Lake in the Clouds (40 page)

The dangers were tremendous. A situation much like this one had forced them to flee England and leave everything familiar behind. Hannah thought fleetingly of Amanda and Peter, of all that he was risking.

Manny was watching her, but Hannah knew that she could not get any more information from him, or from anybody but Will himself.

“Did you say you had more than one message? From my folks?”

“No,” said Hannah. “From Liam Kirby. He said—” She paused, and tried to collect her thoughts. “He said there were two things to say to you. First, to stay out of Michael Cobb’s way.”

“Micah Cobb,” Manny corrected her.

“Micah Cobb. To stay out of his way because he’s been watching you and he’s looking for a reason to arrest you.”
To see you hang,
Hannah thought, but he would know that without her saying the obvious.

If this was news to Manny, it didn’t seem to upset him very much. “And the second message?”

“This one I remember word for word. He said, ‘Tell him it wasn’t just luck that sent Vaark to the Newburgh dock.’”

The muscles in Manny’s jaw rolled and clenched. He stood and went to the window, leaning with one hand high on the wall. “Anything else?”

“Not in a direct message to you, no. But he mentioned the widow Kuick’s overseer. The way Liam was talking, I got the impression you must have had some business with him. Do you know Ambrose Dye?”

Manny nodded. “I know who he is, yes.”

Hannah realized that what she was seeing now was Manny so angry that he was having a hard time containing himself. And there was nothing she could do to help him, because
when he looked at her he saw Nathaniel Bonner’s daughter. Manny would not put her in danger, in part because it just went against his nature, and in part because he would have to answer to her father if anything should happen to her.

Hannah stood. “I probably should go back now. I haven’t even seen Kitty yet today and this afternoon I have to go to the dispensary …” She was running on, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Dr. Todd has arranged for me to learn how to give smallpox vaccinations.”

Somehow she had managed to say something to break Manny’s distraction, because his head came up sharp.

“Will you be working at the poorhouse?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said, spreading her hands out in front of her. “I don’t know anything except that I am to be trained by Dr. Simon.”

Manny said, “Then you’ll be working in the poorhouse. That’s where folks come to get vaccinated, the ones who can’t afford to pay a doctor.” There was new energy in his voice. He started to say something, and then cut himself off.

“Will I see you again?” Hannah asked.

“I’ll come by the kitchen to say hello to Mrs. Douglas early tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Hannah said, more intrigued than anxious. “I’ll look forward to it.”

A
PRIL 25, 1802

Walked through the city in the company of Mr. Cicero, Cousin Will Spencer’s butler. He took me to see the African Free School where I visited with Almanzo Freeman, who was glad of the news of home I brought to him.

On the way back to Whitehall Street Cicero gave me a lesson in the types and uses of vehicles here in the city. Each has its own name and it seems to be a matter of great importance not to mistake a barouche for a cabriolet or a gig for a phaeton. Beyond the pony carts and ox carts and coal carts, which are easy enough to distinguish even for me, there are also coaches and chariots, curricles and gigs, whiskies
and chaises, some with two wheels and some with four, some with high sides and some without, some with coverings of leather that can be folded back when the weather is fine and others with glass in window frames. The largest are pulled by four or even six horses, and the smallest have room for only one passenger who must also hold the reins of a single pony. Some of the finest coaches are painted in bright colors with gilt edging while others are very battered. Today I saw a hackney carriage (which may be rented for a little money, driver, horse, and all) pulled by a gelding whose tail and mane had been dyed purple, and plaited with dried flowers.

A neighbor, the eldest son of the head of the city council, called soon after we were arrived at home to see if I should like to take a ride in what he called his high-flyer. Cousin Amanda brought me this invitation with a concerned look, and bid me politely refuse. Her exact words were “Let him break his own neck if he must, the silly boy.”

When he drove away I saw what she meant, from my window. The wheels of the high-flyer are as tall as a child of twelve and there are steps to climb to the seat. For all that it does look like good fun, I have followed Amanda’s advice and will keep my neck and head in good working order, given all there is for me to learn at the Kine-Pox Institution and hospital.

When she is nervous, Kitty babbles at great length; I write silly things of no real importance, to save myself the trouble of putting down in ink the things that I have learned about Cousin Will Spencer that will keep me awake this night.

By the time they left by carriage for the New-York Dispensary, Hannah had almost talked herself out of raising the topic of runaway slaves and blackbirders to Will Spencer, mostly because she was very aware that her father and her stepmother would have very different opinions on the matter. Elizabeth liked to think of herself as ruled by reason, but she often let her heart lead her; Elizabeth would want her to do anything in her power to help Manny, and that meant approaching Will.

But she knew very well what her father would want and expect of her: she must fulfill her promises. To Richard Todd, that she would see his wife and stepson safely home; to her family, that she would not do anything to put herself in real danger. She had warned Manny, and he would pass along that warning to Will Spencer and whoever else was involved; that should put an end to her involvement.

Except, Hannah thought, as Will pointed out buildings and parks and theaters, she knew that she could not put aside or forget or explain away the way Manny had reacted to that last message. His expression had stayed with her all morning through all the planning for outings and visits and shopping, the complex negotiations with Kitty about how much rest she required every day. The boys had been absent from the table because they had gone with Peter’s tutor to see the orangutans and waxworks, and taken along a picnic packed by Mrs. Douglas.

It wasn’t just luck that sent Vaark to the Newburgh dock.

From what Hannah understood of the whole business, Selah had not run on a whim, but had left the city well prepared with maps and memorized instructions and help along the way. Manny had provided all of that, Manny and the mysterious society Peter had mentioned so artlessly. But something had gone wrong, and Mr. Vaark—Selah’s owner—a word that could not be ignored for all its implications—had known to look for her on the docks at Newburgh, where he had died. Where Selah had killed him.

If it wasn’t luck that had sent Vaark to Newburgh, what had? Or who? Was there a spy at work?

“You are very far away in your thoughts,” said Will. “Are you thinking about the Hakim again?”

“No,” Hannah said, smiling. And then, looking away out the carriage window: “I visited Manny Freeman this morning at the Free School, and I was thinking about him.”

Will was quiet for a long moment. “We will have to talk about that later this afternoon,” he said finally. “Here we are at the dispensary.”

It was an unimposing building, a house that had been converted into offices where doctors could treat the sick rather than visiting them in their homes. From Will, Hannah knew that there were thirteen physicians and surgeons who contributed their time to the dispensary, as well as a full-time apothecary. The Kine-Pox Institution itself was in the Almshouse, but they were to meet Dr. Simon here first.

“There’s no need to feel anxious,” Will said. “Dr. Simon is an excellent doctor and one of the finest men in the city.”

Hannah said nothing, but she thought of the men who had spent so much time with Kitty yesterday and refused her questions. Then she reminded herself that she was here on a very simple matter. She had studied all the available materials on the
variolae vaccinae
—including the pamphlet that had come in this morning’s post from Hakim Ibrahim—and all that remained was to practice what she had read about in theory, under the supervision of an experienced doctor who could answer her questions.

She was not coming to this New-York Dispensary alone. All of her teachers were at her back; she would not shame them, or herself.

A young black man who introduced himself as Archer showed them into a meeting room, before Hannah could get any sense at all of the dispensary beyond the smells common to any place where the sick were treated.

Eight men sat around a round table, all very distinguished in appearance, most with elaborate beards and mustaches. The youngest was perhaps thirty, and the oldest—wearing a very outdated powdered wig—was more than sixty. Dr. Ehrlich and Dr. Wallace were both present, and Hannah was vaguely pleased to see them. She would ask again about their examination of Kitty, and they would not be able to avoid or ignore her in this company.

The room was thick with pipe and cigar smoke and for a very strange moment Hannah thought of the council fire at Good Pasture. When there was a problem to be solved the sachem called together men experienced and wise enough to contribute to the conversation as they smoked oyen’kwa’onwe in a pipe that passed around the room. But at any Kahnyen’kehàka council fire the clan mothers would be there too, to make sure that the men did not forget their responsibilities, or lose their heads. As men were wont to do, Curiosity would say.

I am Walks-Ahead,
she reminded herself.
I am the daughter of Sings-from-Books of the Kahnyen’kehàka people. I am the granddaughter of Falling-Day, who was a great healer, great-granddaughter of Made-of-Bones, who was clan mother of the Wolf for forty years. I am the great-great-granddaughter of Hawk-Woman, who killed an O’seronni chief with her own hands and fed his heart to her sons. I am the stepdaughter of Bone-in-Her-Back.

What had Elizabeth said, that morning that she left?
Hold your head up and meet their eyes. Don’t smile until they see you for who you are, and understand that you won’t be put off or dismissed.

“Gentlemen,” Hannah said to the room, and they all rose to their feet as if she were the schoolmistress and had called them to order.

Some of them looked skeptical and others curious. The youngest of the men sat down almost immediately to scribble something on a piece of paper while two others came forward to greet her.

The elder of them was so round that all of him wobbled as he walked. A cascade of chins hid his neck, and above his
beard his complexion was so high in color that Hannah thought he might burst if she touched him. If he were to fall over with an apoplexy she would not be in the least surprised.

“The Reverend John Roberts,” said Will. “President of the board of directors of the dispensary.”