“Monsieur Charbonneau,” she said as she stirred her tea, then tapped her spoon on the rim of her cup. “There will be a broom ceremony tomorrow afternoon, joining one of our slaves with one of Mr. Reynolds’s. As is the custom, we will sit in witness and oversee the union. We would be honored if you joined us as our guest.”
I had just lifted my steaming cup of tea to my lips when her words caused my delicate sip to gulp into my mouth like a branding iron. I spit the blistering drink back into my cup, and their eyes were drawn to me as I whimpered and patted my napkin against my numb lips. “Lamond has no interest in the business of our quarters. He prefers reading when he is free of his tutoring duties. Perhaps a day or two with his cousin the colonel would be a good antidote to the noise and commotion he would likely endure should he remain here.”
“Nonsense,” Lamond chimed in. “Watching the coloreds stomp and howl at one of their celebrations is quite entertaining. If nothing else, it will break the monotony of a weekly routine corseted by the cold winter here in the Virginia mountains.”
“It is settled, then.” Aunt Augusta nodded. “Since Colonel Richards enjoys the music and cooking of our Runians, I will send word inviting him as well.”
“You are indeed a generous hostess, madame,” he said, tipping his cup toward Aunt Augusta.
“Très bien, merci.”
I did not know enough French to say what I was thinking, but it certainly was not
very good, thank you
. I had to find a way to rid us of Lamond Charbonneau. The longer he remained, the greater his threat. Aunt Augusta finished her tea and excused herself, leaving Lamond and me alone. He did not appear ready to retire to our studies, so it did not surprise me when he reached for another tea biscuit.
“Yes, I will enjoy the broomstick ceremony, rudimentary as it is. All the mindless singing and carrying on amuses me. I think it must please me because it was one of the few occasions my stepmother and father were united when it came to the slaves. Mother held an uncommon viciousness toward the house slaves as a way of antagonizing my father. Don’t misunderstand me; my father held a boot on the throat of every slave working the plantation, but he took a softer hand with those who worked in proximity to his home. It made Mother hate them all the more.”
“If that is so, why did your stepmother have interest when the slaves married?”
“Because Father sought Mother’s advice in the pairings, so they sat with equal satisfaction on the grand porch to witness the completion of their decisions. Then the music would begin and the wenches would line up all their young ones to dance for us. Those little pickaninnies would stomp and smile like their lives depended on it.” Lamond chuckled to himself. “I guess their lives
did
depend on it, because their mamas knew, as we all did, if one or two struck special pleasure in us, they would be more likely groomed for the house than for the field. I can still see those eager little faces grinning as they danced the dance of destiny while we looked them over and took stock of them one by one.”
Like a flash, Lamond’s face lit up. “That’s it,” he gasped. He banged his cup onto the table and leapt to his feet. “That’s where I saw her!”
“Who?” My heart dropped, knowing the image in his mind was Livie.
“Your slave girl,” he said excitedly. “She was smaller and younger when I saw her last, but I am sure it’s her. Father said a group of them ran off last year. She looks to be the right age.”
“What a silly notion, Lamond. She belongs here.”
“How long has she been in your possession?”
My impulse was to say she had always been in my possession, but I had to be cautious not to twist facts that could easily be verified as untrue. “I received her as a gift from Colt. She was purchased far north of here. She certainly is no Carolina runaway.”
“My question is, How long has she been here at Hillcrest?”
“I am not certain exactly,” I said, hedging against his narrowing eyes. “She’s been here a long while. You are boorish, Lamond Charbonneau, questioning me like this.”
Still he would not be deterred. “Send for her, Hannalore. I want to have a closer look at the wench. What is her name?”
“Her name is Livie.” I gave him as little of her name as possible and braced for his reaction. He mulled it over, then shook his head.
“Most of them are nameless to me. I must see her.”
“Is this really necessary? I told you she is not your runaway.”
“Send for her now or I will seek her out myself.”
The last thing I wanted was Lamond cornering Livie in Mud Run. I had to squelch his curiosity once and for all. It’s surprising how desperation lends itself to creative thinking. I remember Livie saying that Marcus told her, “You never know how much gumption you have until something pokes you hard enough.” So I feigned a sigh of impatience and led Lamond to the front porch. I called out to Elijah, who was hauling water to the carriage house. He set his bucket aside and trotted across the yard.
“Lamond, would you be a dear and bring me my wrap.” I ran my hands briskly up and down my arms to show my discomfort. “I will catch my death out here in the elements.”
Lamond turned his collar up and nodded in agreement. He stepped back inside about the same time as Elijah reached the porch. “Yas’sum, Miz Hannah?”
I kept my voice hushed. “I am playing a little game, so you must follow my instruction no matter how silly it may seem.”
He grinned playfully at me. “I like games. Mama says I’s good as gold at ’em.”
“In a moment, Mr. Lamond will come out here, and we are going to ask you to fetch Livetta. When you go down for her, tell her Master Charbonneau is with me, and she should send Tessie in her place.”
I brushed my hand over his soft, knitted hair when he turned a puzzled look in my direction. “This is the important part, and the best part of the game, Elijah. When you come back up the hill with Tessie, you must pretend she is Livetta. In fact, I want you to call her Livie, just as I do. Understand?”
Elijah nodded eagerly until the creak of the front door behind me cued him into his role. The gamble was huge, and potentially devastating, but there was no other way to thwart the inquisition. Aunt Augusta being in town for a few hours was my wild card, and I intended to use it. Elijah waited for Lamond to return to my side and drape my wrap around my shoulders. I pulled it snug around me and let the game begin.
“Elijah, I want you to go and find Livie. Please direct her here to the house. Monsieur Charbonneau would like to speak with her.”
“Yas’sum, Miz Hannah,” Elijah answered dutifully as he turned and started across the yard toward Mud Run.
“Wait, boy,” Lamond called out. Elijah hesitated and then returned. My heart sank with regret for putting him in a vulnerable position. There he was, just a child, staring up at Lamond, who loomed over him, arms folded. “Go bring me a set of shackles and a whip from the barn.”
Elijah’s eyes widened. When he glanced anxiously over to me, all I could do was nod for him to obey. Although no hands were on my throat, I felt strangled. We were treading in dangerous territory, and the melody of death tinkled and clinked from the chains slung across Elijah’s shoulder as he ran back to us across the yard.
“Throw them there on the bottom step,” Lamond said, lighting a pipe he had pulled from his breast pocket. “Now, be off with you and fetch the girl. And, boy, you are only to say the mistress needs her. Make no mention of me.”
“Yas’sah, Massa.” Elijah quivered. “I’ll fetch her as fast as I can.”
With a sickening shriek, the whip and chains uncoiled from Elijah and fell in wait for Livie. Lamond did not speak as we waited on the porch. He was keen with excitement at the prospect of claiming this trophy. Livie was nothing more to him than a means to an end. Tracking down and reclaiming a runaway was highly regarded by the landowners whose livelihoods were congruent to the size and efficiency of their slave force. It kept the system strong and intact at a time when Northern pressure sought vulnerability. Throwing Livie at his father’s feet would not only bear great weight in restoring his tarnished reputation, but would also ingratiate him back within his family ranks. He paced like a famished dog seeking a misplaced bone buried in the yard. The more impatient he became, the harder he puffed on his pipe. The smell of it sickened me, bringing to mind his story about Livie’s mother. I despised him as much as I feared him. What a cruel twist of fate having him here.
“Lamond, this is silly,” I said with a lilt meant to break the tension. “I told you the slave girl came to me in the most respectable way. Why must you be so stubborn?”
Lamond stared toward the path taken by Elijah. “You know nothing of her history before she came here. You are not at fault, mind you. I would not expect a woman to be keen in these matters.”
When two figures strolled up over the knoll, Lamond quickly knocked his pipe against the banister, emptying its ashy contents onto the ground. He marched over to get a closer look as the huddled pair neared the porch. I gasped when his hand swooped up and grabbed the rag tied around her down-turned head and yanked it backward so her face rose toward the icy sun. Poor Tessie . . .
“This is not the wench who served us tea,” Lamond barked. “This one is taller and altogether different.” He gruffly angled Tessie’s face to examine the cheek where Livie had a birthmark. “This is not the same girl,” he snapped, glaring back over his shoulder at me.
“Of course she is, Lamond.” I smiled. “You are very stubborn for such a fine gentleman.” My attempt to appease him went without heed. The smile drained from my face when he released Tessie and hoisted Elijah by the collar.
“What is her name, boy?”
“He knows she is—” I tried interjecting, but Lamond threw his hand fiercely in the air, demanding my silence.
“I am speaking only to the boy.” Lamond’s eyes bore into Elijah’s. “Now you tell me the truth, or I will whip the flesh from your bones.”
“Miz Hannah said go fetch Livie,” Elijah said, dangling from Lamond’s fist, the tips of his toes lifted off the ground. How he maintained so much courage in the grasp of hatred, I shall never know. My heart tightened as he answered earnestly. “This here is Livie.” Tessie nodded, her eyes wide with terror as Lamond turned his doubtful glare back to her.
“Tell me your full given name.”
“Livie, sah.”
“I mean your master’s family name, given to you at birth.”
“Don’t rightly know.” Tessie shrugged. “Jes’ Massa to me.”
“Where is his plantation located?”
Perplexed, Tessie turned her head from right to left, then pointed east toward the river. “Could be that a-way.” She scratched behind her ear, adding to her presentation of confusion as she puzzled at the hills rising to the north. “Or maybe over the mountain yonder.”
“Damn ignorant wench,” Lamond grumbled, growing red with frustration. “It’s a waste of time expecting an intelligent answer from either one of them.”
I seized the opportunity presented by his momentary lapse in certainty. “I must retreat indoors, Lamond. The frigid air does not agree with me. There is nothing to be found here except the promise of fever and chills by morning. It’s time we return to the comfort of our books and continue our lesson.”
Lamond took one last disagreeable look at Tessie. “Go on back to your chores. You are of no use to me.”
Tessie and Elijah did not waste a blink of an eye by looking at me for approval. She took Elijah’s hand and scurried back across the yard. I did my part by looping my arm around Lamond’s and coaxing him back to the house. As we walked up the steps and onto the porch, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Tessie look back at us before they disappeared below the crest of the hill. When I turned back, Lamond was staring down at me, studying my expression. Although my stomach was knotted tighter than my corset, I offered him a weak smile. His lips remained tight, and his thoughts unsettled. We had won a brief reprieve from the threat of Lamond Charbonneau. However, Livie’s wedding was now only a day away. There she would be in full view of all, including the vengeful son of her rightful master.
Chapter 23
T
he dawn of Livie’s wedding day brought with it my salvation from a sleepless night. I was terrified by the potential of the day. Possible outcomes played out in my mind, but I had yet to find a way to orchestrate them in Livie’s favor. I dressed without conscious thought and walked the upper hallway in a gloomy trance toward the stairs. My heart lifted when my ears were met by a familiar voice resonating from downstairs. I rushed down the steps and into the pleasantly surprised arms of Colt.
“Well, now,” he laughed. “I have never received a finer welcome.”
“When did you arrive?” I pulled away, not wasting a moment.
“I rode in by the full moon last night.”
“I need to speak with you.”
“Can it wait, Hannah? I had business to discuss with Augusta before meeting with my father this morning. He is holding breakfast for me. Winston was retrieving my hat and gloves when you came down.”
Winston lingered at the closet, giving me the chance to take Colt by the wrist and urge him to follow me. “Come with me to the sewing room, where we can speak freely and without notice.”
Closing the door, I told him about Lamond and Livie, and what had transpired while he was gone. His face flushed, then drained pale as he clutched the quilting loom and ran a hand through his dark curls.
“What are the odds of him showing up here after all this time?” Colt walked to the window and stared out, as if waiting for an answer to float down off the mountain. “This is very bad, Hannah. Not just for Livetta, but for us as well. I will do all I can to keep you out of the veil of suspicion, but everyone knows how close we are, so even if your involvement cannot be proven, I fear you will be made to pay a price one way or the other.”
“We must think of a way to keep Lamond from the wedding. If he has full view of Livie again, there will be no dissuading him.”
“From what you have told me, I suspect he will seek out another look at her today, wedding or not.”
“Perhaps if he has a weakness for liquor, as you told me, we can tempt him with drink.”
“He has remained steady in his reformed ways while he has been here,” Colt pondered outwardly. “It’s not likely he would chance even one toast without reason. For our purpose, anything short of stone-cold passed out would be pointless.” Suddenly, Colt spun around with eyes gleaming. “I have an idea.”
I clung to his arm like a child eager to hear the answer to an impossible riddle. With time running short, he was quick to oblige me. “It is risky,” he said, looking down at me to measure my resolve.
“Risk has been kind to us in the past,” I said, without wavering. “I trust your judgment.”
Colt told me about a powder he had in his medicinal bag, used to sedate someone in pain so treatment could be provided. Should Lamond ingest a carefully delivered dose, he would be temporarily unsteady and incoherent, much like a drunkard but without the drink. Given enough, he would lose consciousness and drift into a heavy sleep. I threw my arms around Colt’s waist and squeezed him.
“You are brilliant, Colt,” I told him proudly. “You always come to my rescue.”
“It’s far from brilliant,” he said, tight and concerned. “But I can think of no other option. I have administered the dosage only once, so I am not completely certain it will turn out as we hope.”
“Our plan will work, Colt,” I stated firmly. “It must.”
His golden brown eyes grew distant and troubled. “Using my medicine for deceit goes against all I believe in, Hannah. Were it not for the extreme circumstances and repercussions, I would never consider it. Even now, I feel I am betraying my training and counsel.”
I shook him to bring his attention back to me. “You are a good and compassionate man, Colton Reynolds. Follow your heart. It will guide you where you are meant to go. Some choices are not easy, but when they are for the good, they should be made with conviction.”
He looked at me thoughtfully and touched his hand to my cheek. “Anything good and compassionate in me was learned from you. And although you flatter me with your admiration, I know you are no longer a child who needs rescuing, by me or anyone else. I am proud such a fine woman seeks me by her side in a time of need.”
“Then let us begin.” I smiled. “We’ve not much time.”
A footrace began, with the pale sun climbing toward the midday sky, challenging us to finish before the festivities commenced. Colt coaxed Aunt Augusta back to West Gate with him so Uncle Mooney could escort her to the broom ceremony. He presented the idea as a wonderful display of unity between the plantations and sure to impress visitors and slaves alike. We were relieved when she agreed, because our plan could not be put in motion unless she was out of the house. When Colt and Aunt Augusta left by carriage, I was summoned to breakfast by Granny Morgan. Aunt Augusta had instructed Esther Mae to remain in the quarters to oversee preparation of food and drink for the celebration after the ceremony. Granny Morgan would join her at the completion of our morning meal, which was lengthened by the sleep habit of our unwelcome guest.
I had finished my breakfast and retreated to the parlor to practice French phrases when the sharp smack of Lamond’s boots finally marched down the stairs. There was not much time left in the waning forenoon, and Colt had not yet returned from West Gate. I followed Lamond into the dining room to take tea with him while he ate. Keeping him under careful watch was all I could do until Colt returned. I had a moment of panic when it occurred to me that Aunt Augusta may have directed Tessie to the main house to serve in Esther Mae’s place, but I was released from my fears when Granny Morgan entered the room, delivering him a breakfast tray and a steaming pot of chicory.
“Take that tray away, woman,” Lamond grumbled with a wave of his hand. “I do not wish to partake in a meal this morning.” Granny hesitated in picking up Lamond’s tray. Her face glazed over with bewilderment.
“Are you deaf, woman? I said take it away.”
Granny shuffled from side to side, obviously dismayed, until her face ripened with a big, toothy smile. “Massa gots’ta eat somethin’ at the start of such a big day. Nobody ’round here leaves the table without a bellyful of Granny’s biscuits. Best in the county, so say Miz ’Gusta.”
Lamond looked as surprised as I at Granny’s response to his command. Through the years, I had spoken long and warmly to Granny on occasions too numerous to count. In fact, some of my favorite memories were listening to Granny’s simple way of appreciating life’s pleasures, or her clearheaded way of deciphering problems. These conversations were almost exclusively held in the confines of her kitchen, never out in view of the main house, where her presence was quiet and dutiful. Had I not worries already crowding my mind, I might have laughed at Lamond’s twisted face.
“How dare you speak to me, woman? You have no right to form an opinion, much less direct it outwardly to me. My whip can lay open your wrinkled back as easily as it does a feisty young wench’s. I am shocked by the boldness of you Virginian slaves.”
“I’s sorry, Massa,” Granny said over and over as she collected the tray he shoved at her. “I’s sorry.” She wobbled with haste toward the entrance. Colt emerged to meet her, hands outstretched, and took the tray from Granny. He nodded at her as she looked at him for reassurance. I was so relieved at Colt’s arrival, I did not dwell on the oddity of him entering by way of the kitchen. His mood was playful as he returned the tray to the table.
“Charbonneau, my good man, you do not wish to offend us by refusing our hospitality?”
“Of course not,” Lamond said, sitting more erect and intimidated by Colt’s directness. “I was—”
Colt cut him short. “From where I stand, it appears you are taking pleasure in harassing one of our most favored slaves?”
“My intention was—”
“No matter your intention, sir,” Colt cut in, his voice raised against Lamond’s explanation. He placed the tray in front of Lamond and pulled up a chair. Leaning in close to keep Lamond off balance, Colt flashed a disarming smile. “Granny is beloved in this home, having cared for Augusta and her sister when they were children. Granny fed the youngest at her breast when the girls’ mother fell ill with consumption.”
“If my demeanor appears disagreeable,” Lamond sputtered contritely, “I sincerely apologize.”
“Apology accepted.” Colt continued to press him. “Now take some apple butter and enjoy one of Granny’s biscuits. As she says, they are the best in the county.”
Lamond nervously complied, placing a biscuit on his plate and dipping a knife in the apple butter. “Would anyone care to join me?”
I assumed Colt was stalling for extra time, so I accepted. “Yes, thank you.”
When Lamond glided the tray across the table toward me, Colt’s hand fell heavy on my wrist. “Augusta forbids Hannah second servings. Could it be our gracious offering is not of high enough standards for this elegant visitor?”
Lamond spread a large dollop of apple butter across a flaky biscuit and ate it to appease Colt. “Delicious, truly,” Lamond said, licking his finger as he gauged Colt’s reaction. “My compliments to your slave woman.”
Colt leaned back, aglow with a satisfied smile. “Indeed.”
I grew impatient as we lingered at the table while precious time slipped away. By now, the gathering below would begin to question our tardiness. With Lamond in tow, I would not witness Livie jump the broom into a new chapter of life. Instead I would likely see her life reopened to the pages of a horrifying past chapter thought to be closed and shelved forever. Fidgeting with the flatware, I attempted to catch Colt’s eye to urge him into action, but he was relaxed and disinterested. At this late hour, Livie’s fate was predestined. Anything short of delivering Lamond an unexpected blow to the head would not change the outcome.
Thoughts of Livie and what would become of her shook me from head to toe. I fanned my napkin against my hot cheeks as my heart tightened like a noose in my chest. Urging Livie to run was never an option I considered, because the image of her in the jaws of Twitch’s dogs was unbearable. Now, however, I wish I had directed her in taking the risk. At least she would have had a chance, rather than be cornered like a plump turkey about to be slaughtered for the master’s contentment.
“Hannah, you look faint.” I gazed up at Colt, who had come around the table and hovered over me.
“Indeed, there is something in the air.” Lamond’s garbled voice floated somewhere beyond my vision.
Colt eased me to my feet. “Come, stand near the window and let the sun clear your head.”
The sunlight glared through the window, slicing me open and exposed. Distanced from Lamond, I whispered desperately, “We have failed, Colt. There is no boulder large enough to change the course of this vicious river of injustice. Livie will be swallowed by the current just as she was nearly a year ago. Was she saved only to meet a crueler fate?”
“Hannah, look at him.” Colt guided my shoulders as he turned me around. “The necessary boulder has already been delivered. Now, let’s hope the waters will shift.”
Across the room, Lamond swayed in his chair. He was perspiring heavily and tugging at his neckerchief for relief. “I do believe . . .” He struggled as his words lost form. “There, there is something . . .” He slowly slumped forward onto the table. “In the air.”
The last of his sentence ended in a groan, followed by silence.
Colt nudged me toward Lamond’s motionless body. “Hurry, Hannah. Help me move him to the parlor.”
Colt bore the bulk of Lamond’s limp weight. He hoisted Lamond from his chair and dragged him from the dining room, down the hall, and into the parlor. My contribution was limited to keeping Lamond’s arms from sweeping a porcelain vase off the table as we tossed him across a chair in the parlor.
“Is he dead?”
Colt looked at me, startled and a bit perturbed. “You know me better than that.” He lifted one of Lamond’s booted feet and swung it up over the arm of the chair. “I added a dash of elixir to his apple butter. Hopefully, enough to make him incoherent for the duration of the broom ceremony, where he would have had an extended opportunity to inspect Livetta and expose the masquerade.”
Lamond’s unresponsive figure lay sprawled in a heap before us. One foot drooped to the floor, while the other draped over the arm of the chair. His disheveled appearance was in sharp contrast to the smooth silk cushions he rested upon. Colt withdrew a small bottle of brandy from inside his jacket, and without saying a word proceeded to pour half its contents across Lamond’s clothing. He then tossed the bottle on the rug near Lamond’s foot.
“You are so clever.” Even in dire circumstances, I could not help smiling as Colt’s plan became clear in my head.
“
Clever
is not the word I would choose to describe how I feel at the moment.”
I stepped close to Colt and straightened his jacket. His code of ethics as a man of medicine had been compromised to protect Livie. The degree of his sacrifice deserved acknowledgment. “I know how hard this is for you, Colt, but extreme circumstance requires extreme action. Thank you for being so brave.”
Colt softened under my touch, and I was drawn to his unwavering faithfulness. His hands reached up and covered mine where they clung to his jacket. Warmth caressed me and pulled me closer to him. Safe and at home in his arms, I quivered as a cavern of unexplored passion opened in me. But when he softly brushed a finger across my lips, my swaying heart stumbled with remembrance of the same intimate gesture shared with Marcus in the cave. Colt’s eyes startled at the hitch in my breath. Flushing with guilt and discomfort, I retreated from the touch that reminded me of my secret indiscretion.
“Please don’t pull away,” he said sweetly.
“Your father and Aunt Augusta must wonder where we are,” I said, dripping with trepidation. “All of Mud Run is awaiting our arrival.”
Contented with the tender moment we shared, Colt pulled on his overcoat and grinned at me from beneath the brim of his derby. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then.”
Colt offered me his arm, and as we descended into the vale toward the gathering, our presence signaled the start of activity. Groups of Runians huddled together near the open doors of the tobacco barn. Arranged inside was a makeshift platform with cushioned benches, where the two plantation families and our guests could sit comfortably and observe the joining of our slaves.