“Sit down, son.”
Nathaniel obediently sat at the great desk, relishing the opportunity to be called son again. How grateful Nathaniel was he’d been provided such an opportunity. “What is it you need, Father? Is it something Andrew might be able to help you with?” Nathaniel remembered his promise to the Lord. He would do nothing to undermine Andrew’s authority any longer. Nathaniel would humble himself, as the Bible taught. No matter how difficult it might be, it was best for all involved.
“No, it’s not something Andrew can do.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Father.” Nathaniel watched his father shift uncomfortably, and he tried to put him at ease. “My things are packed, and I think it’s best. I shall be back for visits this time though.”
“I’m asking you to stay.” He shook his head and slapped his hand on the desk. “No, I’m telling you to stay!” It was nearly the same conversation they’d had six years earlier when Nathaniel decided he couldn’t be chained any longer and ran. The similarities drove Nathaniel to hear his father out. “We need you here on the plantation.”
“I can’t stay, Father. Andrew is quite capable, and my staying will only frustrate him.” Nathaniel prayed for strength to broach the obvious subject they had never discussed before. “Eleanor cannot rely on me, Father. She has to turn to Andrew, and I fear the only way for her to do that fully is for me to leave.”
“Eleanor will do as she’s told. That’s her father’s business, not yours. You’re not going to run again because of some woman. I’m asking you for a far more important motive. All our lives could depend upon it. The woman either of my sons marry is not of concern to me, other than the obvious benefit of marrying Woodacre and Rosamond.”
“I can’t imagine how my staying this time would make anything better.” Nathaniel raked a hand through his hair, agitated at the uncomfortable position in which his father was placing him.
“You’re soft on the slaves, aren’t you? Least that’s what they think.” His father stood and walked around the desk, sitting on it in front of Nathaniel. “They found Rosamond’s overseer, Mitchell Rouse, in a cotton field. They don’t know how he got there, but my fear is an uprising. Andrew’s been overseeing the workers with a rough hand. I fear it might come back to haunt us.”
Nathaniel clicked his tongue. “So treat them right, Father. You don’t have to fool anyone if you just treat the men as they should be treated. We’re to love our neighbors as ourselves.”
“I fear it’s too late for that. Look at Mitchell’s untimely end. He was a man of thirty perhaps. What if his death was—well, what if he was murdered?” The senior Pemberton could barely utter the words.
Nathaniel knew his father needed comfort, not his anger, over how Andrew had seen to things. Guilt gripped him. How could he leave the plantation in his brother’s hands? His father’s fears might well become a reality with Andrew at the helm.
“Overseeing is hard work,” Nathaniel stated. “I didn’t know the man, but perhaps this Rouse fellow filled himself too full with drink before work. It could have been a stray Yankee looking for a meal, Father. Either way—fear is not of the Lord. It won’t do us any good to be fearful. All this trouble could be solved by giving the men enough food portions to do their work. Eliminate these black codes you’ve started. They’re nothing short of slavery, Father, and slavery is illegal. Going against the law will only harm Woodacre in the long run.”
His father’s wrath was stirred. “This plantation has been in Pemberton hands for generations. You think I’ll have some Yankee telling me how to run it?”
His face reddened, and he clutched his chest. Nathaniel stood and steadied him.
“Father, you’re getting too upset. Sit down.”
He choked out the words: “You’ll stay.”
“I’ll pray over it,” Nathaniel replied. “I’ll have Mrs. White bring you some tea. Have one of your cigars.” He went to his father’s humidor, a luxury that had obviously been salvaged, and took out a long, brown cylinder, handing it to his father.
“Pray?” His father asked. “Your family home is in jeopardy. Our very lives may depend on your being here, and you tell me you’ll pray? What kind of preaching got into you in that forsaken land? Religion is for weaklings, Nathaniel.”
“I’ve been weak, Father. The Lord is for those who need strength.”
His father grunted, and Nathaniel knew it was best to abandon this line of conversation.
“What makes you suspect Mr. Rouse met with an untimely death?” Nathaniel asked calmly, unwilling to discuss his prayer life when his father was so angry.
“He was found in the field with a bottle of drink beside him. He’d been missing for over a week.” The senior Pemberton ran the cigar under his nostrils, breathing in deeply. He didn’t light the cigar, only savored the smell. “Rouse wasn’t a popular man.”
“Name me an overseer Master Senton has hired who was popular. Eleanor’s father has always ruled with an iron fist, Father. No one’s disappeared yet.”
“Now that the Yankees got it in their heads that these men are free—well, there’s no telling what will happen.”
“They are free, Father.”
“Your brother keeps close tabs on what the men eat. It will be no secret to the slaves who it was who ordered the portions.” His father’s voice was weak. “If you leave, I fear your brother may be next.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. Lord, what are You telling me? If I don’t go, Andrew and Ellie may never have the marriage they need. But if I go, Andrew’s and Ellie’s lives may be in peril.
Nathaniel excused himself and made no commitments. He would talk to Jim and find out if the slaves knew anything before he reacted rashly.
“Wait on Him. Wait on Him,” he repeated aloud to himself as he entered the hallway.
“They teach you to talk to yourself in the West?” Mrs. White held a silver tea tray and smiled at him. “Your father’s expecting tea. Will you join him?”
“I’m leaving, Mrs. White, but thank you. I need to go into the fields for a bit.”
“Is it safe?” she asked fearfully.
“I don’t know what superstitions you’ve been filling your head with, Mrs. White, but it’s perfectly safe to be in the fields.”
Nathaniel nodded his good-bye and closed the door behind him. Outside, he mounted a horse and rode to Rosamond as if chased by a great fire. He needed to be close to Eleanor if only to ensure her safety; even if he never spoke to her again, he would see she was taken care of properly. Her nightly escapades to bring food to Ceviche weren’t safe, though Ellie wouldn’t care if it meant helping a wounded soul.
Riding to the edge of the wooded area, he saw her illumined by the light streaming out of the kitchen window. She was huddled next to a wrought-iron bench in the garden.
“Ellie!” He ran to her side, putting his arms about her. She shivered at his touch. “You’re frozen to the core.” He removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “What are you doing out here?”
“Ceviche told me you were leaving. It’s true, isn’t it?” Ellie’s red-rimmed eyes looked at him.
He felt like the ultimate betrayer at the sight, and his natural instinct was to comfort her.
“My father is asking that I stay. I’m praying over the matter.”
“Your brother was here earlier. He’s asked that we move the wedding up. Was that your idea?”
“Andrew was here?”
Eleanor nodded. Again her hair was down in luxurious curls, and Nathaniel thought he would languish over the intimate sight. It took all of his willpower to keep his hands from caressing the locks and feeling the silky strands between his fingers.
“He kissed me,” she said shamefully. “Not the kind of kiss you and I ever shared, Nathaniel. It hurt.”
Nathaniel clenched his fists tightly, and his jaw tightened in anger. “What do you mean he kissed you, Ellie?”
She shook her
head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It was awful, Nathaniel. Is that what marriage is like? I always thought it would be like that idyllic way I felt when I saw you run across the field. You know, that sweet, butterfly feeling in my stomach. But it is not going to be like that, is it, Nathaniel?” Her wide coffee-colored eyes blinked at him, looking for hope in his answer. “I thought a woman could make herself love any man she chose as her husband, but that heavenly swirl in my stomach won’t ever come with Andrew, will it, Nathaniel?”
“Ellie, I don’t want you coming out here alone anymore.”
“I don’t want to be married to a man who kisses me like that,” Eleanor whispered, almost to herself.
Nathaniel’s gut turned at the innocence in her voice. He would see his brother dead before he would let him touch Ellie harshly again. He closed his eyes, remembering his vow before God. He was supposed to help Andrew be a proper husband to her. Was that possible?
“Did you hear me, Ellie? It’s not safe for you to be here alone anymore. You stay in your room. Tell your father you still don’t feel well, but stay there until you hear from me. I’ll send a pebble to your window when I return.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I’m going Under-the-Hill to ask a few questions.” Nathaniel couldn’t be more specific than that. It was bad enough he admitted to going where the bars and brothels thrived.
“Why must you go there?”
“It’s something I must do.”
“You are coming back, aren’t you, Nathaniel? You won’t leave me again? I won’t hear from Ceviche that you’ve abandoned us?”
“Ellie, don’t look at me as if I was born to deceive you. It’s not like that. You know I have to do what I must. You know that Rosamond and Woodacre need each other to survive.”
Nathaniel couldn’t look at her when he said the words. How could he tell her it was all right to marry a man who made her feel ill? That she wasn’t entitled to a man who made her stomach swirl sweetly? How could he tell her the very sight of her sent his own heart racing and made him want to forget any vow he’d ever made?
“Nathaniel, will you kiss me?” Eleanor’s face was mere inches from his own, and he felt her warmth to his inner soul. But sin felt good before one committed it. “My stomach is swimming now. I need to know if it only feels that way for you.”
Nathaniel stood abruptly. “No, Ellie, I won’t. You’re my brother’s intended bride. This is wrong.”
She stood beside him, leaving her hair to whip around in a way that reminded him of all he might lose. “You’re going to change that, aren’t you, Nathaniel? You’re not going to let me marry him.” Eleanor pressed her cheek against his chest, and he knew his pounding heart betrayed his calm front.
“Stay in your room, Ellie. I’m promising you nothing.” Nathaniel turned on his heel and didn’t look back for fear she would know what he really felt.
Chapter 8
Eleanor forgot to breathe as Nathaniel’s horse drove into the dark night. It seemed she had spent a lifetime watching Nathaniel leave. Always wondering if this was the time he would never return to her. It never got any easier to watch him go, but she was resigned to it now. One day it would be forever, and it was time she got used to the idea. She stood and walked to the back porch.
“Ellie?” Mary’s hand touched her back gently. “Hattie is up in your room. She’s been putting off Aunt Till. But I fear your days are numbered if you don’t come in now. You don’t want them to know about you feeding the slave girl, do you?”
“I’m coming.”
“What’s happened?” Mary’s tender voice caused a flurry of emotion. The tears began again for Eleanor, and she embraced her cousin.
“I’m not going to marry Nathaniel,” she said, by way of recognizing the fact.
“No, Ellie, you are not,” Mary answered gently. “It is for the best.”
“You seem to like my fiancé. Tell me why.” Eleanor hoped that hearing something positive about Andrew would help her focus on him and not on the slim chance of Nathaniel’s returning to her. Woodacre’s and Rosamond’s future depended upon this marriage. Nathaniel’s reputation was scurrilous. She was engaged to marry his brother, and her father would never put their beloved plantation in the hands of a Yankee.
Her father, Master Senton, called anyone who didn’t help with the war effort a Yankee, because if you did not help, you hindered. Nathaniel was the coward who had left his family, and nothing would change that in her father’s eyes. As the wedding loomed, Eleanor’s hopes diminished. Seeing Nathaniel again was only torture to her wounded heart.
“Andrew is not Nathaniel, Ellie. He will not run at the first sign of trouble. He’ll save your land,” Mary said brightly, and Eleanor realized she’d been speaking. “He’s serious and thinks more of the future than Nathaniel does. He will provide a good life for you. You cannot compare the two brothers. It’s like comparing cotton with tobacco.” Mary squeezed Eleanor’s hand for reassurance.
Eleanor wished she had her cousin’s sense, but she wore her heart out in the open. Hiding her feelings would come soon enough. “How can I help but compare them?”
Mary seemed to search her mental libraries for something good to say about Andrew. She did not take nearly as long as Eleanor might have. “Andrew is handsome and dashing if you’d only see him that way, Ellie. He is a proud Confederate warrior, with medals to prove it. I’ll admit Andrew has lived in Nathaniel’s shadow, but he’s a fine man. I know any number of women who should be happy to call him their husband.”
Eleanor recalled the harsh kiss he had planted upon her and couldn’t imagine ever being happy for the opportunity. “Do you know such women?” she asked sincerely.
“I do,” Mary answered. Her words were slow and deliberate. “Andrew loves you, Eleanor. He’ll be a good husband. I know I’ve always been partial to Nathaniel, but who hasn’t? And this trip I’m wondering if I hadn’t made a mistake in that. Nathaniel is easy to love, I’ll grant you that, but Andrew is steady and true.”
“Steady? It sounds as though you’re describing a field horse, Mary.” Eleanor couldn’t help herself; she giggled like a schoolgirl. It felt like the finest luxury to laugh through her tears. “Surely you can think of something better to say of my fiancé than he is steady.”
“I can say he is alive, Ellie. Which is more than I can say for my dear Morgan. You are blessed to have a decision of any kind. I had none. Death took my love from me, and I shall have to wait to hold his hand in heaven.”
“You think I have a decision?” Eleanor stifled a shudder. She wondered if Mary might see things differently had she been the recipient of Andrew’s harsh kiss. “I’m so sorry about Morgan, Mary. It’s not right that you should have lost him, but so far you’ve told me my fiancé is steady and alive. It’s not exactly the feelings that inspire passion in a woman.”
“Passion is exaggerated in importance, Ellie. It shall cease. That’s what my mother says.”
“I should hope it doesn’t. Maybe I am a fool, Mary, but I would rather have a fleeting year of passion than a lifetime of steady. What is there to a dull, fixed life? Especially after the excitement of the war, I fear I will not be content as a wife. I have watched shells fly by my family home. How can I live with dull? I wish my mother were here to question on the matter. She would tell me if I was doing the proper thing.”
Mary sighed. “I long for a steadfast life. How sick I am of the ups and downs, the riches and poverty, the starvation and plenty. I should love to live a simple life with a steady husband, but I fear Mother would be lonely without me at her side.”
“You do not think you’ll ever marry then?” Eleanor wrinkled her face, confused at the notion. It seemed she had no other options besides marriage, and here Mary sat free from the prospect because her fiancé had been lost to the war. Eleanor’s true love had disappeared to the West. Why was she expected to marry?
“Now that the prospects for mar
riage have dwindled so, I must say I doubt it. I never was as popular as you are with the opposite sex, and since there are so many women fairer than I, my chances are slim. I fear I don’t have the lush curls and batting eyelashes men seem to favor. Morgan was different. He was attracted to my intellect. He thrived in it, but I’m afraid most men find a bookworm useless in this time of our history.”
“You survived, Mary. And don’t forget it. God has put us here for a reason, and we have to believe He has a plan. I’m only lamenting that His plan may not match mine. It’s selfish of me, I admit.” Eleanor hoped to encourage her cousin. “But how like God that is, and He always seems to wrap His gifts so much prettier than I ever could. His hands stretched over darkness and created the world. I suppose I cannot question what He has for me now.” She knew her words were never truer, although she had been selfish in her pursuits.
“I suppose I cannot question God in this.”
“I wish I wasn’t at the mercy of my father. He thinks only of the plantation since Mother died. He’ll not care if Andrew is a suitable match for me.”
“I don’t think that’s true, Ellie. Your father loves you. He wants to see you well taken care of after his death. That’s a noble trait, and remember who put him in charge of your life.”
“Let’s not talk of sad things any longer. I’m to have a new gown for after the wedding. Would you like to see the pattern I’ve cut?”
“I’d love to! I’m so glad we shall be able to create gowns and have fabrics of luxury once more. What a mean spirit those Yankees must have had to come in and destroy our gowns for sport and our china for target practice. Have they no shame to go into a woman’s bedroom and tear through her things?”
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