47

THE VISITORS

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, THE DUTCHMAN waited inside his covered carriage across the street. He had been watching the Richardson mansion for several minutes, anticipating his next move. He had entered the night before, but the only thing the Dutchman discovered were empty closets belonging to the pair, indicating they were long gone and no longer a threat to him. He departed the dark residence, satisfied the Irish couple was forever silenced by the hush money they had stolen to escape. He quickly ascertained the Irish couple had permanently vacated Savannah, but he returned that next day. Daylight hours were best for his illegal search of the money stash. He also wanted to make sure the baroness hadn’t written anything on parchment to implicate him in the girl’s disappearance. He didn’t have much hope he’d find the cash, but it was worth a try. The revolver in his pocket would silence the Irish couple if he found the servants hiding inside. But he would never find them because Moxie and Jasper had already taken an expensive train ride to North Carolina to reunite with Irish relatives from their hometown of Dublin. The huge sum of money the baroness had given Jasper to stash enabled them to flee Savannah to start a new life as free entities.

Just as the Dutchman was about to depart from his carriage, unexpected visitors entering the mansion caught him off guard. He sat transfixed by the sight of a distinguished Negro gentleman guiding the arm of a regal lady, a beautiful Caucasian with refined features. It caused his skin to blanch, and he was repulsed at the sight of such a taboo in Southern society. He wanted to strike them down on sight. He gripped his revolver and remembered the servants’ door remained unlatched because that’s how he crept in the night before.

* * *

On the way home from the sanitarium, Jake and Carmen stopped at the Richardson residence to check on the servants. With the house key Andrew provided, Jake called out to Moxie and swung the door open. The house was as vacant as a crow’s nest during migration. The private detectives Jake had hired to watch the mansion reported as much and were relieved from duty the day before.

“So this is where our girl spent these last eight years,” Carmen mused reflectively while sliding her gloved hand across the dusty cherry dining room table. By the amount of dust, it appeared the house-keepers had been gone for several days. There was no response from Jake because he had disappeared up the grand staircase to inspect the upstairs rooms. She wandered about the main level of the house looking for some signs of Lilly. In the library, she found a stack of Peter Parley children’s books written by Samuel G. Goodrich. She sat down and removed her gloves to leaf through Tales of Peter Parley about America. She held the book to her heart and tried to imagine her daughter reading. She remembered the pulse of her baby girl nursing at her breast. Her heart ached to caress her again. She wondered what life would be like if she had never sent her sweet baby off to America.

* * *

While Carmen reminisced about Lilly in the library, the Dutchman had crept through the servants’ entrance in the lower level kitchen. He stood transfixed near the steps leading up to the dining room area. He considered that this couple had authority to the home since they used a door key to enter moments earlier.

Finally, he heard the Negro speak to the woman, but their conversation was muffled. He leaned in to consider their location and determined they were in the library off the foyer. If they were checking on the house, they’d soon move to the lower level where the servants’ quarter was located off the kitchen. He looked for a concealed place to hide. He stepped into the large walk-in pantry. He remained hidden from view between the tall shelves of stored food supplies. He waited with the assurance they would enter the kitchen. He would shoot the Negro first and then drag the screaming woman into the servants’ bedroom down the hallway. He would violate her while her repulsive Negro man lay bleeding to death. This would be her ultimate punishment for their evil deeds committed against Savannah’s high society. His sources informed him that the niece was staying in the country home where the girl had been taken. No one would find the dead bodies for days, and by then he’d be long gone from America.

The Dutchman held still in wait of his prey. He licked his parched lips and grinned at the thought of shooting a bullet through the head of such a refined Negro. As a master marksman, he had never missed a target. His steel fingers proved he could break the neck of the woman effortlessly. The baroness’ easily-cracked neck confirmed that fact. These were going to be easy kills and well worth the delay their unexpected arrival had caused him.

His fantasy of murder was interrupted by the sound of the front entrance doorbell ringing. He quickly stepped out of the pantry to hear better. He dashed up the steps to hear a male voice entering through the front door. Curious over the arrival of yet another visitor, he boldly crossed the dining room to listen more clearly. He slid against the wall adjacent to the door hiding beside the tall armoire holding china dishes and other glassware.

The visitor was standing in the foyer greeting the couple. “Hello, beggin’ your pardon, sir and ma’am, how do you do? I’m Chester Lawson from Crescent Farm near a port town west of Savannah, and I’ve traveled all day to deliver a letter to Lady Katelyn Richardson.”

The Negro spoke. “I’m sorry to inform you that Lady Katelyn is not here, but as her friends, we will deliver the letter or take you to her because, I am sorry to report, she is not well.”

The woman spoke up. “Who is the letter from, may I ask?”

“It’s from Lady Richardson’s ward, ma’am.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “This mulatto child claims she was kidnapped last week. Do you know anything about this matter?”

The woman cried out with a joyous wail. “Oh, thank you, dear God! Thank you, our girl is safe! Where is she, sir? Please tell us. We are the Fosters, Jake and Carmen from Maple Grove Farm in Norfolk. We’re Lilly’s birth parents. I was told she’d died eight years ago.” Her British accent surprised the Dutchman.

The sound of an envelope being ripped open hit his ears, so there was no time like the right moment when attempting to escape unnoticed. If he had knocked over the armoire, it would not have daunted the exhilaration of their discovery. The Dutchman fled from the house through the lower level back entrance. Before the excited couple finished reading the letter, he was on his way to Crescent Farm to claim his prize. He didn’t need a gun. He was armed with enough information to lure the dimwit into his carriage to meet her parents.