The Widow of Rose Hill (The Women of Rose Hill Book 2)

by Michelle Shocklee

  Thank you to my fabulous editors at LPC. Pegg Thomas and Robin Patchen, working with you both on this project has been a joy. Thank you, Eddie Jones, and all the fine folks at LPC who worked on this book in various ways. I’m honored to be a Smitten author.

  So many, many friends and family members have supported and encouraged me in my writing endeavors. I appreciate each and every one of you. A few special mentions are Shirley Shocklee, Steve and Chrys Chaparro, Becky Shocklee, and Kim Ulibarri. You make my heart smile.

  A huge, heartfelt thank you to all the readers of The Planter’s Daughter. Your enthusiasm for Adella and Seth’s story is every writer’s dream. Thank you for the emails, the many five-star reviews, and for waiting patiently for the next installment in the series.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the hard work and dedication of Union Army soldiers who landed in Galveston, Texas, on June 19, 1865, bearing an amazing proclamation that would eventually free over two hundred fifty thousand slaves still in bondage, despite the war having come to an end. Juneteenth is still celebrated today as a reminder that all men are created equal and should be treated as so.

  Finally, without the love and sacrifice of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I would be nothing. To Him be all the glory and honor.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Williamson County, Texas

  May 1859

  Adella cringed at the sound of shattering glass.

  What now?

  Exasperation pushed her taut nerves to the edge. Two vases and a china teacup had already met their demise as house servants feverishly prepared for Natalie Langford’s arrival on the morrow. That her brother’s fiancée sparked such anxiety did not bode well, considering the wedding was still two weeks away. Would things only worsen after the blonde beauty became mistress of Rose Hill Manor—a role Adella herself had filled since Mama took ill three summers ago?

  A small shadow appeared in the open doorway to her bedroom. Adella Rose Ellis waited from her perch on the window seat, her bare feet tucked beneath a wide bell skirt, for the guilty servant to emerge. A warm afternoon breeze teased her loose hair. A moment later, Carolina’s fuzzy braids poked around, followed by wide, fearful eyes.

  “Missy Ellis?” The little girl’s timid voice squeaked. Perspiration glistened on her dark skin, and her bottom lip trembled when she stepped around the corner. “I sorry, Missy. I didn’t mean to break it. It just tumbled outta my hand.” A tear slid down an ebony cheek before she tucked her chin into the too-large homespun dress, which hung off of thin shoulders.

  “Come in, Carolina.” Adella softened her voice the way Mama always had when dealing with the servants. “Tell me what happened.”

  Carolina moved into the room, head down. A shuddering breath shook her small frame. “Aunt Lu sent me to fetch the lamp from Miss Natalie’s bedroom so’s she could fill it with kerosene.” Eyes shiny with tears peered up at Adella. “I real careful to hold it with both hands like she tol’ me, but”—her voice quivered—“my toe done caught the carpet in the hall.”

  Adella closed her eyes. She knew which lamp Carolina meant. It had been a favorite of Mama’s made of white glass, with painted roses on its chimney. At Papa’s request, Adella had begrudgingly placed it in Natalie’s room, just down the hall from her own. Although everything in the house would ultimately belong to Natalie after she and George married, Adella harbored a strong desire to protect the things Mama once treasured.

  But she couldn’t be angry with Carolina—not when the girl should have been playing with cornhusk dolls instead of working twelve-hour days in the big house, as the slaves called the manor.

  “It was an accident.” Adella offered a sympathetic smile, hoping to ease the girl’s worry. Mr. Haley, their former overseer, had whipped slaves for lesser offenses, so Carolina’s fear was not unfounded. Mercifully, that horrid man was no longer an issue. He’d passed in his sleep a fortnight ago, and Papa wouldn’t hire a replacement until he returned from purchasing new field workers in Galveston. “Help Aunt Lu clean up the mess, and we will keep this to ourselves.”

  Carolina’s brow shot up. “You ain’t gonna tell Massa Ellis?”

  “There is no need to tell Papa. He is in charge of the plantation, but I am in charge of the house.” At least for two more weeks. “Go on, now. Tell Aunt Lu we need another lamp for Miss Natalie’s room—and be very careful if she asks you to carry it upstairs.”

  “Yes’m, Missy.” Carolina disappeared down the hall, but not before she glanced back to Adella with a look of pure relief on her round face.

  With a cat-like stretch, Adella unfolded her legs and wiggled her toes, which were blessedly free of the pinching slippers that matched her pale blue gown. Even at twenty years of age, she still preferred to go shoeless, much to Aunt Lu’s dismay. The head house servant scolded and grumbled whenever she caught Adella barefoot. “Young women soon ta be betrothed don’t gallivant ’round without shoes.”

  Moving to her dressing table, Adella ran a brush sprinkled with fragrant rose water through her hair. The headache that drove her to her room had thankfully abated, but the thought of bundling her thick, dark tresses back into the velvet hairnet with a much-too-tight silk headband did not appeal. Perhaps she would have Hulda simply tie it with a ribbon since Papa was not due back from Galveston until noon tomorrow, and it would only be George and herself at supper.

  Thinking of George naturally led back to thoughts of Natalie and her impending visit. As a wedding gift, Papa gave Natalie permission to redecorate the parlor as well as order new furnishings for the suite of rooms she and George would occupy. Adella was to help with the undertaking. Natalie had declared it their first sisterly endeavor, but Adella found it far more difficult than anyone knew. Watching Mama’s house being prepared for another woman served as a stark reminder that her beloved mother was gone forever. Taken from earth a little more than a year past, the loneliness still felt fresh and raw in Adella’s heart. Yet Papa and George carried on as though the void Mama left was easily filled with plantation busyness and wedding plans.

  Not so for Adella. She studied her blue gown in the reflection of the mirror, noting the delicate lace on the collar and cloth-covered buttons running down the bodice, and was reminded of the plain black gowns wrapped in paper and folded neatly away in a trunk in the attic. Her year of mourning had come to an end in March, but she would have continued wearing black if Papa had not protested. It was no secret he hoped to secure a marriage proposal for her soon. She was long past the age when most girls married, but her priority the last few years had been seeing to Mama’s needs. Suitors that dared seek courtship were turned away, much to Papa’s consternation. Now, with Mama gone and Adella’s time of grieving over, Papa had wasted no time announcing his plans for her to marry within the year.

  Finished with her toilette, she padded across thick, warm carpet to the canopy-covered bed. The boards holding the goose-down mattress protested when she sat on the edge, drowning out her own discouraged sigh. If only Papa would listen when she tried to discuss her future. While marrying one day did interest her, her real desire was to stay on as Rose Hill’s mistress. It didn’t seem quite fair that George should inherit the plantation when he stood to gain the Langford property as well. As an only child, Natalie was heir to the large cotton plantation that bordered Rose Hill. Surely she and George could just as easily live with the Langfords and leave the Ellis manor in Adella’s care. Perhaps she should broach her idea with George at supper tonight and—

  A disturbance in the yard interrupted her plotting. Excited voices drifted upward, and by the time she peeked out her window, a number of slaves had gathered below. They faced south, toward the long, poplar-lined drive that led to the main house. Vast cotton fields stretched on either side
, reminding her of an emerald ocean, with gentle waves carrying knee-high plants down one rolling hill, only to reappear on the next rise. Moving shapes speckled the neat rows, where dozens of workers took hoes to ever-present weeds or inspected plants for worms and other crawling things that could devastate a crop in a matter of days.

  “They’s comin’! They’s here!” Aunt Lu’s rich voice echoed from the foyer. The plump woman appeared in the bedroom doorway a few moments later, out of breath from her sprint up the stairs. “Missy Ellis, your pappy done come home a day early!”

  With a gasp, Adella turned again to the scene outside. Two riders and a wagon emerged from the shadows of the trees and headed toward the house. Indeed, she recognized Papa’s white gelding as he nudged his mount on ahead of the others. She couldn’t make out the second rider, who was still some distance away, though he sat taller in the saddle than her father. Old Joseph drove the plantation wagon, which had departed empty the week before but was now crowded with a number of dark-skinned men and at least one woman.

  “It is Papa. What a happy surprise!” She hurried across the room and into the hall.

  Aunt Lu harrumphed. “Missy, your hair be undone.”

  “Papa won’t mind,” Adella said over her shoulder as she practically flew down the stairs, the hem of her full skirt held high so as not to trip her in her haste. “I’ll miss welcoming him home if I wait for you to put it up.”

  Bare feet slapped against the cool marble floor of the foyer as Adella swept through the airy space to the open front door. The travelers were just dismounting when she reached the porch.

  “Papa! We didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.”

  Papa glanced up after handing the reins to one of the servants. “Adella Rose, you are a sight for these tired eyes of mine.” With a groan, he lumbered forward as Adella descended the dozen whitewashed steps to the ground. “I am too old for these long journeys anymore.”

  Adella stood on tiptoe to kiss Papa’s cheek, her lips grazing his whiskered jaw before she slid her arm into the crook of his elbow. “You should have sent word of your arrival. I fear the house is in an upheaval preparing for Natalie’s visit.”

  “Stop your fretting, daughter.” Papa patted her arm as they mounted the steps. “A bath and my own bed are my only concerns. I could not bear another night on one of those flea-infested straw ticks innkeepers call mattresses. We were up before the sun so we would make home today.” Gaining the shade of the porch, Papa’s gaze skimmed over the servants who’d lined up to welcome him home. “Where is George?”

  Aunt Lu, who had arrived on the porch a bit breathless, possessed the uncanny ability of knowing everyone’s whereabouts on the plantation. But she stared straight ahead as though she hadn’t heard Papa’s question.

  “I haven’t seen him since the noon meal,” Adella said, just now noticing her brother’s absence.

  “Never mind.” Impatience brought a frown to his face. “Brantley, come meet my daughter. Then you can see to the stock.”

  Adella had been so surprised by Papa’s unexpected return that she had completely forgotten the other man. She now noted that he walked with a distinct limp, favoring his left leg. Perhaps he was saddle-weary, like Papa, but her instincts told her the limp frequently plagued him. Though his face remained shadowed by the brim of his dusty hat, she noted his physique was that of a strong, youthful man, quite in contrast to his hitching gait.

  “Adella Rose, this is Seth Brantley, son of my good friend Daniel Brantley.”

  At Papa’s introduction, the stranger mounted the porch and lifted his face. Removing his hat revealed dark hair plastered against his head, and he gave a polite nod. “Miss Ellis, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance … again.”

  She gaped at the stranger. Ruggedly handsome, with hazel eyes and generous lips that twitched with humor, Adella was certain she’d never seen the man before.

  “Mr. Brantley.” Her back stiffened at his improper insinuation. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting prior to today.”

  “No need for a fuss, my dear,” Papa said. “He is referring to when you met as children. When was that, Brantley? Eighteen forty-two? Forty-three?”

  “I believe it was forty-two, sir. I was eleven years old.” An easy smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Pa was called to Austin, even though he was no longer a congressman. Wasn’t that when Sam Houston feared a Mexican invasion and had the government documents moved from the capitol?”

  Papa laughed. “Ol’ Sam wanted to move them all right, but the folks down in Austin wouldn’t have it. They worried he would declare Houston the capitol if the archives reached that city, so they put up a resistance and eventually won. I tried to stay out of the whole affair, but your father wanted the Austin folks to know he stood with them.”

  “I had tagged along to keep him company. We stopped for the night at Rose Hill.” Seth turned his smile to Adella, warming her to her bare toes. “So you see, Miss Ellis, we have indeed had the pleasure of meeting prior to today.” His eyes boldly roamed her face. “I must say, though, you have certainly changed since that long-ago day.”

  Rendered speechless, her insides quivered as a sudden thought burst into her consciousness. Had Papa brought Seth Brantley home as a possible suitor? He was dressed more like a cowboy than a gentleman farmer—perhaps he took a more active role in running his plantation than Papa. While the men conversed, a warm flush filled her cheeks at the thought of being courted by the handsome man. Admittedly, she found the idea rather appealing.

  “We will keep the new stock in the barn tonight,” Papa was saying to Seth, motioning down the hill from the main house toward several large structures. “Monroe can find room for them in the quarter tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Seth donned his hat, politely nodding to Adella before he made his way back down the steps to confer with Old Joseph.

  Confusion swirled through Adella’s mind. “Papa.” She trailed him as he made his way into the house, the crinoline beneath her full skirt swishing against her legs in her haste. One last look toward the yard revealed Seth mounting his horse to follow the wagon to the barn. “Why is your guest tending to the slaves? Shouldn’t we invite him in for refreshments after your long journey?”

  Servants who’d gathered to welcome home their master scurried away like mice after the cat awoke from its nap.

  “Brantley is not my guest, Adella Rose.” Papa chuckled as though her question was the silliest thing he’d heard all day. He handed his wide-brimmed hat to Anderson, his waiting manservant, and then faced Adella.

  “Seth Brantley is the new overseer of Rose Hill.”

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