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"Freedom's Cry" 

A novella in the Sweet Liberty collection (Barbour)

(April 2002 - Barbour)

"Freedom's Cry" is a historical novella in a group of four novellas celebrating America and dating from the Revolutionary War period--to the 1800's--to the turn of the century. All have the theme of liberty and all involve special Fourth of July celebrations.
(Authors are: Pamela Griffin, Kristy Dykes, Debby Mayne, and Paige Winship Dooly)

Indentured servant Sarah longs for her upcoming freedom. Cabinetmaker Thomas Gray needs freedom of a different sort--from the chains holding him to the past. When Sarah's life is in danger, Thomas intervenes--but the next time it could mean her death and his. Will Freedom's cry echo throughout the land and release them both from the bonds that enslave them? ("Freedom's Cry" takes place during the first official Fourth of July celebration in 1777 Philadelphia.)

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one

  1777

Philadelphia

 

Sarah Thurston hurried from the humid kitchen, her grip tight on the platter of steaming dishes. Swiftly she moved down the dim corridor toward the dining room where the master entertained his guests.

          “Best look lively,” Belle, a housemaid, warned as she bustled by Sarah. “He looks to be in a foul mood despite the occasion. Likely because his wife lies abed.”

          Grimacing, Sarah turned the corner. The master’s five-year-old son stood near the entrance to the dining room and peeked around the doorframe.

          “Rupert,” Sarah scolded softly, “away with you. If your father catches sight of you spying on him and his guests, there will be trouble—and well you know it.” Soon Rupert would be six and ready for breeching, the step initiating him into manhood. Sarah would miss seeing his blond curls, which would be shaved off so the boy could be fitted with a wig, as the gentlemen of the township wore.

          The child spared her the briefest of glances, then looked back into the well-lit room. “They are toasting the thirteen colonies now,” he whispered. “Mr. Rafferty belched horribly after Father toasted Maryland. Father doesn’t look happy.”

          “Nor will he be if he catches sight of you. Run along.”

          Rupert reluctantly moved away. “Will you play quoits with me later, Sarah? It is so dull here, and Father will not allow me to go into town to watch the celebration.”

          “If my duties allow it. Now go, Child,” Sarah whispered before entering the room.

          Wealthy gentlemen in powdered wigs, colored coats, knee breeches, and white stockings sat around the long table. Frills of lace or scarves in white donned their throats above their buttoned waistcoats. Sarah’s master, Bartholomew Wilkerson, stood at the head, his wine glass raised high. Catching sight of Sarah, his heavy-lidded eyes remained on her seconds longer than usual, and Sarah shuddered. How thankful she would be when her indenture was completed and she could be away from this place.

          “And finally, I propose a toast to the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania,” Mr. Wilkerson said. “And to our most esteemed town of Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love, which William Penn founded almost a century ago, establishing this great township for religious and civil liberty—that all therein should not suffer persecution of the same.”

          Sarah clenched her teeth as she served the twelfth cake for dessert, unable to bear the man’s hypocrisy. It was common knowledge that shipping magnate Bartholomew Wilkerson had friends who were loyal to King George. Though he spoke of liberty, Sarah suspected Mr. Wilkerson of secretly being a Tory sympathizer. With recent local arrests of pro-British citizens, two of whom were Mr. Wilkerson’s friends and prominent men such as he, it stood to reason he would now hide any sympathy he might feel toward the British.

          “On this fourth day of July, in the seventeen hundredth and seventy-seventh year of our Lord,” Mr. Wilkerson said, “we declare to Great Britain our right of independence. No, we demand it! And as the most esteemed John Adams decreed a year previously, upon the signing of our Declaration of Independence, we shall celebrate the day with great rejoicing, with parade and cannon fire—this, our Independence Day. May God hasten this war to a glorious end, so that we may not only declare our freedom but live it in the fullest sense.”

          “Hear, hear,” a portly gentleman cried.

          “And may the Tories return with all Godspeed to their native England—and keep their accursed tea with them,” another man exclaimed. His remark brought a round of laughter from all except the master.

          Sarah saw Mr. Wilkerson frown, then quickly give a feeble smile to his comrade who turned to speak with him. The tea incident in Boston led to the start of the war two years ago and was still talked about in drawing rooms. She had heard how the Sons of Liberty disguised themselves as Indians and dumped a ship’s cargo of highly taxed tea into the harbor.

          Though she herself was a native of England and had sojourned in Pennsylvania only five years, Sarah felt the people’s cry for freedom deep within her heart. Soon she would be free from her indenture, free to pursue personal interests and no longer bound to serve a wealthy family’s every whim. That the master’s interests had not been of a more personal nature these five years past was a blessing to Sarah; he exerted those particular interests in another direction. Sarah felt sorry for the young and beautiful indenture named Grace, who at twenty-one was four years younger than Sarah. However, lately Mr. Wilkerson had been eyeing Sarah the same way he eyed Grace.

          Determined not to dwell on ill thoughts, Sarah hurried to the kitchen to resume her duties to Mrs. Leppermier. The elderly cook was bossy at times but had a fondness for Sarah, and Sarah knew it was because she reminded the woman of her daughter, now deceased.

          Once dinner ended, they worked in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes while quietly conversing. Suddenly Belle swept into the room. “Where is that young scamp Morton? I have searched and searched for him!”

          “Whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Leppermier asked.

          “The matter?” Belle screeched. “The mistress has run out of her tonic, and whenever she lies in such ill humor with her complaints, without fail she asks for it the following morning. If I tell her she has no more, she’ll cause a ruckus we’ll all regret. I have need of Morton to hasten to the apothecary’s shop at once.”

          “I’ll go,” Sarah said, removing her water- and gravy-spotted apron. “I know where the apothecary resides.”

          “You?” Belle said in shock.

          “Aye, ’tis a good thing for Sarah to go,” Mrs. Leppermier quickly intervened. “If Mrs. Wilkerson doesn’t have her tonic, the entire household will suffer her ill temper come morning, as you have noted.”

          “Very well,” Belle said to Sarah, her thin lips compressed in disdain. “I suppose there is no other recourse, but do not dawdle.” Because Belle had willfully signed a contract of indenture, unlike Sarah, she considered herself superior and let Sarah know it at every opportunity.

          “Take your time,” Mrs. Leppermier corrected after Belle exited the kitchen. “Mrs. Wilkerson will have no need of the tonic until the morrow, and Katie and I can finish here. Linger and watch the celebration if you so desire.”

          “You are too kind,” Sarah murmured with a grateful smile, looking forward to the reprieve. Before setting off, she adjusted her ruffled mobcap, which had gone askew during her work. Hurriedly she tucked a few errant tendrils beneath the white puffy circle of cloth that was fitted to her head by use of a drawstring. Smoothing her ankle-length gray skirt, she hurried outside into the sunny afternoon.

          The Wilkersons’ home, a stately two-and-a-half-story Georgian manor of buff stucco and red brick with gabled roof and dormers, was in Fairmount Park, as were other mansions. Tall poplar trees lined the walk, shielding the sun’s brilliance. Beneath the fresh smell of grass and flowers, the acrid odor of gunpowder filtered through the air. In the distance, Sarah could see white fogs of smoke drift toward the delft blue sky, marking where guns had been discharged. Throughout the day she’d heard muffled explosions of cannon and musket fire, and the revelry had not yet ceased. Nor would it until the day was spent.

          The glaring sun had dropped a couple of notches by the time Sarah drew near the heart of the city. Loud huzzahs and more reports of musket fire rang through the air. Buildings of red brick trimmed with white painted wood, soapstone, and marble lined the straight, paved streets. Charming gardens and shade trees were in abundance. White towers could be seen on the roofs of a few important public buildings, and inside the belfry of the State House on Chestnut Street, the great Liberty Bell hung.

          To Sarah’s left, three boys laughed and raced along the cobbles, propelling their hoops with their sticks. A dirty terrier scampered at their heels. To her right, a group of men stood in a circle, cheering the day with loud acclaim. One decreed certain victory for the Patriots and discharged his pistol in the air to the excited cheers of others. A few men threw their tricorn hats upward in jubilation.

          Sarah strode the crowded footpath, paying little attention to any horses and carriages that traveled the road alongside her. Only men of means and men of trade used coaches or wagons. Most, like Sarah, walked everywhere they needed to go. In honor of the holiday all businesses were closed, and she wondered too late, if she would have trouble finding the apothecary.

          Through the thin soles of her shoes, Sarah could feel the heat radiating off the cobbles in the stifling summer day. Five years she had worn these shoes and was in dire need of another pair. When she left the Wilkersons, she would have to acquire a job. Widow Brown ran a coffeehouse near the wharf. Perhaps Sarah could find work there. Once she gained enough money to provide for her immediate needs, she could save up her guineas to do the one thing she desired, the one thing she longed for each night as she stared at the moon suspended above tree-dotted hills. . . .

          “Well, Gentlemen, what have we here?”

          Sarah came to a halt, startled by the mocking voice. Three guests from the Wilkersons’ dinner party moved to block her path.

          “I’m on an errand,” she stated with an air of false bravado, her heart skipping a beat. “Please, stand aside and let me pass.”

          “Bartholomew’s estate must be in a sorry state of affairs that he would send his kitchen maid on an errand,” Samuel Fenston, the biggest of the three said. His dark eyes narrowed beneath his tricorn hat. “Why does Morton not attend to such a task?”

          “Methinks I detect treachery afoot,” William Reilly inserted, the odor of liquor heavy on his breath. A smirk distorted his pockmarked face. “Mayhap the girl lies and has slipped away to meet a lover. Perhaps we should interrogate the wench. We owe it to our friend to right a wrong if we discern trouble in his household.”

          “Aye,” Clay Riggs, the youngest, agreed. “A private interrogation might be just the thing to loosen her tongue.”

          Alarmed by the sudden gleam in the eyes of all three men, Sarah backed up a step. “I tell the truth. The mistress needs a potion for her ails, and I’ve been sent to the apothecary to fetch it.”

          “A likely story,” William sneered.

          Clay reached out to fondle the curl hanging by her face. Sarah tried not to flinch, but the brand of fear was leaving a deep impression on her soul. People flocked everywhere. Yet if she cried out, the merrymakers would likely think her cries ones of revelry in the day and not pleas spurred from alarm. Indeed, jubilant screams, along with repeated gunfire, filled the city streets.

          “My friends, let us not judge the lass too quickly or too harshly,” Clay said, his gaze never leaving her face. “The matter is easily settled. We shall retrieve Samuel’s coach and return with the wench to the estate to inquire there.” A slow smile spread across his face, and he grabbed her arm above the elbow. “A most expedient solution for all involved, I daresay.”

          William laughed. “An excellent suggestion, Clay. I do admire your rapier intellect.”

          Sarah panicked when William took his place on the other side of her and also grasped her arm. “Please,” she said, the word lost in the surrounding din as she was forced to move with them to a narrow alley between brick buildings. She struggled to be heard. “Unhand me! I have done no wrong.”

          “We shall soon see,” Clay said. “Do not be anxious, Sarah. We will deliver you safely to your master. In due course.”

          At this the other men laughed.

          “You heard the girl,” a calm masculine voice spoke from behind. “Unhand her.”

          Along with the others, Sarah turned. . .to observe the most handsome man she’d ever seen. One hand behind his back, he stood with a casual, masculine grace she had not perceived in many of his gender. Though his shirt, breeches, and leather jerkin were those of a commoner, he filled the clothes out well. His pleasing face was strong, unafraid. His head was bare, and Sarah would wager that the thick, dark hair gathered back to hang in a queue and tied with a black ribbon was his own and not a wig. His deep blue gaze briefly lit on her, then made a scan of each of the two men holding her against her will.

          William tensed. “You dare to address us in such a manner? Do you know with whom you speak? Be gone with you, Cur!”

          The man did not move a muscle, only stared at them in a way that showed he wasn’t easily intimidated. Sarah felt her heart flutter with both interest in him and fear concerning her predicament.

          “Though it’s true I’m not aware of the identity of those I address,” the man said, his rich voice sending flutters through Sarah again, “I am well acquainted with the manner of men to whom I speak. I repeat, unhand the girl.”

          Samuel stepped forward, his face a mottled red. “You, Sir, are overstepping your bounds! By your manner of dress it’s plain to see you’re nothing more than a common laborer. What entices you to presume that you can address us in such a manner?”

          Clearly unruffled, the handsome stranger calmly brought his arm from behind him. He held a pistol, which he raised to aim at Samuel.

          “This.”

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