Page 84 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

I wanted to ask him how he could stop his daughter from loving someone, but I realized that the question would be in vain. Worse yet, it would keep me from learning what he might know about Henry’s death.

“You believe Henry was killed for the cause?” I asked.

“I know that he was. Everyone in the network knows it too. We’ve all been very careful since. There has not even been a whisper of the Reader.” He looked around as he said the name, as if he was afraid that someone might overhear us.

I loosened the ribbon on my bonnet. It felt very tight on my throat after I swallowed that last bite of cookie. “Do you know who the Reader is?”

“No.” The word came out harshly. “No one does.”

That wasn’t true. Henry did.

“It would serve you well not to ask about it any longer. Things are changing in the network here. The Reader seems to have gone underground himself. The more questions you ask, the more dangerous it will become for you.”

I wasn’t that worried about being in danger. I lost Henry. I didn’t have that much more to lose.

As if he could read my mind, he said, “The more questions you ask, the more dangerous it will become for the whole Dickinson family. You are their maid. As such, they are responsible for you and your behavior. Do you want to put the family that has been so kind to you at risk?”

My heart clenched. I had not thought of the danger that Emily and her family might be in if the Reader realized what Emily and I had been up to. And here I had been the last few days, walking uptown every chance that I got to ask more questions about Henry, the Reader, and the Underground Railroad. That was bound to attract some negative attention.

“I can tell by your expression that you have not thought about it up until now. You should think of it, Miss Noble. Think on it long and hard.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked up the street away from me.

After my conversation with Reverend Dwight, for the next two weeks, day to night, I washed the windows, dusted the floorboards, and chased cobwebs from the corners. I stayed at the Dickinson home and did every task that Margaret requested of me, and I watched my back. I jumped at every knock on the door and creak of the house.

I knew that Emily would be disappointed that I stopped asking questions, but it was what I had to do. Reverend Dwight’s warnings to me about putting the entire Dickinson family in danger rang in my ears, and it wasn’t the first time I had been warned. There was also the letter I received just days after Henry died. The letter had said, “Tell your brother to stop poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. If he keeps at it, he will come to a bad end and so will you.” The writer, who I could only assume had been the Reader, had been true to his word. Henry did come to a bad end. I couldn’t let that happen to Emily or any member of her family too.

So instead of asking questions, I buried myself in the act of cleaning, something I was far better at than investigating murder. I put the finishing touches on the parlor and stepped back. The room was spotless, and I couldn’t help taking some pride in that.

There was commotion at the entry of the house.

“Home!” I heard Emily cry. “I thought I would never see it again.”

“Emily,” her sister said.

Carlo, who was in the parlor keeping me company while I cleaned, galloped into the foyer. There were shouts and barks of jubilation as the dog and his mistress were reunited after so many weeks.

One of Miss Lavinia’s cats that napped on the windowsill in the parlor yawned. She would wait to greet her owner when the owner came and found her.

I smoothed my skirts and touched the white cap that covered my hair to make sure it was pinned in place. Then I went into the entry to welcome the family home.

In the entry, I found Margaret helping Mrs.Dickinson and her daughters with their bags.

“The porter will bring our trunks soon,” Mrs.Dickinson said. “I was so eager to return home that I didn’t want to stay at the station while they got the luggage sorted.” She sighed. “It is good to be home. I have missed it so.” She placed a hand on her cheek. “The travel has worn me through. Lavinia, can you help me to my room?”

Miss Lavinia nodded. “Of course, Mother.” She nodded at me as she passed.

I wondered if the nod was Miss Lavinia’s attempt at a truce between us. I could never be sure with her, so I planned to keep my guard up where the younger Dickinson sister was concerned.

“Margaret, would you be so kind to take my bags to my room?” Emily asked.

Margaret nodded and shot a look at me. I knew she must be wondering why Emily asked her to carry her bags and not me since I was the lesser maid in the household. However, she didn’t say a word. Instead she picked up the three bags and left the room.

When she was gone, Emily smiled at me. “It is so good to see you, Willa, and I did appreciate your letters with updates about our investigation. How much I longed to be here when you were questioning everyone.”

“I wrote to you everything that I learned. I’m sorry to say it’s not much.”

“It confirms what we have thought though. The slave catchers were paying the Reader for information about the railroad.”

“But we are no closer to finding out who the Reader is.”

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