Abernathy: Chapter 11
The Abernathy Trilogy
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abernathy
Chapter 11
Brian
The wind whips around me as I tear eastward across the moor. I vaguely consider that I should have gone home first, so that William and Josephine might not wonder what keeps me so late tonight. But I cannot wait another minute, nor do I want to explain to them why I am going after Justin.
How I will find him, I have yet to figure out. After an infuriating chat with Anna Sterling, I have been advised that the Abernathy estate is somewhere near Hereford, but she was unsure as to where, exactly. Not willing to wait around for her brother to sober up and help me, I lit out in the direction of Hereford, trusting that there, I will find at least one person that can direct me to Abernathy.
The ride to Hereford is a distant one, quite long enough for me to become fully wracked with guilt. It is my fault and mine alone, that Justin is in this mess. I had suspected him of running off, even of stealing my horse! When in fact, he had done exactly as I'd asked, and dutifully gone to Warbidge to run my errands. And like a fool, I bid him go, alone, not ever considering that the awful tattoo on his neck could get him into so much trouble! The blacksmith Stryver's chilling words echo in my head, too late, of course. There is no mistaking him for a free man now!
Onward I ride, inspired by my remorse and also by a rekindled hope--that maybe Justin hadn’t wanted to leave me after all. I have no thought now but to find him, wherever he may be, and bring him home.
I have spent the better part of the afternoon interviewing the good townsfolk of Hereford. And though everyone has heard of Abernathy, no one seems able to direct me to it. Their faces crinkle up in deeply perplexed thought, "mmm..." and "hmm..." sounds coming from their crooked mouths. But none with a helpful answer.
I wander into the market, hoping that in a crowd I might increase my chances, and I begin to ask everyone I encounter. An elderly man selling twine finally smiles when I ask.
"Sure, son, I know where it is, this place you seek," he rasps. "Merely do an old man a service and buy some of my twine, and I shall help you all that you require!"
I suppose I truly am desperate, because before I realize it, I am digging around in my pocket for a coin to buy some twine I do not need. Suddenly, from nowhere, a hand grabs my own, halting me in my action.
I spin ‘round to see who has interrupted my brainless purchase. Before me stands a stout woman with wild red hair and a mischievous face.
"His twine is weak," she says, narrowing her eyes at the old man. "And even less trustworthy is his advice."
The old man grunts and spits, turning away from both of us. This brazen woman turns to me, and beams. "So it is Abernathy you seek?"
"Yes, madam. Do you know the way there?" I ask for the twentieth time today.
"Young sir, it happens that I am on my way there this very instant. I have a coach at the ready not far from here. You may join me if you’d like."
I nod emphatically, indicating my gratitude, and we begin to walk away from the market. "Mrs. Abernathy, I presume?"
"No, no, dear boy!" she chuckles. "I am their governess. You may call me Deborah."
"Kinney. Brian Kinney," I return, stooping to kiss her hand.
"What business have you at Abernathy, Mr. Kinney?"
As we walk down the main street of Hereford, I recount to her the story that brought me here. The tale of my unfortunate slave, who had gone to run an errand for me, and had been arrested for thievery in the process. She listens with passing interest, until I reach the part about the tattoo.
"Justin?" she exclaims, her eyes wide.
"Yes, Justin! You know him?"
She turns on her heel and stalks off, leaving me confused and standing alone in the street.
"Wait!" I call after her, jogging to meet her pace. "Hold on! How did you know it was him I was describing? Aren't all of Abernathy’s slaves marked in that manner?"
"No," she says sadly, turning to face me once she reaches the carriage. "Just that particular one."
I am still puzzled by her change in behavior, but some part of me suspects that she does it out of protectiveness towards Justin.
"Well, would you take me there?" I try. She regards me dubiously. "I promise, I mean him no harm. I only want to take him home."
"To what? As what?" she asks bitterly.
"As...my friend," I reply, still confused. She shakes her head at me and prepares to mount the carriage. Suddenly I remember the papers stowed in my coat pocket. I don't know why I have been carrying them with me, but I'm grateful now that I have!
I present the papers to her; she takes them from me with hesitance and examines them closely. Even produces a pair of glasses to read more carefully.
"Is it true, then, that you are freeing him?"
"Yes. I had these very papers drawn up yesterday, before this debacle. I wanted to give them to him last night, but he never came home."
She sighs, out of what appears to be relief. "Alright then sir, come with me. I will take you to Abernathy, and explain to you what I know along the way."
We climb into the carriage, and I wait patiently for my new friend to settle in. She seems nervous, or agitated, and cannot sit still.
"Is anything the matter, Madam?" I ask, eager for her to tell me more about Justin.
"I’m very concerned for him. Justin. I was not at the house yesterday to see his arrival, and so I imagine it was the steward that received him. The steward is new-he does not know Justin, or his history there."
"You suspect he is being treated badly?"
"No, but I suspect that he is fearing for his life!"
"Why? I don't understand any of this! What happened there?"
She sighs and folds her hands in her lap. After a moment’s composition, she begins. "I will start from the beginning. My beginning."
Abernathy, Abandon, America
by Kristen
Abernathy
Chapter 11
Brian
The wind whips around me as I tear eastward across the moor. I vaguely consider that I should have gone home first, so that William and Josephine might not wonder what keeps me so late tonight. But I cannot wait another minute, nor do I want to explain to them why I am going after Justin.
How I will find him, I have yet to figure out. After an infuriating chat with Anna Sterling, I have been advised that the Abernathy estate is somewhere near Hereford, but she was unsure as to where, exactly. Not willing to wait around for her brother to sober up and help me, I lit out in the direction of Hereford, trusting that there, I will find at least one person that can direct me to Abernathy.
The ride to Hereford is a distant one, quite long enough for me to become fully wracked with guilt. It is my fault and mine alone, that Justin is in this mess. I had suspected him of running off, even of stealing my horse! When in fact, he had done exactly as I'd asked, and dutifully gone to Warbidge to run my errands. And like a fool, I bid him go, alone, not ever considering that the awful tattoo on his neck could get him into so much trouble! The blacksmith Stryver's chilling words echo in my head, too late, of course. There is no mistaking him for a free man now!
Onward I ride, inspired by my remorse and also by a rekindled hope--that maybe Justin hadn’t wanted to leave me after all. I have no thought now but to find him, wherever he may be, and bring him home.
I have spent the better part of the afternoon interviewing the good townsfolk of Hereford. And though everyone has heard of Abernathy, no one seems able to direct me to it. Their faces crinkle up in deeply perplexed thought, "mmm..." and "hmm..." sounds coming from their crooked mouths. But none with a helpful answer.
I wander into the market, hoping that in a crowd I might increase my chances, and I begin to ask everyone I encounter. An elderly man selling twine finally smiles when I ask.
"Sure, son, I know where it is, this place you seek," he rasps. "Merely do an old man a service and buy some of my twine, and I shall help you all that you require!"
I suppose I truly am desperate, because before I realize it, I am digging around in my pocket for a coin to buy some twine I do not need. Suddenly, from nowhere, a hand grabs my own, halting me in my action.
I spin ‘round to see who has interrupted my brainless purchase. Before me stands a stout woman with wild red hair and a mischievous face.
"His twine is weak," she says, narrowing her eyes at the old man. "And even less trustworthy is his advice."
The old man grunts and spits, turning away from both of us. This brazen woman turns to me, and beams. "So it is Abernathy you seek?"
"Yes, madam. Do you know the way there?" I ask for the twentieth time today.
"Young sir, it happens that I am on my way there this very instant. I have a coach at the ready not far from here. You may join me if you’d like."
I nod emphatically, indicating my gratitude, and we begin to walk away from the market. "Mrs. Abernathy, I presume?"
"No, no, dear boy!" she chuckles. "I am their governess. You may call me Deborah."
"Kinney. Brian Kinney," I return, stooping to kiss her hand.
"What business have you at Abernathy, Mr. Kinney?"
As we walk down the main street of Hereford, I recount to her the story that brought me here. The tale of my unfortunate slave, who had gone to run an errand for me, and had been arrested for thievery in the process. She listens with passing interest, until I reach the part about the tattoo.
"Justin?" she exclaims, her eyes wide.
"Yes, Justin! You know him?"
She turns on her heel and stalks off, leaving me confused and standing alone in the street.
"Wait!" I call after her, jogging to meet her pace. "Hold on! How did you know it was him I was describing? Aren't all of Abernathy’s slaves marked in that manner?"
"No," she says sadly, turning to face me once she reaches the carriage. "Just that particular one."
I am still puzzled by her change in behavior, but some part of me suspects that she does it out of protectiveness towards Justin.
"Well, would you take me there?" I try. She regards me dubiously. "I promise, I mean him no harm. I only want to take him home."
"To what? As what?" she asks bitterly.
"As...my friend," I reply, still confused. She shakes her head at me and prepares to mount the carriage. Suddenly I remember the papers stowed in my coat pocket. I don't know why I have been carrying them with me, but I'm grateful now that I have!
I present the papers to her; she takes them from me with hesitance and examines them closely. Even produces a pair of glasses to read more carefully.
"Is it true, then, that you are freeing him?"
"Yes. I had these very papers drawn up yesterday, before this debacle. I wanted to give them to him last night, but he never came home."
She sighs, out of what appears to be relief. "Alright then sir, come with me. I will take you to Abernathy, and explain to you what I know along the way."
We climb into the carriage, and I wait patiently for my new friend to settle in. She seems nervous, or agitated, and cannot sit still.
"Is anything the matter, Madam?" I ask, eager for her to tell me more about Justin.
"I’m very concerned for him. Justin. I was not at the house yesterday to see his arrival, and so I imagine it was the steward that received him. The steward is new-he does not know Justin, or his history there."
"You suspect he is being treated badly?"
"No, but I suspect that he is fearing for his life!"
"Why? I don't understand any of this! What happened there?"
She sighs and folds her hands in her lap. After a moment’s composition, she begins. "I will start from the beginning. My beginning."