THE RIDER APPROACHED LIVINGSTON AT breakneck speed. Whitney and I had been visiting by the pond, feeding the swans when we saw him. Curious over his urgency, we headed for the house.
He had already slid from his horse and was speaking to Thaddeus when we arrived. “I’ll see him now!” the bearded, copper-haired man demanded.
“Very well, sir, I will tell him you’re here. If you will please wait here.”
“I will not,” the man snapped. His complexion reddened and his eyes flashed with impatience. He brushed Thaddeus aside.
“Excuse me,” I said loudly as I reached the front steps. The man appeared not to hear me. “Excuse me!” I repeated, louder.
He swiveled. Recognition filled his face and he politely bowed. “The lovely Miss Hendricks.”
“Have we met?” I evaluated the man before me. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I believed him to be maybe of Irish descent. He was obviously greatly irritated over something, judging by his ill manners with Thaddeus.
“Gillies. Captain Gillies, Miss.” He managed a pained smile.
Oh, yes. Now I knew how I knew him. “Thaddeus, please inform Father of our guest.”
“Yes, Miss.” Thaddeus hurried off to inform Father as Mammy arrived on the veranda, awaiting instructions from me.
“Mammy, please bring refreshments for the captain and Father.”
“Yessum,” Mammy said and waddled back inside.
“Can you state your business with my father, Captain? Father didn’t say we were expecting company,” I added, aware I was bordering on rudeness.
Father appeared, preventing any reply. The captain, upon seeing him, bristled like a porcupine. Father looked surprised by the captain’s arrival. He attempted to conceal his shock and disapproval at the captain’s unplanned visit by running a hand through his hair, though he pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Mammy, please bring those refreshments to the study, where the captain and I will deal with whatever required him to show up on my property without a proper invitation.” He glared a rebuke at the captain.
Father turned his attention to Whitney and me. “Now, I expect you young ladies to make yourselves scarce and go about your day. Understood?”
“Yes, of course, Father.” Like a dutiful daughter, I curtsied and Whitney and I made our escape.
Our retreat stopped at the corner of the house. I looked at Whitney. “What do you suppose that is all about?”
“I don’t know. But your father seems none too happy about the captain being here.”
“Hmm…well, I say we find out.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the back of the house. Whitney was a willing participant.
We slipped in through the warming kitchen and crept down the back passage to Father’s study. The massive mahogany door was closed. We placed our ears to the door to listen. The thickness of the door made conversation inside difficult to hear.
“What are you doing here? I told you to never show up here.” Father sounded anxious.
“The contact was murdered—gunned down in a back alley,” the captain replied.
“So what happened to the shipment?” Father’s voice shifted toward panic.
“The human cargo was delivered as expected. I wanted you to know our connection is void.”
Mammy’s hefty footsteps startled us, and we scurried into the sitting room to avoid getting caught eavesdropping.
I couldn’t stop myself from pacing as an eerie suspicion chilled my blood. What was my father up to? “Shipment” and “live cargo”? “What do you make of that conversation?” I asked a wide-eyed Whitney.
“Your guess is as good as mine. But it sounds like your father is smuggling slaves for trade. I can’t be positive because we could only pick up parts of the conversation.”
My shoulders, already feeling leaden, slumped in defeat. Her assessment matched my fears. I stared at Whitney; her horrified expression matched what I imagined mine looked like. A cold resentment seeped into my chest. Were our sins as slave owners not bad enough? How could he do this?