A Lady of High Regard (11 page)

“And that would be what?”

“That I would no longer take any compensation from your company, nor would I come here to meet with you and offer poetry and fictional stories. Instead, I would continue to take an interest in the topics we’ve discussed and report my findings and thoughts via the post.”

“You would send me letters?” Sarah smiled. “But your name upon such missives would most likely be seen by others. Would this not defeat the purpose?”

“I believe I have a solution for that as well. I would simply sign my missives from ‘Every Woman in Philadelphia.’ ”

Sarah Hale laughed at this. “I find the idea most amusing, and beneficial. Still,” she said, sobering, “how would I get in touch with you if I needed something in particular?”

Mia shook her head. “You couldn’t. I could not take requests of any kind from you. I could not lie to my father and say I was still under your direction. I merely offer my help—as limited as it may be—because it would be of interest to me. I want to see the situation made better for the seamen’s wives. I want to put an end to children being kidnapped and sold for repayment of debt.”

“If that is all I can count on, then it will have to be enough.” Sarah rose and came around the desk to take hold of Mia’s gloved hands. “I will miss our conversations.”

“As will I,” Mia said as she stood. “When my father first asked me to resign, I thought only of fighting him on this matter. However, upon reflection, I realized that I did not wish to cause my parents public humiliation. They are good people, Mrs. Hale, despite their fears, and I love them.”

Sarah nodded. “We can only hope to change one heart at a time—to open one set of eyes to the world around them. You have my best wishes. I will look forward to hearing from ‘Every Woman in Philadelphia.’ ”

Mia sought solace in her carriage, glad that drizzling rain had caused the driver to put up the top. It offered her more isolation and privacy. Heavy of heart, Mia tried to rationalize her actions. Her parents weren’t concerned about her physical safety, as Garrett had been. Never mind that the only reason they weren’t concerned was that they had no idea of the danger in which she’d placed herself. They were only frustrated by the public example she had set in their society. She loved her parents dearly and had no desire to cause them further grief among their friends, but neither could she completely turn away from the issues that darkened her otherwise brilliant city. Philadelphia was the city of brotherly love. Could that love not also be extended to Philadelphia’s sisters?

Mia picked lint from her glove and thought of the rebellion they’d had that day in Lydia Frankfort’s sitting room. Removing their gloves had seemed quite decadent, while being equally silly at the same time. Women on the frontier did not go about in gloves all day; women on the docks did not concern themselves with such things.

She frowned and leaned forward, tapping on the driver’s seat. “Mr. Ferguson, I’ve changed my mind about going home. I want you to take me down to the docks—along Water Street.”

“But, miss, that’s no place for you,” the balding man replied as he pulled his hat down more firmly.

“I know it’s not my place, but there’s something I must see. Please just do this for me. I promise to tell no one.”

He said nothing for several moments, then replied. “Aye, miss. I’ll take you there, but you must remain in the carriage. Will you agree to that?”

“Of course. I promise.”

She sat back and thought about the situation. What could she possibly gain by taking a drive along the waterfront? Even if she saw Mrs. Smith or Mrs. Denning, she could hardly draw attention to herself and speak with them. Perhaps it was just a desire to see the area up close, in person . . . to say that she had bothered to take the time and trouble to know for herself how these people were living.

The rain fell only lightly now. It had done very little to refresh and only served to make the day feel more muggy. The smell of water and fish, sewage and sweat was heavy in the air as Ferguson left the more fashionable Chestnut Street and turned along the river. Most called the frontage Water Street, while others called it Front Street. Either way, it bustled with activities and various trades.

Mia tried to remain in the shadows of her carriage, knowing that Ferguson was nervous about her unscheduled trip. She felt bad for having put him in an uncomfortable position, but not bad enough to suggest they leave the area.

They headed down the cobblestone street toward Mia’s own Walnut Street. Along here there were several restaurants and hotels. Mia thought the quality looked somewhat acceptable, and the streets were fairly clean.

Ferguson slowed as he came to Walnut, but Mia urged him on. “Don’t turn for home yet. Please continue. I want to see more.”

“Very well, miss.” He clucked to the horse and gave a grunt of disapproval.

How strange that this world existed little more than a half dozen blocks from her home. She soon noted that alehouses and oyster bars were the prominent feature. Off to one side a woman stood with a small cart. It appeared she had several pieces of handiwork, along with apples and other trinkets, for sale. She had positioned an old piece of oiled cloth over her cart in an attempt to keep things dry.

“Mr. Ferguson, would you please stop and have that woman bring her handiwork to the carriage? Unless, of course, you would allow me to go to her.”

“No, miss, that would hardly be fitting. Let me see what I can manage.” He maneuvered the carriage closer to the woman’s cart.

“Missus, my lady would like to see your wares,” Ferguson called down.

The woman looked up in disbelief. Her mousy brown hair was pinned haphazardly to the back of her head and her clothing was threadbare and mismatched. She picked up several pieces of work and neared the carriage. Approaching with great apprehension, the woman seemed unwilling to get too close until Mia revealed herself.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mia told her. “I only hoped to see what you were selling. Did you make these yourself?”

The woman nodded as she held up two handkerchiefs. “I sell whatever I can to feed my children.”

Mia looked up and smiled. “How many children do you have?”

“Seven,” the woman said.

“Well, your work is lovely. This embroidery is quite nice. I’d like to purchase them. How many do you have?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “I have four. There’s two more on the cart.”

“I’ll take all four. How much would you like for them?”

The woman meekly named her price and Mia counted out the coins. The woman retrieved the other two handkerchiefs and returned with the same look of shock. Mia knew the money would provide food for several meals.

“What’s your name?” Mia asked.

“My name?” The woman looked suspicious. “Why d’you want my name?”

“So that I might ask for you again should I need additional handkerchiefs. As I said, your work is quite lovely.”

The woman seemed to relax. “It’s Sadie. Everyone knows me. I’m always right here unless I’m somewhere else.”

Mia laughed at this. “I shall keep that in mind. Thank you so very much, Sadie.” The woman backed away from the carriage, a hint of a smile on her weathered and worn face.

Ferguson lost little time in urging the horses onward. Mia knew he’d been unnerved by the imposition she’d put upon him. That was why when he turned on Spruce to head up away from the river, Mia said nothing.

Instead,she thought of Sadie and how frightened she’d seemed by Mia’s questions. She wondered if all of the women on the waterfront had been taught to fear strangers—especially wealthy ones. But wealthy ones could buy her wares, Mia reasoned. There should have been no reason for her apprehension.

With a sigh, Mia realized that it was going to be very difficult to figure out what was going on and who was oppressing the women of the docks. She knew it would be harder than ever to sneak out at night. Garrett would no doubt be watching her every move. Still, she remembered he had offered to accompany them to England. If Mia could just find a way to convince her parents to let her remain in Philadelphia, then perhaps Mia could have her parents and Garrett out of the way at the same time.

Of course, that would be weeks from now. Her father talked as though they might stay in town until after the big Fourth of July party. Her mother loved the celebration and generally hosted a party of her own. Most of society remained in Philadelphia until after the celebration, then quietly made a mass exit to their retreats in Newport and Saratoga. A few, like her parents, would go abroad to take in the culture and sights. Most, however, would remain close enough to enjoy the cooler temperatures of the country and still be able to return by late August after the threat of sickness had passed.

There has to be a way for me to meet with the women and not arouse suspicion.
She fingered the handkerchiefs and smiled as a sudden thought came to her.
What if I convinced Pastor Brunswick to have a sewing circle of sorts at the church? I could send a messenger to Mrs. Smith and have her bring her friends. I could give them free materials for their trouble.
The thought stimulated Mia’s mind as she imagined a room full of women she could question. Surely it would work. It would be a charitable activity that even her parents couldn’t refuse.

Mia felt a surge of hope. This could very well solve all of her problems. Perhaps she could work something out with Pastor Brunswick to make it a regular event. Maybe he would let Mia host a gathering every week. Ideas poured forth as Ferguson made his way back home. Maybe Mia would even bring in some of her friends. They could proclaim the sewing circle a way to help the poor. The church would surely approve, and even the stuffiest member of their social circle would admit that helping the poor was a biblical and just thing to do.

Ferguson pulled to the front of the house and stopped. He helped Mia from the carriage. “Now not a word to anyone,” Mia reminded him. “I’ll see to it that you get an extra piece of pie tonight.”

The old man smiled. “I’d like that for sure, if it’s Mrs. Mc-Guire’s custard pie.”

“I’ll put in the request myself.”

Mia chuckled to herself as she entered the house. Things were looking up despite her sad resignation at the magazine. She had just removed her bonnet when her mother entered the foyer.

“Where have you been? Have you been to see that Mrs. Hale again?”

Her mother appeared vexed, but Mia took it in stride as she placed her bonnet on the table. “I have, but before you chide me, you should know that I offered her my resignation.”

Her mother’s mouth opened and closed several times before she finally spoke. “You did?” She seemed quite stunned by the news.

“I did,” Mia said, pulling off her gloves. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I told Mrs. Hale of your concerns and resigned my position.”

“I can scarcely believe it.”

“Why?” Mia looked at her mother curiously. “Am I such a willful daughter that you believed I would not?”

Her mother toyed with the lace at her wrist. “I knew it was not what you wanted.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mia admitted. “However, I didn’t realize it was causing you so much social animosity, nor did I realize we actually cared about such things. Still, I would not see you and Father hurt, even if it means being hurt myself.”

Her mother looked up at this. “It was not my intention to hurt you. In fact, just the opposite. I believe in time you will find for yourself that it was to your benefit to put such activities behind you.”

“Perhaps, but either way, ’tis done.” Mia turned to leave but felt her mother’s gentle touch.

“Thank you, Mia. It means a great deal to me.”

Mia felt overwhelmed with guilt. She had not realized how important this was to her mother. Neither had she truly considered the embarrassment her mother had borne. And now Mia would risk further consternation for her family should anyone find out what she planned to do in her investigation. For a moment Mia almost decided to put the seamen’s wives completely from her mind. She didn’t want to hurt her mother. But then she remembered the fear in Mrs. Denning’s eyes and the raggedy children at her skirt and knew she couldn’t forget them. She also couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves. Society might condemn her concern and actions, but those children would thank her for risking her elite status in a world they would never know.

CHAPTER 9

“
T
hese came for you while you were gone,” Ruth announced, bringing a vase of flowers into Mia’s bedroom. “Would you like them in here?”

“Who sent them?” Mia reached for the card that had been tucked among a variety of blossoms. The arrangement was mostly pink and white roses, but here and there white and yellow daisies and mums could also be seen.

“They’re from Mr. Wilson,” Mia said in surprise.

“Aren’t they lovely? He must care for you a great deal.”

Mia saw the dreamy way Ruth stared at the arrangement. “You may leave them on my desk.” She read the card again.
“Sorry for my poor behavior. Please forgive me. Garrett.”