Eleanor felt as if her bones were crushed within her, but Nathaniel held her steady. She had allowed herself to believe freedom was within her reach. If only she’d found a sailor willing to take her bracelet, perhaps then Nathaniel might have asked the right questions and followed her. If only she had stolen away, maybe he would have come after her, and they would have been married quietly. Nathaniel’s upright character was her stockade. No garrison or militia could save her now.
Ear-piercing screams broke her from her mission. It was a high-pitched squeal from a voice Eleanor knew. “That’s Ceviche, Nathaniel! I know it. I’d recognize her voice anywhere. It came from that boat.”
Nathaniel ran with her up the dock to a steamer ship that was forced low to the water with extra cargo. The screams were silenced as they approached.
A man stepped across the boat’s entry with huge fists to his hips. “You want something?”
“I believe that’s my Negro calling, and I want to see her,” Nathaniel said.
Eleanor uttered a prayer that her instincts were correct, and they wouldn’t both end up at the bottom of the Mississippi.
“That ain’t your Negro. Negroes is free, or hasn’t anybody told you?” the man said flatly. “You git on out of here before—”
“Before what?” Jeremiah appeared behind them, his huge stance as fearsome as the river itself.
“Now, Jeremiah, you got no business here. This is between me and the gentleman here.”
“Let him see who’s screaming. You didn’t take her? You got nothing to worry about. It won’t hold you up none, and you could be turned in if you don’t let him on. You want the Federals searching your boat?”
The man’s face turned ashen, and he stepped aside. Jeremiah entered the plank only to be knocked on the head by the end of a rifle. He swayed but never lost his footing. He rubbed the back of his head, clearly steaming over the violence. He picked up the man as though he were just another bale of cotton and threw the flailing limbs into the river below.
Eleanor looked over the pier to see the man clinging tightly to the posts. “I can’t swim,” he called out.
Good, she thought.
But Jeremiah dove in and retrieved the man. The two of them came up on shore with Jeremiah holding the man by his collar. He met a Federal officer and handed the man over, wiping his hands of him before returning to the boat. Nathaniel had long since disappeared into the bowels of the steamer and come back up with Ceviche. Eleanor ran to her and comforted her sobs.
“They’s got my babe.”
“We’ll find him, Ceviche. I promise,” Eleanor said.
Looking into Ceviche’s dark tear-filled eyes, Eleanor knew she couldn’t just leave Rosamond. Without her, who would care for the former slaves? Her father would simply give in to Andrew’s wishes, and the black codes would become a certainty. She looked to Nathaniel’s knowing eyes. He had more wisdom than she possessed in her little finger.
A tiny wail was heard, and Eleanor saw Jeremiah running up the pier. It was baby Frederick wrapped in his worn blanket. Jeremiah held the infant away from his wet clothes and out toward his mother. Ceviche ran sobbing toward Jeremiah and cradled the baby to her cheek, thanking God aloud for taking care of her son. Eleanor could barely look at the young mother for the emotions it stirred within her.
Nathaniel towered over her, his muscular frame breathing hard from his rescue, which obviously involved some violence. Eleanor stood and rubbed his rough cheek.
“You were right about going back,” she admitted. “But then you knew that all along, didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to be right, Ellie.” Nathaniel looked at her with the eyes of a man who by sheer will held her at arm’s length. “You know that, don’t you? I want to be your husband.”
Eleanor nodded. “I know, Nathaniel.”
“Will you trust me and not marry my brother?”
“How can I escape it?”
“I don’t know, Ellie. But I know the Mississippi wouldn’t have stopped you if I hadn’t, so I just pray you’re as resourceful with my brother.”
Eleanor laughed, then gasped. “I forgot. I promised I’d be back for lunch.”
Nathaniel took out a pocket watch. It was two o’clock. Nearly teatime. “They’ll have a search party out for you.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Whatever will I say?”
“Say you went after Ceviche. That ought to send a scare through somebody. Watch their eyes, Ellie.”
“Will you come home with me?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t want your reputation in question. Go home. I’ll find out who took Ceviche.”
“Will you see to it she gets home? And that she gets food?”
“Of course.” Nathaniel set his jaw, forcing his gaze from her.
But she wouldn’t leave him without saying her piece.
“No matter what happens, I love you, Nathaniel.”
“Don’t—”
“I should have followed you to California years ago. You would have had no choice but to marry me then.”
He let out a short laugh. “You deserve so much better. I’m going to do what I can to ensure you have a husband worthy of your love, Ellie.”
“So am I, Nathaniel. So am I,” she announced before turning away with a single, coquettish look back.
Chapter 12
Eleanor!” Andrew rushed toward her, helping her from the saddle. Her fiancé didn’t look the least bit winded, and the ice in his tea was still fresh. Yet his words were frantic. “Where have you been? We’ve got a rescue party out looking for you. When you didn’t come back at lunch, we organized one right away!”
Eleanor searched Andrew’s eyes and wondered if his fear stemmed from legitimate concern for her person or fear that she might be lost without their marriage to seal his future. Noticing his tea cakes on the veranda, his comfortable position didn’t speak well of his true devotion.
“I’m fine,” Eleanor answered, unable to remove her gaze from his picnic. “I just had a long day getting to know my horse. I shall name her Tiche. It’s a nickname. Do you like it?”
She was certain Andrew would know Tiche was a shortened version of Ceviche. His eyes flickered in acknowledgement, but she couldn’t read if there was guilt in them or not.
“Eleanor, it’s a slave name,” Andrew said quietly.
“There aren’t any more slaves, Andrew. Remember?” She smiled and moved toward her cousin, who wore a concerned frown. “If you’ll excuse me, Andrew, I haven’t seen my cousin all day, and I must dress for dinner.”
She hurried toward the house, its great columns beckoning to her. Looking back over her shoulder, she called out, “Thank you for the horse. She really is a beauty.”
Eleanor raced up the grand staircase until her father’s angry voice halted her last step to the landing. “Eleanor Sarah Senton. Stop right there!”
She turned, revealing her mud-stained gown. Its fine wool would never be the same. Shame washed over her at her father’s rebuke.
“Is it your intention to ruin the reputation of this family?”
“No sir.” She rubbed the cashmerelike fabric, certain its original softness would never come back.
“Is it your intention that our family name should be associated with Natchez Under-the-Hill?”
“No sir.”
“Eleanor, you were seen Under-the-Hill today. Would you care to tell me why?”
She swallowed hard. If she had been seen in Nathaniel’s arms, he might be sent away once and for all, and she would have little to say for her reputation.
“Yes, Father. I rode my new horse along the riverbank, and I ended up at the port.”
“Eleanor, you are to be married in two days’ time. I’ve given my consent for a quick marriage, which I think is best under the circumstances. I have let you run wild for far too long. It’s time you began acting as mistress of a great home, the life you were meant to lead. The war has put things off long enough. Your moth
er would be disappointed if she knew you were still unmarried and running about like a schoolgirl. I pray she doesn’t know of your escapades.”
“Yes, Father.” Eleanor curtsied, turning toward the top of the stairs.
“And Eleanor—”
“Yes sir?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I’m glad you’ve returned.”
Her heart raced as she fell onto the bed. If she had been spotted with Nathaniel, he would be sent away. At least until she was safely married. She eyed her maid suspiciously.
“Hattie, who saw me today Under-the-Hill?”
Although Hattie never left the house, she possessed a wealth of knowledge. Somehow anything that happened within twenty-five miles of Rosamond was transferred to her head without any sensible way of its getting there. Eleanor had never known Hattie to leave their property.
Hattie looked at Eleanor’s cousin, Mary, before resting her eyes on her mistress. “I don’t know, miss.”
Eleanor caught the stressed use of miss and looked for some way to dismiss her cousin, to be alone with Hattie’s secrets. “Mary, would you mind leaving me to dress? I’m a dreadful mess, and I am quite humbled by my appearance.”
Mary sighed. “Very well; I’ll go entertain Master Pemberton. I fear you were dreadfully rude to him after his generous gift, Ellie.”
“I’d be most grateful if you would, Mary. Tell him I’m sorry, won’t you?” Eleanor waited until the door was safely closed and glanced at Hattie. “What do you know? Who saw me Under-the-Hill?”
Hattie rearranged Eleanor’s toilet on the vanity as though she had nothing of importance to say. It was just as she acted when a grand tidbit of information would escape her. “The new overseer went to meet with some shippers for the cotton. Word is you were on the docks with Master Pemberton.”
“Did he tell my father that Nathaniel was with me?”
Hattie shook her head. “I don’t think so. You have to understand Rosamond’s people don’t want you marrying that Andrew, Miss Ellie. I think they’re secretly hoping that prodigal of yours might eventually win your father over. That new overseer will probably be looking for a job if you up and add Rosamond to Woodacre. Work isn’t as easy to come by as it once was.”
“Why did this new overseer tell my father anything then?”
“He doesn’t want you dead either, Miss Ellie. Under-the-Hill is no place for a lady. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from Mrs. Patterson later, so I’ll save me some breaths. Why were you there with Master Pemberton? He proposing marriage again?”
“Hattie, how on earth do you know all this? That I was Under-the-Hill, I mean? Who told you?”
“Hattie has her ways,” she answered mysteriously. “You weren’t thinking of running off now, were you?”
Eleanor clutched her stomach, sickened by the knowledge that she was so transparent. “I love my father. I love Rosamond, but I also love Nathaniel. Every time I look into his eyes, I wonder how I will live without him. And I don’t love Andrew.”
“Don’t go practicing for the theater on me. You got along fine for six years without that man; you’ll be fine this time. Women have married for a lot less than love. At least Andrew has the means to keep you happy.”
Eleanor stamped her foot childishly. “No, I won’t be fine, Hattie, because now I’ll be forced to look into Andrew’s dull eyes. Eyes that lack Nathaniel’s sparkle and a speech that’s meant for me alone. His unspoken manner that tells me everything I must know without uttering a word. Would God give us such a gift and not allow us to open it?”
“I don’t rightly know where God is in this mess, but I do know that your mama would not have liked to see you a spinster, and that’s exactly what you’ll be if you keep disappearing alone. A spinster or dead in the ground.”
“My mother wanted me to marry Nathaniel, Hattie.”
Hattie nodded. “Oh, your mother did love that boy. Every day he was allowed to break from his studies to play, she’d make sure there was sugarcane for him to eat. His father was so stern that he was never allowed to have sugar or popped corn. Your mother loved that boy as if he were hers. She always hoped…well, that’s neither here nor there now. God doesn’t want you to sin, Miss Ellie. I know that much. If you are engaged to Andrew Pemberton, the Bible says you are betrothed.” Hattie stripped Eleanor of her gown and threw it into a heap on the floor. “Much as I hate to confess it.”
Eleanor sank to the floor. “I cannot marry Andrew.”
“You very well can, and you will. Your father says in two days’ time—”
“Is that what you want for me, Hattie?” She crossed to the bed in her petticoat, throwing herself on the great mattress.
“Of course not, Miss Ellie. But what we want isn’t always what’s best for us.”
A loud sound halted their conversation. “What was that?”
“It sounded like a shelling,” Hattie said.
“But the war is over—what on earth?”
“You stay here. I’ll check the balcony.” Hattie opened the French doors and stepped boldly onto the portico. “It’s Ceviche’s man! He’s gotten himself a rifle.”
Eleanor stood, gripping the post on her bed. “What does he mean to do with it?”
Her pulse raced. Although it had been over thirty years ago, and before her time, the Confederacy had not forgotten the killing rampage of 1831.
“What does he mean to do?”
“He’s pointing the gun at Andrew!” Hattie said. “He’s speaking to him, but I cannot hear what he says.”
Eleanor could not help herself. She made her way to the French doors, forgetting her half-dressed state. “Is anyone else with him?” she asked, worried for her family. “Where’s Mary?”
“Miss Ellie, get back. You’ve got nothing but a petticoat on. Andrew’s alone. Mary must not have left the home yet.”
“Did Andrew take Ceviche? What is he saying to Andrew?”
“Shh!” Hattie warned. “Let me hear.”
Eleanor whisked on her afternoon gown without care as to its appearance. The pagoda sleeves hung carelessly since she couldn’t reach the buttons herself. “I must see if Father is all right.”
“Miss Eleanor! You’ll do no such thing.”
“Button me up, Hattie. Now!”
Eleanor’s tone left no room for argument, and her maid fastened her up. Without a hoop, the skirt sank dangerously low on the floor, but there was no time for formality. She rushed down the stairs, careful not to trip over the extensive fabric. Her father, Aunt Till, Mary, and the household staff crouched warily in the foyer.
“Get upstairs, Ellie!” Her father’s voice boomed.
“I think I might be able to reason with Ceviche’s man, Father.”
“You’ve done enough.”
“But Father—”
“I lost your mother to the slaves. She gave her life for the ungrateful lot of them. Do you think I’d let you do the same? Get back upstairs now! Or you’ll end up dead as your mother.”
The angry scowl of hatred changed her father’s entire face. He looked monstrous and bent on revenge. He held up a revolver, filling its last chamber.
“I said, get upstairs!”
Her father opened the double doors of cut glass and stepped outside.
Eleanor backed up, unable to believe the sights before her eyes were really happening. All she could do was pray. Pray that her father would return and this beast who dwelled within him would leave as suddenly as he came. She fell to her knees on the stair landing, lacking the strength to make it to her bedroom.
“Lord in heaven, bring peace upon this household. Please. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Lord, but I shall humble myself to You now. I shall marry whomever You please. Only spare my father from this wrath—and Ceviche’s husband, Lord. Help him run like the wind, and don’t let him hurt anyone. He only wants to protect his family, Lord. Please help him. Help us all.”
Another single shot peeled through the air, and sile
nce followed. An eerie, beckoning silence. Eleanor ran to her balcony where Hattie crumpled to the floor, crying out. Stepping past her maid, Eleanor gasped at the sight. Lying limp on the ground was Ceviche’s man. Behind him was Nathaniel on his horse with a smoking revolver in his hand.
“No!”
Eleanor’s scream was heard, and Nathaniel peered up at her. He avoided her gaze and went to the dead man. Eleanor’s heart broke for Ceviche, who had lost her baby’s father.
“How could you, Nathaniel?” she muttered. “How could you kill a man who fought for his family?” The room went dark, and she remembered no more.
Chapter 13
The sun had set by the time Eleanor blinked back to life. In the darkness, she had forgotten why she had slept in the afternoon, but recognition came with a thunderous bolt. She sat upright, but her throbbing head willed her back onto her bed, and she groaned.
“Hattie?”
“Hattie’s not here, Ellie.” Mary came out of the shadows and pressed a cold towel to Eleanor’s forehead. “She’s seeing to your father. How are you?”
“My father—is he alive?”
“Of course he’s alive. He’s out at the slaves’ quarters flushing out anyone he thinks may cause us further trouble. He hopes to instill the black codes immediately to gain control over the men. Heaven forbid this type of thing should ever happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nathaniel having to shoot that lunatic. Right on your front lawn. Why, it’s just wicked that such a thing could happen in the broad daylight of such a beautiful afternoon.” Mary dropped her nursing duties and took up her knitting needles again. “I’m telling you, Ellie—you are fortunate to marry a man such as Andrew. He tried to reason with the man, but he went on and on about his wife and baby. As though there’s any legitimacy to that at all.”
“Mary, what are you saying? I thought you were against the codes as I am.”
“Only because I was ignorant—well, I shall not be fooled again. Andrew has your best interest at stake when he employs the codes. That should be obvious from today’s treachery.”
“What about Nathaniel? What did he do with Ceviche’s husband?”
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