Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy

by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

  “Daddy, please don’t go; please don’t leave me here!” I screamed. “Daddy, please!”

  Grandmother called for the driver to help her take me. I protested, and when she wouldn’t let me go, I kicked her so hard she had no choice but to release her grip on me. I ran, ran as fast as I could to Daddy. He stopped, spun around, and swept me up into his arms. I was certain he had changed his mind, realized what a terrible mistake he had almost made. But then, to my dismay, he carefully lowered me to the ground and let go. I saw it then, in his tired, defeated face, without any doubt—he wasn’t taking me back with him.

  I cried, begged, and pleaded for Daddy at the top of my lungs as he climbed onto the carriage that had waited for him. Then it sped away. The grandmother’s driver awkwardly took hold of me and carried me into their carriage then we took off in the opposite direction. When it finally sank in that I had been deserted by Daddy, that he wasn’t going to take me with him, I sat back, stunned and dismayed. I had no fight left in me.

  Grandmother kept a trivial smirk on her face that sent shivers through me. She was nothing of what I’d expected if I ever did have a grandmother. There was nothing kind or sweet about her. She obviously didn’t have a loving bone in her old body.

  She didn’t say a word to me as we made our way down the dusty roads until we came upon a formerly glorious plantation. Above the long, live oak-lined entrance was an iron arch with the name Sutton Hall impressed on it. The two and a half-story stucco-brick mansion was ahead, surrounded by an abundance of fragrant magnolia trees, which must have been grand before being ravaged by the war. There were thick, green vines growing along the columned facade and double-wide front galleries. Some of the windows were broken, and all of them were filthy. The gardens were overgrown and full of weeds.

  The driver stopped in front, and Grandmother hurried me off the carriage. She pushed me forward and I fell out and down into the only puddle I had seen since my arrival in Georgia.

  “Get up!” she commanded.

  I was covered in mud and she had no sympathy for me. However, I could see some pity in the driver’s face, the Negro man Grandmother called Hamilton. I slowly rose, followed her up the stairs to the front entrance. Hamilton unhitched the horse and led it to the stables.

  “Take off your dress,” she said before we entered. I then realized Daddy had forgotten to give me my bag. I had nothing to change into.

  “But I have no clothes,” I said, choking back my tears.

  “There are clothes in your mother’s old wardrobe. Now do as I say!”

  She wanted me to undress out in the open. I was mortified. When I hesitated, she began to forcefully unbutton my dress. She became impatient and violently stripped off my dress until I was in nothing but my chemise. I tried to cover myself with my hands, fearing the whole world was looking at me, and I hid my tears with my long hair.

  “Now get on with it,” she hissed, and pushed me inside. The mansion in which she had insisted I not wear my muddy dress was empty and dirty. The wide wooden floors were covered in dust and mud. I didn’t understand why she made me undress.

  This was once my mother’s home, I thought. The woman that appeared to loath me had given Momma life? I couldn’t believe it.

  “Upstairs with you,” she said, ushering me up the enormous grand staircase, which was broken and missing balusters, to the second floor. Down the long, bare hall she led me until she stopped at the furthest door, and then said matter-of-factly, “Here is where you’ll be staying.”

  She unlocked the heavy wooden door to reveal a drab, dark room with a four poster bed and an armoire in the corner. There were no bed clothes, only a coarse mattress. There was no other furniture, except the lone armoire.

  “You will find what you need in the armoire. You look the size of Amelia the day she ran off with your dishonorable father, except,” she said, gazing down at my developing bosom, “your mother was much more voluptuous.”

  Grandmother stepped back towards the door as I tried to find words to speak. I was distraught, so much so that I didn’t know how to ask the questions that burned in my mind. Was she really my grandmother? Did Momma really run off with Daddy? She frightened me; she looked at me as though I were one of the freaks in the sideshows of the circus Heath, Ayden, and I went to long ago.

  “I will have your food sent up to you later,” Grandmother said, then closed the door and locked it. The sound of the key turning the lock sent my mind screaming. I was being locked away, just like Momma. I wasn’t out of my senses. Why was I being shut away? I could do nothing but bring my hands to my face and cry. Sobs filled the room and bounced off every wall. It was the worst day of my life.

  Never before had I felt so unloved and unwanted. I craved Daddy; I missed Opal, the woman who had become like a mother to me. I longed for Ayden to cheer me up with his silly antics, and most of all, I missed Heath. If he knew what had happened to me, for sure he would tell his father to have Daddy come get me and take me back to Jasper Island. I didn’t know what to think and could only fall onto the bed and curl up in a ball, wishing myself away. I wiped my tears and closed my eyes and thought back to my last day at the lighthouse station. That day had changed the entire course of my life. I had planned to end it, yet here I was, in a new place with new, unbearable beginnings. Heath and I had parted on adverse terms, and I regretted not listening to him and causing him to be angry with me. I missed him terribly, so much so it hurt my heart just to envision his handsome face in the back of my mind. I was so emotionally drained, so tired from regrets and incomprehension of what had just happened to me, that I wasn’t aware I had fallen asleep until I was harshly shaken awake.

  Grandmother towered over me holding a candle in one hand and a plate of food in the other. The glow of the flame cast an eerie shadow over her that made me instantly sit up and back away to the farthest part of the bed.

  “What aren’t you dressed?” she demanded. “Get up and get dressed!”

  I flew up and ran to the armoire and pulled out the first dress I got my hands on. I was shaking so terribly that I couldn’t get the dress over my head fast enough. With fury in her eyes, she spun around and left, again locking the door behind her.

  “Wait!” I called, running to the door. The room was black; there was no table or lamp in the room. “Please don’t keep me locked in here!” I wailed.

  There was no answer; there was not one soul that would come and help me. My heart pounding in my chest and my stomach in knots, I felt my way around the room with my hands pressing up along the dust-covered walls until I finally found the heavy drapes to the window. I pulled them back to reveal the moon. I was so thankful that there was a full moon and clear skies, allowing just enough moonlight to fill the room. I slumped down to the floor and again curled up, trembling and trying to rock myself calm. How could Daddy leave me in such a place? What was I to think? What would I do without him? He had promised it would only be for a little while. I hoped and prayed I could last until Daddy came to take me away from my hell on earth that was Sutton Hall.

  _______________

  Chapter Fourteen

  For two nights and three days, Grandmother kept me locked up without food or water, punishing me just because I existed. I couldn’t imagine what I did to deserve such torture; I couldn’t understand how Daddy could ever think being in the care of my grandmother, who hated everything about me, could be better than living with him on a remote lighthouse station.

  During my isolation I spent every hour that I could trying to remain asleep. There was no reason to rise when the sun came up; one day was no different from the next, until finally the door unlocked, and Grandmother declared that I was now allowed to eat. I was so sick from lack of nourishment that I could barely rise when she came in to leave the plate on the floor. She didn’t stay, but she had Hamilton come in and remove my chamber pot. He tried hard not to look at me. He was a very large older man with salt and pepper hair. His face was wrinkled and very worn. And just
as I thought he was turning to go, he picked up my plate and kindly laid it beside me on the bed. Then he hurried out before Grandmother saw that he had helped me in any way. He was frightened of her—that I could see.

  On my plate were two pieces of a kind of corn bread. That was all. I was fortunate to have a glass of milk, also left on the floor. I was able to keep down the food in my stomach, and by the time I drank the milk, I felt somewhat better. With some energy returned, I was able to get up and go over to the wardrobe. I was curious to see what it held, if anything other than a half-dozen beautiful dresses. I moved them aside, and to my delight, I found a rag doll, a candle, some matches, several books, a slate, and one small piece of chalk. It didn’t take me long to open one of the books and begin to read The House of the Seven Gables.

  The book immediately drew me in, and I found myself passing the hours, my mind completely captivated by the story. The chilling tale reminded me all too well of the gypsy I met years before and Momma’s fear of witches. This, after all, was Momma’s book. Was that what instilled her fears? Was there even more to the story that correlated with Momma’s life than I could have ever even imagined? Was Sutton Hall anything like The House of the Seven Gables? Would Sutton Hall reveal ghosts and witches and family curses? The thought frightened me. I hoped never to find out; I planned to be long gone before the ghosts of Sutton Hall had any chance to reveal themselves. Daddy would come to bring me back with him. He would realize he had to live without Momma, but he certainly didn’t have to live without me. Daddy would soon need me by his side and return me to the only place I would ever feel safe. The lighthouse.

  It didn’t matter where the lighthouse was—on a remote and isolated stretch of land far out in the Atlantic Ocean, or with any luck, back on Jasper Island. I had taken my world, my life, for granted. Maybe I should have appreciated Momma more and understood Daddy’s loss. Perhaps I could have been more understanding with Heath and given Ayden more attention. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would in a second. I wished and wished each night that I lay alone in the eerie old mansion, that the day would come that I would have the opportunity to see them all again.

  I read book after book, and a week at Sutton Hall passed. Grandmother sent my meager food up only once a day, and I lost weight rapidly. If she noticed, she didn’t say. Every time she entered the room to deliver the plate, I begged for my freedom, pleaded with her to telegram Daddy and have him come and get me. She ignored my cries; she refused to look at me.

  “Why am I here if you hate me?” I asked one hot afternoon in the stuffy room. She was there to retrieve the plate and then leave. When she didn’t answer, I stood and demanded she let me out of the room. “You can’t keep me locked in here forever!”

  Even Momma, who was completely out of her mind, managed to find a way out, even if that meant she had to be sent to an asylum.

  Grandmother’s eyes narrowed and she took several steps towards the bed.

  “Oh, can’t I?” she hissed. “I learned something from your mother, and that is that all girls, when they start to come into flower, should be locked away. If I had only known better, I wouldn’t have the burden of you today.”

  I didn’t know what she meant. She saw my bewilderment.

  “Amelia was a beautiful girl; every man desired her. I warned her. But she was wild and full of sin; she didn’t heed my warning, and it wasn’t long before she was with child from a most unholy union.” Her face twisted in disgust, and she looked at me, shooting daggers with her stone-cold eyes.

  That child was me, but I wasn’t unholy. I was as pure as their marriage, as wholesome as their love.

  “Without a doubt, you are the exact image of your mother—inside and out,” she said. She made an about-face and slammed the door behind her. I didn’t believe what Grandmother said had an ounce of truth. Momma was wholesome; she only had eyes for Daddy. Indeed, she was beautiful, much more beautiful than her own mother. Maybe that’s why Grandmother hated Momma and made up terrible lies about her—because she was jealous. I was fortunate to be just like Momma; there was no reason for me ever to take Grandmother’s words as an insult. The next time she came to the room to deliver my meal, I would tell her so.

  Hours passed slowly, and even though I spent most of my time reading, which helped take my mind off my dreadful imprisonment, I wanted more than anything to be free. It was difficult to concentrate on anything but that. Between reading and sleeping, I devised plans to escape. I thought of climbing out the window, but it was high up, and I was afraid of falling and breaking all my bones. I could tackle Grandmother, knock her down, and run out of the room. But there was Hamilton, who would be there to catch me and bring me back. My options were limited, my boredom was excruciating, my life dismal. There was a chance I could go mad, just like Momma. There was nothing else to do but lose all sense of reality in such circumstances.

  I was losing track of time, and to fight off the possibility, I decided to take my piece of chalk and write the days on the bottom of the wall beside the bed. I started on day eight. Doing that, keeping track of time, was one key to staying sane. If only I had the most important thing of all—the key to the door.

  In the following weeks, after endlessly trying to communicate with Hamilton when he came to empty my chamber pot, I almost gave up. I knew he heard my pleas; I saw the way he would try and speak with his big, wide eyes, but he never said a word, and I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say. Was he asking me to leave him be? I wasn’t sure until one stormy afternoon, as the wind and rain battered against the only window of my room; I tried once again, having nothing better to do.

  As soon as I caught his eye, I said, “When I was on Jasper Island, I loved the rain. I used to go outside and stick my tongue out to catch the rain drops in my mouth. I would sure love to be able to do that again.”

  I didn’t realize Grandmother was right behind him. She was there, bringing my meal hours early. She scowled at me then said, “He is mute, you fool. He can’t talk to you, so stop trying.” Hamilton shifted his eyes away and took the pot, then hurried past her.

  “I noticed you have been an obedient child,” she said, her words taking me by surprise.“I have decided to allow you out of your room tomorrow.”

  I jumped up from my bed and went to thank her, but she pointed her cane at me, and commanded, “Sit back down! You will be doing the cleaning from now on. I will come and get you. You will clean as I watch over you then return to your room.”

  It was sad to be so grateful for such a small thing—being able to leave a room to be a servant, but it was all I had. It was an opportunity to see the place Momma grew up, even if I was the one cleaning it.

  Grandmother saw the enthusiasm in my eyes, and she didn’t like it one bit. “You will be working from sun-up to sundown. Do you understand, girl? Maybe if your mother had lifted a finger in her life, she would have appreciated everything her father and I had done for her. After all, Sutton Hall wasn’t built out of nothing. Thomas spent years making it happen, seeing his dreams fulfilled. And they were,” she declared, “until the war. We were stripped of our wealth, but not our dignity. The war couldn’t take that away, nor could Amelia.” She spoke as if I understood how to read between the lines of her words. “Now there is a mess to clean up, and it is time. The rebuilding of Georgie has been painstakingly slow. We must do our part to help revise the great South and bring Sutton Hall back to its former glory. And let me say one thing to you, Yankee girl,” she paused, and then straightened her spine. “The South shall most certainly rise again.”

  It was odd to hear her talk with such a heavy British accent and declare her southern pride. Was it my grandfather’s pride that lived on in her? I was anxious to begin putting the pieces of my family’s history together. Sutton Hall was the obvious place to have it all unfold. But just how many pieces were there, and would it all be revealed before Daddy came to take me home with him?

  The next morning, as early as Heath,
Ayden, and I used to wake for school, Grandmother came in and announced I had a full day of cleaning ahead of me. She showed me out of the room, and I tried to take it all in. The dilapidation was even more excessive than I had originally noticed many weeks before.

  Grandmother walked so swiftly that I didn’t have time to see what was in each room as we made our way down the dark hall. I could tell there had once been a runner by the way the wood was worn. We headed down the staircase and proceeded through wide mahogany doors into the main dining room, which now was completely empty. Near the top of the twelve-foot ceilings was ornate crown molding, and in the very center was a medallion that used to surround, no doubt, a beautiful crystal chandelier. The walls were bare and bland with unoccupied cobwebs in every corner, but I could see outlines where numerous, most certainly expensive, oil paintings must have been prominently displayed. There was a fireplace, but its marble mantel had been removed. Grandmother was aware of how sad the mansion appeared. It was her weakness. She had a soft side for the house that showed when she gazed around or tried explaining the tragedy that stole the mansion’s beauty. However, she always reminded me that her character was still there, just waiting to come back out.

  “I have an inheritance coming to me. My dear father, who resided in Wales until his death several months ago, left it all to me. When I finally receive the money, I will spend every dime of it refilling Sutton Hall with its belongings. The Union army stole it all, and I will spend every waking minute getting it all back.”

  Grandmother wore a faraway look. For a moment, I felt some sympathy for her, until she saw someone in the center hall that she thought was eavesdropping. She marched over to the woman, who thought she was undetectable, and grabbed her by the arm.

  “How dare you spy on me, Abigail!”

  The woman, who I suspected was another of Grandmother’s former slaves, snatched her arm back, and pleaded, her hands above her face, not to be struck. Abigail was nearly the same age as Hamilton, yet she was even more petrified of Grandmother than I.