The Abolitionist’s Secret (12 page)

Susan’s skirts rustled as she quickly turned back around. “In love, are you? We’ll see about that. Love is a foolish notion, Miss Fitzpatrick, and has no place in this discussion. David will obey his father and mother, and you’ll be sent home alone. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

Susan then pivoted on her heel, and, head held high, left the room. Heather sank back into her chair as her knees gave out finally. She placed her hand on her stomach. Never in her life had she stood up for herself like that, and her heart was racing. But she knew that her first confrontation with Susan Whitman was the most important meeting of her life, and she was proud of herself for not letting the woman ride roughshod over her. Jasmine would be so pleased that Heather used some of her tricks to stand up to David’s evil mother.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up finally, and deciding she wanted to show Susan Whitman that their conversation did not upset her, picked up the strains of the tune she was humming before their encounter. Heather walked to the room where Colleen was unpacking their clothes. She needed to change into more comfortable attire, since she wanted to walk the grounds of David’s estate and see exactly what was in store for her.

Heather and Colleen strode with purpose across the lawn surrounding the house. They both needed to stretch their legs after the long railroad ride, then the carriage ride. They took deep breaths of the air, which was filled with the heavy scent of azaleas, magnolias, and spring roses.

Colleen raised her face to the sun as she sniffed a particularly pretty rose. “These roses smell divine,” she murmured. “But, Jaysus,” she declared softly in her brogue as she looked around. “Is all this land the lieutenant’s property?”

Heather smiled. “Yes, I believe it is. At least, it’s his father’s. David’s still trying to decide if he wants to continue the family business.”

Heather stopped her conversation when they came to a field behind the house, which had neat rows of vegetables and produce. In between the rows, several slaves used their hoes to loosen the soil. Heather plunged into one of the rows to speak to a slave.

“What are you growing here?”

The female slave registered surprise at the visitor in the garden, but she answered the question. “Green beans, peas, tomatoes, potatoes, turnips, corn, herbs — things dat are used by the kitchen staff to feed us all.”

“So this is a kitchen garden? It’s huge!”

“We need a lot of food. Slaves don’t work so well if they have empty bellies.”

“What else do you grow?” Heather was awestuck by the enormity of the task of feeding the slaves and the family.

“Orchards for both peaches and apples. Cows for milk and meat. Chickens, both layers and fryers.” The woman wiped her brow and went back to her hoeing.

“It’s truly like running a small village, isn’t it?”

“Dat’s what every plantation is, ma’am. A small village.”

“What is your name?” Heather inquired.

“I’ze be Phoebe, ma’am.” The woman executed a small curtsey while keeping hold of her hoe. “And you are Master David’s new lady from up north.”

Heather smiled. “That’s right. I’m Heather. It’s nice to meet you, Phoebe. I hope we’ll become friends.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened as she looked at the young lady in front of her. “Oh, no, ma’am. You mustn’t come out here to the garden. You has to stay indoors to keep your complexion pale. It ain’t right for you to be outside in dis hot sun.”

“It may not have been done in the past, but, fortunately, I’m not from the south, and I don’t know what behavior is considered right and what is wrong. I’d love to help you in the garden, and to learn how to grow these vegetables. You never know when the knowledge might come in handy.”

Phoebe’s eyes dropped from Heather’s earnest face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Please, don’t call me ma’am. That’s what you call Mrs. Whitman, I’m sure. I’m Heather, or Miss Heather, if you must.”

“Yes, ma’am, er, Miss Heather.”

“Tell me, Phoebe, where is your house?”

Phoebe motioned over her shoulder. “Over der, on the other side of the hill.”

Heather followed her motion and spied the roofs of the shanties, which comprised the slave quarters. She tried to control her shudder.

“Thank you, Phoebe. We won’t keep you from your task any longer. Come, Colleen, let’s continue our walk.”

Colleen stood up from where she had been weeding a row of beans. “Ahh, it does my heart good to feel my hands in the earth again, even if it is red as the devil.” She moved to Heather’s side, rubbing her hands together to clean off the earth that clung to them.

Together, they strolled down the hill to the shanties, where Heather spent the afternoon meeting the slave children and the older women who cared for them. The children, once they lost their shyness, wanted to show off for her, turning cartwheels and having foot races. The women continued to educate her on how a plantation of this size operated.

As Heather and Colleen walked back up the hill and away from the slaves, Heather stared up at the great house before her. Her sense of unease grew. She knew the days to come would not be easy, especially since she had just stood up to Mrs. Whitman, something she knew the woman would never forgive.

But Heather would do anything necessary to make David’s life easier. If he needed to stay here at Bellewood, Heather would see the plan through, even with a despicable mother-in-law. If he wanted to move west, Heather would learn how to grow her own produce. If he chose to re-enlist in the army, Heather would be by his side. Whatever their future held, they would be a team. But despite her brave thoughts, as she looked up at the Bellewood manor house, her stomach curled into a little ball and her feet faltered.

• • •

David put an arm around his mother as they stood by the gravesite in the family plot on the hill overlooking Bellewood. Heather was on the other side of him. The surrounding plantation owners, and most of the slaves that had been with his father for years were in attendance at the service. David attempted to provide comfort to his mother, while holding back his own tears. Susan Whitman was a model of stoicism, and had yet to shed a tear at the loss of her husband of thirty-two years. David caught the slight shrug as he put his arm around her, but she let his arm remain, probably because it gave the appearance that she had a caring son. And Susan Whitman was all about appearances, as David well knew.

Blanche Beaufort broke away from her parents immediately after the service ended, and strode to David’s side. As she embraced his mother and wormed her way between David and Heather, he inwardly cringed, thinking this was the way his mother and Blanche had planned his life since Jacob’s death. He was supposed to take over the plantation upon his father’s passing, marry Blanche, and they’d all live happily ever after, with Blanche directing his every movement, in much the same manner that Susan had run his father’s life. He moved away from the two women who had plotted out his future for him, pulling Heather along with him.

He took her hand and walked away from the crowd for a private moment at the gravesite. He looked around from his vantage point on the crest of a hill, where the family graveyard was placed. The bones of his ancestors could survey the house and the crops from here, and rest easy, seeing that the plantation was operating properly. And, to all outward appearances, it was functioning properly, thanks to the backbreaking efforts of the two hundred slaves who called this plantation home. Slaves died young, for the most part, used and abused until they ran out of steam and moved to the great beyond, where they could finally get some rest. David surveyed the tidy fields, the blindingly white house with its crumbling tall pillars, the winding driveway framed on both sides by huge magnolia trees, and registered no emotion. No tug of “this is home,” no pride in the efforts that had put his father into the ground long before his time, no desire to stay here a moment longer. He was face to face with his destiny, and he did not like what he envisioned. He sighed deeply and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Heather placed her arm around David’s waist. “I’m so sorry, David, that you didn’t get to spend more time with your father. If you had come right home from St. Louis instead of going to New York first, you could have shared his last weeks together instead of just his last days.”

“But then, if I hadn’t come to New York, I wouldn’t have met you. I’m just glad we had a bit of time with him, and that he could meet you and talk to you about how much he hates slavery, too. He was a good man, and I’ve now come to realize, a very unhappy one. He wanted for himself the life I’ve been fortunate enough to live for the last couple of years. He would have loved to roam this vast country in search of excitement instead of being tied to one spot. I didn’t know until this week that he lived vicariously through my adventures these last few years. He never liked it here, and it seems wrong that his body should be left here with all the other Whitmans who came before him.”

After a few quiet moments, Heather said, “I suppose we should rejoin our guests.” She glanced down the hill at the others who were streaming to the house.

“Let’s make a vow first, though,” David replied as he held her close to him. “I know there are things that will need to be cleared up as a result of Father’s death, and that my time here will be longer than I originally anticipated. But, let’s make a pledge right now that we will not stray from our plans to marry by the end of the summer, be it here or in New York.”

“That will be fine with me, David. But I should return home as soon as possible, for propriety’s sake. Besides, your mother hates me, and, while I was hoping that Blanche and I could become friends, she wants nothing to do with me, either. It’s almost as if she doesn’t see me when I’m in the room. Like I’m hidden in the shadows, or something.”

“I know this is an awkward spot I’ve put you in, but I wanted you to get to know my father a bit. He thought you were charming, and a good choice for me. He told me he would consider it an honor for you to be the one to wear his mother’s wedding ring. In fact, right after the reading of the will, I’m going to go to the safe in his study and get it for you.”

Heather hugged David tighter and brushed his lips with a kiss. “Oh, David, I can’t wait. Let’s go then. Our future awaits us.”

In typical southern fashion, food was plentiful following a funeral, and the guests and slaves both had their fill of barbeque pork, fried chicken, hominy grits, potato salad, sweet potato pies and assorted breads. Even though it was only April, the air was warm inside the house. Cross-breezes blew through the home, thanks to the long, narrow open windows, but it was of little help.

As the breeze teased his hair, David could not help but feel the heavy hand of oppression on the top of his head. He headed out of the house for the slightly cooler covered porch, and sat in his father’s chair.
Is this how our slaves feel? Torn away from their homeland and made to perform backbreaking labor in which they have no interest?
His dark thoughts rolled through his mind, one after the other, as he sat on the wide porch and let the breeze fan him. He was forced to face the fact that, even in the midst of his neighbors and family, he was painfully lonely.

The only bright spot in his world was Heather, and he was so grateful for her company. She was the one who was talking to the guests, making them feel at home while he sat on the porch, locked in his dark thoughts. He hungered for something different from the life he knew on the plantation. He wanted to break from the past and make his own way in this young country, not be tied to the huge and oppressive task of running a plantation.

Blanche found him sitting alone and quietly joined him. She said nothing as she took the seat next to him — the same seats that his father and mother always sat in during hot summer afternoons — and leaned over to brush the stray lock of his hair from his brow. David’s eyes met hers as he pulled back from her touch. Blanche looked at him quizzically before she reached over again and placed her hand on his forearm.

“I know this is a somber day for you, but you must put that aside and take up the yoke of responsibility now. Enough of you wandering the country in search of adventure. You must now send your little strumpet back to New York, embrace your homeland and keep it going, as your forefathers would want.”

David glanced over at the woman he had grown up with. The woman who expected to be his bride soon, and who would gladly take over the responsibility of running Bellewood from his mother. Heather’s lovely face flashed through his mind as he looked across at Blanche. He sighed heavily and patted her hand before he removed it from his arm.

“You mean, my fiancée, don’t you? She will be heading back to New York soon to plan our wedding, but make no mistake, we will be married. You and I were never meant to be, Blanche, despite what our parents hoped for.” He gave her a rueful look. “You’ve always done exactly as they say, haven’t you?”

“Well, of course, David. Our much wiser parents have planned for our plantations to be joined through marriage since the day we were born.”

“Yes, they did, and it would have worked if Jacob hadn’t died. You two were meant for each other. But he’s gone now, and so is the life you planned with him. It can’t be with me. I have no desire to be Jacob’s replacement, either on the plantation or in your heart. Don’t you want a say in your own life? Haven’t you ever wanted to do something else? To see what the world has to offer? America is a great big country and full of beauty. You would not believe how scenic and different the west is.”

“Pooh, I don’t need to see any more of the country than what is at my feet. The south, and our plantations, Summerville and Bellewood, are the most gorgeous places on earth. I don’t care to ever leave. Summerville is where I grew up, and Bellewood is where I want to live forever.”

“I wish I could say the same, Blanche. I would love to be as content as you with the way things are.”

“You’re just feeling this way because of the massive responsibility that you now have. But I’m here to help. I’ll keep the house running as it should and you can take care of the fields. We’ll be a good team, David. After all, we’ve been preparing for this for years. Come now, you mustn’t neglect our guests.”