Lizzie


 
 
 
 
 Lizzie
 
 Ella Wood Novellas
 
 
 
 Michelle Isenhoff
 
 
 
 Lizzie. Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Isenhoff. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or
 reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of
 brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
 
 
 
 Edited by Amy Nemecek.
 
 
 
 Candle Star Press
 
 www.michelleisenhoff.com
 Chapter 1
 
 
 Charleston, South Carolina
 December 11, 1861
 
 
 The faintest whiff of smoke sneaked under Lizzie’s veil. She yanked it off, but the only light in the cramped quarters filtered in through a tiny porthole. She pressed her face against the glass. The round window afforded the narrowest field of sight. Even so, the
 re was no doubting the catastrophe that turned the inky waters of the harbor a brilliant, flaming orange.
 Charleston was on fire.
 Ketch burst through her cabin door. “De waterfront be burnin’. I’m gunna do what I can to help put it out. You okay here?”
 Lizzie glanced over at the baby sleeping peacefully on her bunk. She had just laid him down. She hadn’t even checked on Robin yet, still locked in the steamer trunk in the corner of her cabin. Her pulse soared. “We in danger, Ketch?”
 They had boarded the ship less than ten minutes ago and weren’t scheduled to sail for several hours. Until the tide rose, the SS Hornbill was trapped at the wharf.
 “Not so long as de wind hold steady. It comin’ off de ocean, blowin’ straight into town. De whole city gunna go up if we can’t stop it.”
 Lizzie gasped. “Miss Emily—”
 Emily Preston was the daughter of the man who had owned Lizzie since birth. They’d grown up together, dearest companions until age forced Emily into the role of a proper young lady and Lizzie became her maid. The intervening years had been strained, but Emily had risked everything to place Lizzie and her loved ones on board the ship that would take them to Philadelphia. To freedom.
 They’d said their goodbyes only minutes before. Emily was out there somewhere.
 “Miss Emily ain’t no fool. An’ her house be jus’ fine if we can get de blaze under control.” Ketch grasped her shoulders. “I’ll be back soon as I can. Stay in yo’ cabin.”
 Lizzie nodded, alarm brightening her eyes. “Be careful.”
 Ketch kissed her, paused to caress the baby’s cheek, and was gone.
 Lizzie turned back to the window. She could see only the neighboring wharf, the reflected glow of the blaze, and the dark emptiness of the December night beyond. Ketch had sounded so confident, but what if the wind did shift? What if the wharf caught fire? What if the flames took Ketch by surprise?
 Lizzie murmured a prayer for Ketch and another for Emily and tried to set her worries aside. She must remain strong for her children. Kneeling beside the trunk, she tapped softly. “Robin, you awake?”
 There was no sound from within. She unfastened the lock and eased the lid upward. The hinges groaned in protest. She reached a hand inside to feel the warmth of the little boy’s skin and uttered a sigh of relief. Though air holes had been drilled through the wood so Robin wouldn’t suffocate when they sneaked him aboard, she much preferred the lid open. The child was sleeping soundly, still under the effects of a cautionary dose of laudanum.
 The soft mewls of the infant called her back to the bunk. Lizzie picked him up and nuzzled him to her cheek. Only six weeks old, little Larkin would never know the stifling yoke of slavery—if they could make it to the North undetected. With another prayer, this time for the safe passage of these two precious children, Lizzie settled on the bunk, unbuttoned her gown, and set the baby to her breast.
 The escape had been Emily’s idea. With the help of several slaves still in residence at Ella Wood, she had arranged for Ketch to float downriver hidden aboard the plantation schooner and had taken Lizzie and the children to Charleston herself. Now Lizzie was covered in finery from head to toe and booked under the name of Mrs. Theodore, a white woman on her way north to see a specialist for a painful vision ailment that forced her to cover her face in the light. Ketch was her manservant, Hector. Once they reached Philadelphia, they must locate Emily’s great-uncle, a preacher by the name of Timothy Blaine, who didn’t know they were coming. There had been no time to send word ahead, but Emily had given Lizzie his address and a letter of introduction and assured her that Mr. Blaine would help them reach his nephew Isaac in Detroit. From there they’d continue to Canada.
 Emily’s proposal had been entirely unexpected, though Lizzie had to admit that her mistress had been different since she visited Detroit a few years before. Emily had spoken very little of her time there, but she’d come home asking questions. Her attitude changed. She began treating Lizzie as a friend again. Eventually, she had asserted herself so strongly against her father that he had banished her from Ella Wood. If Marse Preston ever found out the part his daughter played in the escape of four slaves… 
 Lizzie shivered.
 In a way, this journey was poorly timed. Emily now found herself in Charleston completely on her own. Lizzie’s heart ached to think of her friend estranged from her family, but she couldn’t halt the escape plans even if she wanted to. She and Ketch had come too far. There could be no turning back without the most severe consequences.
 Emily had friends, Lizzie assured herself. She had wits and strength of will. And she had the name of the man who had forced himself on Lizzie the night she conceived Larkin. It was a secret Lizzie had to keep while her