Wild, Beautiful, and Free(40)

“Is he a God-fearing man?” All the abolitionists I’d met seemed tied to some religion. Maybe this man was one of those Quakers or an Episcopalian like Reverend Bell. It might make him more trustworthy if he was.

Missus Livingston laughed. “His name is Christian! And I’m sure his family brought him up in such a way as to give it meaning. But honestly I have never known him to step foot in a church. What he does when he’s away from here, I can’t rightly say.”

A half hour later Mr. Colchester joined us. He sat in an armchair, close to the fire, and near a table where his coffee awaited him. He motioned for me to sit in a chair across from him. I looked at Missus Livingston, and she nodded, so I left her. He ignored his coffee, leaned back, and laced his fingers together. He seemed to be studying me, and I didn’t like it.

“You’re a learned woman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you obey too easily.”

“No different from anyone else of my gender.”

“Are you like Missus Livingston? I don’t think so! She is a woman used to giving orders, as you can tell from her treatment of me just now. She is not used to obeying.”

“And yet I’m here.”

“What?”

“If Missus Livingston hadn’t obeyed your order to find a teacher for your school, I wouldn’t be here.”

“True!” said Missus Livingston. “But I considered his order a reasonable one.”

“You’re saying others are not?” He turned his head slightly in her direction, but his eyes stayed on me.

“I won’t tire Miss Bébinn with tales of your nonsense.”

“No, but you will interrupt my interview! Let us find out what we’re to learn on our own!” He accentuated his words so each one seemed like a poke with a stick. “You don’t have to leave the room, but with respect, I ask you to be silent.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“As you wish, Christian.” She refilled her cup and took it to the other side of the room and sat at a small table to read the newspaper set upon it. Her stiffness as she went proved Mr. Colchester’s point. Missus Livingston didn’t take kindly to obeying.

He tilted his head back toward me. “And so, Miss Bébinn, as you so rightly observe, you are here.”

“Yes, sir, that I am.”

“But where were you before here? You didn’t sprout up on my property like an errant seedling in the yard.”

“No, sir.”

“Then where is your family?”

“Dead, sir.”

“And you came here from?”

I paused, and I could tell he would be on my hesitation like a magnet on iron. I thought of what Founder had said only a few months ago.

You’re free with that information. It’s not about shame. It’s about safe.

“New York,” I said.

“I detect something of an accent. Perhaps one you’ve tried to conceal?”

I heard Missus Livingston’s cup touch its saucer and felt her eyes on my back. “I’m not hiding anything. I was born in the South, in Louisiana. I know you would have asked in another minute, and I would have told you so then.”

“Miss Bébinn, you have nothing to fear. For all the rabble-rousing going on down there, you don’t strike me as the rebel type. And I know Louisiana.”

He bent the word know into two syllables in a careless, lilting way that I thought almost sounded like how my papa would have said it. But I ignored the notion and believed he meant to make fun of me. I said nothing. Mr. Colchester cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“How is the school coming along? Do you enjoy instructing your students?”

“It is my work. I don’t rightly see how my enjoyment has anything to do with it. I mean to make myself useful, and I see a chance to do that here.”

“You don’t care for the children, then?”

“I didn’t say that, and that’s not what you asked before. You asked about my teaching, and I’m telling you I take it seriously. The school is warm and comfortable, and I’m grateful we have enough books for study and paper for writing. I care for these things because I care that the children should have what they need. They are eager. They try hard. I want them to have every possible comfort that will help them succeed.”

Mr. Colchester stared at me for a moment. “You surprise me, Miss Bébinn. I had expected a simple Yes, sir.”

I shifted in my seat. I didn’t have the sense of having said something wrong. But if I had, it seemed the best course of action was to let him tell me what he expected now. Whether it would be apology or explanation, I was ready to give it. But I wouldn’t, couldn’t, give him words for all I’d been trying to figure out for myself since arriving at Fortitude.

Mr. Colchester stood up and positioned himself in front of the fire. My eyes fell on his feet, no longer bare but encased in shiny black riding boots. These could not have been the boots he had arrived in unless a servant had been quick to clean them.

“What?” he said. “Nothing to say to that?”

“No, sir. Not to your expectations. They’re yours. Ask me questions, and I’ll do my best to answer.”

“You are a strange creature!” He laughed and leaned against the mantel of the fireplace. The way he did it pulled at something inside me. It felt like he was relaxing in my presence and like I had gotten him to do so. I didn’t know how, but I liked the thought of it. And the sound of his laugh—like deep, warm folds of velvet I could wrap around my shoulders. But his eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t raise mine to meet them. A warmth rushed up from my chest to my cheeks, and I lowered my eyes farther.