‘No shoes!’ tutted Miss Prudence as she tied one of her aprons over the too-big dress I had been given. They were all small women, but even so their clothes swamped me.
‘I’ll go to Mrs Jones. She has a brood of children: we should be able to borrow some clothes the right size for Sister Catherine,’ said Miss Miller, putting on her bonnet. ‘I will get some milk while I’m there. Young people need more milk than us oldsters.’
Miss Miller sallied out with Miss Fortitude, leaving me alone with Miss Prudence. She took a comb and began to tackle my hair.
‘I always wanted long red hair like you had,’ she confided in me. Her own white locks peeped out from under her cap – she really was very pretty with her heart-shaped face and periwinkle blue eyes. She must have been stunning as a girl. ‘It shows that thou dost not suffer from the sin of vanity when thou sacrificed thy hair to a greater cause.’
‘Oh, I’m vain enough,’ I confessed, ‘but I don’t think I’ve much to be vain about. Now, Lizzie, Lady Elizabeth, that’s who I think of as being beautiful.’
Miss Prudence smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears.
‘Promise you won’t tell?’ she asked me conspiratorially.
‘Of course,’ I replied, wondering what secret she was about to reveal.
She moved to her workbag and pulled out a length of green ribbon. ‘I can’t resist pretty things. I have lots and lots of them hidden away.’
‘Why don’t you wear them in your cap? You’d look lovely.’
She fastened the ribbon in my hair. ‘We don’t approve of such vanities. We like things to be plain, simple and serviceable.’
‘But the world won’t come to an end if you wear just a little one,’ I coaxed her. ‘Please show me your collection. I can’t be the only one wearing ribbons.’
With great pride, Miss Prudence laid out her rainbow of silks and satins. I picked out a blue one and tied it around her white cap.
‘There! That matches your eyes.’
Miss Prudence giggled and patted her head nervously. ‘I feel very wicked,’ she admitted.
‘I’m sure God likes you to feel that sort of wicked as it doesn’t harm anyone.’
This idea delighted her. ‘Sister Catherine, I think thou art in the right. One ribbon will not bring the meeting house down about our ears.’
Miss Prudence and I spent a happy hour chatting about the theatre until her two sisters returned in triumph. They bore a can of milk and a pair of shoes only one size too big.
‘Mrs Jones had heard of thy escape already,’ said Miss Miller, pouring me a large glass of milk. Her eyes slid to her sister’s cap but she made no comment. ‘Her husband carried thee here.’
‘Elias! He was very kind,’ I said, taking a sip. The milk tasted so fresh and creamy, unlike the thin stuff I had in town, which was watered down and mixed with flour. ‘Is he a Quaker too?’
Miss Prudence laughed. ‘No, he is one of those Methodistical fellows – fine folk, if a little too noisy for our taste. And fie, Sister Catherine, if thou stayest among us, thou must not call us Quakers. We are the Society of Friends.’
I blushed. ‘I’m sorry, I was told you were called Quakers.’
‘That’s what some call us,’ nodded Miss Miller, picking up her knitting and making herself comfortable in her chair, ‘because, when the Spirit moves, we have been known to quiver and shake in the presence of our Maker. But it also can be taken to mean our desire to rock the foundations of injustice and bring the house of slavery crashing to the ground. We work to make God’s kingdom come on earth and slavery has no part in that heavenly society where all shall be friends.’
This sounded all very well, but, in my opinion, there was a flaw in her view of the world.
‘I don’t think I can be friends with men like Kingston Hawkins,’ I said.
‘Even him, Sister Catherine. He also is a child of his Maker though he has left the path of truth. One day the lion shall lie with the lamb. Thou must pray for him.’
This seemed a very tall order. ‘I’m not sure I can,’ I replied. ‘I think he’s still at the stage where he’ll eat the lamb if he so much as catches a glimpse of a shake of its tail.’
Miss Miller smiled and let the matter drop.
Time passed slowly as I waited to hear news of Pedro. It was difficult to contain my impatience but I knew that I could be of no help until we had a sign that he was being moved to the port. In the meanwhile, I was faced with a new challenge: behaving myself. I had never lived in such a sober, industrious household with regular mealtimes, prayers and early to bed. No one had ever expected me to act like a polite young lady before. I found it quite a struggle to fit in, not least since I had been playing a boy for the past few weeks.
‘Sister Catherine, a lady does not sit with her knees apart in that rude fashion,’ rapped out Miss Miller as I lolled in a chair during the evening Bible reading.
I sat up straight and put my hands in my lap. I really didn’t want to offend my kind hosts. Boredom took over again and I began twiddling my thumbs absent-mindedly. A basket of sewing was dumped in my lap.
‘The Devil makes work for idle hands,’ said Miss Fortitude sweetly.