*****Content warning: This chapter takes place in the antebellum south, from the perspective of an enslaved twelve year-old girl. I've avoided explicit depictions of violence and abuse, but the implications are there. I've done my best to write about this period authentically without being gratuitous, but please take care if this is a sensitive subject for you.*****
Ginny feared she was losing her mind. She was certain the Harts' female guest was the girl from the drapery shop in New Orleans. The girl in New Orleans was younger, but everything else about the woman who called herself "Mrs. Blythe" matched the odd girl she remembered from before. Both walked in the same unusual way—on the balls of their feet, like ballerinas—and their voices were almost identical, save Mrs. Blythe's strange accent, which the Harts had referred to as "yankee-like."
Ginny and the girl had never spoken to each other directly, but their paths crossed often. Before Master Combe sold her to the Harts, Ginny spent her Monday mornings shopping for Master Combe's wife in the French Quarter. Mistress Combe's favorite spice shop stood just across the cobblestoned street from Madame Plume's Drapery, which boasted only the finest local and imported cloths. Occasionally, Mistress Combe sent Ginny to Madame Plume's for thread, but Ginny had made a habit of popping in weekly to see her brother Daniel, who worked at the docks and delivered the imported textiles to Madame Plume's each Monday. Daniel would sneak her in through a backdoor and into the storage closet and they would spend a blessed few minutes alone together. On days when the shopkeeper was especially busy and distracted, they played their favorite game: Ginny would rifle through boxes of expensive fabrics and wrap herself in the most garish color combinations she could find—outrageous orange taffetas and heavy velvets, loud shades of lime and plum and fuchsia. Then at random, Daniel would choose one of the aristocrats that frequented the French Quarter and Ginny would perform a very unflattering impression of the person until the two could hardly stifle their laughter. Miraculously, the two were never caught.
Ginny learned that Madame Plume's was owned by a woman named Catherine Steele, who had inherited the shop from her grandmother. She later married a wealthy businessman, but rather than give up her grandmother's shop, she continued to run it with her husband's support. The Steeles' daughter Melanie was always present there, decked out like a china doll in the season's most popular styles. A regular model would have remained quiet and still while customers admired her clothes, but Melanie always had a needle in hand and a stack of dazzling silks by her side, which gradually transformed into something more and more exquisite as the year progressed until it took its final form during the Mari Gras season. In the beginning, Ginny watched Mrs. Steele chastise Melanie for using up so much of the store's inventory and chatting with customers who were curious about her projects. However, it soon became clear that Melanie's creations drew in more customers than ever before. People were fascinated by an upper-class girl like Melanie who insisted on making her own costumes when most would delegate such work to a dressmaker. By Ginny's fifth year living in the city, Madame Plume's was the most popular place to purchase materials for Mardi Gras costumes, and locals lined up to view Melanie's finished pieces during carnival season. That is, until Melanie went missing. Despite the searches organized by hundreds of concerned customers and a devastated family, Melanie never returned. Ginny remembered her half-finished costume for the parade of 1848, a sad white gown, once destined to be a swan, and a large basket of feathers that would never adorn it. As far as Ginny knew, it still remained on display in the corner of Madame Plume's, like a shrine.
The Blythes were so strange, and this made Ginny nervous. They claimed to love Lucy's meals, yet hardly ate what they were given. Ginny, of course, didn't complain about getting extra leftovers, but she could not understand why the Blythes would consistently leave half their meals on their plates. They were also suspiciously friendly to Ginny and the field workers, who hardly knew how to respond. Most white folks simply ignored them, so why were the Blythes so interested? Could they be spies, seeking information about the underground railroad?
Ginny had heard the stories of the fabled road to freedom, but it always sounded out of reach. Only now did she wonder if an escape route was nearby. And if it was, how long did she have before the Blythes or their associates found it and shut it down?
If she was to plan an escape, she knew she couldn't leave Fred behind. He regularly took the brunt of the Harts' frustrations, especially Mistress Hart's. Poor Fred reminded her so much of Daniel, and she'd lost Daniel already. She wouldn't lose Fred too.
But then there was the dog. Why Fred was so attached to Pip, Ginny could not comprehend, but she knew Fred would not easily leave without it. There was no way they would make it out of Virginia with that wild puppy in tow. Ginny had to come up with something and she had to do it before the door to freedom closed for good.