Auralie blew out a stiff breath. “You are my favorite cousin, but—” She lowered her voice. “This engagement isn’t anything I wanted to celebrate.”
“What?” Belle’s eyes widened and she set her lemonade down. “What do you mean?”
“Belle, I haven’t laid eyes on Perry Bolden since you and I were in pigtails. Thaddeus Bolden and Father arranged this marriage four years ago. Father announced it to me and Mother on my sixteenth birthday, as if it were a grand birthday gift, and I’m expected to go along with it.”
Her cousin’s round blue eyes glistened. “Oh Auralie, how awful. I can’t even imagine joining myself in marriage to a man I didn’t love. Didn’t Aunt Phoebe object?”
Auralie shrugged. “If she did, she certainly didn’t tell me. You know Mother. She wouldn’t dream of going against anything Father says, or even letting him think she has an opinion.” She rose and walked to the railing where Belle’s roses were just beginning to bloom. “All during our childhood, we never stopped to consider those people who don’t have a choice about their lives. They do as they’re told and are completely subservient to their owners.”
Belle cocked her head. “Are you talking about the slaves? What do they have to do with you marrying Perry Bolden?”
“Don’t you see? We’re alike.” Auralie returned to sit sideways facing Belle on the swing. “Once I’m married to Perry, I’ll be living in just as much bondage as any of the slaves.”
Defensiveness threaded Belle’s voice. “You say bondage like all slaves are treated cruelly.”
“You must admit that some are, even if ours are not. Mammy is dearer to me than my own parents.” She gestured toward the back end of the porch. Beyond the railing and on the opposite side of the vegetable garden, the summer kitchen sat separated from the main house. Within its walls, Mammy helped Belle’s servants. “You grew up with Sam and Maizie in your home, and when you married Lloyd, your father gave them to you. But think about it. Even though they have a good home here and you treat them well, they don’t have a choice about their lives, and neither do I.”
Belle’s expression grew perplexed. “I think I see your point, but surely being married to Perry can’t be equated to being a slave. His family is wealthy. You’ll have a beautiful home, the finest clothes, servants to do your bidding—you’ll never want for anything.”
“Except the thing I crave the most—a man who loves me. A man for me to love in return.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
Auralie shook her head. “Nothing, short of sneaking out my window in the middle of the night and running away. Where could I go that Father couldn’t follow and find me?”
They sat in silence for a while, and Auralie let the gentle rocking of the swing soothe her frazzled nerves. Lloyd and Belle’s house was small compared to the sprawling manor house in which she lived. The house she’d been told Perry was having built was even grander. But Belle’s house felt much more like a home. Belle didn’t have fifteen bedrooms, a lavish ballroom, or an elegant study. There was no immense dining room big enough to seat a dinner party of forty. The gardens surrounding the place were not ostentatious. But there was something the Covington plantation house lacked. Genuine, heartfelt love.
Belle stood and stretched. “I think Maizie is making roast chicken for dinner. I hope that’s all right. You’re probably used to much fancier meals.”
“Roast chicken sounds marvelous.” She joined her cousin and they went back into the house. A large bookcase filled almost an entire wall on one end of the spacious front parlor, and Belle’s curio cabinet sat in the corner displaying china doll figurines that she’d collected since she was a girl.
“I remember some of these.” Auralie picked up one with golden hair swirled up like a crown and wearing a stunning ball gown with flowers around the edge and a daring neckline. “This one was always my favorite. Remember we used to dream about dressing up in beautiful gowns and waltzing all evening with dashing young gentlemen lined up waiting their turn?” She returned the figurine to its shelf. “Isn’t it ironic how the things we dreamed of and wished for as young girls are now the very things I dread?” She ran her fingers over several of the dolls.
Belle took her hand. “Is it the marriage you dread?”
Hearing Belle voice the question helped Auralie put it into perspective. “It’s more than just the marriage. I’m…restless, and frustrated at the role I’m expected to fill. I wish I could have goals and ambitions, but I feel like one of these china dolls—nice to look at, perhaps, but serving no purpose.”
“Oh Auralie, you have a purpose. You’re a sweet person, kindhearted and sensitive to the feelings of others.”
She turned to face her cousin. “But I have nothing to occupy my time and my hands, nothing I can do to make a difference in someone’s life. All that is expected of a well-bred, Southern lady is to marry well.” She grasped Belle’s hand and urgency filled her voice. “I want more than that, but I don’t know what.” She shook her head. “I know what I don’t want, but I don’t know what I do want.”
Belle slipped her arms around Auralie and hugged her close. “Then we shall pray for God to show you.”
“Belle, are you ever afraid of God?”
“Goodness, no!” Belle jerked her head back and looked Auralie in the eye. “Why would you be afraid of a God who loves you?”
Auralie bit her lip. She didn’t want to be afraid of God, but she couldn’t comprehend a Father who loved and cared for her like the Bible promised He did. She sighed deep within the recesses of her soul.
Auralie took the cup of weak tea Maizie handed her and smiled her thanks to the gray-haired black woman who clucked her tongue like a fretting hen.
“I stirred some honey in it. Miss Belle like her tea sweet. She need sumpin’ on her stomach, and she didn’t eat no breakfas’.”
Before Auralie could turn to carry the tea upstairs to Belle, Maizie stopped her. “Miss Auralie, meybe she listen to you if you tell her go see the doctor.”
Maizie’s concern touched Auralie. She sounded just like Mammy. “I think I’ve convinced her to go. Could you please ask Sam to hitch the carriage?”
Maizie beamed. “Sam sho’ be glad to do that. I’ll go tell ‘im right now.”
Auralie climbed the staircase to Belle’s room and found her cousin pale and blotting her face with a damp cloth.
“Are you feeling any better?”
“A little. This doesn’t last all day. It comes and goes.”
Auralie set the teacup down on the bedside table. “Maizie made you some tea. She said you needed to put something in your stomach.”
A faint smile lifted Belle’s lips. “That’s Maizie’s answer for every ailment. I probably just need a tonic or something.”
“Sam is hitching up the carriage.” Auralie covered Belle’s hand with hers. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Belle took a few sips of tea, rose from the bed, and patted her hair in place. “Besides, I need to stop by Pastor Shuford’s house and speak with him about having someone take the children’s Sunday school class—at least until I’m feeling better.”
“All right.” Auralie hugged her cousin. “I think I’ll explore your bookshelves while you’re gone.”
Belle picked up her parasol and they descended the stairs. “Help yourself. If you’d like to go for a walk, there are some lovely wildflowers in the meadow between our house and our neighbor.”
Auralie watched Sam solicitously hand Belle up into the carriage and make sure she was comfortably seated before climbing up to the driver’s seat and urging the horses forward. Auralie sighed as she watched them leave and whispered a prayer that whatever ailed her cousin could, indeed, be remedied with a simple tonic.
The last time she recalled having a day all to herself, she was a carefree child with no more concerns than plucking petals from daisies. Perhaps she’d take that walk later and see if she cou
ld find some daisies to grace their dinner table.
She found a volume of Wuthering Heights on the parlor bookshelf. Smiling, she carried it out to the shady side porch and curled up in a cushioned rocker. Emily Brontë’s story and characters mesmerized her—the brooding Heathcliff and the beautiful and free-spirited Catherine—and she was surprised when Mammy poked her head out and asked if she wanted her lunch brought out.
“My goodness, I must have lost track of time.” She tucked a piece of ribbon between the pages to mark her place and stood to stretch. “Just something light, Mammy. I’m not terribly hungry.”
Mammy returned a few minutes later with a tray. “Maizie and me make chicken salad from that roast chicken las’ night. She say she don’ never throw away food dat’s lef’, and Miss Belle don’ mind at all.” She set the tray on the small wicker table beside the rocker. “Maizie’s makin’ a fresh pitcher o’ lemonade. I tol’ her it one o’ yo’ fav’rites.”
The chicken salad was delicious and Auralie ate every bite. A warm breeze swayed the treetops and set the wildflowers and grasses to dancing, inviting Auralie to join in the celebration of spring. She shaded her eyes and gazed out across the meadow to see if any daisies bloomed. Instead, she caught sight of two men working in a field beyond the boundary of Belle’s place. One was a black man, bent over his task. The other arrested her attention. Even at a distance he looked familiar. She studied him for a minute, the way he moved, the angle at which he held his head.
“Colton Danfield.”
Belle said she had neighbors but didn’t mention the name. She observed the two men working side by side for a time. Peculiar…she’d gotten the impression from the way he spoke in town that he was against slavery, but the Negro man laboring beside him indicated differently.
Colton jerked his glance up when Free started barking. A woman walked toward them carrying a jug of some sort. Her wheat-colored hair peeked out from a wide-brimmed green bonnet. Even though the bonnet prevented him from seeing her face, his pulse picked up when she drew closer. It couldn’t be…
“Freedom, hush up.”
The dog quieted but remained on alert, watching the stranger approach.
Colton quickly buttoned his shirt and strode to meet the visitor. He ran his hands over his wind-tossed hair to push it into submission and brushed at his clothes in a vain attempt to rid himself of some of the dirt he’d attracted.
“Miss Covington.” His voice sounded unnatural and forced. “This is a surprise.”
Her smile rivaled the spring sunshine. “For me as well. I had no idea you were my cousin’s neighbor.”
“Lloyd Hancock is your cousin?”
“No, his wife, Belle. I’m visiting with her for a while.”
“I see.” He eyed the pitcher and cups in her hands.
“When I saw the two of you working so hard, I thought you might like something cool to drink.” She held out the two cups. “I also felt I owed you an apology.”
Colton took the cups and held them while she poured lemonade into them. “An apology? You’ve done nothing for which to apologize.”
“Oh, but I did, Mr. Danfield. You started to speak to me in town the other day and I rudely turned and walked away from you.”
Colton handed one of the cups to Barnabas, who lowered his eyes and gave a slight nod.
“Thank you kindly, miss.”
Colton watched Barnabas take a long drink. Perhaps he’d been wrong about Auralie Covington. He turned and gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you. This was very kind of you, but I fear it’s I who owe you the apology. You heard me say some rather uncomplimentary things about your father—”
“Things that were true.” She finished his sentence.
Colton blinked his surprise at her candor. “I’m still sorry you heard me say it. I’m afraid when one runs for political office he is vulnerable to public criticism from those who disagree with him.”
“I’m not blaming you for disagreeing with my father. Truth be told, I disagree with him myself, but nobody asks a woman’s opinion.”
Yes, he could say with all confidence that he’d been completely wrong about this woman. “Well, thank you again for the lemonade.”
She tipped her head to one side. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
She began in a hesitant voice. “When I heard you speak in town, at the meeting in the café and again on the street, I got the impression you were against slavery.”
Colton nodded. “Yes ma’am, I am.”
Confusion wrinkled her brow, and she glanced over to Barnabas and back to Colton. “But—”
“Barnabas isn’t my slave. He’s my employee. I pay him a wage. Not a big wage, but certainly more than he ever got as a slave.” He cast a quick look over his shoulder and caught Barnabas listening to every word. Colton turned back to Miss Covington. “I realize the law states that once a slave has been freed, it’s the responsibility of the owner who freed him to ensure that he leave the state. However, Barnabas is also my friend and as such has chosen to remain and work with me. Just to make sure everything is done decently and in order, he made his mark on an indenture agreement, but it’s merely a formality. If Barnabas wanted to leave here tomorrow, I’d make sure he had safe passage to wherever he wished to go.”
Her eyes widened, not in shock but with enlightenment. Warmth flooded Colton as he watched her smile.
“Mammy is more than my friend. I can’t describe how dear she is to me.” Her smile faded. “But she’s still a slave because she belongs to my father.”
Colton nodded. An affinity grew between them. “God holds the times and seasons in His hand. I believe some changes are on the horizon, hopeful changes, but I fear the circumstances to achieve those changes might be tragic.”
Chapter 7
Auralie stepped into the summer kitchen the next morning. Mouthwatering aromas of bacon, biscuits, and fresh coffee greeted her.
Mammy looked up from the fresh strawberries she was cleaning. “What you doin’ downstairs so early, honey girl?”
Maizie glanced at her. “Miss Belle sick again, ain’t she?” She and Mammy exchanged a meaningful look. “Why don’ you go on up an’ sit wi’ her, and I’ll bring up a tray of chamomile tea and dry toast.”
Auralie twisted her ring. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to eat anything yet. She’s quite ill.” At the moment, food lost its appeal for her as well. “I’m worried about her.”
A tiny smile poked a dimple in Mammy’s cheek, and she patted Auralie’s shoulder. “Don’ you fret, honey girl. I ‘spect the doctor know what the problem be. You go on up to her now. When she ready, she tell you her news.”
News? That seemed a strange way to refer to one being as sick as Belle, but Auralie didn’t linger for an explanation. She picked up the hem of her dressing gown and hurried up the stairs.
Belle sat on the small balcony outside the french doors in her bedroom. “The fresh air seems to help. I couldn’t abide that awful smell.”
Awful smell? Auralie sniffed, thinking perhaps the wind had shifted and was coming from the direction of the stables, but the only thing she could smell was breakfast cooking. “Didn’t Doctor Greenway give you any medicine?”
A weak smile wobbled across Belle’s face. “No. As far as he knows there’s no medicine that can fix me.”
Auralie’s heart turned over. “Oh Belle, I—”
“Sit down, cousin. I have something to tell you, and it’s good news. The best news.”
What a brave woman her cousin was, facing an illness the doctor declared incurable with a smile on her face. Auralie sat opposite her and reached to take her hands, determined to be strong for her cousin.
Belle’s smile deepened. “Doctor Greenway says I’m expecting.”
Expecting? “What are you exp– Oh! You’re…you’re…” She clapped both hands over her mouth.
Belle giggled. “I wanted to wait until Lloyd came home so he could be the fi
rst person I told, but under the circumstances, I don’t think I could keep you in a state of worry any longer.” She laughed again. “I think Maizie and Mammy already figured it out.”
Auralie threw her arms around her cousin. “I couldn’t be happier for you. I just hate it that you’re sick.”
Belle placed her hand over her stomach and took a couple of slow, deep breaths. “Yes, well, Doctor Greenway said that would pass in a few weeks. I hope he’s right.”
“Let me bring you a shawl if you’re going to sit out here on the balcony.” Auralie found a shawl on a hook in Belle’s wardrobe cabinet. She hurried back to the balcony and draped the wrap over her cousin’s shoulders. “Did the doctor say when the baby might come?”
“Late autumn. Sometime in November.” A crease carved a path between Belle’s brows and tiny waves of alarm rippled through Auralie.
“Is there something else? Did the doctor say you were all right?”
“I’m fine.” Belle patted Auralie’s hand and sighed. “I picked up the mail while I was in town. There was a letter from Lloyd. He says he’s being retained by the architectural firm in Atlanta.”
“That’s wonderful!” Auralie clapped her hands then caught the faraway look in Belle’s eye. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes. It will keep him in Atlanta longer than we planned, but he’s worked very hard for this.” She turned her head. “All this talk about secession and forming a state militia…”
Auralie sensed her cousin’s concern. “Are you afraid Lloyd might join the Georgia Militia?”
A single tear made its way down Belle’s cheek, heightening Auralie’s concern. “The elections will be held in early November. If Mr. Lincoln is elected and Georgia secedes…” Her voice broke. “It makes me wonder if Lloyd will even be here for the birth of his child.”
Everyone else in the house had gone to bed hours ago, but Auralie sat in the bedroom window seat watching a storm build toward the northwest, not unlike the tempest unfurling in her soul. Mammy and Belle had both encouraged her to pray, but uncertainty jerked her this way and that until she no longer knew how to pray. The realization startled her. What if she prayed wrong? What if this marriage to Perry was God’s will? If she asked God to stop it, wouldn’t He be angry with her? She lit a candle to chase her doubts into hiding.
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