* * *
At Norfolk, Stephen put her in the care of a merchant master known to the Beauchamp family. Until she reached Charleston, Maddie spent every waking minute on the deck of the merchant brig, to gaze without end on the land of her birth. Even as she kept to the starboard rail, she was aware of the British presence that dotted the larboard horizon.
The master’s wife often took the air with her, regaling Maddie with tales of bravado and daring, of running the blockade or hiding sailors who feared impressment. It was an education for one who had been hidden away in a far-off land, a light dawning in her sheltered little world.
Like Nipper who stood at her side, she wept tears of joy when the steeple of St. Michael’s came into view. The panorama of Charleston opened before her eyes, a vista that was so bright that her head ached. “It’s the sun I have missed,” she said. “The beautiful sun and the blue sky.”
“Home,” Nipper whispered.
Having promised Stephen that he would get Maddie safely to Church Street, Nipper took the lead as soon as their feet touched dry ground. The going was slow on sea legs that wobbled, and the press of a multi-colored crowd had them both weaving from side to side. They paused only long enough for Maddie to hire a porter to carry the sea chest to her grandfather’s house, with Nipper refusing to be parted from the canvas sack that held his possessions. Like a couple of gawking fools they continued along East Bay, searching for the familiar in an altered landscape.
They looked, they pointed, and they compared memories, as if they could reclaim what had been. At Tradd Street, Maddie went to the right, to examine the many shops that she thought were enormous when she was little. To her surprise, the facades had shrunk, the windows not as wide or the buildings as tall. Here and there, a new establishment had sprouted up in what was once vacant land, altering the appearance of the street and distorting her memories. The grand expanse was proving to be on the small side, more provincial, more like a village than an important hub of commerce. “I have been away for so very long,” she said.
“A finer city than London could ever hope to be,” Nipper said.
The people who passed were strangers, but among those who Maddie thought she recalled, she feared that they would not recognize her. An emptiness settled into the pit of her stomach, a depressing sensation that disappeared as soon as she heard a woman call her name with exuberance and joy. Turning to find the source, she spotted her old nursemaid, Afi, and ran into open arms as she had run when she was a baby.
“You are not gone away,” Maddie said with a mixture of relief and sorrow.
“Not while Mr. and Mrs. Mahon live, baby girl,” Afi said. “Two old people need as much care as an infant. In time, me and mine will go north like we said we would. And here you are, back home. I know I did the right thing to stay, so I could see you again.”
“What news of my grandfather?” Maddie asked.
“You’ll put a spark of life back in his old heart, I expect,” Afi said. “Get on along. I’ll see to the rest of my marketing and we’ll have us a long talk about what you’ve seen and where you’ve been.”
The wrought iron gate on Church Street stood open, with the earlier arrival of Maddie’s trunk alerting the house. Her heart raced with excitement as she took in the gardens where she used to play, the places where Grandfather Mahon would sit and tell stories. “It is too late for you to continue upriver, Nipper,” she said as they walked up the path. “Stay the night, at least. I must ask my grandfather for the money to repay you for all your expenses when we were hiding in London.”
“No need to pay back anything, Miss Maddie,” he said. “But I wouldn’t turn down a bite of something just now.”
The cook froze in position, hands deep in a bowl of biscuit dough, when Maddie waltzed into the kitchen. Her squeals of delight started up an alarm that spread to the house, a wave of tumult that washed Maddie into the house and up the stairs to the drawing room where her Grandfather sat in a chair near the window. He was frail, thin, propped up as if he could not hold himself upright. At his side was her grandmother, equally frail but more aged in appearance.
“I knew you would come,” Grandfather said. He lifted a hand, the skin mottled and nearly translucent. His fingers were cold and the palms dry as rice husks. “Like Mr. Lewis and Mr. Clark. Their expedition came back after everyone gave them up for dead.”
“Mr. Jefferson’s explorers, to the Louisiana territory,” Grandmother said. “Did you hear of them in England? Was any mention made of their quest?”
“It was in all the newspapers,” Maddie said. “They were gone for two years without a word and then there were so many words it was beyond comprehending.”
“Such amazing things,” Grandfather said. “Unknown species of plants, strange birds. Such a remarkable time to be young, baby girl.”
“When you are stronger, we must walk along the wharf like we used to,” Maddie said. In her heart, she knew that they would never again promenade among the crate and barrels, weaving among the stevedores. She would never again hold his hand and admire the countless sails of the world’s merchant ships bend to the wind, the bounty of the Low Country taking flight.