“I assume he threw the man in the river where the criminal belongs once and for all. Imagine threatening the owners of Woodacre and Rosamond and assuming he’d live through the siege.”
“Maybe he didn’t hope to live,” Eleanor said defiantly. “Maybe he hoped to prove his wife and baby are not refuse to be carted off at Andrew’s will.”
“Andrew? Andrew hardly has anything to do with her disappearing. She was probably anxious for the chance to get away from here and thought she’d plan her escape. She might have stolen away were it not for Nathaniel who caught her red-handed on a cargo boat Under-the-Hill.”
Eleanor rubbed her throbbing temples, hoping to will her nightmare away. But each time she opened her eyes, Mary sat calmly with her clanking needles, rattling on and on about Andrew’s heroism.
“Where is Nathaniel?”
“I’m not certain, but his father was quite proud of his rescue today of Andrew. I daresay Nathaniel might get a bigger part of Woodacre after today. Should he want it of course. Perhaps after his kill today he’s thinking twice of becoming a preacher.”
Eleanor could listen to the chatter no longer. “I must find Hattie.”
“I told you, she’s at the slaves’ quarters, and, with your escapades of late, your father had best not find you out of the house. He’s trying to prevent an uprising as we speak. Should a slave find you now, your life might be worth more to them if it was extinguished.”
Mrs. Patterson entered Eleanor’s room with a tray of tea. “Get back in bed, Eleanor. You need to be resting so you’re not peaked for your wedding. Andrew told your father today’s adventures only prove your immediate need of marriage. It’s for your very protection now.”
“Where is Hattie?” Eleanor asked again, hoping for a different answer from Mrs. Patterson.
“They’re at the cookhouse now. Your father wants to see to it that the workers don’t get ideas in their heads. Today was a very dangerous sign. It is a good thing Master Nathaniel happened upon the scene, or your fiancé might very well be dead.”
“Instead, Ceviche’s husband lies at the river. It is all my fault, Mrs. Patterson. All my fault. If I hadn’t been so concerned about myself, so selfish in my thinking, Ceviche and her family might be together tonight.”
“You’re rambling on about nothing, Eleanor. Don’t let your father hear such strange utterings. He already blames the slaves for your mother’s death. It won’t do you any good to take responsibility for something that is just a way of life.”
“Is it a way of life, Mrs. Patterson? To be so uncaring and immoral toward human beings? Jesus said to love even the least of these. My mother did that, and I’m proud to be like her.”
“And look where your mother is today.”
“She’s with Jesus,” Eleanor said confidently. “I must speak with Nathaniel.”
“Nathaniel is being honored at a family dinner tonight, Eleanor. He’s a hero.”
Eleanor couldn’t imagine Nathaniel shooting a man in the back. It was so unlike him, so out of character; and it certainly didn’t make him heroic. Had she brought such confusion by begging him to find a way for them to marry? Had this been his way to prove his loyalty to his father and hers? She prayed it wasn’t so—that Nathaniel had his own reasons for shooting Ceviche’s husband. Her stomach lurched vigorously each time she pictured young Ceviche with no father for her baby son. She relived the infant’s desperate cries of the night she met him, his precious dark-as-coal eyes gazing wondrously at her and his calming sucking sounds as he nibbled at his fingers.
She had to find a way to help, but first she needed to escape her stifling room. Her cousin’s interminable clicking needles and Mrs. Patterson’s overbearing ways threatened to send her to the asylum if she didn’t flee.
“Eleanor, where are you going?” Mrs. Patterson questioned as Mary’s needles ceased.
“I’m going out for air. It’s stifling in here.” Eleanor opened her French doors and sucked in the chilled evening air. When the clicking resumed and Mrs. Patterson busied herself, Eleanor shut the doors quietly behind her.
Leaping over the veranda, she caught her boot in the trellis and worked her way to the lawn. Once on the expansive stretch of grass, she stole away into the heritage oaks and countless magnolias under the starry canopy.
A guard dog barked at her, but Eleanor calmed the beast with her soft voice and soon resumed her run. She ran past the cookhouse and into the stables. Peeking over the stalls, she spoke softly to Tiche. “Are you up for a ride, girl? A pleasant ramble under the evening sky. We shall have a grand time.” She spoke to calm herself as well as her new mare.
Only once had she been out this late into the night. It was the evening following the battle of the Essex against her city. She and the neighbors had promenaded to the levees to watch the great battle, never understanding that her beloved Confederate forces might fall victim to the Yankees. Numb, she and her compatriots returned home at a slow pace, no one speaking a word.
“Miss Ellie!” Hattie’s firm voice jolted Eleanor from her solitude. She placed a palm over her heart.
“Oh Hattie, you gave me such a scare. What are you doing out here?”
“The question is, missy, what are you doing out of your room?”
“I wanted to see if Tiche was all right after the gunfire this afternoon. You never know how a horse will react to such circumstances.”
She focused on patting the horse, afraid to look up for fear of getting caught in her lie. Hattie needed no such assistance however. Eleanor’s lies were few and far between, and without practice one did not become very accomplished.
“You need a saddle for that now, do you?” Hattie held a candle to her face.
“Are you going to bring me back to the house, Hattie? If you are, just say so.”
“That all depends. Where do you think you are heading on this dangerous night?”
“I have to find Nathaniel, Hattie. I have to know why he shot that man. He knew what Ceviche meant to me. How could he do what he did for Andrew’s life? Ceviche cradled her baby before Nathaniel. I need to know how he could take that infant’s father so readily.”
“I’ll admit it’s not the Master Nathaniel we’ve known. But one never knows what a prodigal might do to prove his worth.”
“I just can’t believe he’d kill for it. He would leave before he’d do that. So why didn’t he, Hattie?”
“I don’t know, but I expect you’d better find out.” Hattie grabbed Eleanor’s saddle and threw it over Tiche. “You stay off the path and listen for the sounds of anyone following you. And if your father or your aunt or Mrs. Patterson asks, I never saw you, you understand?”
“Oh Hattie!” Eleanor raced into Hattie’s wide-open arms and grasped her with all the strength she possessed. “Thank you.”
“You come back into the cookhouse in the morning, and I’ll have a story concocted by then. You let me handle the fibs to your aunt and father. Your lying will only get us all into trouble. You are a terrible liar, missy.” Hattie laughed.
Eleanor smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.” With a click of her tongue, she was off into the starry night. Her horse’s clip-clop was softened as she trod through a soft, grassy field. She eased her mare away from the house before picking up her speed and pushing the horse to a full gallop.
Woodacre came into view. Candles lit the interior of the great brick house brightly. Eleanor dismounted, tying Tiche to a nearby magnolia, and hesitated a moment to formulate a plan. Where might Nathaniel be?
A hand suddenly gripped her mouth, and Eleanor tried to scream before hearing Nathaniel’s gentle voice in her ear. “Ellie, it’s Nathaniel. Shh! Shh!” He said, bringing her into his arms. She turned into him, allowing his warmth to calm her pounding heart.
“Nathaniel.” She held her ear against his steady heartbeat, which inexplicably quickened. Neither of them uttered another word for a long stretch of the night. Together they held each other under the bright,
full moon against a heritage magnolia, relishing their stolen time as if each star were placed for their view.
When Eleanor’s eyes became heavy, she realized she must accomplish her task and finally found her voice. “Nathaniel, I need to know how you could have killed Ceviche’s husband.”
“I didn’t kill him, Ellie. It wounds me that you would think so little of me.”
Eleanor sat up. “I saw you, Nathaniel. I saw you with the smoking revolver.”
“Faith is being sure of what you cannot see, Ellie. Do you think I mortally wounded that man? After I saw his baby crying out for its mother that very morning? Do you think I could be so callous as to rid that baby’s father from our earth?”
“No, no, I do not. That’s why I don’t understand what I saw. I had to know what happened. Tell me and put my mind at ease.”
Nathaniel unleashed her comb and ran his fingers gently through her hair. “Ceviche and her husband and little Frederick are on Jeremiah’s boat to the North. Jeremiah has friends there who will find the family work.”
“No, I saw his limp body.”
“It’s amazing how one can act when one’s life depends upon it,” Nathaniel explained.
“But I heard the shot!”
“A blank.”
“They are alive?”
“More than alive, Ellie. They are truly free.”
Eleanor sank into his chest. “Something I will never be.”
“There’s only one way I can protect you.” Nathaniel continued to brush his fingers through her hair, and she delighted in his every touch.
“Not by going away.”
“No, Ellie. By marrying you before it is too late. I cannot let your wedding to my brother take place. Perhaps I’m selfish or simply unwilling to sacrifice all of myself to the Lord, but I cannot let my brother have you as his wife. I cannot let another man touch you. I have no peace or rest thinking of such things. The Lord says it is better to marry than to burn with passion. I cannot burn this way while you marry another. It is not too late, Ellie, but by Saturday it might be.”
Eleanor closed her eyes and played the song again and again in her head. Nathaniel had finally consented to marry her, and her giddiness knew no bounds. “We shall be poor?” she giggled.
“Most likely destitute.”
“I shall wear muslin year round?”
“There will not be a silk in sight.”
“I shall say good night lying beside you each night?”
“That one thing is certain, my love.” Nathaniel reached for her chin and pulled her into a kiss. Eleanor had never known such bliss.
Chapter 14
After a long night, sitting under the heritage magnolia, Eleanor forced herself away from Nathaniel’s soothing voice and their lively conversation. She galloped toward home, where smoke billowed up from the cookhouse chimney. She smelled the delicious scent of bacon lingering in the moist, morning air. Her stomach’s growl was hardly noticed, as her heart pounded for fear of what awaited her had she been discovered missing.
Samson, Hattie’s nephew, waited outside the stables and took Tiche. He motioned for Eleanor to run, and run she did toward the delicious scent and her lady’s maid. Hattie anxiously awaited her outside the cookhouse, her nervous foot tapping wildly. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, and the cover of darkness shielded Eleanor from a deeper fear.
“Get upstairs,” Hattie ordered. “Everyone’s still asleep, and I made your excuses last night. You were under far too much trauma for an appearance at dinner,” Hattie informed her.
It was not an untruth, and she would have little trouble corroborating Hattie’s story. She had been too affected by yesterday’s events to attend supper. Why, she was so affected that she wouldn’t be able to appear at her own wedding on Saturday. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
Entering her room, Eleanor quickly inspected her gowns and climbed into one that Hattie had set out. She must decide which ones she could take with her to elope. The word sounded so sinful. She hated to think of starting her marriage with such a devious plan, but what hope did she have? If she didn’t elope, she would marry Andrew. A man she didn’t love, who felt it his perfect right to sell human beings. Even when the law disallowed it, he had created his own laws under the black codes. The war and all its death taught Andrew nothing. Not even the loss of his arm had broken through his hardened pride.
Eleanor swept her arm across her vanity, pulling her silver comb set into the fabric folds of her skirt. She would have to sew her valuables under her hoop secretly after everyone was asleep. The idea soon struck her as ridiculous, and she poured her valuables back onto the walnut table with a clang. There would be no need for silver comb sets on the preaching circuit.
Hattie appeared momentarily after the noise. “Are you trying to wake the entire state of Mississippi?” She quickly shut the door behind her. “What are you up to?”
“I was just straightening my vanity.” She reached out and placed her toilet in proper order.
“What did Nathaniel tell you? You did see him, I take it.”
Eleanor nodded. “He didn’t kill Ceviche’s husband. They performed a play for Andrew and his father. Ceviche and her family are on a barge up North. A friend has found work for them.”
“Oh praise Jesus!” Hattie exclaimed.
“I’d appreciate it if you let the workers know he’s not dead.”
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping such news from them.”
“Hattie, I’m leaving.” Eleanor looked into Hattie’s intense brown eyes. “I’m running away and eloping with Nathaniel, and I can’t leave without telling you how much I love you.”
Hattie shook her head firmly. “You can’t leave. Think what it will do to your father. He’s already lost his wife. What will he think when you leave him, too?”
“I hope he’ll think he was wrong to force me into marrying Andrew,” she answered, crossing her arms. “I have done everything my father has ever asked of me. Only now have I asked something of him, and he denies me. He will force me into a life of unhappiness if I stay.”
“Have you asked him, Miss Ellie? Does your father know you wish to marry Nathaniel? Now that the man has returned, have you told your father you feel differently?”
“My father is not exactly one to discuss my feelings. I scarcely think he cares what the depths of my emotions are.”
“If you haven’t asked your father, you cannot be sure of his answer. Running off with a man who’s not your husband is sinful, and it will bring dishonor to this home. Is that what you want?”
“I cannot ask him. If I ask him, I risk Father finding out what Nathaniel and I are planning.”
“He cannot force you to say ‘I do’ the day of your wedding, Miss Ellie. You forget you have more to say in this situation than you think. I’ll not have you playing the victim. Your mother did not raise such a woman.”
“Father will not leave Rosamond to Nathaniel. Without a marriage to Andrew, this plantation has a chance of treating its workers right. You have more to lose than anyone, Hattie. Do you want to see your nephew owned again? Your sisters?”
“Your mother saw to it that we were never treated as property,” Hattie explained.
“And who will see to it when Father is frail? It certainly won’t be Andrew.”
“Ask your father, Miss Ellie. I’ll not have you sin to make things right. God will not honor such a decision. Your mother taught me to read my Bible, Miss Ellie, and I do read it religiously.”
Eleanor looked at the cashmere carpet that had escaped Yankee confiscation. Its design was intricately woven, and small replicas of the cross danced before her eyes. “I’ll pray about it, but I’m confident in my decision. I love Nathaniel.”
“It may take more than love if you defy your father. Don’t forget that. I cannot support this, Miss Ellie. It’s dishonest.”
Anger raged within Eleanor’s small frame. She wanted to please everyone, to continue working for the weakest as her mot
her had, but God seemed to be providing a choice. And it was a choice Eleanor didn’t want to make. Her beloved, or her life’s ambition. One or the other would perish in her decision.
Hattie quietly removed herself from the room, opening a Bible on Eleanor’s dressing table. Eleanor approached it but feared what it might tell her, and she closed it without scanning a word. Voices mingled in the hallway, and it wasn’t long before her door opened.
“Ellie? It’s Mary. May I come in?”
Opening the door, she saw her cousin’s tearstained face. “Mary, what is it?”
“I’ve been up all night sobbing.” Mary still wore her nightdress, and her hands trembled. “What if something had happened to Andrew? I might have seen him die, shot before my very eyes. I cannot get the Negro’s face out of my mind. There was so much hatred there. He would have killed Andrew. I know it by the sheer repulsion in his eyes.”
Eleanor took her cousin’s hands and spoke gently. “Mary, the man’s wife and child were taken from him. Whether or not he had the right man, I do not know, but he thought Andrew sold her, and his anger was justified.”
“How can you defend such a beast?” Mary shook her head rapidly. “When your fiancé might have been dead two days before your wedding. How could you be so unfeeling? Are there any womanly emotions inside you?”
Not for Andrew there weren’t, that she would admit, but Eleanor didn’t elaborate on her emotions. Mary thought poorly enough of her presently. “I am only trying to let you see why someone might have so much anger. If you could find who took Morgan from you, would you be content to go about your day the same way?”
“We are not discussing the civilized. We are talking about slaves.”
Mary’s expression held a frightening righteousness, and Eleanor realized her cousin had long been tainted by Confederate rhetoric. She had not the wiles to read both sides. Mary hated the Yankees for what they had done to Morgan, and slowly it had withered away her heart toward anything the Federals stood for.
“Family is family regardless of skin color.” Eleanor spoke her view quietly and looked away so as not to punish Mary further. She fussed with her toilet and then bent over to splash her face with water and pat a towel on her face.
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