“You are not worthy of Andrew’s love,” Mary spat out the words, “if you can find any sympathy for that man—that man who might have killed Andrew. He’s dead as he deserves to be.”
“Thanks to Nathaniel.” Eleanor couldn’t help herself. She needed to point out to Andrew’s greatest admirer that he was a coward, and nothing more. Nathaniel had followed Eleanor Under-the-Hill, ensuring no danger would come to her, while Andrew, her supposed betrothed, luxuriated over a tall iced tea.
Mary’s eyes thinned. “Did your precious Nathaniel fight in the war? Did your Nathaniel ever do anything but rely on his daddy’s reputation in Mississippi? How dare you marry a man on Saturday when your mouth betrays him this day! I repeat, dear cousin, you are not worthy of Andrew Pemberton.”
Mary reached for the doorknob, but Eleanor stopped her with words that tumbled out angrily.
“And you are worthy, Mary? That’s what you are hoping for, isn’t it? That I shall give Andrew up for you? And you shall be mistress of Woodacre. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To fawn over my fiancé and remark endlessly on his medals and washed-up uniform that he wears ridiculously about town. How well suited you would be, spending a lifetime trying to make the South rise again.”
“You traitor! You may have been born in Mississippi, but you are a Yankee through and through. I shall tell Andrew everything. You may pretend to be an insipid, sweet belle, but you harbor a heart that beats at zero. I pray no man finds himself wed to you, least of all Andrew!”
Mary slammed the door in such a violent manner that the entire house most likely awakened. Eleanor’s feelings would be secret no longer.
Her breathing was rapid and strained. She fell against the back of the door and covered her face, sinking to the floor in a trembling, fearful cry. Mary and she were like sisters, but life had torn them apart just as the war of America had divided the states. Why had God made her so different? Most women would happily marry a plantation owner of any acreage in their postwar desperation. What was it about her that made her think she deserved anything more? She cried out to the Lord in her pain.
“Heavenly Father, do I sin to ask for love? The Bible says to flee from temptation, but where would I go, Father? If I stay here, my father will marry me off; but if I go, I will never be able to return. But how can I marry a man I do not love? One I do not even respect? Do You ask that I humble myself and deny everything I know to be true? Or will You honor my love and be with Nathaniel and me in our deception? Tell me, Lord. Please tell me.”
Hattie pushed against the door and knocked Eleanor from the kneeling position. Looking at the closed Bible, Hattie shook her head. “You won’t get any answers from God if you don’t listen.”
“Is Mary okay?” she asked timidly.
“She’s locked herself in her room. I don’t know what went on between you, but I can tell you she sounds as if she’s packing to leave.”
“She loves Andrew.” Eleanor picked herself off the floor and sat down hard on her desk chair. “If she marries him, she’ll punish every Negro in sight for Morgan’s death and Andrew’s near death.”
“You cannot leave, Miss Ellie.”
“I know, Hattie.” Eleanor covered her face again. “I know.”
Chapter 15
Nathaniel slammed his Bible shut. He had tried everything he could think of to deny that the seventh commandment applied to him, but coveting his neighbor’s wife, his brother’s wife, was exactly what he was guilty of. Engagements in the South were not mere formalities. They were a bond as serious as marriage. Yet he had given his word to Ellie, and since the Bible also cautioned to let your yea be yea, Nathaniel would run away with her and not look back. He would pay for it later, when he tried to find work or when he preached. Of that he had little doubt, but he would not let his reputation be ruined with her again.
He took out the latest map of the Mississippi and began to trace a possible route for them. Jeremiah would return the following day, and Nathaniel would discuss arrangements with him. Jeremiah wouldn’t like taking Ellie out of Mississippi, but if she were Nathaniel’s wife, he would have little choice.
The library door opened, and Nathaniel’s father, looking haggard and blanched, leaned against the doorjamb. Nathaniel pondered how aged his father now appeared. Master Pemberton no longer stood an astounding six feet. His body had bent in the years Nathaniel roamed California, and the son couldn’t help but pray his absence hadn’t caused the hollow look that swept his father’s expression.
“I was right about Andrew,” his father said solemnly. “The slaves do want to kill him. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead by now.”
A wave of guilt lapped Nathaniel, recalling how his one-act play struck fear in the heart of his father. “Andrew is not giving the men enough to eat. We have so few workers left. Andrew shall be picking cotton himself before the year is out.”
“That’s why the codes are necessary, son.”
“The codes fix things now, but they won’t fix things forever. You’ve got to think of Woodacre for longer than this generation, Father. Would you want Andrew’s children to be destitute when the Federals seize our plantation for lack of complying with the law? Because that is what will eventually happen. The United States government will own this land if we don’t submit to the authorities.”
“You’re talking nonsense now. Woodacre survived the war. How many plantations were cut into tiny farms, but we have prospered, and we will continue to do so.” Master Pemberton stood tall, as proud as any peacock. “Yankees will never touch Woodacre. I’ll die before I see that happen.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Father, I’m not trying to upset you. I’m only trying to give you another viewpoint. As someone who didn’t witness the ugliness of war, I can testify to the Yankee stronghold Under-the-Hill.”
“The Yankees have been here since 1862, Nathaniel. They haven’t gotten us yet. Listen—enough of this nonsense. I came to speak with you about your future on this plantation.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Before you go on, you must know I’ve decided to leave. Andrew will be safe now that the attempt on his life was tried and failed. I’m glad I came home for a time, but I don’t belong here.”
His father hadn’t heard a word he’d said. “I’ve decided to rewrite my last will and testament, Nathaniel. You are entitled to half of Woodacre again. Saving your brother’s life yesterday proved to me that you are a changed man, and you are once again my true son. Of course, it is only right that when Andrew brings Eleanor home, she will be mistress of our plantation, but there shall be room for a wife of yours.”
Nathaniel nearly laughed aloud. His father could give him all the riches in the state of Mississippi, but the only treasure he wanted was Ellie. The one jewel his father saw as worthless was the single solitary desire of Nathaniel. Andrew could never appreciate her rare beauty or her marked intelligence. Andrew only desired her for Rosamond, and in his greed he had missed what was truly of value.
“I’m not staying, Father.” Nathaniel neglected to add that he was taking the supposed mistress of Woodacre with him.
“I’ll not give you another penny if you leave, son.”
“I know.”
“I cannot give your rights back as first son. It is only fair that you should be under your brother’s authority. Andrew deserves that much after losing his arm to fight for the South. Surely you wouldn’t deny him that.”
“I don’t deny him anything.” Anything except a wife in Ellie, a woman Andrew could never appreciate anyway. “I’m going to preach, Father. I want to tell the country how I’ve been forgiven and comfort those who have seen the wages of war.”
Andrew appeared behind their father. “Please, dear brother, by all means go and spread the Word, and spare us your hypocrisy.”
A chill spread down Nathaniel’s spine. Lord, help me to love my brother. “I have changed, Andrew. I’m sorry you cannot see it.”
“You have lost, Nathaniel. That’s w
hy you leave—because you know Eleanor would never marry a downtrodden, disinherited scalawag like you. Or should I say Ellie.” Andrew smiled wickedly. “But don’t worry, brother. I shall take good care of her.”
It took every ounce of self-control not to grab Andrew’s neck and squeeze. Nathaniel closed his eyes in prayer, asking the Lord to fill him with the Spirit. When he opened his eyes, his brother looked like nothing more than a taunting weasel to Nathaniel. His lack of appreciation for Ellie’s discerning nature was exactly what would allow them to escape together.
“I am glad you took my advice and bought a cousin of Lady’s for her.” Nathaniel focused on the positive aspect of his brother. The only one he could conjure up.
Andrew laughed. “I found a horse that looked like Lady. I didn’t go through much trouble. Matching up that old guard dog meal wasn’t too difficult. Eleanor is not exactly a horse scholar, dear brother.”
“I’m sad for you, Andrew. Ellie is a fine woman, and you are quite fortunate she consented to marry you. I had hoped you would treat her as such. Lady was with her for a long time. Poor Ellie.”
Andrew licked his lips lecherously. “Now that cousin of hers, on the other hand—”
“Andrew!” Their father’s horror at such words was readily apparent. “You shall not discuss your future wife in such a manner nor compare her to another woman. It’s sinful, and you’ll bring ruin upon this house with your lustful, coarse talk.”
“I only meant—” Andrew was silenced by his father’s remonstrance.
Nathaniel had had enough. “What happened to Ceviche?”
Andrew winced at the name. “Who?”
“The slave girl with the infant—Ceviche? Sammy’s wife. Sammy, the one who tried to kill you yesterday.”
“How on earth would I know what happened to a useless slave girl?”
“Because word Under-the-Hill is, you received payment to sell her. Is that true?”
Andrew looked to his father, then back to Nathaniel. “I’m not in the business of contraband. Is that why her lunatic man came after me yesterday? And died for his trouble?”
Nathaniel gritted his teeth, wanting to shout with all his breath that Sammy wasn’t dead. He was aboard a freighter to freedom on the Mississippi. “I’m just repeating what’s being said Under-the-Hill.”
“If you weren’t hanging about in such a vile area, you’d know nothing of such lies.”
“Both of you, stop it!” Their father reprimanded, clutching his chest. “Nathaniel, I am giving you half of Woodacre,” he said through strained breaths. “You two must learn how to coexist peacefully on this land.”
Andrew’s face twisted at the pronouncement. “What do you mean?”
“Nathaniel is my son, Andrew. And as much as I’d like to reward you solely for your bravery for the Confederates, I cannot deny my first son his rightful inheritance. You shall receive the lion’s share and final say, but Nathaniel and his wife will receive half of the plantation and live here as well.”
“You must be toying with me, Father. Nathaniel and I could never share Woodacre. Why, he’ll give the slaves beefsteak and potatoes for dinner each night. We’ll be run into the ground before the first year is up. Is that what you would have happen? That this would become a freedman’s camp? Because your soft son will turn it into an afternoon club for slaves.”
“He proved his loyalty to me and this land yesterday when he shot that man. When he saved your life, Andrew.”
Nathaniel swallowed the walnut-sized lump in his throat, knowing his father did not know the real story. He started to correct his father and tell Andrew that he didn’t want the land when he realized Andrew did want it, that he desired it more than anything on earth. Including Ellie.
“I had a pistol on me. He just saw the villain before I did,” Andrew said. “I am a Confederate captain. Clearly, I have far more experience than my cowardly brother.”
Nathaniel started at a thought, before scrambling back to the map stretched across his father’s desk. Scratched into the bottom of the map were the words “Corporal Andrew Pemberton” and the date “April 1865.” Knowing the uprising had ended by then, Nathaniel mentally calculated that Andrew could not have become a captain as he had been portraying.
“Who was it that made you a captain?”
It was all Nathaniel would ask him for now. He had more important things to think of, like how he would get Ellie tomorrow night and steal her away up the mighty Mississippi River. He would let Andrew explain things to his father.
“Excuse me,” Nathaniel said, bashing shoulders with his brother as he exited the room.
Yet Andrew followed closely, pointing a pistol in Nathaniel’s back as they made their way down the hallway. “Keep walking.”
“Would you shoot me, brother? Here in the hall of your father’s home? When I saved your life yesterday?” Nathaniel smiled. “Don’t worry, Andrew. I have no intention of staying and working Woodacre. You can put your pistol and your threats away.”
The stabbing pain in his back dissipated as Andrew put away his gun. “I don’t just want Woodacre—I want Rosamond. And by Saturday I’ll have it.”
Nathaniel tried to reason with his brother. “What will such greed accomplish, Andrew? What more could you want?”
“To prove to Father he has only one son who will bring glory to this household. And to rise up against the North once again with financial ways the Yankees will respect.”
“You’ve done business with the Yankees through the whole war. Do you think I’m blind, Andrew?”
Pulling out his pistol again, Andrew traced his thumb along the intricate design of the firearm while twisting it playfully in his single hand.
“I have nothing against you, Nathaniel.” Andrew looked straight into Nathaniel’s eyes. “Go out into the four corners of the earth and spread your religious babble—I send you out with my blessings—but relinquish your rights to Woodacre before you go.”
Nathaniel stepped back and crossed his arms. “Very well, Andrew. I’ll grant you that request, in writing. On one condition. Let Ellie go, and marry her cousin. Mary is the one you want anyway.”
Leaving with Ellie would solve the immediate issue, but stealing her from her father and inheritance was not how Nathaniel preferred life to be.
“Mary,” Andrew laughed. “Mary hasn’t two coins to rub together. Why should I be saddled with a wife who has nothing to offer me when I can have Eleanor’s fortune?”
“Andrew, I pray your heart isn’t that dark. I pray you would see the need for love in your life. You were always Mother’s favorite. How she cradled you until you were far too old for such snuggling.”
The recollection brought tears to Nathaniel’s eyes when he gazed into his brother’s blank eyes. There seemed to be no emotion, no depth of life left. The war had left its mark on Andrew. No matter what lies Andrew told or what illegal dealings he was involved with, the fact was, he was not a child of God. And that broke Nathaniel’s heart.
“Pray to your invisible God all you want, Nathaniel. In the meantime, I shall be rich and embracing the woman you love.”
Chapter 16
Father, I do not wish to marry Andrew,” Eleanor said in her most solemn voice, careful not to show any depth of happiness. “I do not love him, nor do I think he will do what’s best for Rosamond. I am asking that you support me in my sundering of the engagement.” She lifted her chin, practicing a stern expression. She only hoped her father was as easily convinced as her mirror.
“Are you quite through talking to yourself?”
Hattie waited with her arms stretched out, holding a morning gown for Eleanor. It was a crimson merino and just the color to inspire all the strength she would need. Everything depended upon her ability to reach her father.
“I’m not talking to myself. I’m rehearsing. Aren’t you the least bit anxious for me, Hattie?” She shook her hands to release the excess energy she possessed.
“I’m content in all c
ircumstances. Your mother taught me that. She says I’ll have a mansion built for me in heaven and walk on streets of gold, so I’m content with what He has for me here.”
“Hattie, I don’t know how you do that. I wish I had the presence of mind to be happy wherever God placed me.” Eleanor smoothed on her white, kid leather gloves. “But I fear I shall not be content without Nathaniel, without something to call my own.”
“You act as though contentment is a magic pill, but there’s nothing to it, Miss Ellie. Sometimes having nothing is a blessing. I wait with wonder each day for the Lord and what He has. When I learned to read, I could be anyone on a moment’s notice. I remember a quote I once read: ‘The wealthy try to control their destinies only to be disappointed when they’re rendered utterly useless against the wave of fate.’”
“You think my marrying Andrew is fate?” Eleanor removed her gloves again, wringing her hands.
“Now I didn’t say that. I said it’s in your best interest to be content if that’s God’s plan. I was born a slave, Miss Ellie. I’ve never been off this plantation except through the books your mama gave me. I saw your daddy grow up, and now I’ve seen you grow up.” Hattie nodded her head with her eyes closed. “I’m content.”
“Well, I’m not a victim, Hattie, and I’m not going to marry a man I don’t love without a fight. And a harrowing one it shall be.”
“Just a few short weeks ago, you were happy to marry Andrew. Nathaniel’s appearance changed all that in a matter of two short weeks?”
Eleanor sighed. “It changed everything. It’s one thing to marry when your future is without hope. It’s quite another when the man you love stands in the witness box.”
Three loud knocks rapped on the door.
“Here’s your chance. I’m praying.” Hattie fastened a lace collar in Eleanor’s décolletage and stood beside her charge with hands at her side.
The Prodigal's Welcome Page 11
