Powhatan County, Virginia
Their journey home had only just begun, but Sophia could already tell that it would be much more difficult for Isaac this time than it had been before. Despite his protests to the contrary, it was obvious that he was still not completely recovered from his imprisonment. Walking was difficult due to his weakened leg muscles and even eating the same food that used to sustain him seemed burdensome. Nevertheless, Isaac never complained. That part of him would never change, she thought.
Mr. Page and Ms. Burwell had been extremely generous, securing coach fare for most of the way. Despite Sophia’s best efforts, she had not been able to prevent the young couple from outfitting them with a new set of clothes each, as well as a sum of money that both Isaac and Sophia agreed would be more than enough to sustain them for the entire trip. She had tried to assure Ms. Burwell that the Kentucky Abolition Society would help them the rest of the way once they arrived in Louisville, but the Senator’s daughter had insisted. The four of them had walked together as far as the coach depot on the western edge of town and then they said their farewells.
Late on that first day, the road had grown progressively rougher. Though Isaac hid it well, Sophia winced at every bump, knowing the toll it would take on her husband’s body.
“Isaac, maybe we should look for lodging tonight and wait a week. The coaches will still be running when you’re better.”
“No, my darling, we have to get back. The pain’s not that bad; it just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
Sophia doubted whether that was entirely true, but didn’t see fit to argue.
“Besides: we want to make the most of the money those young folks gave us. And that’s supposing we can find a place that will even let us a room for that long. Not everyone’s as keen as Miss Burwell on the idea of putting up two folks like us for weeks at a time.”
On that last point, Sophia knew Isaac was right. Yet it struck her that there was no bitterness in the way he had said it. Could anyone have more reason to hold a grudge against the world than her husband had at that moment? A free man, bagged up and carried away off his own property only to have his liberty hang on a few words in an old paper that she could barely track down in the first place?
“That Mr. Page is a good one too,” he went on.
Sophia gave him a quizzical look.
“I can tell; you know I’m almost always right about these things.”
“You can tell? How?” Sophia wasn’t ready to deny her husband’s judgment, but she wasn’t ready to let go of all her skepticism either.
“Well, here’s how I figure it. The best lawyers in the country can surely get up in front of the judge and lie such a blue streak that even old Judge Carter would take his hat off to him. Mr. Page is good, but he’s not that good—not yet leastways. He may get that good one day I suppose. For now, though, the only way he could get up and defend me and make his arguments the way he did is because he believes it. Or at least he’s beginning to believe and his conscience tells him that he should want to believe it with his whole mind. Men like that have a tendency to come around to what they know in their hearts to be right. And as sure as I am of that, you can be sure that that Ms. Burwell will be prodding him like a stubborn mule all the way ‘til he gets there!”
Isaac slapped his knee and let out a belly laugh like nothing Sophia had heard from him in months. He immediately winced and doubled over, clutching his side.
“Are you all right?!”
Sophia clutched his shoulder, fearful that his outburst of laughter might undo what progress he had made so far. As he looked up at her, he was beaming from ear to ear. He closed his eyes a moment, clearly trying to swallow back pain, before he spoke.
“I’m fine. Just fine, dear.”
He sat back in the seat, resting his head against the back wall and venturing a few deep breaths.
“My ribs hurts and my legs ache and this road is so bumpy it’s liable to make me cry. But I’m taking my wife back to our land where we’ll both live as free people, the way God intended. If that ain’t doing all right, then nothing is.”
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Georgiana had deduced that the opportune time to approach her father would be after dinner. When he was hungry he was prone to irritability, but immediately after he finished eating he seemed to be more open to suggestion. She decided that by bringing up the topic at the best time she was not manipulating her father, but rather speaking to him when his decision-making faculties would be at their peak. So it was that she found herself sitting with her family in the parlor, pretending to be interested in the game of whist to which they had all sat down.
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“Father, I was thinking about Uncle Joseph,” she said.
“Yes, I’m sure you have been. He’s been on all of our minds lately, hasn’t he?”
Georgiana played her next card and her mother, seated to her right, took the trick with the nine of clubs.
“He certainly has, James, and I wish there were more that could be done for my dear brother,” she said as she collected the cards. “If only Vermont were not so terribly far away.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Georgiana, your fiancé has written to that physician to secure his services, has he not?” the Senator inquired.
“Indeed, Father. I have no doubt that Uncle Joseph’s physical needs will be well provided for.”
The next few tricks of the card game proceeded in relative silence.
“If he awakens, however, surely it would be beneficial to his recovery for him to see the face of someone who cares for him, would it not, Father?”
Senator Burwell set his remaining cards on the table face down and folded his arms. “You’re not always quite so subtle as you think you are. You do know that, Georgiana? So let’s just have out with it, then, if you please.”
“Yes, Father. I want to go to Vermont and see to Uncle Joseph’s care personally. I am aware of the time and distance involved, but I think neither you nor mother can doubt that I am fully capable of all that will be required.”
“Georgiana,” her mother interjected, “of course we admire your devotion to your Uncle but surely you see that your presence there is unnecessary.”
“Your mother is right. Aside from the fact that you cannot know whether you will actually be any help, there is no telling how long it might take him to recover.”
Georgiana looked over at her brother, but he was suddenly far too engrossed in the artwork on his remaining cards to possibly offer any help. It was just as well, she thought, because he was rarely of much help in these situations.
“I am prepared for a lengthy stay, if it should prove necessary.”
“And yet, daughter,” her father continued, “that is only half the equation. You have not yet considered Mr. Page’s interest in the matter. I’m sure you’ve not forgotten that the two of you are to be married.”
Georgiana was prepared for that particular play from her father and so pulled out her trump card. “I certainly have not forgotten. However, it was Camden himself who suggested that I make the trip. He suggested it rather reluctantly, I will grant, but the idea began with him. He is at least as concerned with Uncle Joseph’s recovery as are any of us.”
Senator Burwell picked up his cards from the table and began studying them as if the fate of something much more than a family game of cards depended upon them. He sighed and then addressed his wife, rather than Georgiana directly.
“I suppose if we don’t agree to her going, we’re never likely to hear the end of it. We shall need to speak with Mr. Page first, naturally.” Mrs. Burwell merely nodded.
“Thank you, Father. I’ll make whatever preparations you think are necessary.”
“Fine, fine. Let’s just finish this game before Randolph goes blind staring at those same three cards.”
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She had been gone for hardly more than a full day, yet Camden already felt Georgiana’s absence deeply. He had reached the point at which he was comfortable running the day-to-day aspects of the law practice without Mr. Randolph. It was not so much that he required her presence to do his work, but it had become part of the ordinary routine of things.
Part of his morning ritual was to review the previous day’s mail. He found that he was at his best during the first part of the day and so few letters required an immediate response that it made sense to put them off until the next morning. It was just as he was taking up one client’s letter to begin a reply that he heard a heavy knock on the front door from where he was seated in the office.
Mary answered the door and gasped before asking, “How may I help you . . . gentlemen?” Picking up only her side of the exchange, Camden heard her say, “No, I’m sorry, but Mr. Randolph is not in. Perhaps his partner may be of assistance? Let me see if he is available.”
With his curiosity now piqued, Camden did not wait for Mary to come to the office, but met her in the hallway. She had left the front door wide open and Camden immediately recognized the face of the man whose heavy knock had upset his routine only moments before.
“Nat!” he exclaimed. “What brings you to Richmond, friend? And who is this with you? Please come in.”
He gestured toward the front room across the hall from his office and Nat and his companion seated themselves in the two chairs nearest the door. Before Camden could even sit down, Nat began to speak.
“I hope you can forgive my haste, Mr. Page, but the matter is extremely urgent. This is my guide, Black Fox of the Shawnee. We don’t quite know where else to turn with this information.”
“Go ahead, please.”
“We’ve come here as quickly as we could all the way from the Northwest Territory. That will account for the poor state of our clothes. Benjamin Doane is at it again.”
Camden’s eyes grew large. He listened with rapt attention as Nat recounted everything that he had seen and heard since he had arrived in Kentucky in pursuit of Mr. Tobin’s debtor. When he was finished, all Camden could do was shake his head.
“Do you suppose that Mr. Randolph will be able to make sense of all this?” Nat asked.
“Sadly, no. Mr. Randolph is confined to his sick bed in Vermont. If he were here, I think he would tell you that although the methods differ somewhat, Doane’s goal is the same. Fomenting conflict with the tribes of the Northwest could be devastating for the Confederation.”
“Then what are we to do, Mr. Page?”
“We shall go to Governor Tyler at once. And you are certain that the Governor of Kentucky is tied up with Doane in this scheme? That makes things only that much more difficult.”
“We’re as certain as anyone can be about that. I believe there are those in Kentucky who hold the evidence that will prove his involvement.”
“Very well. We must not waste time, but you will need to come with me to speak with Governor Tyler. Allow me to find you both a change of clothes and you can wash up here before we leave.”