by Becky Lower
“So you see why it’s essential that I stay here.” Heather’s voice raised an octave as she helped Colleen toss some underthings into a small trunk. “Together, Blanche and Mrs. Whitman are a mighty pair, and they would wear David down over time. They are both ugly, inside and out. I want what’s best for David, and for us. And right now, that means we stay put here in the hot, muggy south. Father gave me his approval to stay if you will. You won’t be too miserable, will you?”
“Well, ever since that nice ice man left New York, there has been no reason for me to stay in the city, except for the joy I get taking care of you and your sister. So, I don’t mind spending more time down here. Though Lord knows, I’d welcome the likes of an ice man here and now! But who knows, on a piece of land this big, there may just be another gent worthy of my time. I must say, it’ll be better once we don’t have to share a roof with that dreadful Mrs. Whitman.”
Colleen glanced over at Heather, who was busily folding some clothing. “Forgive me, Miss, for speaking ill of your future mother-in-law.”
Heather looked up from her task and grinned again. “You and I are in agreement about her, you know that. You may call her a wagon, but to me she is the evil witch. You can’t possibly offend me, Colleen, by speaking the truth. And you’re right. Once we get settled into the overseer’s house, it will be much better for all of us. She is still the head of this household, and I’m better off removed from it.” Heather closed the lid on the final trunk.
“Some of David’s men are bringing a cart around, so we’d better start moving the lightest things down to the first floor.” They gathered up some hatboxes and made their way to the front door.
Susan Whitman met them at the stair landing. She took note of their boxes and smiled for the first time since Heather had arrived two weeks earlier. With a voice dripping in sweetness, she declared, “Going so soon?”
Heather set the boxes at her feet and turned to squarely face her adversary. “Yes, Mrs. Whitman, we’ll be taking our leave from your home. Thank you for your hospitality. I know this has been a difficult time for you.” Heather’s own voice dripped with sweetness as well. “However, we’re not going far.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“While my parents and I agree that I cannot remain under the same roof as David without being properly married, I will not leave him when he needs me the most. Colleen and I are moving to the overseer’s cottage until such time as David and I can be married.”
Susan’s eyes blazed with fury. “You will do no such thing. It is not proper for you to stay at Bellewood, be it here or in the overseer’s house. I want you not just out of sight, but gone from Georgia altogether, do you understand? If you move to the overseer’s house, I will not be able to keep an eye on you, so you’ll be able to cloud David’s mind with your wanton ways even more than you are now.”
“Oh, really? Maybe that’s why David suggested it.”
Susan’s hands flitted through the air in agitation. “No, this is not the way things need to be done. He must be made to see that he needs to stay here at Bellewood and give up his notion of moving west. He needs to marry a woman truly worthy of him.”
“Since this move to the cottage was David’s idea, you’ll have to discuss your displeasure with him. For now, Colleen and I are leaving.”
Heather turned with a flourish and walked away from the fuming woman. She and Colleen waited by the cart as two slaves moved their heavy trunks down from the bedroom and put them on the cart bed. As the trunks moved away from the house, Heather and Colleen both breathed a sigh of relief. They began to walk over the hill to where the overseer’s cottage was situated, just out of sight of the main house.
In the back of Heather’s mind, though, skittered the thought that she had just sealed her fate with Mrs. Whitman. She had an image of having drawn her line in the sand with her sword. What Mrs. Whitman didn’t know was that when Heather was small, she played pirates with her older brother, Basil, and became very adept at wielding a sword — a talent she knew she would soon need.
She squared her shoulders and did not glimpse back at the house, although she could sense Mrs. Whitman’s eyes on her. An itch between her shoulder blades bothered her but she would not give Susan Whitman the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, even in the slightest. She straightened her spine and her small frame grew taller. She would need every inch of herself in the coming weeks.
Heather looked at the two men who shuffled their belongings into the new quarters in the overseer’s cottage. One was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and skin as black as ebony, the other was barely a teenager, with café-au-lait skin and light brown eyes. Without breaking a sweat, they placed the trunk in the bedroom where she indicated she wanted it, although she caught the quick movement as the older man rubbed his back before he straightened up.
“Tell me, what are your names?” Heather asked the two men.
The older man replied, “I’ze Shadrach, and this young boy be named Jericho.”
Heather smiled at them. “Well, Shadrach and Jericho, Master Whitman has given me this house for the purpose of teaching all of you how to read and write. I’m starting tomorrow evening, after your work in the fields is done, and you’ve had your dinner. So, if you don’t mind spreading the word to the other slaves, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Jericho’s eyes lit up. “Kin you do dat, Miss Heather?”
“Yes, I taught all of my younger sisters and my little brother how to read, so I can teach you, too. Will you be my first pupil?”
Shadrach put his hand on Jericho’s arm. “But Miss, it’s agin the law to teach us Negroes learnin’ here in the south. You’ll be puttin’ all of us in danger. Surely Master David knows dat.”
“Yes, he knows that. But David and I both believe the day is coming when slavery will no longer be allowed, and you will need to know how to read and write in order to make your own way in this world. We want to prepare the slaves at Bellewood to be able to take care of themselves.”
Heather smiled at the eager young Jericho. “I’m not going to force anyone to learn if they don’t want to. But if you do, come to this house tomorrow night.”
Shadrach glanced uneasily from Heather to Jericho. “Don’t be fillin’ the boy’s head with such nonsense, please, Miss Heather. If word gets out that he kin read, he’ll be hanged. You’ze in de south, now, and things are mighty different down here. Don’t be messin’ with things you don’ know. He’s a good boy and I don’ want harm to come to him.”
“Nor do I, Shadrach. The authorities can’t hang him if David protects him, can they? After all, Jericho is a member of the Bellewood family.”
Shadrach sighed. “Jericho is nuttin’ but a slave, ma’am. He’s not a member of any family. You don’t buy and sell family. He about as valuable as a cow at Bellewood. Anybody kin come here at any time and hang anybody dey want. All dey need to do is to pay Master David for the loss of a field hand.”
Heather had goose bumps all over her body. She looked up at Shadrach.
“I understand what you’re saying, even if I don’t agree with it. I’ll take extra precautions, and will always have an escape route from the cottage for anyone who wants to learn, in case we are discovered. I just don’t understand how an entire half of the country can think slavery is a sound institution.” She shook her head.
“Dat’s da way it is, ma’am.” Shadrach turned to the boy. “Come along, Jericho. We done been here long enough.”
As the two slaves took their leave, Jericho looked back over his shoulder and gave Heather a big grin. She waved from the doorway and hoped both she and Jericho were strong enough to face the winds of change, which were blowing across the fine old Georgia plantation known as Bellewood.
• • •
“This is just ludicrous!” Susan Whitman stomped her foot as she stood in front of her son. She’d been doing a lot of stomping lately, she realized. Her son had been away from her for too long, and she had her work cut out for her
, to get him to acquiesce to her wishes like his father did. But she would ultimately prevail. “How can you think that this is proper, to install your mistress in the overseer’s cottage for the next year? What will our neighbors say?”
“For the last time, Mother, she is not my mistress, but my fiancée. Heather is the most proper of young ladies, and I’ll not have you insult her by constantly referring to her as my mistress. Which, come to think of it, is the nicest of the insults you’ve hurled her way. Strumpet and whore are what you usually call her.”
“If the shoe fits, David. I know her parents have a passel of girls for which they need to find husbands, but allowing her to stay here, living on the same plantation as you, unsupervised, for an entire year, is behavior that is unheard of in the south.” Susan turned to her son with an angry expulsion of breath.
“I can understand her mother’s desperation,” Susan continued, “and she probably feels that if she lets Heather get out of your sight, you’ll soon forget her, so she had better stay close by. But I’ll let no one force you into marrying beneath your station. If she and her family allow her to stay here without marriage, that girl is beneath you, son. I don’t understand what’s gotten into you.”
“It was my decision to let her stay here by my side. Her mother wants her to go back home, but her father approved of her staying here only if she is under a separate roof. Heather comes from a very good family, Mother. Her father owns a bank, for Christ’s sake, and they are one of New York’s most affluent families. Besides it would not matter if Heather were here at Bellewood or in Paris, France, Mother. I am going to marry her as soon as possible, and it’s a decision that you’d just better come to terms with.”
Susan Whitman looked up at her only son. “We should never have let you join the Army. I’m afraid they filled your head with nonsense. You need to obey your parents. Any good southern boy knows that.”
“Well, Mother, maybe I’m no longer a good southern boy. The Army made a man out of me, and I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Or maybe I’m listening to what Father had to say to me before he died. Until I can figure out the best way to proceed with Bellewood, given its precarious financial situation, I need someone beside me who is not tied to this land, someone with a level head, with whom I can talk things over, and who can help me make the right decisions.”
“You are not discussing family matters with that woman, are you? She has no right to be in our business, David!”
David sighed. “She has every right. It’s not ‘our’ business, Mother. It’s mine, remember? And Heather will be a part of whatever decision is reached with regard to this plantation. She and I will determine what is best for our future family, and we will make those hard decisions together. That’s why I need her here. She is staying for the requisite year, and will live at the overseer’s cottage. I’ll hear no more about it from you.”
“We’ll see just how long she lasts,” Susan whispered.
Chapter 21
Susan Whitman’s porcelain teacup clanged as she sat it in its saucer. She and Blanche Beaufort were taking their usual afternoon tea, but the ritual was not its usual relaxing affair. Rather, it was a strategy session.
“We need to do something major to stop David from continuing on with his notion of marrying his northern whore. He’s now got her living in the overseer’s cottage, and you know I can’t go there and keep an eye on her, like I was able to do here. Lord knows what she’s letting my son do to her every night, to further entice him. If you and I scheme together on this, we’ll figure something out. I just can’t believe that my boy would do something like this to his mother. Bringing his whore to live on our plantation.” Susan slumped in her chair, put one hand on her heart, and fanned herself with the other.
“Now, now, Mother Whitman. I’m certain we can come up with a plan. After all, we are southern women, and are known for wrapping men around our little fingers. What has David shared with you?”
Susan sat up straight, her anger with her son mounting. “He has this insane notion that the plantation is riddled with debt. He claims that the attorney went over everything with him, and Henry had built up debt notes everywhere, and mortgaged this land. David won’t let me see the books, not that I could make heads or tails of them, anyway. But he says he wants to sell the land to your father, so he and his strumpet can move out west, where I’ll never see him again.”
Blanche smiled. “Well, then, we can’t let that happen. I will explain to my father that if he buys Bellewood, he will destroy any chance I have of marrying David, which is what we’ve planned. I’ll tell him it would break my heart if he does David’s bidding, I’ll end up an old maid, and will be reliant on him until my dying day. If David can’t sell Bellewood, he’ll be forced to stay here. And I can’t see little Miss Heather lasting past another month. Already, she and her maid are wilting in the heat.”
Susan smiled. “That should do the trick. Yes, David will stay here where he belongs. And where Miss Heather Fitzpatrick does not belong. She’ll never agree to be a slave-owner, so she’ll return north without a husband. Such a pity that her parents’ plans for her didn’t pan out.”
Blanche stood up. “Let me go now and begin planting the seeds with my father. I’m sure David will be talking to him soon, and I don’t even want him to consider David’s offer. Father owes me that much.”
She leaned over and patted Susan’s arm. “Don’t you worry, Mother Whitman. You’ve planned my future at Bellewood since before I could walk, and we’ll not let some little northern woman get in the way of those well-laid plans. My father will see to that. After all, I’ve waited for David to get done with the Army. I’ve denied every man who came calling on me, knowing that someday Jacob and I, or now David and I, would marry, like we mapped out so long ago. He will not make a spinster out of me. I won’t allow it.”
Blanche held her head high as she left the room. Susan watched her go, grateful to have Blanche to help her bring David back into line. She thought to herself, “I do not understand my son anymore. He has never been one to go against tradition. He was always such a good boy. I should never have agreed to let him leave home, but Henry was so adamant that the boy be given a chance to explore the country.” She called out to her late husband, shaking her fist at the sky, “See what happened, Henry? Your boy has seen too much, and now, it’s up to me to straighten him out. Thanks so much for making my life harder than it was when you were alive. It’s just like you, to taunt me from your grave.”
• • •
David knocked on the door of the cottage after nightfall. Colleen answered the summons, her face beaming in excitement as she escorted him into the small house.
“Ah, Lieutenant, we’re so pleased to see you. As you can see, we’re already making ourselves quite comfy in the new place.”
Heather stood up from the couch as he approached, and leaned into his embrace for a kiss.
“I’ll take my leave now, and give you two your privacy,” Colleen disappeared in a flash from the room. Neither Heather nor David noticed her departure, as the kiss lengthened. David’s tongue sought entry into Heather’s mouth, and she willingly invited him in. Their tongues languidly dueled for a couple minutes before their motions became more insistent. As David’s tongue explored every corner of Heather’s mouth, she let out a small moan. David’s breath quickened and his manhood sprung to readiness at her sound of delight. He lowered her to the couch as he continued to kiss her. His hand moved to her breast and he raked his hand slowly across the swell of her bosom.
Heather made no motion to stop him, only gasped a little in surprise, so he continued his exploration of her body. They had never gone this far before, and he delighted in touching her body instead of merely looking at it. Her nipple hardened and turned into a little nub underneath the light muslin fabric of her blouse and he longed to see the changes in her breast that his hand was creating. He ran a row of gentle kisses down her neck and eased her to a prone positio
n on the couch, beginning to undo the row of tiny buttons that ran down the front of her blouse.
“David, we must talk,” Heather giggled as she attempted to sit up while she returned his kisses and ran her hand down his chest. “I am so happy to be away from your mother’s constant scrutiny. How long will you be able to stay here before she comes looking for you?”
At that statement, David backed off from his delicious pursuit of her breast, sat up and allowed Heather to rise to a fully seated position. “First, my mother may think she runs my life, but you and I both know she doesn’t.” He reached for her hand and kissed the ring he had placed there a day earlier.
“Second, I too am pleased that you are here in this cottage instead of in the main house. We can have some privacy now. There’s something about death that makes me want to be even closer to those I love.” He leaned into her and stole another kiss from her already tender and puffy lips and grazed his hand over her partially exposed breast.
“Third, I want to never leave here and go back to the main house, but you and I both know that, for the sake of propriety, we cannot allow that practice to begin. I won’t ask you to destroy your reputation by giving yourself to me completely before we marry. However, there are some tricks we can do to satisfy each other while we wait for the mandatory year of mourning to pass.”
“I’m intrigued.” Heather placed her hand on the side of his face and guided him once more to her lips. “What kind of tricks are you talking about?”
“If you’ll lean back, I’d be happy to show you.”
Heather gazed at David in excitement, as she did his bidding. His hand slowly crept up under her skirts as he plied her with kisses. One hand toyed with her breast under her clothing as the other one made its way up her leg on its journey to that sweet spot at her center.
• • •
Heather’s already ragged breath gasped at his bold touch on her body. No man had ever even touched her breast before, and she thought she might die from the exquisite torture that his hand was producing on her bosom. Now, David’s other hand was nestled between her legs, his fingers weaving into her nest of curls. She was shocked, yet excited. Her breath came in gasps as his kisses made her dizzy. She could not stop his forward advances, even if she wanted to. Which she most definitely didn’t, since she simply did not have the breath to form even one word.
