Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  Eden held the teacup to her lips and eyed the servant with suspicion.

  Trinidad muttered, dropping a biscuit on Eden’s plate. “’Tis a day for the major.”

  She cleared her throat, nearly choking on the last hot sip of tea. “What? Is Major Hampton home?”

  The servant cleared her throat and snatched up the serving tray. “Ah, no, Miss, excuse me.” She fled the room in a flurry of calico.

  The woman puzzled her. She would be sure to find out more about her from Lucy. Until then, she had better freshen up to greet the day.

  After breakfast, she strolled to the gazebo situated between the manor’s main house and the river below. The view from the arched pergola had to be one of the most beautiful and peaceful places she had ever seen. All around stood giant tulip poplars, magnolia, oak, and black locust trees, and the steady chatter of robins, cardinals, and mockingbirds, filled the air on the well-kept grounds. She cast her attention to the plot of rose bushes surrounding the gazebo. She missed her lovely rose garden back home, and seeing the well-tended flowers on the grounds of Hampton Manor brought back childhood memories of Oak Hill.

  When Eden was young, Mama Claire taught her the importance of getting one’s hands dirty; to hold and feel the earth with bare hands and to tend, nurture, and wait patiently for the roses to bloom to perfection.

  When the time was right, they would walk to the rose garden. The elderly negro woman would hum a tune ‘from the old days,’ she would say. She’d gently pull the ribbon from Eden’s hair and unwind the long braid with nimble, brown fingers. Mama Claire would tell her stories about the days long since passed; the days when Eden was a baby, and her mother, a stunning beauty who had swept Doctor Blair off his feet the moment they met. She would remind Eden of the great love Mistress Rebecca had for her little daughter she liked to call “Sweet Eden.” Then they would wrap a bouquet of yellow roses, her mother’s favorite, with the ribbon from Eden’s hair and lay them at her grave.

  While memories of her mother had always been wrapped in the sweet fog of childhood, she clearly remembered running and playing hide-and-seek near the gardens with Isaac, Jimmy, and Patrick. When the boys would find her, they refused to tackle her to the ground as they did one another. Rather, they treated her as though she were made of the finest delicate porcelain.

  She recalled another day, years later, when she stood in the same garden picking roses for her bedside table, when Patrick came galloping up on his Appaloosa. He looked especially handsome in his riding coat and boots, his hair windswept and wild, when he told her how lovely she looked that day. As if it were only yesterday, she remembered how he took her hands in his and told her he loved her and would always be there for her. She shook her head, refusing to let the familiar ache of shattered dreams swell within her chest.

  The aroma of fresh mint, rosemary, and lavender scented the air. She strolled to the opposite side of the gazebo and spotted an herb garden several yards away. The familiar scents filled her senses, just as they had at the reception hall not long ago. She could still see Rayce’s handsome face and hear his husky drawl as he spoke against her throat that night, and how his hands skillfully played with her hair and...oh, Lord above!

  She trailed a finger along the wood railing. If he comes home...well, I’ll just be unavailable for the duration. After all, the manor is immense.

  “A smidgen’ of pie for your thoughts?”

  She turned to see Lucy walking toward her. “I thought you were ill. I had planned to check on you later.”

  Eden studied her sister-in-law. Lucy’s pale skin cast a sallow hue against her dark dress. “Darling, are you unwell?”

  Lucy waved her slender fingers. “It’s just a touch of something. You needn’t concern yourself, dear.” She turned her back to Eden and faced the river. “Isn’t this place spectacular? It’s been years since I’ve been here, and I’d enjoy hearing all Daniel has to say.”

  “I thought Trinidad planned on giving us the tour.”

  “I guess she couldn’t do it, so Daniel will show us.”

  Daniel came into view hobbling across the sweeping lawn. The old negro suffered a pronounced limp, looking like he could topple over with each step.

  “Don’t you two get comfortable there,” he called out, “we got lots to see.”

  The women had seen the wharf and the river’s shore days earlier, so Daniel began on the opposite side of the mansion.

  “Now ova’ yonda’ be the soybeans and peanut fields. There’s eight thousand acres here at Hampton Manor and most been put to crops. Course things a changing fast with the armies all meandering through these parts. Armies would take it all if they could, North and South. Fact is, most of the field hands been taken by the Reb army to dig trenches in Yorktown to keep the Yanks away.” He shook his head and turned. “Yes’m, sure is crazy times.”

  Eden followed the direction of his pointed finger at what appeared to be an eternal vastness of low growing plants.

  “Over there be the tobacco,” he said.

  She put her hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the bright sun.

  “Not gonna be much of a crop this year because the Confederate Congress done told everyone to grow foodstuffs with the war, and all. But tobacco’s been good as gold for the Hamptons ova’ the years. Been the main cash crop for many folks around here but especially good to the Hamptons. Fact is, lands around here been declining for years now.” He grinned. “Course, the major’s a smart man, and he done figure out just how to fix the dirt and make it good for tobacco again.”

  “Really, how?” Eden wanted to know more. Every tobacco farmer knew over time the crop exhausted the fertility of the ground. She had seen it at Oak Hill after they had failed to rotate the crops and would have given just about anything for another solution. “What remedy did he find?”

  “Oh, he done tried lots of things and nothing worked until he come up with a real potent mix of what he calls...sea manure.”

  Eden frowned. Only he’d come up with such a crude name.

  Lucy stifled a giggle.

  “See, we dredge the bottom of the tidal creeks and mix up sea clay, shells, and shellfish. I’m telling you, I never seen anything help tobacco grow in all my years. Anyways, that’s why the major been doing fine while other folks been struggling.”

  He pointed to another area. “Ova’ there is the barley, wheat, and corn fields. I’ll hitch a buggy, and we can ride around.”

  “Just how old is this place?” Eden asked.

  “Goodness, Miss Eden, Hampton’s been here a long, long time—well ova’ a hundred years. Course it took longer to get more land, but they been a hard working bunch, and it paid off good.”

  “All this land they got over time? I never knew that,” Lucy said.

  Daniel nodded. “No ma’am, that be right. Master Hampton—that be, Captain Reginald Hampton, he was the first here. The ol’ captain was a rich man back in England—owned a shipping company. He came here and started buying up land. He planted tobacco and sent it back to England—course that made him even richer. Then, when the captain had more money than he knew what to do with, he married a pretty, young lady in England. The daughter of a surgeon in London, if I remember rightly. Well, they came back here to settle for good. Then it was just a matter of time before the captain started buying up more land. Yes’m, this place has stayed in the family all these years, being passed to first-born sons. Last Hampton son being Master Rayce.”

  “You don’t say,” Lucy mused.

  Daniel gave an exaggerated shiver and raised his bushy, gray eyebrows. “Well, Master Rayce be the last Hampton alive around here, that is. The dead don’t always go away like they should.”

  Lucy gasped. “What an odd thing to say, Daniel. Whatever do you mean?”

  “Master Rayce never told you about ol’ Captain Hampton, Mrs. Blair? Lawdy Lawd.” He took off his hat and wiped his brow.

  Eden recalled seeing the name Captain Reginald Hampton on the p
ortrait over her hearth. She wouldn’t be able to forget those leering eyes any time soon.

  Daniel leaned forward. “I hear the ol’ captain, well...he haunts the third floor. It’s abandoned, you know.”

  Lucy gasped. “Haunted! Goodness, Daniel.”

  His round eyes darkened. “Oh, yes, ma’am, but I hear noises myself a time or two over the years, and Trinidad says she hears him many times over. She told me she seen him looking out to sea, just-a-waitin’.”

  Lucy smiled and waved her hand. “Land sakes, waiting for what? Surely, you don’t believe in ghosts. Why would he haunt this beautiful place?”

  Daniel gathered in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Well, after a few years here, the captain’s wife, Mistress Faith Hampton, she ran away with another man. The two sailed off to sea together right in front of him, leavin’ the captain and their young son behind. Poor Captain Hampton was prostrate with grief, waiting for her return. He never go nowheres or nothing for years. He just wait and wait for her, pacing around upstairs, looking from the third floor window out to sea.”

  He pointed at a large rectangular window facing toward the James. “Some say he just went mad.”

  A shiver traced Eden’s spine as she cast her gaze toward the river. The winding waters of the James River flowed into the Chesapeake Bay at Hampton Roads, then out to the vast Atlantic Ocean that led to foreign places far away.

  “Back in the day, people felt sorry for the ol’ captain when they see him up there staring out. Tale is, poor man died from a broken heart waiting for his woman to come home to him where she belonged.”

  “The story truly is tragic, Daniel, you’re right.” Lucy’s words barely rose above a whisper.

  “Yes’m, it surely is. Long before I was born here, there been tales of people seeing and hearing him upstairs. Trinidad says his spirit will stay trapped here until the man gets his woman back.”

  A cool gust of wind rushed across the river. Eden quickly reached up, securing the flapping taffeta bow on her braided straw bonnet. She gazed up at the window. “Well, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  The women spent more than an hour touring the grounds, first by foot and then by buggy to the various gardens, fields, and buildings. They passed by an open area of small wooden houses with whitewashed outer walls, lined in a row. Piles of neatly stacked wood sat beside each structure and a larger pile behind a weathered henhouse. Dozens of negroes stood outside tending to their chores, watching as they rode by.

  She whispered to Lucy, “The slave quarters are very well kept.”

  Lucy furrowed her brow. “I thought you knew. Why, Rayce has no slaves, honey. He freed each of them when he inherited this place. These negroes here are hired servants.” Lucy called out, “You’re a free man, aren’t you, Daniel?”

  “Yes’m, Mrs. Blair, free as a bird,” he replied over his shoulder with a big grin. “Master Rayce gave us our papers before the war even start. We work for him just the same, but he don’t own us. Nobody own us no more.”

  Daniel called to his wife, Hetty, carrying water from the creek, and his two sons, William, chopping wood, and their youngest boy, Toby, who appeared too busy chasing chickens to notice.

  Freeing one’s slaves was not unheard of in the South, but it certainly was not commonplace. Eden had heard this talk from Isaac recently, but she had not expected it from Rayce. Both men were soldiers fighting for the Confederacy and the state of Virginia, whose livelihood and foundation were built on the institution of slavery.

  Her sheltered life at Oak Hill had never prepared her for the complex issue of slavery. She dearly loved Mama Claire and thought of old Uncle Asa, Ezekial, and Jeremiah as part of her family. Her father had been a compassionate doctor and a decent man, yet he owned slaves, never freeing any of them. She felt a sudden surge of humiliation for having never considered the idea after he died. Up until now, she had thought these to be purely Yankee views.

  Daniel faced them. “Well, I’d be lying if I say nobody left. There were some field hands took off when the war start up, but I think they did it because they feel they was supposed to. Some join up north, but I can say this for sure; none left because they were treated poorly. Master Rayce is a mighty good man.”

  Chapter 7

  Now, where did he go?

  Passing down the long second floor hallway, Eden could hear the dog’s soft whimpers. She glanced at the locked black, iron door that led to the third floor, remembering what Daniel had said about the ol’ captain’s lost and tortured soul. “Good heavens, I hope I don’t have to traipse up there to find Beau,” she whispered.

  Another whine followed by a bark rang out. “Here, boy,” she called quietly, hastening her pace. “Come here, Beau.”

  She walked toward Lucy’s room at the end of the hall and noticed the door ajar. Beau sat inside, ears folded back, and his head cocked to the side.

  She poked her head inside. “Lucy?”

  Nothing.

  “Come here, you.” She crept in and scooped Beau into her arms. Just as she rose up, prepared to slip out undetected, Lucy came barreling out of her privy, clad in only a thin nightdress, her face drenched in moisture. The wooden door slammed against the wall, echoing across the polished floor.

  “Eden! I...”

  Eden’s jaw dropped. Beau’s restless paws dug into her arms, and she bent low to set him down, her gaze fixed upon her sister-in-law. “Lucy,” she mouthed.

  “I knew it, you hate me. You hate me!” Lucy bawled. Her slender shoulders heaved with choked sobs. “I wanted to tell you—I did—but...but I was so ashamed.”

  The heavy hush of secrecy filled the room. Lucy stood before her, revealing a belly the size of a Virginia melon at picking time. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

  Lucy’s shoulders slumped, and she flung down on her featherbed, weeping into the pillow.

  Eden rummaged through her skirt pocket for a handkerchief and rushed to Lucy’s side. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m just surprised.” That was certainly an understatement. She wasn’t just surprised, she was downright dumbstruck. “I wasn’t—”

  “Oh, Eden! Here I am, married only weeks, and almost seven months with child.” Lucy looked up with puffy eyes. “Please don’t stare at me like that, I feel bad enough already.”

  Eden realized her state of shock had been interpreted as disappointment, or worse, disapproval. Yes, she was stunned, but it never crossed her mind to pass judgment, nor would she ever turn her back on Lucy. “Dear, I’m just...surprised." She managed a stiff smile. “Does Isaac know?”

  “Of course he knows. Look at me!”

  Eden glanced at Lucy’s large belly and then down at the floor.

  Lucy sighed heavily. “I couldn’t keep this kind of news from him. He’s known for months and says he doesn’t give a whip what others think. Our child was conceived in love, and that’s all that should matter.”

  Eden faced Lucy and sighed. Her brother loved Lucy and clearly stood by her. Still, the matter was of a delicate nature. If she were to help Lucy, she would need more information.

  “You don’t look well today. Have you been having trouble...with the baby?”

  Lucy rubbed her belly. “No, I don’t think so. The babe moves each day, and lately even more, but I don’t have much of an appetite and often feel terribly nauseated.”

  Eden’s mind raced. “How...I mean, when did this—”

  “Back when Stonewalls Brigade was near Winchester and I had a five-day leave from my governess duties. I knew if I caught the train, I'd be able to catch up to Isaac.” She blew her nose. “I did find him, Eden, and he was in quite a state.”

  Eden frowned. “How so?”

  Lucy slowly shook her head. “There’d been a battle days earlier. He saw some of his men die and others wounded. You must realize, with everything going on, we thought we’d never see each other again, and it happened. It just happened.”

  Eden had limited knowledge when it came to passio
nate affairs between a man and a woman, but if the way she felt in Rayce’s arms the night of the reception was any indication, she knew desire could certainly overcome sensibilities. She struggled each day to keep what happened that night as far from her mind as possible.

  She hugged Lucy and smoothed her chestnut braid.

  Lucy closed her eyes, calming herself against Eden’s shoulder. “I’m always so afraid. Sometimes I tire myself out with worry, and then I feel ill.” She pulled away and looked into Eden’s eyes, her gaze narrowing as though searching for something. “I know you’ve considered leaving. I’ve seen it in your eyes. I still see it. Please say you won’t go, Eden, I need you. I can’t bear to go through this without you and have to rely on Ann. Call me a ninny if you wish, but that’s how I feel. I want you to deliver this baby when the time comes.”

  Eden looked at Lucy’s tearstained face and knew what must be done. She would never leave Lucy's side while she was with child. Not only would Isaac never forgive her, she would not be able to forgive herself. She had delivered plenty of babies before. War or no war, she would do it again.

  “I won’t leave you. I promise.” She rubbed Lucy’s back. “Um, does your cousin know?”

  Lucy tilted her head and stared off. “Well, we never discussed it, of course, but the day I’d been feeling ill at Pizzinni’s, a look came over his face. Right then and there, I thought he might suspect. He had a look in his eyes—like he looked right through me, and no sooner, he offered his home.”

  Everything was beginning to make sense. The high waist and extra yards of satin and tulle sewn into Lucy’s wedding gown; and with her small frame, a little juggling of the ol’ corset strings was all that it took to pull off the appearance of a chaste bride. Isaac had been more than anxious to move the three women to the manor when Oak Hill burned, rather than find them a place in the city.

  “You know, Rayce had just learned about Oak Hill's demise. Perhaps that had been the deciding factor in his offer. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with him. I think he’s just happy to be helping us.” Wiping the last of her tears, Lucy turned to Eden. “Isn’t my cousin wonderful?”