Blood Moon (The Mercy Carver Series Book 2)

by Jana Petken

  Elizabeth listened to Hendry, Belle, and Jacob talk with a cold and uninterested expression. When she heard the conversation turn towards baby Grace, she gleefully planned the moment she would disrupt the cosy family meal with her news about the woman Jacob believed he was in love with. She looked across at her husband and saw a handsome man. She couldn’t deny that he was, for he possessed strong features, perfectly aligned, and a chiselled jaw line that made ladies swoon. He was even more handsome with the beard that had grown on his face and chin, she thought, yet despite rugged good looks and a dazzling smile, he repulsed her.

  She was not 100 per cent sure if the unspeakable dirty sow he had been involved with still lived, but she suspected that Mercy Carver was alive and well and that Jacob’s absence in this past week or so had nothing to do with all the silly talk of war and everything to do with that woman.

  Margaret Mallory had informed Elizabeth that Mercy Carver had once been a well-known prostitute in Liverpool, and Elizabeth had no cause to doubt her friend’s accounts. Margaret had also told her of her own desolation upon finding out that even her dearly departed husband had used Mercy Carver. Pity for Margaret lay heavy on Elizabeth’s mind, for not only did dear Margaret have to live with the distasteful recollection of her dead husband’s association with a woman who opened her legs for money, but she also had the added misfortune of not knowing what had become of her dear sister, Myrtle, who had not yet sent word to her in all the months Margaret had been here.

  Elizabeth’s anger grew as she caught Jacob’s mischievous smile and bright eyes as he talked with Belle about a stupid baby which contributed absolutely nothing to the household, bar its wailing! She was deeply disappointed in the Stone family. Jacob’s indiscretions were disgraceful, and Belle’s boyish mannerisms and coarseness were shameful.

  Margaret had wept with mortification, and Elizabeth had wanted to weep for her friend. Hendry and Belle were mean, turning Margaret away twice after she had invited Margaret to tea. Margaret was kind and thoughtful. Why, had it not been for her generosity in imparting truths about Mercy Carver, she might have been sitting here desiring Jacob instead of detesting him. And had it not been for Margaret’s urgings, she might be satisfied with this loveless marriage, for it had always been loveless.

  As Margaret so rightly said, men had bestial instincts that quite simply compelled them to stick their rods into any ill-reputed woman they happened upon. These men usually died of disease, Margaret had also told her, and the sickness that took the unfaithful dogs of husbands to the grave often took their poor innocent wives along with them.

  “Jacob, have you no idea where you might be going eventually?” Belle asked.

  “I heard talk today about encampments being set up close to Richmond and stretching all the way over to Yorktown, but that’s all I know. I reckon we’ll be told soon enough where we’re heading.”

  “I wonder what they will do with y’all.” Belle sighed.

  “God only knows, Belle. I find myself at a loss to comprehend the minds of politicians and generals. I ask myself questions that they can answer but sadly I cannot. Where are the small arms with which to defend ourselves? All I’ve seen in the last few days are men arriving from the country to volunteer, carrying old smooth-bore muskets and carbines that can’t hit shit from any decent range. Excuse my tongue, ladies,” Jacob added quickly. “There has been some secret mass production going on that we don’t know about. It’ll be a fight just to get a decent weapon in our hands.”

  “Jacob, please – you’re scaring me,” Belle said.

  “Don’t fret, honey,” Henry said. “Jacob’s just looking at this the way any soldier would. I do believe this will end in no time at all. No government wants to lose money on a damn war, especially when the South’s revenue is so highly valued in Washington. You’ll see soon enough that this is just a spat. Lincoln will back down.”

  “Hendry, spat or no spat, I sure as hell won’t go into a fight without a decent rifle. I’ll end up blowing my own head off! Do you remember Pa’s old sixty-nine-calibre musket? I was sure he was going to kill himself with that thing. It’s still in the attic – he loved that gun.”

  “Yes, he did,” Hendry laughed. “It stood right next to his father’s eighteen twelve silver medal. I remember being caught with it pinned on my shirt. I couldn’t sit on my behind for weeks after Pa had finished with me.” Hendry laughed and then grew serious. “Jacob, I know you have worries about weapons and supplies, but I believe the Confederacy has been planning for this eventuality for quite some time. I have faith in them, and I have no doubt they will give you a big new shiny gun.”

  “Make fun all you want, Hendry,” Jacob said, his voice brimming with good humour, “but I maintain I still can’t figure out how the hell we’re supposed to go to war against the North when they have all the machinery and factories and we not much more than cotton buds. Dear God, just think about the logistics of putting together an army within days. There are horses, saddles, wagons, supplies, weapons, and victuals to think about – you don’t think we’ll be expected to eat cornbread and pork belly for six months, do you?”

  Belle laughed. “You do love your cornbread, Jacob.”

  “That I do, Belle.” Jacob turned his head and found Handel standing behind him. Handel’s bottom lip was pushed out in a disapproving pout, a sign that he had a powerful need to speak his mind about something. “Handel, go get Millie,” he said. “Tell her to make me cornbread right now. I do believe I will take some with me tomorrow.”

  “Cornbread? Why you ain’t gonna git no strength from cornbread, Massa Jacob. No, sir, I figure you be needin’ a whole lot of cow meat to keep you goin’ on that hos’ of yours. Ain’t no goodness in cornbread,” he muttered as he left the room.

  Jacob sipped his wine and looked at the faces around the table. He was much relieved. The conversation had lightened. Belle was smiling. Hendry was in the mood for reminiscing over old times. And as for Elizabeth, well, she was just as sullen as always in his company.

  “Jacob, you’re going to look so handsome in uniform. I can’t wait to see it on you,” Belle said.

  Jacob smiled. He had tried the new grey uniform on and had been handed fabric, rank insignia. He doubted Elizabeth would do him the favour of sewing them on his jacket. He would ask Belle to do it first thing in the morning. “Why, thank you kindly, Belle,” he said.

  Jacob looked at Hendry and grinned. “Pa will climb out of his grave and whip my butt if I take Grandpa’s sabre with me, but it’s going, for good luck. You don’t mind, do you, Hendry?”

  “I will if Pa’s ghost turns up here and takes its irritation out on me …”

  Elizabeth threw her fork onto her dinner plate, causing enough noise to halt the good-natured banter in its tracks. “Don’t y’all think there’s been enough talk of silly war and guns at this table? Why, it’s bad enough there won’t be the usual summer balls and picnics this year on account of y’all leaving. I’m just sick of hearing about it, and I won’t listen a moment longer. It’s ruining everything!”

  “My apologies, dear,” Jacob said. “I promise there will be no more talk of war. Hendry and I will discuss this distasteful subject over brandies after you and Belle retire.”

  “Well, seeing as how the subject of war has been dispensed with at last, I have some news of my own, and I can’t think of a better or more fitting time to speak to y’ all about it,” Elizabeth exclaimed dramatically. “Why, it’s been eating away at me for days and pressing on me till I can’t breathe.”

  “Then pray tell us what’s got you so riled up. We’d hate you to stop breathing,” Jacob said mockingly.

  “Well, if you must know, it’s about that Mercy Carver. Y’all seem to hold her in such high regard, but I’ve come by some interesting information about her, and even you will be shocked, Belle.”

  “Not now, Elizabeth,” Belle warned.

  “Yes, now, Belle. You and Hendry are wicked. Poor Margaret Mallory is a v
ictim of Jacob’s whore, and it’s so unfair of you and Hendry to turn Margaret away from Stone Plantation whenever she comes to call on me. She was wronged by the Carver woman, yet you allowed her to come here, to this house, knowing that it was to be my new home. It’s high time y’all know how I feel. Why, anyone would think I don’t belong here … Well, I do, and I have every right to invite who I want onto my porch.”

  Jacob wiped his mouth with his napkin and hid his anger. He had hoped to avoid all mention of Mercy during the meal by giving Belle and Hendry the letter she wrote to them, only after Elizabeth had retired. “I think we should discuss this in the privacy of our own room, dear. This is a special occasion, and I aim to keep it amiable,” he told her.

  “You would say that, wouldn’t you? Why, all the folks in the county know you still have a hankering for that white trash!”

  Belle and Hendry rose from the table. Belle crossed to Hendry’s side and held his hand. “As usual, Elizabeth, you have spoiled a perfectly lovely evening. I won’t sit here a minute longer listening to your prattle. Hendry, take me upstairs … please.”

  “Belle, sit down. I’m in sore need of your company tonight. We have so much to talk about – don’t leave, please,” Jacob begged.

  “We’ll have breakfast in the morning, dearest,” Belle told him. “I find myself yearning for bed. I don’t want to be in your wife’s company, and that’s a fact. Hendry will be back down. He’ll join you in the library. Good night, Jacob.”

  Jacob watched Hendry and Belle leave, finding it difficult to control his rage and utter dislike for Elizabeth, who was scowling at him. War and the fear of death would bring out truths and honesty now. Elizabeth had ruined his last night at home, and any sympathy he may have felt for her had disintegrated into a desire for cold and determined declarations.

  “Handel, you and the others go have some pie. I’ll call you when I need you, and tell Master Hendry I’ll be with him shortly.”

  “Yes, sir, Massa Jacob,” Handel said. He ushered the servants from the room and then threw a disapproving look in Elizabeth’s direction before he closed the door behind him.

  “Did you see the way that nigger looked at me? Why it’s shameful! Sometimes he looks at me like he’s white! You’re weak, Jacob. He needs to be given a good whupping.”

  “You will not lay a hand on my slaves. Do you hear me?”

  “That’s what they need. Why, anyone would think you liked them.”

  Jacob banged his fist on the table and then breathed deeply. He would get nowhere if he didn’t calm himself. “My God, what is wrong with you? Why did you have to ruin my family’s last meal together? Couldn’t you have waited until we were alone?”

  “How dare you ask me what’s wrong. You’ve been perfectly horrid to me, and you know it. I’m ashamed to call myself your wife. You’ve ruined my reputation. Why, I can hardly look at anyone in the street anymore.”

  “I doubt that’s true,” Jacob said sarcastically.

  “It is true! Folks I’ve known all my life pity me. I can hear them whispering about me behind my back, saying you know where that Carver bitch is – so tell me, is it true? Have you seen her?”

  “Yes, it is true – I have seen her. I love her, Elizabeth, and I can say that to you without fear of causing injury because you, madam, have made it abundantly clear that you have no measure of affection for me. You don’t love me; you never have. You wanted to be mistress of Stone Plantation, but even this isn’t enough for you …”

  “Of course it’s not enough! How can I be the rightful mistress when my husband is hankerin’ after another woman, and Belle, taking it upon herself to challenge my orders around here? It’s quite apparent that she’s favoured by the house niggers.” Elizabeth’s pale cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashed dangerously, and her shoulders were hunched forward. “So you finally admit, she’s still alive – and you dare to ask me why I don’t love you or lie with you.”

  “That’s enough, Elizabeth. I don’t want to talk about Mercy,” Jacob warned.

  “I’m not finished. Any fool knows that a well-used prostitute is filled with disease. Shame on you, Jacob Stone! You’ve broken every wedding vow the good Lord gave to man. I feel as if I’ve been stabbed in the back by your entire family. How dare you bring that English whore here. Margaret, that dear woman, is not even allowed to come to tea with me. She told me all about Mercy Carver.”

  “I very much doubt that …”

  “Carver was a prostitute in Liverpool – and don’t you go telling me that you didn’t know, Jacob Stone. Don’t you dare! I knew she was a bad influence on Belle the moment I saw her prance into your drawing room as if she owned the place. Dear Lord, to think I could have had any man in the county and I chose you. I don’t believe I could have lowered myself any further when I married into your family.”

  Jacob struck the table with his fist again, vibrating the plates and condiments. “Enough. Enough! I’ve done all the listening I’m going to do. You obviously regret marrying me, so why don’t we dissolve the marriage, such as it is? I’ll have papers drawn up in the morning before I leave.” He now sat in a relaxed pose, breathing deeply and trying desperately not to display the depth of his rage. The conversation would lead him to a satisfactory conclusion, he thought, but only if he remained calm and respectful to the irate woman sitting across from him.

  “Why, I do believe you would like that. Divorcing me would give you the freedom to marry that disease-ridden whore. Well, I would rather die!”

  “Elizabeth, control your ill temper and listen carefully,” Jacob warned again. “I think we would both mutually benefit from divorce. I admit I have been a bad husband. I have shamefully neglected you, and I have loved another woman before and during our marriage. But I am willing to make amends so tell me what would satisfy you in the way of a settlement.”

  “I don’t care about amends. I want to ruin you. I want to see you crawl on your knees in front of the entire county, begging for my forgiveness.”

  “I have no doubt you do; however, I believe a better solution would come through a financial nature, which would prove to you that I am indeed regretful of my actions. So why don’t you begin this ruination by accepting an amount that even you will be happy with. I’m sure the sum will go a long way in securing my downfall. I can make you rich. You can go home to your family the scorned woman and blame me for everything – but I’m warning you, if you don’t take this offer now, you’ll get nothing. You will remain my wife in name only, but I will not grant you what you covet most.”

  “And what might that be?” Elizabeth said with disdain.

  “Why, your desire to be the city’s most prominent hostess, of course. Should you not accept my proposal of a fair and generous offer upon divorce, you will not be given the means to hold balls, parties, picnics on the lawn, or afternoon teas with the ladies – and anything else you love to do to get the attention of the whole damn county. I will give you the most tedious life you could ever imagine, and when this crisis is over and we’re both ruined, I’ll expect you to be out in those fields picking cotton alongside my niggers.”

  “Don’t you dare say such a thing or threaten to cut me off from my social duties. I can’t bear being your wife, but I would prefer you die on the battlefield and I become your widow than suffer the humiliation of divorce!” she screamed.

  “Elizabeth, having my money won’t bring you humiliation; it will bring you power. Now, I may or may not die on a battlefield, but I sure as hell won’t lie to you or to myself any longer. We’re done. This charade has gone on long enough, so accept my offer or suffer your own damnation at the hands of invaders who might just get here and take everything I own.”

  Elizabeth sucked in her breath and grabbed her throat with trembling hands. A shocked expression sat on her face as she visibly fought to find a suitable answer.

  Jacob put his hand up to stop her from speaking further, and then he softened his tone.

  “I would never
hurt you if I thought for one moment that you had any small affection for me. But I’m afraid your cold self-serving reasons for wanting this marriage are well documented from Portsmouth to Norfolk. You were aware of my affections towards Mercy before we married, as were your father and brother; therefore, my misguided honour and your ambitions are to be blamed equally.

  “I’ll make you rich but make no mistake: I want you gone from here before I leave tomorrow. You will find everything in order with my lawyer. You will go quietly and will cause no more distress to Belle or my brother. You will be free to cavort with Margaret Mallory, listen to her lies, and eventually come to learn the truth about her. You and she, my dear, deserve one another.”

  She surprised him, saying, “What settlement will you offer me?”

  “Ten thousand dollars and a house in Portsmouth. Will that suit you?”

  “Will you see to it in the morning, just in case you die in the war? And you’ll tell everyone I was the perfect wife and that you’re to blame for everything?”

  “I will.” Jacob’s heart was pounding as he waited for her answer. He sat perfectly still, afraid of distracting her from an immediate decision.

  “Then I believe I shall set myself free of you, Jacob Stone,” she said at length. “Tell me, who will ever respect you when you bring that woman here? Portsmouth will never accept her. You and she will never be received – never.”

  Jacob laughed, shaking his head and pitying her. “Portsmouth society and most of its men are leaving soon. No one gives a damn anymore about our marriage, parties, or about whom I choose to love.”