Chains Read Free Page A

as hard, but after seven years, I could walk away, thank the Lord. Dinah was real friendly to me when I first got there, helped me get used to a new place, and people ordering me around.”
    â€œI thought I knew you,” I said.
    She smiled warmly and snatched a piece of apple from the pie plate. “You always were the best rememberer I ever saw. We used to make a game of it. Tell you a line to memorize, or a song. Didn’t matter how much time passed, you’d have the whole thing in your mouth. Made your parents proud.”
    A serving girl came through the door and the talk stopped. Once Jenny had loaded up her tray and sent her back out, she sat down next to me. “How did you come to be with that man?” she asked. “I thought you were at Miss Finch’s place.”
    I quickly explained the dizzy events of the last two days.
    â€œThere’s no telling what happened to the lawyer,” Jenny said when I was finished. “Boston is a terrible confusion—first the King’s army, and now Washington’s.”
    â€œWhat should I do?” I asked. The words came out louder than they should have.
    Jenny gently covered my mouth with her hand. “Shhh,” she warned. “You got to use your head.”
    I grabbed her hand. “Could you take us? Please? You knew Momma …”
    She slowly pulled her hand from mine, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Isabel. I dare not.”
    â€œBut—”
    Bill opened the door and poked his head in. “He wants the girls. Best to hurry.”
    A thin woman stood next to Mr. Robert. Her plum-colored gown was crisp and well sewn, and expensive lace trailed from the small cap on her head. She was perhaps five and forty years, with pale eyebrows and small eyes like apple seeds. A fading yellow bruise circled her right wrist like a bracelet.
    She looked us over quickly. “Sisters?”
    â€œTwo for the price of one,” Mr. Robert said. “Hardest-working girls you’ll ever own.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with them?” the woman asked bluntly. “Why such a cheap price?”
    Mr. Robert’s snake smile widened. “My haste is your good fortune, madam. These girls were the servants of my late aunt, whose passing I mourn deeply. I must quickly conclude the matters of her estate. The recent unrest, you know.”
    A man joined the woman, his eyes suspicious and flinty. He wore a red silk waistcoat under a snuff-colored coat with silver buttons, a starched linen shirt, and black breeches. The buckles on his boots were as big as my fists. “And what side do you take in the current situation, sir?” he asked. “Are you for the King or do you support rebellion?”
    Conversation at nearby tables stopped as people listened in.
    â€œI pledge myself to our rightful sovereign, the King, sir,” Mr. Robert said. “Washington and his rabble may have taken Boston, but that’s the last thing they’ll take.”
    The stranger gave a little bow and introduced himself. “Elihu Lockton, at your service, sir. This is my wife, Anne.”
    Mr. Robert bowed politely in return, ignoring the muttering at the table behind him. “May I offer you both some sup and drink that we might be better acquainted?”
    They all sat, and Jenny swooped over to take their orders. Ruth and I stood with our backs against the wall as Mr. Robert and the Locktons ate and drank. I watched them close. The husband was a head taller and twice the girth of most men. His shoulders rounded forward and his neck seemed to pain him, for he often reached up to rub it. He said he was a merchant with business in Boston, New York, and Charleston, and complained about how much the Boston uprising cost him.
    His missus sipped Jenny’s chowder, shuddered at the taste, and reached for her mug of small beer. She stole glances at us from time to time. I could not figure what kind of mistress she would be. In