"Welcome to Jarmon Plantation, Alexandra," the soft voice continued.
Jarmon! Alexandra quickly focused on the woman. She was small, shrunken, her skin clinging to her bones, and yet there was a trace of beauty about her still. She was not old, but she was no longer young. And there was something familiar in her features. Most of all, the woman looked sick, as if constantly in pain.
"Jarmon Plantation?" Alexandra asked, looking in confusion around her. How had she gotten here? The last she remembered was being with Giles in the brothel.
"Yes, we're glad to have you, of course. It's not like it once was, but you're welcome here," the woman said in that same soft voice. She pushed back a strand of gray-blonde hair with a thin, work-worn hand. "I understand that you came to Louisiana looking for Eleanor and Jacob Jarmon."
Alexandra leaned toward her. "Yes. "Yes, indeed. I must see them. I've come a long way."
"You look a great deal like your father, Alexandra."
Alexandra's eyes widened in wonder. 'My father? I, I don't understand."
"I'm Eleanor Thorssen Jarmon. Please call me Eleanor. And you must be Alexander Clarke's daughter?"
Alexandra smiled, nodding at the woman, breath escaping from her lips in relief as she leaned back on her pillow. "Eleanor Jarmon. I'm so glad."
"I'm very glad to have you here, Alexandra, but I, frankly, don't understand. Giles didn't tell me anything except your name and that you were looking for me and my son."
Alexandra frowned suddenly, sitting up again, as she said, "Giles? Giles Beaumont? What does he have to do with this?"
Eleanor looked a little confused, then said, "But Giles brought you. Giles Beaumont Jarmon."
Alexandra stared at her a moment, utterly shocked. "Giles Beaumont Jarmon lives here?"
"Indeed. He's Jacob Jarmon's half brother. Giles Beaumont Jarmon III was my husband's first son by a New Orleans woman of high Creole lineage."
"Yes, I see," Alexandra said slowly, indeed beginning to see that Madame LeBlanc must have contacted Giles when she first learned of her desire to go to their plantation. But why?
"I'm sorry that my own son isn't here. You did wish to see him, too, isn't that correct?"
Alexandra looked at her sharply, then said, "Yes, that's right. He isn't here? I don't understand. Isn't this his home?"
Eleanor sighed deeply, then began a faint coughing which increased until her entire body shook. She drew out a heavy cotton handkerchief and pressed it to her lips. When at last the seizure subsided, she leaned back in the rocker, weak and pale. The handkerchief she hastily tucked away, but not before Alexandra had seen the blood on it. Alexandra looked at the woman more closely— perhaps she was more sick than Alexandra had realized.
"Can, can I help?" she asked hesitantly.
Eleanor shook her head, unable to speak.
Alexandra looked away, embarrassed, confused, not knowing what to do, or how to act.
"It's all right, Alexandra. I'm all right," Eleanor finally said.
Alexandra looked back at her and saw that the tired, pain-ridden blue eyes watched her with much interest. "You have come here, inquiring of me and my family, but you have not yet told me why."
Alexandra blushed. "I'm sorry. I suppose I appear the ill-mannered Yankee." Eleanor laughed gently. "No, my dear. You must remember that I, too, am a Northerner. I've never become used to the South and its strange ways," she said, her voice lonely and haunted.
Alexandra spoke quickly, not realizing how she emphasized her Northern traits with her quick speech and blunt tongue, reminding Eleanor of her lost home and family, and so hurried on with her story.
"I'm sorry, Eleanor, but your father died a few days before I left New York City," she finally said.
The small, thin body before Alexandra shook with silent sobs as Eleanor buried her face in her lap. Alexandra looked on in sympathy. She'd never yet cried for the one man she'd loved more than any other. She couldn't cry, not even now with his daughter. Her heart was like ice. Too much had happened for her to still feel anything but loathing for any man.
At last, Eleanor looked up at Alexandra and said, as she dried her eyes, "You came to tell me that?"
"More than that, Eleanor. When your father died, he asked me to come here to tell you that he was sorry and that he'd loved you always."
Eleanor's eyes brimmed over with fresh tears. "I loved him so, Alexandra. He was all I had until I met my husband. It almost broke my heart to leave him, but I had to—I loved my husband so dearly. And then, I wanted Jacob to have his father's inheritance. I wanted what was best for my son. I wanted him to inherit his father's plantation. Only, only—"
"Yes?" Alexandra prompted.
"Only," Eleanor said, trying to control her tears, "he was dead when I arrived here. Dead. I came all that way, quarreled with my father, to find my husband dead and buried when I arrived. He never even got to see his son. He'd been killed instantly—thrown from a horse."
"Oh, I'm sorry. How horrible. But why didn't you go back to your father?"
Eleanor raised her chin slightly. "Pride. I was too proud to say I was wrong, to say I was sorry, and then I still thought that Jacob might get something even after I'd learned that—" she hesitated slightly before continuing.
"It was such a shock to learn that my husband had been married before. He'd married a beautiful Creole girl from New Orleans. She died in childbirth. He'd loved her before me. I never really knew then if he'd loved me as much as I had him. He left me pregnant in New York to hurry back here when his father became ill. He said he had to run the plantation, but I wonder, I've always wondered. I suppose I always will."
"Of course, he loved you. He married you, didn't he?"
Eleanor smiled faintly. "Yes, he did, and I had nothing to offer him—not money, not a fine family name like his first wife. He must have loved me, mustn't he?"
Alexandra nodded and said, "Of course, and you were very beautiful, too."
"Yes, I was. He adored my blonde hair and blue eyes. He was so used to the dark Creole beauties that he was fascinated with my fairness."
"Then," Alexandra said hesitantly, "all has been well with you, after all?"
"In some ways it has been all right. In some ways it has not been well at all. You see, the plantation and everything it stands for will go to the first son, nothing for the second. That's the way it always has been in this family. And there will not be much for the first son if the taxes continue to rise."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if we can't meet the carpetbaggers' exorbitant taxes, we will lose the plantation."
Alexandra's eyes widened. "You can't make a living on this good land?"
"No. The South is broken and I doubt if it will ever recover," she said sadly.
"But the land, the cotton?"
" We have the land, but what good is it without the slaves? There is no cotton because there are no slaves to plant it, pick it. Don't you see? Without all those workers, there is no more South. I hated the slavery, but yet it was a beautiful life for the few."
Alexandra nodded, hardly comprehending. "And your son?"
Eleanor smiled softly, thoughts of her son altering her face completely. She became almost beautiful again. "Jacob has won in the end. He doesn't need this burden of the South. He chose another life long ago—when he was little more than a boy. I think he always knew. No, nothing of this will ever go to him. It will all go to Giles when his grandfather dies."
"He's still alive?"
Eleanor laughed harshly. "Of course. It would take a lot to kill that old man. If anything, the war only made him stronger. He will leave everything to Giles, the first son, just as his father left everything to him, the first son. You know, he had a younger brother, Lamar. There was nothing for him so he left years ago. He went to Texas."
"Texas?" Alexandra asked, the word reminding her of Jake, but she pushed the thought from her mind.
"Yes, he got a land grant under the Mexican g
overnment and has kept it through everything, even the wars. He's never made a fortune and life has been rough for him, but he has the land and his dreams. That's where my son lives. He went to Texas some time ago to join his uncle, Lamar Jarmon. He wanted me to go with him, but it was no place for a woman and I haven't had the strength for such a rugged life in years. Now it is too late."
"Too late? What do you mean? If you want to go to Texas, we'll go."
Eleanor looked at Alexandra sadly, then said, "No, my dear. I'm not well. I don't have long. Life has been too hard, and the climate here—it is too moist for my lungs. But soon it will all be over."
"Oh, but no! I've just found you. I, I—"
Eleanor shook her head. "Your coming here is a great gift—to know that my father still loved me and forgave me when he died will ease my own passing. I always felt guilty and sorry, more so as I grew older. I won't feel that any longer, and I thank you for that."
"I'm only happy to have helped, but still—"
"You could have seen my son, too. He's only been gone a day. He came to visit me before he went back to Texas. He wanted me to come with him. It is better there now he says, and he and Lamar have big plans for Texas and their ranch. They'll do well, I know. But I couldn't go. I couldn't take the trip."
"I'm sorry I missed him. His grandfather loved him very much. I want to see him too. I promised."
"Of course, but it's a long way to Texas and it's not so civilized there, although the South is not what it once was either. It has become quite unsafe here for a woman alone. I'm surprised you even made it here. It's so lucky that you happened on to Giles."
"Yes, isn't it," Alexandra said coldly, determined to confront Giles with his charade at the earliest moment. She had no desire to stay under the same roof with that man, but she couldn't leave Eleanor yet, not yet.
"I'm glad you're here, Alexandra. It's lonely here for a woman. I wish, though, that you could have met Jacob. I feel that you two would have liked each other. He's a brave man. I believe you have the courage and also the pride that Jacob has. But let's not talk of it now, let's just enjoy each other. It's been so long since I've talked to a young woman like yourself."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door and it swung open, revealing a large dark woman, carrying a tray.
"Ebba, do come in," Eleanor said with obvious warmth in her voice.
The large woman came into the room, a broad grin on her face as she carefully placed the tray of food across Alexandra's lap.
"Here, child. You eat up. Bet you're hungry by now," the woman said as she stepped back and crossed her large arms across her ample bosom.
Alexandra smiled, then said, "Thank you. It's very thoughtful, but you needn't have gone to so much trouble."
"Don't get that much company anymore, child. Course, there was a time—"
"Before the war it was all different," Eleanor broke in. "This is Ebba, Alexandra, and Ebba, this is a close friend of my father. He was her guardian. This is Miss Alexandra Clarke. She brought me news of home. My father is dead now. I have no more family except here," Eleanor said, sadness creeping into her voice.
"I'm sorry, Miss Eleanor, sure sorry, but you got a fine son. That Jacob Jarmon is a fine man."
"Thank you, Ebba. Alexandra wanted to see him, but she's just missed him, hasn't she?"
"Sure has. That's a shame."
"I'm sorry I missed him, but surely he'll be returning. I want to spend some time with Eleanor.
That's why I came," Alexandra said, thinking that she couldn't leave Olaf's daughter, wouldn't even want to. Jacob Jarmon was all right—she knew that now, but Eleanor was not. She would stay here and help Eleanor all she could.
"Thank you, my dear. And Jacob will be returning, although one never knows when."
Alexandra began eating the large bowl of thick soup. It was delicious and the thick slice of cornbread that Ebba had served with it made a tasty meal. She hadn't realized how hungry she really was and ate hurriedly. She couldn't help noticing, after the ostentatious opulence of the brothel, that the bowl and spoon were items that should be found and used only in the kitchen. Times must be very hard indeed in the South!
After she finished eating, Alexandra looked at both women, then said, "I want to tell you both now that I'm quite ready and willing to do anything that needs to be done. I may not be good at chores, but I'll gladly help. You can be sure of that."
"We're delighted to have you visit us, but you're our guest. We wouldn't think of your working," Eleanor said.
"But I intend to help. Didn't your son?"
"Of course. Jacob always does what he can when he's here, but—"
"Then think of me in the same way. I feel like I'm part of the family."
Tears streamed down Eleanor's face as she said, "You are so good, my dear, to want to help, but truly-"
"Now, Miss Eleanor, this has been too much for you. I'm going to take you to bed," Ebba broke in. "Miss Alexandra, you just stay here and I'll be back for your tray."
Ebba helped Eleanor up from her chair and across the room. At the door they turned around and Eleanor said, "Thank you for coming, my dear. I'll feel much better later. It has all just been too much for me, I fear."
They left the room, closing the door behind them. Alexandra sat in the great bed, wondering at the plight of these people. Ebba had reminded her of the dark woman she'd known in the Bahamas and wondered why she had stayed on after she was free.
There was a light tap on the door, then Ebba hurried in, a conspiratorial look on her face. As she came close to the bed, she said, "Child, I'm glad you come at this time. She's failing fast and insists on working. That Giles won't hardly lift a finger. Always gone to New Orleans gambling. Mister Jarmon holes up in his library going over his books, figuring out all he lost in the war. That leaves poor Miss Eleanor to do all the planning and she's hard put to make ends meet. I cook and clean, but my joints aren't what they should be. We've got no man here to do the hard work."
"How do you get by?"
"Ain't easy, child. Ain't easy. Mister Jacob just left so we're fixed up fine now for wood. He repaired things for us, got some other things to working again. He's some worker, but I don't expect him back for a time. He was awful upset that Miss Eleanor wouldn't go back with him. It almost tore her heart out to appear so well and happy with him here and all the while knowing that she'd probably not see him again."
"Not see him again?"
"Doctor said she's on borrowed time. Could have lived longer in a dryer climate and if she hadn't worked so hard the past few years. That war's killed her sure as a bullet through her heart."
"I'm so sorry," Alexandra said sadly.
"You can see she's not well, and almost killed herself doing for Mister Jacob and proving that she was as strong as ever."
"And he believed her?"
"Sure. He didn't want to know how sick she was. And she didn't want him worrying none about her. Also, he was in a hurry and she didn't want him wasting time here with her, waiting for her to die. Course, he'd never have left if he'd known. He never was one to stay long, though. He don't get on with his brother and grandpa.
"Child, you're not going to leave Miss Eleanor, too, now are you?"
"No, Ebba. I'll stay here as long as I'm needed."
The old woman let out a sigh of relief, then said, "That's a heap of worry off my mind. When she goes, I'll go, too, I got friends up North. I've even got my fare to get there, but I'd never leave Miss Eleanor here alone with those two men. You see, I took care of Mister Jacob when he was just a little one, just like I did Mister Giles, but I can tell you now, Mister Jacob was my favorite. Mean little devil, but loving too, when he loved. Always in trouble, but he was out in the open with it. That Mister Giles is the Creole and when he was in trouble, he'd weasel out of it somehow. Never could trust his handsome little face." She shook her head, smiling to herself. They'd been her children and always would be.
"Look, I've no experie
nce, but I'll do whatever I can to help. If you'll just show me what to do, I'll do it and gladly if it will keep Eleanor in bed."
Ebba nodded her head slowly, then grinned. "I'm sorry you missed Mister Jacob. I got a feeling in my old bones about you two—yes, perhaps you will go to Texas. He needs a fine, strong woman like you."
Alexandra blushed, then said quickly, "I'm not looking for a man, Ebba. I came to keep a promise to Olaf Thorssen, that's all."
Ebba said nothing more, but raised her brows and clucked to herself for a moment. "Well, child, I can sure use the help, but there's not a lot you can do for this old place anymore. They've sold off the china, the silver, and soon they'll start on the furniture, the paintings, either that or sell the place. It'll never be the same again, but with your help we can at least keep a few of the rooms clean and usable."
"Are my things with me?" Alexandra asked.
"Mister Giles brought a valise with you. Sure funny him meeting up with you in New Orleans.
Something fishy about it all, but don't quite know myself. Never can tell with Mister Giles, never could."
Alexandra averted her eyes, afraid that Ebba would read too much in them. Giles! How she hated him!
Chapter 14
Panting, sweat dripping down her face, Alexandra lifted the heavy tray of food to carry to the mansion. She had never worked so hard in her life as she had that afternoon in the kitchen. The room was large, old-fashioned, and had once been tended by many servants. Now, there were only Ebba and Alexandra. Of course, there weren't so many people to cook for, either, but still there was plenty to do. They had cooked and cleaned all afternoon, and Alexandra realized for the first time the vast amount of work required to run a home. She glanced down at her red, sore hands, and knew they were no longer the soft white hands of a lady. But somehow, it didn't seem to matter. These people needed her help and she was only too glad to give it to them.
It had been intensely hot in the kitchen—she'd never felt such humidity before and it seemed to stifle her very breath. How Eleanor had lasted this long, she did not know.
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