by Renee' Irvin
“Tom I think I need to leave,” she said, looking at Tom. She could see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I have a child and a husband.”
“Just tell me why?” asked Tom.
“Why what?” she said.
“Why do you stay with him?”
“Because, in his own way, he loves me, and I had to think of my mama’s house.”
“Loves you! That’s not love, Bella. Can’t you see all he’s ever wanted to do is use you?”
Isabella sank down in a rose, velvet slipper chair. Even though she knew that she wanted to be there, at that very moment, she knew that she had to go. The opportunity for what she was about to do was overwhelming her.
She stood up, paused, and then said, “Tom, I can’t take it, I can’t take this now.” Isabella ran out of the room, down the winding hotel staircase and exited the lobby.
Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker had left the courthouse and decided to stop by the hotel to have dinner.
“Annalee, was that Mrs. McGinnis who just ran out the front door of the hotel?” asked Lucy Baker.
Annalee Hancock stood on the tip of her toes and stared at Isabella until she was out of sight. “Yes, it was. Maybe she’s found out that her friend Mrs. O’Brien is going to jail.”
“Whose room do you suppose she came out of?” asked Lucy.
“I don’t know, but, Lucy, if you ask me, we know too much already. I think we should keep this to ourselves.”
“I think you’re right,” said Lucy.
At that very moment, Tom Slaughter ran down the stairs and to the front door of the hotel lobby. He just stood there, staring out the door.
“Do you know that young man?” Lucy asked Annalee.
“Someone said he was a newspaper man from Atlanta, but I did see him talking in private to Mrs. McGinnis outside the courthouse today,” said Annalee.
“I guess he’s one of those very determined reporters,” said Lucy.
It was five a.m.when Jules arrived home. There was a single light on in the kitchen. Priscilla must have been up making coffee, he thought. He had worked hard all night on a plan. He knew that he could not predict what would happen in court, but he had a good idea. So, all night he had met with an old sea captain and made arrangements for a very precious cargo to be sent to Europe. How long she would be there he was not certain, but he would make sure that she was safe and taken care of until he could either replace or talk some sense into Noble Jones.
A short time later, an orange sun was beginning to come up over the river. Jules walked into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it, Priscilla?” She looked at Jules and pointed to the morning newspaper sitting on the kitchen table. There was a photo of Isabella and Jacqueline. Underneath the headline blared: “WHO KILLED JACOB HARTWELL?”
“I need to talk to you,” Isabella said to Jules. “Where were you last night?”
Jules eyes were fixed on hers. “Went to see a man about a dog.” He walked over to an English sideboard and poured a glass of whiskey. “Can I pour you a glass, my dear?”
Isabella stared at Jules in shock. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning; we have to be in court by nine!” For a moment Isabella almost turned and walked away, but then she said, “I’m sick of you drinking all the time; you’re a drunk, Jules, a whoremongering drunk”
Isabella felt bad. Deep in her heart she knew that she cared for Jules, just not in the same way that she felt about Tom. And she also knew that he would never love her the way he did Jacqueline. If there had ever been a doubt, the last few days in court had confirmed her suspicions. She saw the way Jules looked at Jacqueline and it told her everything.
Jules looked at her and shook his head. “No, there’ll be no divorce in this house.”
Isabella looked out the window and saw Jesse hooking the horse to the carriage. She knew it was almost time to go to court. In the warm light of the early morning, tall oaks draped with heavy moss blew gently against a pale blue sky. The Savannah that she had loathed so years before she had now grown to love. Jules hurried out of the house, appearing to be much the gentleman. Isabella glanced at a hunched over Jesse, ready to drive the carriage to the courthouse. Priscilla had arranged with the mulatto girl Poppy to keep Elora so that Priscilla could go over to the courthouse after lunch and watch the trial that had riveted all of Savannah.
Between the alcohol and the opium, Jacqueline had managed to sleep about six hours the night before. When she awoke she had almost forgotten about the trial, but then she felt the cold metal of the cross that hung around her neck and remembered. Jacqueline heard Juliette cry in the nursery. She rushed into the baby’s room and picked her up. She saw Patrick out of the corner of her eye as he came in and took Juliette from her. He appeared to have forgotten all the terrible things that he heard about his wife in court yesterday.
“I believe our daughter is going to have blue eyes,” said Patrick.
“It’s impossible to tell what color a baby’s eyes are going to be at this age,” said Jacqueline.
“Nonsense, she has my mother’s eyes,” Patrick said as he cooed and rocked Juliette in his arms.
Kate entered the room, smiling at Jacqueline, “What’s he saying about her now?”
“He says she has your eyes,” said Jacqueline warmly.
Kate laughed. “Patrick O’Brien, I never thought I’d see the day when a young lady had you wrapped around her finger as tight as Miss Juliette.” She reached out for her granddaughter and wrapped her in a pink baby blanket. “There’s not a little girl in this county that can touch you, is there, my sweet princess?” Kate said as she nuzzled Juliette.
Patrick sighed. “Well, we’d better hurry. Jacqueline, go on and dress.”
Jacqueline gently kissed Juliette on the cheek and left the room.
Kate tugged at Patrick’s arm. “Do you think they’re going to need me today? If so, Nell said that she would come over and stay with Juliette.”
“No, mother, I found out last night that they’re not going to call you for another day or two. There’s no point in your being there today, having to hear all the lies and horrible things that are being said about Jacqueline.”
“And I don’t think I can take another day of that Noble Jones,” said Kate. “Noble my foot!”
Patrick nodded. “I’d like to put him planting and picking cotton.”
Jacqueline and Patrick climbed into the carriage and rode through the streets of Savannah on the way to the courthouse. They passed ladies in brightly colored dresses, carrying matching parasols. Jacqueline glanced down at her dull sage brown dress, the one that her lawyer had urged her to wear. She wished instead that she had been wearing emerald or a bright shade of red, one of her dresses from Paris, but Patrick had forbid it. She understood the need for her to look demure and modest, no matter how hypocritical it was. Suddenly Patrick shouted for the horses to halt and he jumped out of the carriage and went around to help his wife down.
The McGinnises had arrived too, and were just entering the courthouse. Jacqueline noticed that Isabella was wearing a periwinkle and cream colored, checked taffeta dress. Isabella’s auburn-blond hair usually hung loose and down to her waist, was pulled tight into a braided bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a flat straw hat, trimmed with a matching silk ribbon and a jeweled hatpin. Jacqueline knew that she was not supposed to be having thoughts about her dress at a time like this, but she wondered where Isabella had bought her dress; she would have to ask her.
Before entering the courthouse, Jules took off his hat and stopped to smoke a cigar. He inhaled, smelling the smoke of barbecue and Brunswick stew that was being cooked on an outside pit at a restaurant a couple of streets over. There was a faint breeze and people were starting to gather outside the courthouse. The judge came out the front door, down the steps and offered his hand to Jules. Jules thought that he was going to get the opportunity to speak to the judge, and he did, but the judge gave him
only a minute of his time. The two men spoke about the president, then the governor, then Jules said, “Your Honor, there’s an innocent woman on trial for a crime she did not commit.”
“Mr. McGinnis, I have seen no evidence of that. What’s more, there’s a lot of pressure being put on me by the Hartwell boy’s family. But I assure you, I will listen to the facts and details of the case.”
Jules reached for the breast pocket inside his jacket. “I don’t have to tell you judge how much influence I have in this community.” The judge gave Jules a look of disapproval as Jules removed a wad of cash from his coat pocket. “What happened to my wife and Mrs. O’Brien is terrible. There ain’t no sense in making this harder than it should be. It ain’t your fault that people are trying to get you to rule against your better judgment.” Jules turned his back to the courthouse, leaned in against the judge, and said in a low tone offering the cash to the judge. “I believe in you. I believe you’re a good man and I want to go ahead and make a little contribution to your next term as judge.” The judge warned Jules that such an offer could have Jules in prison. “I’m just trying to keep an innocent woman out of prison,” Jules reasoned. The judge went off to meet with Noble Jones. It was nine o’clock and time for court.
At twelve o’clock the court recessed for lunch. When they returned at one o’clock, the state called Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien to the stand.
At thirty years of age, Noble Jones had made quite a name for himself, and this case was the case of the year.
“Miss Rousseau, excuse me, Mrs. O’Brien can you please tell the court what your occupation was before you moved to Savannah,” said Noble Jones.
Jacqueline dropped her head down and the courtroom could feel her tension. After a few awkward moments, her lawyer got up and said, “Objection your Honor, Mr. Jones knows that my client was not employed prior to moving to Savannah.”
“Let your client answer the question for herself counselor,” said the judge.
“Very well, your Honor.”
“Mrs. O’Brien, will you please answer the question,” said the judge.
Jacqueline closed her eyes for a moment and then said, “My attorney is correct. I was not employed prior to moving to Savannah.”
“I see,” said Noble Jones. He held his head between his hands for a moment and then looked up at Jacqueline. “So, Mrs. O’Brien you lived where before moving to Savannah?”
“She lived with me you sorry son of a bitch!” yelled Jules.
“Mr. McGinnis, I will not warn you again. Another outburst and I will have you arrested. Mrs. O’Brien, answer the question, please.”
“Before I moved to Savannah I lived at Mae Patterson’s boarding house; for a short time.”
With a wry smile Noble Jones turned his attention to the jury and said, “And Mrs. O’Brien will you explain to the court what type business Mae Patterson ran out of her boarding house?”
“Objection! Your Honor, Mr. Jones is asking Mrs. O’Brien to speculate as to what type business Miss Patterson conducted out of her boarding house. My client can not comment on something she has no knowledge of.”
“Is this true Mrs. O’Brien?” asked the judge.
Priscilla looked up at Jacqueline and then gave Jules a long side-glance.
“Yes it is. I have no knowledge what type business Miss Patterson ran out of her boarding house other than providing room and board.”
“Objection sustained. Mr. Jones please do not ask the defendant to speculate on things she has no knowledge of.”
By the time he finished cross-examining Jacqueline he had given the court a biography of her life. In the beginning, Jacqueline handled most of his questions, but by the end of his questioning she spoke so low that he had to continually ask her, “Will you repeat that, please?”
The State of Georgia vs. Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien, the State was gaining control of Jacqueline and Jules knew it. He also knew that she would not survive. Jules paced in the back of the courtroom. Finally, he could not take anymore. Jules removed an envelope from his pocket and headed out the door.
When the trial had ended for the day, Jules was nowhere to be seen. Isabella offered her arms to Jacqueline, assuring her that everything would be okay. Isabella made little attempt to find Jules; instead, she told Jesse to take the carriage home because she wanted to spend some time alone. Besides, she had not gotten to speak to Tom Slaughter all day.
Mae and the two-faced girls stood in a circle, apart from the rest of the witnesses. In their lacy, frilly dresses, the twins smiled and encouraged any man brave enough to come near them. Making her way through the park, Isabella heard voices all around her animatedly discussing the courtroom events of that day.
Isabella was disappointed that Tom had not waited to speak to her. Then again, she was tired and decided to go home and take a nap before supper. Besides, she had a plan. She would wait until she knew where Jules was and then go to the DeSoto Hotel to see Tom. She also knew the scandal that would ensue if she was seen with Tom at the hotel, so she decided that it would be much better if she waited until dark to go out.
Priscilla walked into the bedroom. “May I help you undress?”
“No, you may not,” said Isabella.
“Ise been praying ever since you left dis morning dat everything would turn out fine in court today.”
Isabella propped her head up on a pillow and said, “Well, I’m afraid it didn’t do any good. Noble Jones gnawed at Jacqueline like a wolf.”
“It’s all over de place dat dey gonna give Miss Jacqueline life in prison.”
Life in prison had not occurred to Isabella. Jail time, yes, or maybe a place for women with unsound minds, but not life. Isabella sat up in the bed and looked around the room.
“Whatcha lookin for?” asked Priscilla.
“Will Jules be back anytime soon?” asked Isabella.
“I don’t know where Mister Jules is; he never come home from de court,” said Priscilla.
Isabella looked confused but pleased at hearing this. She thought of going to the hotel, then wondered what people would think of her. Of course, people were already on their porches, talking. They had been ever since she had come to town, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt if they talked a little more. Isabella lay back down—she was too tired and sleepy to think much about anything right then. She glanced up at Priscilla, wrapped in a white apron, and asked her to leave her be so that she could get some rest.
“Oh God!” said Isabella as she jumped to her feet. She looked at the clock—it was half past eight and she had been asleep for over two hours. Hastily, she splashed cold water on her face, fumbled with her petticoat and put on a dark green taffeta dress that Jules had bought for her in New Orleans. She thought angrily of both Jules and Tom leaving her alone at the courthouse. She brushed her hair so hard that she yanked it painfully and threw down the brush. She swung around on her heels, twisted her long hair up on her head securing it with a hair clasp and was as excited as a schoolgirl with a new beau. Isabella opened an enameled box on her dresser and took out the garnet earrings that Tom had given her and put them on. She sprinkled perfumed toilet water across her bosom and walked to the front door.
“Where you going dressed like dat?” asked Priscilla asked as she rushed up to her.
“Can’t you find something to do with your time rather than watching me? Besides, you’re not my mother.”
“Somebody shure need be your mother,” said Priscilla, reaching for Isabella’s hand.
Isabella jerked away. “I’m going to a garden club meeting.”
“Dressed like dat? Besides when’d you join a garden club?” Priscilla said with a sly grin.
“It ain’t none of your business when I done this or when I done that,” said Isabella. “I’ll be gone for a few hours and then I may go and see Jacqueline.”
“I don’t believe dat’s all where you going, you ain’t foolin’ me none. Ise reckon everybody in dis place done lost their mind,” said Pri
scilla.
Isabella picked up her skirts and walked past Priscilla and out the door.
By the time, she arrived at the DeSoto, she was concerned about how she looked. Once inside the hotel lobby she ran up to a gold gilted mirror to get a glimpse of herself. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Then she thought about how she had come about owning the dress and her smile faded. When Elora was older, she would tell her to be careful about accepting gifts from a man, any man, even your husband, because there was always an agenda behind them---and Isabella knew very well that no man gave a woman anything without expecting something in return; there was always a price to be paid. In a lot of ways men were all the same, but on the other hand, Isabella had learned that if a woman could use the man in some clever way, even one she was in love with, to benefit her in some way, then of course, that was what a smart woman did. Isabella looked up and saw the reflection of Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker staring at her in the mirror. Oh, what gossips they are, she thought. There was a flower show at the hotel and Isabella guessed that was what those two old biddies were doing there.
Isabella rushed up the winding staircase of the hotel, looking back, hoping that the two gossips were not watching her every move. She passed a woman on the stairs that had the blondest hair Isabella had ever seen. She reminded Isabella of one of those “bad women” who had testified against Jacqueline; one of Mae Patterson’s girls. Isabella wondered what men paid women like that to do and how much money they gave them? She had never known of any men who visited such women; except of course, her husband, who was in fact, a vile, ruthless man. One day, she vowed, she would give Jules McGinnis a taste of his own medicine, but for now she had no say, no control over her own life; her fate was in his hands. Or was it…?
It was on that very night that Isabella went to Tom’s room. He opened the door. All of a sudden, Isabella did not hear the murmur of voices and footsteps going down the hall. “May I come inside?” she said softly. “I want to discuss the situation between you and me.”
