Audra had been tempted to tell her cousin that she already knew what to expect, but Eleanor was a terrible gossip. She would make sure Richard found out the truth about Lee. He would consider her a soiled woman then and refuse to marry her. That would break her father’s already-delicate heart, but she suspected Eleanor would be delighted.
She had convinced herself that she loved Richard. After all, how many women were there who would not find him easy to love, let alone the glorious life they would enjoy as the richest couple in Louisiana. Richard was even thinking about running for governor, but he was more concerned first about finding the best way to manage two plantations. He was discussing the same with her father right now. She was sure they were also discussing moving the marriage to an earlier date, perhaps even within the next month. Her father had already brought up the subject again this morning when she sat beside his bed while he ate his breakfast.
She wished she could have readily agreed. What was holding her back? It was the most logical union possible, and it would mean Brennan Manor would forever be protected and strong. Richard was a good man…or was he? That was what disturbed her. He had been kind and generous and attentive. He had expressed his love for her. But there was something behind his dark eyes that sometimes frightened her. Everyone knew he was very stern with his slaves, that he ordered whippings much more often than her father or some of their other friends did. Her father told her it was because Cypress Hollow was even bigger than Brennan Manor, and since the attack on Harpers Ferry it had become even more pertinent to clamp down hard on the Negroes. The entire incident was still the most talked-about subject among people from her father’s circle.
Because of her father’s ill health, Richard had already taken over a good deal of the management of Brennan Manor. He worked with Joey, took her brother along on tours of the plantation. He was good to Joey, and that meant a lot to her. Still, no matter how good he was, she did not feel the same passion for him as she had for Lee. Sometimes she found herself hoping Lee would come for her. If only he would have at least written. Even Joey had not heard from him. Joey had told her that their father had forbidden him to write to Lee because he was a Yankee, and at first she had been hurt and angry. Now she supposed it had been a wise decision after all. After Harpers Ferry, it had become even more obvious that the slavery issue was going to draw more blood. Her father and others even believed that most northerners were actually secretly supportive of what Brown had tried to do. She did not doubt that Lee would have been one of those people.
Tension between North and South was growing stronger every day, just as it was becoming more obvious that the summer love she had shared with Lee was just that…a summer love that would always remain precious in her heart…a secret she would carry to her grave. She had given something to Lee that no other man could have now, not even Richard. She had given him her soul, her virginity, her passion.
Had he just used her after all? What did she really know of men besides what they did to a woman’s body? Was the Yankee Lee Jeffreys laughing about the little “southern belle” he had bedded? It hurt to know that even though she couldn’t write him, Lee in turn had never bothered to get in touch with her either, when he was perfectly free to do so. He could at least have written Joey.
She leaned down to smell a rose when her thoughts were interrupted by a slashing sound, followed by a grunt. She straightened, concentrating on where the sound had come from. There it was again—a quick snap, another groan. It seemed to be coming from the area of the greenhouse, and she headed in that direction. She knew the difference between the sound of March Fredericks’s bullwhip and the smaller whip he sometimes used for quick reprimands. He carried the small one in his belt at all times. It had a short leather grip that sprouted several strands of rawhide, each with a piece of sharp metal tied to the end of it, so that when it was used on human flesh, it left several bleeding cuts in one slash.
How she hated Fredericks! She understood the necessity of discipline, especially in these dangerous times; but she still felt that in some cases such severity was unnecessary. What disturbed her about March was the absolute pleasure the man seemed to derive from bringing pain to humans.
She rounded a hedge and saw him then, standing in front of the greenhouse. Old George was kneeling in front of him, his shirt off, his back bleeding badly. March raised his hand again. “Stop it!” she shouted to the man.
Fredericks hesitated, turned to see her standing there. There came that look again that made her feel ill. The man was never clean shaven, and his floppy hat and the underarms of his shirt were stained from sweat. His eyes were blue, but not a pretty blue as Lee’s were. They were pale, and he had a way of looking at her that made her feel as though she were standing there stark naked. That was the other thing she did not like about him. He had absolutely no respect for his superiors. He did what he was told to do, but she suspected that if he thought he could get away with it, he would kill them all and be sitting at her father’s table.
“Don’t you dare hit George again!” she ordered, marching closer, “not now, and not ever!”
March slowly lowered the whip, and George remained bent over, half crying. March grinned as Audra came closer, and she felt savagely raked by his gaze. The sight of his teeth, stained from chewing tobacco, made her stomach feel queasy. “I caught him sleepin’,” he told her. “He’s supposed to be weedin’ out the garden, and he was in the greenhouse layin’ flat out like the lazy nigger that he is!”
“Ah…wasn’t sleepin’, Miss Audra,” George told her, wiping at his nose and eyes with the back of his hand. “Ah got so hot…ah went in the greenhouse to get some tools, an’ ah passed out on account of the heat.”
Audra walked to where a bucket of water sat nearby. It truly was an almost unbearably hot day, even for Louisiana. The whole month of April had been unusually warm. She picked up the water and came over to pour it over George’s head and back.
“Oh, that feels good, Miss Audra.” George remained on his knees as he rubbed at his face. “Ole George does thank you. It’s true, Miss Audra, ah passed out. You know ah don’ sleep when ah’s supposed to be workin’.”
“I know, George. You go back to your shanty and rest.”
The man slowly got up as Audra turned to March Fredericks. If looks could kill, she knew she would be dead. She also knew what he would like to do before he strangled her; but she was Audra Brennan, and the man didn’t dare lay a hand on her. It struck her then how much more powerful and important she would be once she was Richard Potter’s wife. Maybe she could even get Richard to fire this reprobate. “I mean it,” she told him. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on George again.”
“He’s a lazy nigger.”
“He’s an old man! Old men get weary, especially when it is this hot! And you know good and well that George is different from the rest of the Negroes! He has been with this family since my own father was a little boy! We don’t expect him to work hard. Father keeps him on because he doesn’t have the heart to sell him at his age, nor would anyone want him; more than that, he keeps him on because this is the only home George has ever known and this is where he should be when he dies.” She turned to George, who stood there hesitantly. “Go on, George.”
The man looked from her to March, a little wary of leaving Audra alone with the man. He reasoned that Fredericks was too smart to dare touch Miss Brennan, so he finally decided he could leave. “Thank you, Miss Audra.” The old man limped away.
Audra looked back at Fredericks. “I should have you fired!”
“Your father would never let me go,” he sneered. “He needs me. I’m one of the best overseers in Louisiana.”
“There are others.”
He grinned, trying to look confident, but Audra saw the worry in his eyes. March Fredericks liked it here. He had a lot of power here, maybe too much power, and he was paid well. “You’re just a female. It’s your father and Richard Potter who make the decisions around here, and I’
m tellin’ you you ain’t got no say in what happens to me.”
Audra raised her chin proudly. “We’ll just see about that!” She turned and stormed back to the house, furious over what she had just seen. She hated to upset her father with it, but something had to be done. She paraded past Toosie and Lena when she came inside, not even answering Lena when she asked what was wrong.
“Mr. Potter is upstairs with your father, if that’s where you’re going,” Lena called out to Audra as she proceeded up the wide circular staircase that led to the second floor of the mansion.
“Good!” Audra answered. “I want to talk to both of them!” Her voice echoed from the stairway down to the grand, marble-floored great room beneath it.
“They asked not to be disturbed,” Lena called up to her.
Audra did not listen. She marched into her father’s bedroom, where Richard looked up from a chair beside her father’s bed. Papers were strewn on the bed, some of them looking like some kind of legal documents. She supposed her father and Richard were discussing what would and would not belong to Richard once he married Audra. It had crossed her mind more than once that Richard might just be marrying her in order to have even more wealth and power, but what did it matter? It would be the same for her.
She walked closer to both of them, and they just stared at her a moment, surprised at her sudden entrance.
“Darling,” Richard said then, rising. “You look terribly upset.”
Audra watched his dark eyes. Why was it so difficult to tell if he was being sincere? He took hold of her arm gently.
“I am upset!” she answered.
“What is it, Audra?” her father asked.
She looked from him back into Richard’s eyes. “I suppose Father has discussed with you the fact that he would like us to marry sooner because of his health.”
Richard smiled. It was a handsome smile. Yes, he was certainly an attractive man, tall, still solid for his age, with dark, nicely trimmed hair and mustache, handsome dark eyes. He was gentle and mannerly. She could learn to love him, couldn’t she, especially once she bore his children? Whatever love she believed was missing from her life by marrying Richard would surely be made up for through their babies.
“Of course we have talked about it,” Richard answered, “and there is nothing I would like more. But perhaps you aren’t ready—”
“I believe you will be going to the Democratic convention in Charleston the end of the month?” she interrupted.
Richard looked confused. “Why, yes, Audra. We want to be sure the party takes a proslavery platform. We have to keep Stephen Douglas from getting on the ticket. The man believes in popular sovereignty—”
Again she interrupted him. “I don’t care about politics right now. I have decided, Richard, that as soon as you get back from Charleston, I will marry you. I have already been contemplating dates the last couple of days. How does Sunday, May thirteenth, sound to you? I want to be married in the Catholic church in Baton Rouge. While you are away, I can stay with Aunt Janine and let her help me with my wedding dress and wardrobe and in sending out invitations.”
Richard’s face lit up with pleasure, and when Audra glanced at her father, she could see he was thrilled. “Audra, I would be so honored,” Richard told her. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, and she thought his lips felt rather cool. Perhaps it was because her skin was so hot from the weather and from her own temper. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“I agree to marry you earlier, Richard, but on one condition.”
“And what is that, my dear?”
“I want you to fire March Fredericks!”
“Fire Fredericks!” It was her father who spoke up then. “Audra, I can’t do that.”
“Either you or Richard will have to, or I will not marry Richard. That is my stipulation.”
“What brought this on, Audra?” Richard asked her.
She kept her eyes on her father, taking her hand from Richard’s. “I caught March whipping poor old George. He accused him of sleeping in the greenhouse, but George says he passed out from the heat, and I believe him. March knows how we feel about George. I don’t like the man, Father, and I have never trusted him. Deep inside he’s a dangerous savage, and I want him dismissed. There are many times when Richard will have to be gone for days at a time because of all the things he has to manage. I will not have a man like March Fredericks running things while Richard is gone, nor do I care to be left alone to give the man orders. He has no respect for me.”
Richard grasped her shoulders from behind then. “Audra, Audra, calm down. If it is that important to you, we’ll make a compromise. March is good at what he does, but I agree he had no right to hit old George. What if I transfer him to Cypress Hollow? I am going to need the extra help there when I begin spending more time here with you. I’ll hire a new man for Brennan Manor. Would you agree to that?”
Audra turned and looked up at him. “I will agree to anything that means I don’t have to look at that man or talk to him again. Joey hates him, too. And I think March should be punished for what he did to George. He took advantage just because Father is ill. If you aren’t going to fire him, you should at least reduce his pay for the rest of this year besides sending him away from Brennan Manor.”
Richard smiled. “Then it is done.” He took hold of her hands. “Is it really all that simple?”
No, she wanted to say. I don’t want to go to bed with you. I hope you will be patient. I hope your touch will come to make me feel the way Lee Jeffreys made me feel. In spite of the night she had spent with Lee, she was still confused about sex, for that had been her one and only encounter with the pleasures and curiosities of it. When he touched her, something magical had happened to her. Was it possible that any man could do that to a woman, if he touched her in the right ways? She had to try to love this man, to enjoy his touch. She was going to be his wife, and once she married him, her father would be the happiest man alive, her brother would be protected, Brennan Manor would be preserved forever.
“Yes,” she answered. “The only other thing I want is the assurance that Brennan Manor will always be called Brennan Manor, so that the name is always remembered, even after Joey dies.”
“Of course, dear. Your father and I have already talked about that.”
“And Joey and I can remain living right here, and Lena and Toosie and Henrietta and George will never be let go.”
“Done.”
“I want March Fredericks gone tomorrow.”
“You will never set eyes on him again.” Richard smiled reassuringly.
Audra felt a new power. It would not be so bad after all, being the wife of Richard Potter. She would have far more say in the plantation affairs as a wife than she did as a daughter. She realized that if she could not have Lee, then what did it matter whom she married, as long as he filled so many other qualifications, as Richard did. It might just as well be Richard as anyone.
“Then you can start telling people the wedding is set for May thirteenth,” she told him.
He squeezed her hands. “I love you, Audra. You plan the grandest wedding you want to have! Money is no object. And as soon as the summer harvest is over, we’ll take a trip to Europe. How would you like that?”
“I would like that just fine,” she answered. Yes, Europe was a good idea. She would be even farther away from Lee. By the time she got home, she would be firmly settled as Mrs. Richard Potter. Maybe she would even be carrying his child by then. She would have babies. She would live at Brennan Manor, take care of Joey and her father, and life would be good.
Joseph Brennan smiled with great joy, already feeling better. Perhaps it had been his own alarm over the letter Audra had gotten from that Yankee man that had made his condition worse. Nothing could be harder on a southern man’s heart in these times than the thought of his daughter marrying a Yankee. He had never shown Audra the letter, nor any of those Lee had written to Joey. Not even Richard knew about them. He didn’t want t
o do anything that might cause the man to have second thoughts about marrying his daughter.
He had burned every letter. No children of his were going to become close with a Republican abolitionist! Lee’s most recent letter had been to Audra, telling her he was coming to Louisiana in June to speak with her and her father. He knew damn well what that Yankee surely intended, and he hoped getting no reply would put a stop to it. Audra belonged with Richard, and by the time Lee Jeffreys arrived, she would be a married woman. He would deny any letters had ever arrived at Brennan Manor. Lee Jeffreys would be sent on his way, and that would be the end of him and any fond thoughts he might have entertained about Audra.
Richard kissed the diamond-and-sapphire ring on Audra’s hand. “May thirteenth, 1860, will be the happiest day of my life,” he told her.
“And mine,” Joseph added.
Audra wanted to say it, too, but the words would not come.
Lee walked through the house his mother had loved, shivering with memories. He had not meant to do this, knowing how much it would hurt; but he had been unable to resist the compelling urge to return once more to Maple Shadows. It seemed he had not really had the chance to say good-bye, to his boyhood, to his mother, to the sweet summers he had enjoyed here.
The house would not be opened this year. He had come here only for a last look, and maybe to find some answers. He had written to Audra but got no reply. He was probably a damn fool to think of going to see her, anyway, and somehow it seemed maybe if he came here first, he would know what to do. This was where he had fallen in love with her, and this is where he had told her goodbye.
He closed the front door, and a damp, musty smell met his nostrils. The stillness that greeted him was made more unbearable by not just his mother’s absence, but Audra’s. Sweet memories squeezed at his heart when he walked into the parlor and stood staring at the grand piano that his mother had so loved. The room was dark now, windows and French doors closed, curtains drawn to help guard against the drafts of the fierce, cold winds that had battered it the past winter. He could not help thinking of the house as having a soul, and though it seemed silly, he felt sorry for it. The place must be more lonely than ever, knowing Anna Jeffreys would never again throw it open in the spring and let in the smell of her lilacs.
Tender Betrayal Page 15
