Delicate Strands

If Mr. and Mrs. Fielding had been apprised of the plan that Vivienne had concocted, they would have been shocked and disappointed to the extreme. And they would find out soon. She struggled with her culpability as the carriage jostled toward the station, forcing a smile whenever her eyes met Abigail’s. Knowing full well that John Fielding had kindly made a home for her as a fatherless girl, Vivienne justly also admitted to herself that her stepfather had bestowed upon her all of the guidance that he was capable of granting any child. He had provided for her education. Not even to be mentioned were the ample opportunities for financially advantageous marriage presented through his connections as an elected representative to the Virginia State House. Vivienne had willingly accepted and even enjoyed the privileged life that he had offered, and now she was about to betray him. Shifting upon the leather upholstered bench seat, these initial musings of guilt made Vivienne’s anger flare. After all, she thought in irritation, if John had behaved as a decent Christian and given Abigail her freedom as Vivienne had repeatedly requested, none of this would be necessary. Instead, he had promised to award Abigail as a wedding present when Vivienne married. But that event would likely never occur, she silently doubted in disgust. Noticing her friend’s unsuccessfully concealed discomfiture, Abigail ended the silence. “You are sure about this?” she questioned once more, as the carriage traveled along toward the station. Having observed her mistress’s poorly masked facial expressions signifying a wide variety of emotions for more than half of the required distance, the young slave felt that she must voice her concerns a final time. “I swear, if you try to change my mind again, I’ll make Briggs stop so I can ride the rest of the way on the roof!” Vivienne vowed with exasperated humor. Laughing comfortably at her friend’s usual high-handed manner, Abigail continued, “I don’t have to go now. You don’t have to ruin your relationship with your family. They have been good to you–and good to me.” Pursing her rosy lips in brief reflection, Vivienne started her reply in her mind but modified the scathing wording significantly by the time it reached her lips. “It is not good to hold someone in bondage. You deserve better, and I aim to do my part to make sure you get it,” she replied. “You are my best friend, and I appreciate your efforts. But to do it this way, you will be the only one to suffer the blame,” Abigail sincerely objected with a recurring worry. Dismissing this unnecessary sentiment, the pale girl continued definitively with a tilt to her well-adorned head, “As I’ve said before, it is the perfect plan. None of the others can be implicated in any way, so there can be no punishment. I carried you off, without the knowledge of any other person. What say have you?” “But when you return to Solitude–” “I won’t return to Solitude right away,” Vivienne interrupted as she adjusted her right glove button and then smoothed the folds of her emerald green traveling dress. “I’ve decided that I will stop at the house in Willow Grove until the dust settles,” she enlightened with a previously unrevealed twist as she fingered one of the mother of pearl buttons on her bodice. “I will remain there until I receive word from you confirming that you are initially settled.” Digesting this, Abigail gazed out of the window at the flourishing greenery rapidly filling in the diminishing barren spaces of winter. “Just as you are concerned about my future happiness, I am concerned about yours,” she finally offered with open emotion. “It has been my dream to have you free since we were ten years old. Help me fulfill my dream if you wish me to be happy,” Vivienne genuinely pleaded with her hand stretched out on her friend’s knee. The pretty young slave nodded with a smile and a tear glistening in each dark brown eye. “Well, then,” was all the reply she could manage. “Very well, then,” Vivienne corrected her, mirroring her friend’s deep affection with a smile that could be heard. The quiet resumed as both girls reflected thoughtfully on the interests of the other, listening only to the wheels turning on the gravel scattered roadway. Vivienne had silently vowed that Abigail would have her freedom by the time the slave girl was 22, regardless of her own marital status. She could not bring herself to marry anyone that she already knew simply to free her friend, and she honestly wondered who could depend upon a husband to follow through on such a plan as Mr. Fielding had proposed. Her prospective groom would no doubt see some profit for himself and wish to keep this generous “gift” of an additional slave. And it would be considered his right. Besides that, Vivienne knew that she could never consent to marry a man who held slaves, and in her mind there was little likelihood that she would encounter any other variety of male in the near future. On her twenty-first birthday, Vivienne had privately declared herself unmarriageable. All familial attempts (and there were many) at settling such a union had failed. But why should Abigail suffer? Her freedom would be of little value when she was 65, Vivienne logically reasoned. She needed it while she was still young enough to make a life for herself. Abigail was already 20 years old and had proven herself to be the truest of friends, in Vivienne’s judgment at least. She had more than earned the freedom that was already her birthright, and Vivienne was determined that she would have it now. Vivienne’s marital challenges aside, Abigail had three times thus far been in great danger of being coerced into a marriage of her own. Only Vivienne’s fiery opposition had extracted her friend from being shackled to more than one hard-working but less than educated field hand, with the eventual purpose of the production of additional slaves. Less than a year ago, Vivienne had unhappily been forced to acknowledge her own limitations in the exertion of influence over her stepfather, nearly failing in her endeavors. If it had not been for the propitious circumstance of the young laborer’s decided preference for another young woman of the household being made known to Mr. Fielding by Briggs (who was granted many liberties by his master), Abigail’s fate would’ve been sealed. Immediately upon reflection of this development, Vivienne marveled that Abigail had been permitted to reach such an advanced age unfettered. She could only wonder why the extreme danger had not occurred to her sooner. The thought of her friend being relegated to one of the tiny cabin quarters, with a passel of children to be raised in servitude themselves, was beyond bearing to Vivienne. Escape was imperative, before too many ties could be made to deem it impossible. It was not so easy, though. Mr. Fielding would not accept money in exchange for her good friend’s freedom. There had been other, less extensive failed plans. It was not acceptable for young ladies to travel on a whim without their families, Vivienne had been told, making it obvious that an impromptu trip would not suffice. Duration and distance–these were the essentials of a successful flight. And northward, of course. Today’s currently unfolding plan had taken more than six months of clandestine preparation, beginning only with a fleeting thought speeding through Vivienne’s overactive mind. And if it weren’t for Mr. Andrew Bentley–never had a man been of more use to her, she thought in satisfaction.