Page 31 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“An opportunity has come through. We’ve gotten word of Napoleon’s victories in Italy and peace talks. I’m to be stationed in Paris, heading our operations there.” He plucked me from the chair and swung me around, the room spinning. “We will spend some time in France!”
“What about ...” I never uttered his wife’s name out loud.
“She will manage the affairs back here, of course. Never you worry about that. You need to pack this house and prepare our things for the voyage.”
A ship. Paris. Europe.
But Silas ... If I left, who knew when I would be back? Which was why Ihadto find him right away. Figure out how to help him gain his freedom, how to bring him with us.
“When would we leave?” I asked as the idea of using some of my money to purchase Silas and free him formed. I started to ask him, but he swept me into a kiss. Betrayal and guilt and anguish drowned me, his lips not the ones I wanted.
“Come now, let’s go to bed. The news of Paris has enlivened my mood.”
Jacques could barely undress me before he was snoring. Once out for the night, he’d never wake up, and if he did, he’d assume I was in his study, up late, reading again, if he thought of me at all. A thin beam of moonlight danced on the windowsill, and I knew it was time to meet William.
I crept out of bed and dressed quickly, donning a dark dress, warm cloak, and hood.
A delicious hope raced through me as I tiptoed downstairs. I pulled the latch on the front door, carefully keeping it from creaking, and shut it tight behind me. I slipped into the night like the moon sliding between the clouds. I found my way to the gravel path leading to the stables.
William stood in the rough gravel that led to the stable, his hat in his hand, still as a statue, clouds from his breath rising in the night air. He took my hand. “It’s not safe, so stay close to me.”
“I can handle myself, I assure you,” I said, thinking of my early days as a marchande, when some customers thought they were entitled to your body as well as your goods, but I let him take my hand anyway.
The beat thrummed through the streets, pounding up the soles of my feet as we got closer to the music.
The night was perfect, crisp with the edge of excitement. The festivities were still in full effect as a caravan of African dancers marched down the street. They moved to their drums, seemingly impervious to the chill. The horns from another band farther down gave voice to the beat.
It was life out loud. I spotted William smiling at me as I watched everything. Along the way, he even paused to spin me as the music grew louder. I’d never danced with a man, and relished the feel of his hands on my waist and resting my head on his chest.
I soaked it all in, so glad that I’d come. I soothed any guilt I’d had about not telling Jacques and being out in the city with William. I was my own person. The sensation felt so strange, even after more than a decade of freedom from enslavement. I had an important task. Silas.
William led me through a riot of people as we navigated the streets, turning left and right to head deeper into the Vieux Carré. Revelers raced by still inebriated and intoxicated by the celebrations. I could write about this for Death. I could remind him of the beauty of unabashed celebration.
William stopped before a sprawling mansion trimmed with thick iron lace drenched in moonlight. “My letters have been ignored,” I said. “I can’t march up the front steps; I am not welcome. What will we do?”
“I’ll go to the back, to the quarters, and see where he’s at,” William whispered, squeezing my shoulder. “You stay here behind this rosebush.”
“Take this.” I pressed a scrap of paper into his hand. “I’ve written him a few lines. Tell him to send some word out to me. I must know that it really is Silas. That my search is finally over.”
William nodded, and I watched him slip into the darkness behind the large house. I cowered close to the roses and out of sight. Then, like a deer stalked by a predator, I felt a tingling sensation rise on my neck.
I scanned behind me but found nothing other than the quiet house, a single candle flickering in a front window. I stared between the bushes before spotting a trio of white men in dark-blue sailors’ coats and canvas breeches—one fat, one skinny, one tall—watching me.
“What are you doing over there, girl?” one called out.
My heart squeezed, and I tried to tuck myself away and hope they hadn’t spotted me after all. I stayed still, waiting for the three to walk by. The frisson of my excitement at finding Silas fled, and my thoughts turned suddenly sober. I’d follow behind William and hide, then race home once these men were gone.
I waited for two more minutes but didn’t see them pass.
Maybe they’d gone another way?
I gathered my cloak around me and turned out of my hiding place, only to run smack into the trio. A wobble rose in my gut. I moved to step aside from them, but the short one stood in front of me, blocking my way back toward the house.
“Look here, gentlemen,” said the tall one. “A fine miss for the evening. Let’s top off the night proper.” He leaned toward me, leering, his tooth missing, his shirt front wrinkled and stained. The big one swayed, staring blearily at me and hiccuping, while Skinny watched me threateningly.
I stepped back, head high. “Nothing I have is for sale, sirs. I bid you good evening.”
“Not for sale? Don’t be coy. How much?” he said, reaching. “You’re lurking outside this house. Must be waiting to be invited in to do your job.”
