Madison, Indiana
1850
Ah, don’t cry, Dahlia.” Edith reached out and brushed away the tear meandering down the little girl’s dusky cheek, her heart crumpling. “I’ll be back every Tuesday to teach you and the other children.” She gave Dahlia a brave smile. “And maybe you can come visit me in Lancaster.”
Dahlia sniffed and ran her hand under her nose. She looked up from wrapping Mother’s prized alabaster vase in an outdated edition of the Madison Courier, fresh tears glistening in her sad brown eyes. “I know, but it won’t be the same. I won’t be able to come and see you whenever I want to like I do now.”
Despite Edith’s desire to comfort Dahlia, she knew the girl was right. Life wasn’t going to be the same. Nothing had been the same since Mother’s death from cholera five months ago. And now that Father had resigned his position as president of Applegate Pork Packing Company to accept a teaching position at the Eleutherian Institute eleven miles north in Lancaster, her life would again change.
Edith gazed around the familiar parlor of the home she’d known all her life, and her heart constricted. Father’s new position at the institute came with a house.
An involuntary shudder slithered through her at the memory of her first look at the run-down structure she would soon call home. The thought of living in any strange house, let alone the decrepit building that she and Father had toured last week, felt at once saddening and frightening.
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” The scripture from Philippians that had encouraged her since she’d first learned of the impending move buoyed her spirit. She must stay focused on the institute’s mission that she and Father had joined: the education of all regardless of race or gender, especially those freed from slavery.
Still, however noble the mission before them, it didn’t negate Edith’s sadness in leaving Madison. At least she’d managed to convince her brother, Edwin, not to sell their beloved home outright but instead to rent it to an employee of the family’s company he now headed.
Fighting back her own tears, Edith forced her lips into a stiff smile and pulled Dahlia into a warm hug. While she cared for all her students—the dozen or so free black children she’d taught in her home over the past year—nine-year-old Dahlia Taylor was her favorite. With her quick wit and engaging personality, the girl had entangled herself in Edith’s heartstrings. In truth, Dahlia had become an invaluable asset in the classroom, and Edith wasn’t sure she could have managed packing away everything for this move without Dahlia’s help. “We’ll be seeing each other often. Edwin and Sophie have agreed to let us use the music room at their home once a week for a classroom.”
She gently pushed Dahlia away and schooled her voice to her best stern teacher tone. “Right now, we need to finish packing up this room.” She managed a smile. “And tomorrow I could really use your help packing the books in the library if your mother can spare you.”
Dahlia nodded, her dark eyes brightening with enthusiasm. “I’ll ask Mama, but I’m sure she’ll let me come.”
The faint sound of a door creaking open followed by footsteps echoing in the library down the hall surprised Edith, bringing her to her feet. “Father must have returned earlier than he’d expected.” When he’d invited her to accompany him to Lancaster for a faculty meeting with the other members of the Eleutherian Institute, he’d told her it would be an all-day affair. Longing to spend as much time as possible in her childhood home, Edith had declined, opting instead to stay and, with Dahlia’s help, box up some personal items to take to Lancaster.
She took the wrapped vase from Dahlia’s hands and nestled it into the wooden crate with other wrapped glass bric-a-brac. “Would you please go to the library and ask Father to carry this crate to the wagon? It’s a little heavy, and I wouldn’t want to drop it.”
Nodding, Dahlia popped up from her crouch beside the crate and sprinted out the door. She returned a few seconds later, her dark eyes the size of dollar pieces. “Miss Edith, it ain’t Mr. Applegate! Or Mr. Edwin, either.”
“It’s not Mr. Applegate, Dahlia. Ain’t isn’t a word.” Edith started for the door, curiosity laced with growing concern eclipsing her teacher’s impulse to correct her student’s grammar. She struggled to affect an unconcerned smile and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “You stay here, Dahlia, but if you hear any commotion or trouble, head out through the kitchen and fetch Mr. Edwin.”
The heavy footfalls still echoing in the library suggested sturdy male boots. Edith’s heart thumped harder. Could a brazen thief have heard that she and Father were moving out and decided to take advantage of a supposed uninhabited house in full daylight? Perhaps she should have grabbed the iron poker from the parlor fireplace before heading out to confront the intruder.
Whatever she’d expected to find in the library in no way matched the reality of what she saw. The sight brought her up short in the doorway, her pulse slowing as bewilderment replaced her mounting fear. Unless thieves had taken to dressing in gray broadcloth coats with matching beaver hats, starched white shirts, and black string ties, she doubted that the man standing in the middle of the library’s parquet floor and looking up at her grandfather’s portrait above the fireplace posed a threat to her or her property. Still, the audacity of the man to enter her home uninvited sparked her ire.
“May I be of assistance?” Edith didn’t try to blunt the sharpness in her voice.
The man jerked around to face her, his comely features reddening. He hurried to remove his beaver hat, revealing a thick shock of sand-colored hair. “I beg your pardon, miss. I was of the understanding that the house was unoccupied.”
“Yes, I expect you were.” Edith drenched her words in sarcasm. She met his blue-eyed gaze with an unblinking glare. “You have exactly thirty seconds to either explain your presence or leave the premises before I go fetch Sheriff Wharton.” She kept one foot on the hall side of the threshold in the event that she needed to make a hasty retreat.
To his credit the intruder stood his ground, his complexion returning to a normal hue. He gave a deep bow, sweeping his hat in front of him. “Wade Beaumont at your service, ma’am. I was invited by my employer, Edwin Applegate, to peruse the place in advance of taking up residence here.” His thick Southern accent, while pleasant to Edith’s ears, at the same time alarmed her. The new Fugitive Slave Act had put every abolitionist as well as the free blacks north of the Ohio River on keen alert. Edith sent up a silent prayer that Dahlia had already left the house through the kitchen. Though her brother tended to be a bit gullible, she couldn’t imagine that Edwin would hire someone who might jeopardize the freedom of those they’d worked so hard to help bring out of bondage.
Mr. Beaumont’s well-shaped lips, beneath a neatly clipped mustache, quirked up. “So if you are the cook here, as well as the cleaning lady”—his gaze settled on her dust-covered apron—“I like my coffee black and my johnnycakes with plenty of butter and maple syrup. And assuming there is still a bedstead somewhere in this domicile”—his gaze panned the room void of furniture—“I’ll want a bed-warmer run over my sheets as the October nights here are turning uncomfortably chilly.”
“Oh no, I am not…”
A mischievous twinkle glinted in his eyes.
Indignation roiled in Edith’s chest. The insufferable man was teasing her! How could Edwin have hired such an oaf?
Stiffening her spine, she stood at her full five feet three inches. “I, sir, am Edith Applegate, Edwin Applegate’s sister. This is…was my home.” To her horror, a distinct tone of sadness crept into her voice, evoking a look of sympathy from Mr. Beaumont.
“Please accept my humble apologies, Miss Applegate.” He closed the distance between them in three long strides. “I fear your attire led me to a false assumption.”
Before Edith had a chance to decide the sincerity of his expressed regret, Edwin walked into the room with Dahlia in tow.
“Ah, Wade. I see you’ve met my twin sister, Edith.” Edwin’s wide smile and bright voice rankled like fingernails down a chalkboard. Later Edith would scold him for not informing her of Mr. Beaumont’s planned visit. Edwin’s face swung to Edith, his naturally ruddy complexion deepening. “Sorry, Sis. I understood you’d be accompanying Father to Lancaster for the day. Mr. Beaumont is Applegate Pork Packing’s new accountant. Wade and I met four years ago when I traveled south on that business trip for Father.” He gave Wade a smiling nod. “We spent some time together in Natchez, and he impressed me greatly as a man of fine character and with a keen mind for business and mathematics. So when I ran into him outside the Madison Hotel two weeks ago and learned he was looking for an accounting job, I knew he was heaven-sent to us. He’ll be moving into the house later this week as a resident caretaker of the place.”
Wade Beaumont cleared his throat. The sparkle in his eyes infuriated Edith while at the same time, sent her heart into a somersault. “I’m afraid that Miss Applegate and I have gotten off on bad footing, which was my fault entirely.” One sandy brown brow quirked up. “I’m assuming it is Miss, though my earlier assumptions have proved quite flawed.”
“Miss Edith ain’t, isn’t married,” Dahlia piped up, correcting her grammar.
Wade smiled at Dahlia. “I’m assuming you are unmarried as well.”
Dahlia giggled and nodded, but then her smile faded and her expression turned serious. “I’m not gonna get married. I’m gonna be a teacher like Miss Edith.”
Wade’s grin vanished, causing new alarm to flare in Edith’s chest. If he were an incognito slave hunter, the notion of blacks, especially a black girl learning to read let alone teach, would likely repulse him.
His brow furrowed, and he leaned down toward Dahlia as if examining her.
Edith’s heart vaulted to her throat. Did Dahlia resemble a slave girl he’d been sent to find? Before Edith could step between Wade and Dahlia, he reached out and felt behind the little girl’s ear.
“What is that behind your ear?” His look turned astonished as he held up a quarterdollar piece. “Do you always carry money behind your ear?”
Dahlia’s eyes grew large. “I didn’t know it was there.”
Wade handed Dahlia the coin, his face serious. “If I were you, I’d check my ears more often.” His grin returned. “You never know what you might find there.”
While Wade’s parlor trick eased the tightness in Edith’s chest, it didn’t diminish her concern for Dahlia’s safety. “Dahlia, you’d best hurry on home and take that money to your mama.”
Dahlia’s dark brow crinkled. “But it ain’t—isn’t—mine.”
“Of course it’s yours.” The corner of Wade’s mouth twitched as if restraining a grin. “I found it behind your ear, didn’t I?”
Delighted, Dahlia clutched the coin and scampered out the library door.
“That was very nice of you,” Edwin said, putting voice to Edith’s own sentiments.
Grinning, Wade shrugged. “Just a sleight of hand trick I learned during my time on the riverboats.” He turned a bright smile to Edith. “I like to keep in practice.”
While Edwin seemed to know and trust this man, Edith didn’t. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at Wade.
“So, Mr. Beaumont, I’ve seen your skill at sleight of hand. What experience have you in accounting?”
Edwin cleared his throat with a disapproving sound. Edith chose not to look at her twin’s expression.
Wade grinned. “Before my time on the riverboats, I spent several years keeping the books for my father’s business near Natchez, Mississippi.”
“And is your father in the pork packing business as well?” If Edwin wouldn’t subject the man to a critical interview, Edith would.
Wade’s grin evaporated. “No. He owns a cotton plantation.”