You can be as high-minded as you wish, but we need to eat. You know, as we puzzle out what to do.’
‘There is nothing we can do,’ Teddy Winnings said as she left her hiding place and sat where Mr Hollinsworth pointed.
Hollinsworth blinked his eyes in surprise and clucked his tongue. ‘Missy, you have a lot to learn. Doesn’t she, James?’
Hollinsworth looked from one to the other, smiling as though all was well in the world. ‘Must I do all the thinking?’ he asked the air in general. ‘Eat something.’
Maybe the chance was gone. Teddy seemed almost relieved not to venture deeper into their conversation. She arranged the food, setting it just so, as if seeking order to a life suddenly out of kilter.
So be it. He was hungry. He could be superficial, too, although for how long he did not know. The chicken was tasty enough for Jem to ask her, ‘Miss Winnings, can you cook like this?’
‘Certainly, sir,’ she said, after she chewed and swallowed. ‘I can cook chicken anywhere.’
‘Don’t be so...so...blamed trivial!’ Hollinsworth declared, and waved a chicken leg for emphasis. ‘Miss Winnings, how did you find my broadside? Just curious.’
The soul of manners, she wiped her fingers delicately on a piece of newsprint. ‘It was the strangest thing, sir. I was hanging up the wash today when the broadside just sailed into the yard on that high wind, and dropped in my hands.’
‘There wasn’t any wind this morning,’ Jem said, reaching for another chicken piece.
‘There was,’ she insisted. ‘Are you a wind expert?’
‘Actually, I am. No wind,’ he said firmly.
She gave him a look that would have skewered a lesser man. ‘Wind. The broadside seemed to attach itself to my hand. Don’t laugh! I dropped everything and came here. You don’t know everything, Captain Grey.’
I like this spirited Theodora, he thought, but decided wisely to keep his comments to himself. ‘I bow to your greater knowledge,’ he said, unable to resist some repartee, even as he longed to yank the conversation back to her words spoken just before the printer opened the door.
Hollinsworth, damn the man, seemed to have other ideas. ‘Miss Winnings, enlighten us. What happened after your father’s death?’
She glanced at Jem, apology in her eyes, but obedient in her attention to the printer. Jem decided that the intervening years must have been a harsh school for a slave who lost her only advocate with her father’s passing.
‘Mrs Winnings sold the business, bought a house and moved us here.’ She shook her head over a thigh fried a crispy brown. ‘Savannah was her childhood home.’
Jem took heart when she turned to him and touched his arm. ‘Jem, Mr Winnings died not long after that Christmas when you sailed away. He died in January of ninety-one. When I was tending him at home because he could no longer go to the mercantile, Mr Winnings showed me his will, already notarized. Upon his death, I was to be freed and provided with two hundred dollars.’
Sudden tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘Jem, when the will was read, there was no mention of my freedom or any money. When I asked Mrs Winnings about it in private, she said solicitors could be easily unconvinced.’ She put her hands over her ears. ‘I can hear her still.’
In the silence that followed, Jem could almost hear Mrs Winnings, too. He thought of his own life in those few months since he had left Teddy the letter, hopeful she would answer, determined to return for her, despite duty and war. Time passed. He never grew any more in stature—he was tall enough—but he grew in cynicism and then a complacent sort of acceptance, where Teddy was concerned.
‘I wish I had known,’ he said. ‘If only there was a way to know instantly what goes on in others’ lives.’ It was absurd, but he had to say it.
Teddy gave him a faint smile. ‘You can’t imagine how I prayed you would find out and save me. I prayed and prayed. Nothing.’
He bowed his head in sadness at the same time Mr Hollinsworth blew into his handkerchief, muttering something about being stretched too thin, which made no sense to Jem. At least the man felt like crying in solidarity with them. How could he be busy? Nothing seemed to happen in Savannah.
‘She sold the business and moved here,’ Jem said. He put down the chicken thigh, hungry no longer.
Teddy nodded. ‘She bought a house near Ellis Square. It burned in the fire of ninety-six and we moved to a smaller house on the edge of Green Square.’
How many times have I walked by it in the past two weeks? Jem asked himself. He amended his thought. He had only walked there once, because it was a ramshackle area, unsafe. ‘I’ve been here long enough to know that as a come down,’ he said.
‘It was,’ Teddy replied. ‘She started selling off her slaves.’ He heard the sob in her throat. ‘My friends!’
He stared into her eyes, chagrined to see that deep gaze of men who had been in combat on sea and shore. He knew he had that same stare, but he had never seen it in a woman’s eyes before and it unnerved him.
‘Theodora...’
‘I am last,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe I was her hedge against ruin.’
Reticence be damned. Jem took her arm, pulled her toward him and held her while she sobbed. Between breaths that shook her, she murmured something about card games and one losing streak after another. He listened in horror and heard the dreary pattern of a desperate widow gambling at cards, trying to recoup some shred of a formerly prosperous life.
He glanced at Mr Hollinsworth, who seemed involved in sorrow of a different sort, an inward examination. Jem had not known the man a few hours before he had seen him as a jovial fellow, with ready quips. Who was this new fellow?
He held Teddy close on his lap and realised he had not been a callow fool in 1791, infatuated by a pretty face and figure. He had told his story a few times in frigate wardrooms, usually to hoots of laughter, until he had begun to think perhaps he had been a naive boy, recovering from illness, who mistook kindness for attachment of a more permanent nature.
He held her, felt her tears dampening his coat, and understood the nature of what he had felt in 1791, love so deep it shook him even now. ‘Help me, Sir,’ he whispered to that friend of his.
He glanced at Mr Hollinsworth just then to see him nod ever so slightly, his own countenance anything but trivial, or jovial, or shallow or any of those weary adjectives describing someone lightweight.
‘Aye, laddie,’ Mr Hollinsworth said.
He let Teddy’s tears run their course, pressing his handkerchief into her palm. ‘Blow your nose and dry your eyes,’ he said. ‘I will return with you to Green Square and I will buy you. I didn’t come here penniless.’
She didn’t bother with his instruction, beyond wiping her nose, her face stained with tears. ‘You’re too late. She sold me yesterday to
