Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (32 page)

“Falconer has already seen my sketch.”

“It is not Falconer I wish to show this to.” Erica reached into her pocket and came up with a folded paper. “Look at this, if you will.”

Serafina gasped aloud over the picture on the Wanted poster. “This is not him!”

“Indeed not.”

“It looks as he does, but this—this man is evil!” “He is most certainly that.” Erica set the two pictures side by side. She pointed to the poster. “A man without God.” She then pointed at Serafina’s portrait. “A man who knows the Savior’s grace. A hundred thousand words could not say what is demonstrated by these two pictures laid side-by-side.”

Serafina looked up. “I-I do not understand.”

“We will be returning to London. As I have already told you, we want you to travel with us. I want you to do two things. First, let me publish this portrait of yours, right alongside the Wanted poster. The two together.”

“No, please.”

“Pray about this. I can ask for nothing more.” When Serafina did not protest further, she continued, “Then, if you feel it is the right thing to do, speak with Falconer. Ask him to describe for you scenes from his past. Images that will speak as clearly as this portrait here of the life he knew.” Erica studied Serafina’s face, as though seeking to determine whether she was strong enough. Then she added, “The life he knew as a slaver.”

“No.” Falconer expelled the word like breath punched from his body. Serafina’s request struck him like a blow. “I cannot do what you ask.”

“It is not I who ask, John Falconer. It is Mrs. Powers.”

“If she knew what it was she requested, she would never have uttered the words.” A bead of sweat worked its way down his spine. The thought of describing his vile experiences to this young woman left him nauseated. “Most certainly not.”

Serafina searched his face, her gaze filled with both sadness and a remarkable calm. “Mrs. Powers would like to use my drawing of you as well.”

“Of me? In their pamphlet? Lass, I can’t . . .”

“I said the very same thing. But she asked me to pray. Which I will. Yet even now I know the answer. How am I to refuse these people? She thinks this may help.”

“I can’t imagine how that would be possible.” Falconer wiped his forehead.

“Nor I. But I trust her. And Mr. Powers. And you.”

He struggled to find some way to tell her of the shame the request drew forth, but the air remained caught in his throat.

She touched his arm. A gentle contact, as soft as her voice. “I have caused you distress, John Falconer. I am sorry.”

“It is not you, lass.”

“I have made you remember pain. I know . . .” She dropped her hand along with her eyes. “Will you do as Mrs. Powers asked, and pray?”

“Aye.” Falconer knew he would give this young woman anything she asked. “Aye.”

Chapter 24

Toward dawn Falconer finally gave up on sleep. Though he was exhausted, thoughts of the coming days and what was being asked of him blasted apart his fitful dreams. He lit a candle and tried to read the Scriptures, but the words passed before his eyes in a meaningless blur. He knelt at the side of his bed and began to pray. Yet even here he felt trapped and unable to force through what he wished to ask for. His new allies needed him to speak to the wavering members of Parliament. He could see how critical this need was every time he glanced at their faces. He had heard the earnest appeal and knew they were counting on him. How could he ask for this cup to pass from him? Who else could take his place? So he could not pray as he wanted. He prayed instead for strength, enough in fact to resist the gnawing terror.

And fell asleep there upon his knees.

When he awoke, sunlight fell full upon his face. Falconer groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. His knees ached abominably. And yet he had a sense of a miraculous freedom. He could not recall the last time he had awakened without the choking noose of night terrors still wrapped about him.

He bent and stretched until the pain lessened and feeling returned to his feet. Then he prayed again, only this time standing upright. Fear over the coming days was still with him. Yet now it was tempered by the certainty that he did not go forward alone.

Once more there was a sense of being unable to frame proper words. Falconer was not particularly troubled by this. Instead, he merely took pleasure in seeing a new day without the night shadows darkening his vision. He prayed his thanksgiving for this different sort of awakening.

It was then that the idea came to him. Full blown and utterly clear.

Falconer dressed and stumbled his way down the stairway. Daniel’s high-backed chair leaned upon the door. A bedroll was stored in the corner of the landing, for Daniel had opted to sleep that night with his bulk guarding the only entrance to the apartment.

Daniel frowned. “Why are you limping?”

“I fell asleep at my prayers,” Falconer confessed. “I was on my knees for hours.”

“That would certainly do it.” Daniel did not seem surprised. “There’s tea still, but it’s cold by now,” he said, motioning at his breakfast tray.

“Cold tea will suit me fine.”

Daniel plunked his chair legs to the floor. He cleaned his own mug with the towel covering the tray, then poured it full. “Here you go.”

“I am obliged.” Falconer finished the mug in a few gulps, then asked, “Where are the two guests from Parliament?”

“Sedgwick has been here since first light. They’re hard at work on the pamphlet. Haven’t seen the narrow gent this morning.” Daniel cocked his head to one side. “Something is up with you.”

“I have an idea. A risky one.”

“Most good ideas are.” He sat up straighter. “I’m your man.”

Falconer blinked in surprise. “Don’t you want to know what I’m about?”

“What you see before you is a foot soldier in God’s battle. Always have been, always will be. I’ve learned it’s more important to trust the man than to know all the steps ahead.” He rose to his feet. “The major says he trusts you with his life. That’s good enough for me. Now tell me what needs doing.”

Falconer breathed deeply. His growing sense of rightness was as strong as the risk ahead. “Ask Serafina to join us. Then go and find the narrow-faced man.”

Serafina sat upon the floor next to Hannah. They used a low table as a drawing board, with two pieces of parchment set side-by-side. “I always find the best way to begin sketching a person is with the eyes. Here, I will make a nose for you in the middle of the page—that will give you a point of reference.”

Hannah bent over her paper when Serafina was done. “Mama says when a person loves you, you can see right down into their soul.”

“Your mother is very wise.”

“Daddy says she’s the smartest person he has ever met. Smarter even than William Wilberforce.” Hannah leaned back and studied her work. “These are dreadful eyes.”

“Well, perhaps it would be better if you placed both of them on the same level.”

“One of them is down where the mouth goes.” Hannah giggled. “I won’t ever show this to Falconer.”

“Is that whom you wanted to draw?”

“Yes.” She bent back over the page. “He’s ever so handsome. And when he looks at you, his whole face glows.”

“Here, let’s start over with another nose up here.” Serafina’s hair was pulled back in a bow, but she hoped the tendrils around her face hid her blush.

“When he prayed in church yesterday, I could feel it. Inside me. That sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“No. I don’t think that sounds silly at all. There. Your nose is finished. And I’ll make little curves here, see? These will form the lower lids for the eyes.”

“You draw him.”

“No, this is your page.” Though in truth Falconer’s gaze was already staring up at her.

Serafina moved back from the table. Not because of Falconer’s unfinished face. Instead, she recalled seeing Luca’s drawing of her for the very first time. Whatever had happened to that drawing? Lost now. Like so much else.

Serafina had found herself praying much of the night.
Events had come back to her in the form of segmented memories. She prayed and she slept, only to dream of yet another mistake and awaken to pray again. Several times when the anguish had become too great, she had thought of Falconer there in the night. The strength of the man, the force of his gaze, the solidity of his faith. Knowing he was nearby, that he protected her, that he
prayed
for her, left her able to pray for herself.

The knock on the door startled both girls. Serafina rose to her feet. “Yes?”

The other big man, Daniel, opened the door. “Excuse the interruption, ladies.”

“Serafina is teaching me to be an artist like her!” Hannah exclaimed.

“Isn’t that a grand and good thing.” Daniel kept his focus upon Serafina. “Falconer would like a word, miss.”

Hannah jumped up. “I’ll come too.”

“Best you stay and work on the drawing, little one.” He stepped into the room to examine her artwork. “What a lovely thing there. Is that a horse?”

Serafina spoke before the young girl could complain. “You know very well that is John Falconer. And you also know it is not nice to jest.”

“Aye, you’re right. Excuse me, lass. I was talking out of turn.” He peered at the sheet a second time. “What an astounding rendition of the good man.”

“I’ll be back soon.” Serafina shut the door behind her and followed Daniel down the corridor. They passed through the front room, where Gareth Powers sat with the portly Lord Sedgwick. Erica Powers worked at the desk by the side windows. Sheets of writing paper were strewn about the surface. They were so deep in conversation that Daniel had to clear his throat twice to get their attention. “Your pardon, sirs, Mrs. Powers. I was wondering where I might be finding the other gent.”

“Carlyle? Still at the desk in the library, I wager,” answered
the one known as Lord Sedgwick. “He was working his way through a massive pile of correspondence. Said he could trust us to write what was needed here, and his own letters could not wait.”

“Thank you. Sorry for the interruption.” Daniel ushered Serafina out to the landing. He shut the apartment door, then said quietly, “I’m off to nab the gent for you.”

Falconer’s voice came from the stairway below. “First listen to what I have to say to the lady.” Falconer made his way up the stairs and then turned to Serafina, his visage serious. “We have a terrible problem, lass.”

For some reason, she found herself shivering slightly at the word
we
. To be included among these people and their focused intensity was such a gift. “You think I can help you?”

“Perhaps. The slavery issue is coming up before Parliament again. I know this is not your battle, but—”

“If I can help you, I will.”

“Wait and hear me out.” Falconer briefly sketched out the vote coming before Parliament and the lack of hard evidence. “I’m not explaining it well, partly because I don’t understand all the ins and outs of it myself.”

“I understand enough. How can I help you?”

Falconer cocked his head to one side. “You don’t owe me a thing, lass.”

“Yes I do. You, Mr. and Mrs. Powers, Hannah, Daniel, all of you. What do you want of me?”

Falconer glanced at Daniel, who was grinning slightly. He took a breath and explained his plan.

Serafina could not entirely mask her shiver of fear as she replied, “I’ll do it.”

“It could be dangerous,” Falconer warned. “The only reason I ask this at all is because we may well not succeed otherwise.”

“You will protect me.” She clung to that as her defense against rising fears.

Falconer glanced once more at Daniel, who was no longer smiling.

“You’d take a word of advice?” Daniel asked him.

“From you? Always.”

“Have a word with the major before you set off. Private like.”

“Can you arrange that?”

“Can and will.” Daniel slipped around the pair of them and knocked before entering the apartment.

Falconer returned his attention to Serafina. “Lass, I wish there was some other way than this.”

“But there isn’t, is there? You wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary.” She worked hard to keep her voice steady. “Just promise me one more time that you will keep me safe.”