to the conflict.
My sisters and brothers send their kind regards and wish me to tell you their gratitude for your proper depiction of their village in
Harper’s Weekly
. They have hopes your pictures might bring converts into the village.
Charlotte
Three days after the letter was posted, Sister Martha came to find her in the rose garden to tell her she had a visitor. In spite of Charlotte’s best efforts, her heart bounded up in her throat at the thought that it might be Adam Wade. Come for her.
Of course it wasn’t Adam. Her letter answering his would not even have reached him yet, much less given him time to make his way back to Harmony Hill. Besides, she had no reason to imagine him coming back to the Shaker village just because he knew she was there. The words in his letter had been curious. Nothing more. In answer she had been careful to allow no words to spill out of her pen onto the stationery that might encourage him to think she desired his return.
Nor was it her father come in answer to her prayers to mend the rift between them. Instead Perkins, Grayson’s overseer, perched uncomfortably on the Shaker chair in the small, bare room in the Trustee’s House, twisting his felt hat between his hands until it had little chance of ever regaining its original shape. She could not have been more surprised if President Lincoln had been sitting there waiting to speak to her.
The chair legs scraped against the wooden floor as Perkins jumped up when Sister Altha led Charlotte into the room. Sister Martha trailed behind them. Even though he had obviously come seeking Charlotte, he seemed just as shocked to see her as she was to see him.
He took in her Shaker dress and cap. “They told me that letter you sent came from over here, but I thought they had to be wrong. Charles Vance’s daughter a Shaker? I couldn’t believe it.”
Charlotte had no answer for that as she stared at Perkins and wondered why he was there. Unless it was to deliver a message from her father. She didn’t know whether to hope for that or dread the words he might say. The way the man kept staring at her made her uneasy.
She’d rarely spoken to the man at Grayson. If some message needed to be relayed to him in her father’s absence, Gibson took care of it. She had no real reason to avoid him. Perkins had never said the first wrong word to her. The corners of his thin lips always lifted in what passed for a smile any time he greeted her, but when she was a child, just the sight of him striding up the steps into the house to speak to her father was enough to send her running to hide her face in Aunt Tish’s apron. Aunt Tish would stroke Charlotte’s head and murmur that she had no reason to fear Perkins, but Charlotte had felt the tremble in Aunt Tish’s hand when she spoke the overseer’s name.
That tremble kept Charlotte’s fear alive, and then when she grew old enough to know what Perkins did for her father at Grayson, her fear was replaced with uneasy revulsion. Someone had to see that the slaves worked, her father told her. He said slaves were like children who must be disciplined when they didn’t do as they were told. Sometimes the punishments had to be harsh, but a young lady like Charlotte had no need to dwell upon those realities of plantation life. Such thinking could damage a young lady’s delicate mind the same as too much education. So it was best for her to remember that some things were the bailiwick of men and that she should concentrate on thoughts and occupations more becoming a lady such as reading poetry or doing needlework.
Now Charlotte tried to push aside the familiar distaste of being near Perkins as she waited for him to tell her what he wanted. The man had aged in the months since she’d seen him. Deep lines creased his weather-beaten face, and unruly gray hairs sprang up from heavy eyebrows that almost met over his narrowed eyes as he frowned first at Charlotte and then the two Shaker sisters with her.
“Why are you here, Perkins?” Charlotte asked. She saw no reason for the niceties of a polite greeting.
“I could ask you the same.” He kept eyeing her much too boldly.
“That’s hardly your concern.” She was surprised to hear a little of the old Grayson Charlotte’s commanding tone. When Sister Martha touched her arm to remind her to be kind, Charlotte softened her voice before she went on. “But since you are here, I assume there is a reason you came to speak to me. Is something wrong with Father?”
“No, no, not so far as I know. He’s still in Frankfort. Trying to legislate the war out of Kentucky.”
“That’s good to know,” Charlotte said, then waited for him to explain why he was there, but he seemed dumbstruck by her Shaker dress.
Sister Altha lost patience. She leveled her severest look on him and spoke briskly. “You asked to see our sister, Mr. Perkins. A request we granted since you claimed it to be a matter of some importance. So come forth with whatever it is you want. We do not wish to be kept from our duties overlong.”
Perkins glanced toward Sister Altha, but didn’t answer her. Instead he looked back at Charlotte. “It’d be better if they weren’t in here.”
“Nay, it is necessary for us to be here,” Sister Martha said quietly before Sister Altha or Charlotte could speak.
He shifted uneasily on his feet and twisted his hat again. “All right. I’ll just be out with it. Though the mistress will fire me without thinking twice if she finds out I came here. But the wife said I had to. That I couldn’t sell Tish down the river without trying to stop it.”
Charlotte felt like she’d just been punched in the stomach. She could barely get out the words. “Sell Aunt Tish? You can’t do that.”
“That’s what I tried to tell your father’s wife, but she’s done hired this fancy cook from up north. She let Tish cook for the field hands for a while, but now she says that’s a waste of resources since Tish can run a manor kitchen and would bring a fair price on the market. She says Tish has to go.” He looked straight at Charlotte. “That’s why I’m here. I mean I’ve sent plenty of slaves down the river, but it don’t seem right to do that to Tish.”
“Father won’t let her.”
“That’s just it. She don’t have to ask him. He wrote out a paper giving her permission to do whatever she wants, and she ordered me not to tell him.” Perkins looked down at the floor as though suddenly ashamed to meet Charlotte’s eyes. “I’ve been at Grayson for thirty years. I’m too old to find a new place.”
Charlotte wasn’t concerned about his problems. Only Aunt Tish. She couldn’t let Selena sell her. She had to stop this insanity. “I’ll buy her.”
Relief flashed across Perkins’s face as he looked up at her. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and held them out toward Charlotte. “I’m even willing to put in a hundred dollars out of my pocket, long as you don’t tell Mrs. Vance.”
Charlotte stared at the money between them as the realization of the truth of her actual poverty slammed her in the heart. She had no money. She had nothing. She’d left it all at Grayson.
Sister Altha drove that truth home as she said, “Do you have wealth we know nothing about, Sister Charlotte? If so, you were to have turned such over to the Ministry when you came among us. We have all property in common here.”
Charlotte shut her eyes and saw Aunt Tish looking at her with belief when Charlotte had promised to someday free her. She felt near tears as she said, “Nay. I have no money.”
“I thought not,” Sister Altha said.
Perkins dropped the hand holding the bills back to his side. He looked beaten, but Charlotte couldn’t accept that. She had to find a way to stop Selena. Paper money was not the only thing of value in the world.
She fastened her eyes on Sister Altha to make an appeal. “I brought a necklace and ring with me that I gave over to you. And a horse. They had some value. And I know where I can get another very fine gold necklace.”
“You would not steal it from your father of the world, would you?” Sister Altha looked at her with a good bit of suspicion.
“Nay. It is buried beside my mother’s tombstone. It was hers, but she would want me to use it to keep Aunt Tish from being sold.” Charlotte looked at Sister Altha. “Please, I beg of you. I’ll do anything you ask if you will help buy her for me.”
“For you?” Sister Altha said.
“To free her,” Charlotte amended.
“And will she run away as soon as she gets here to Harmony Hill as Sister Melana did?” Sister Altha narrowed her eyes on Charlotte as though it was her fault that Mellie had left.
“Sister Altha, we cannot hold Sister Charlotte to blame for our former sister’s lack of commitment,” Sister Martha said in a soft voice but one that carried a hint of censure.
Sister Altha looked over at Perkins who had not stuffed his money back in his pocket. “We are not heartless, Mr. Perkins, but we are unable to purchase every slave we see being maltreated. Oh, that we could.”
“You wouldn’t have to repay my money,” Perkins said. When Sister Altha didn’t say anything, he looked as if he were choosing his next words carefully. “You might want to remember that someday Miss Charlotte here may inherit the Grayson land. If she stays with you, she’d have to give it over to you, wouldn’t she?”
“Our charity is not dependent on such concerns. And even if it were, it remains to be seen whether our sister will be able to pick up the cross of sacrifice and become one with us here at Harmony Hill.” Sister Altha frowned as she sent a side glance toward Charlotte. “I have many doubts as to that ever happening.”
“She’s been with you a good many months now when she could have been dancing in parlors and sitting on garden benches twirling her parasol.” Perkins kept his eyes on Sister Altha. As a man used to seizing the upper hand in any confrontation, he had recognized the person with power in front of him.
“He speaks true words, Sister Altha,” Sister Martha agreed quietly as she motioned with a barely lifted finger for Charlotte’s silence. “Sister Charlotte has been working diligently in our Society.”
Sister Altha’s eyes narrowed on Charlotte. “And what say you, Sister? Are you willing to make such a bargain?”
“I may never own the land now that my father has remarried.” Charlotte didn’t try to lie to Sister Altha. “So it may not be mine to give, but if I do receive some land as any inheritance, I will deed you one hundred acres. I’ll put it in writing and that will be true whether I remain with you or not.”
“But you say that may not happen.”
“Yea, that is true.” Charlotte stared at Sister Altha. “All I truly have is the labor of my hands. I promise it to you for a year if you will buy Aunt Tish.” She didn’t know if it would be enough, but it was all she had.
Sister Martha spoke up. “Our Society does not deal in human bondage.”