Murder in the Marsh

by Sara Whitford

  “She doesn’t want to be free?” Adam asked.

  “I asked her the same thing,” said Will, shaking his head. “She only ever says, ‘What for?’ She was born into our family—well, into our mother’s family—and being a part of our household is all she’s ever known. She knows we’ve always cared well for her and her family. They’ve never had to worry about being mistreated, and they have a certain amount of prestige with folks because they belong to us. She’s afraid they’ll lose that security if we manumit them.”

  “But surely it isn’t like y’all are just going to turn them out in the street if you free them. She has to know that,” said Adam.

  “Oh, I’ve told her,” said Laney. “I’ve told Aunt Celie I’d give her emancipation papers if she wanted them, but she says she doesn’t care a thing about it. She doesn’t want to work for anybody else, and she doesn’t want to take money from me for her work. She says I’m like one of her own children, so she wouldn’t feel right for me to pay her—that I already do by having her live in my house and making sure she has all the things she needs.”

  “So just tell her that you’ll give her emancipation papers and then let her keep staying on with you as family,” Adam countered.

  “Don’t you think I’ve told her I’d do that?” Laney argued, waving her hands around wildly. “I have! But she says there’s no sense in giving her papers if she doesn’t want to go anywhere else anyway. ‘Why not leave things the way they are?,’ she says.”

  Adam knew at this point there was nothing he could contribute to the conversation. He couldn’t figure out why Laney wanted to bring him into it to begin with. He thought about excusing himself to go on upstairs, but an idea occurred to him, and he couldn’t help but suggest it.

  “Why don’t you just go ahead and manumit Aunt Celie and then insist she stay with you? You don’t need her permission to free her.”

  “You mean go behind her back and free her?” Laney twisted up her face in disgust. “She’d never forgive me! I’d have never thought that you of all people, Adam Fletcher, would suggest such a deceptive thing!”

  “What’s wrong with what he’s suggesting?” said Will. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

  “No, it doesn’t!” Laney disagreed. “It’d break her heart. I know Aunt Celie, and it would worry her to death that I’d turn her out… or that something would happen to me—in childbirth, for instance—and there would be no security for her.”

  “But you aren’t even married,” said Adam. “Aren’t y’all putting the cart before the horse a bit worrying so far down the road?”

  “You’ve seen how some folks treat Negroes,” said Laney. “It’s awful. I can understand how Aunt Celie would want to feel assured of the protection she has as a part of this family. I can also understand how she’d worry for her son, but why my brother would enter into an arrangement with Charles Jr. for him to buy his freedom—that’s another issue altogether. I don’t see why he doesn’t just manumit him outright.”

  “I’ve told you, Laney,” said Will, “Charles Jr. is working to buy his freedom, but I’m going to turn right around and give him that money back as a gift to help him establish himself as a freeman. He doesn’t know that, but that’s my plan.”

  “Well, let’s get back to your question, Laney. You asked me if I thought you were being unreasonable, but I don’t understand what is supposed to be unreasonable here. Who’s saying you’re being unreasonable? And about what?”

  Laney lowered her head and pressed her fingertips against her forehead in exasperation before looking up to answer. “My brother thinks it’s unreasonable that I’m upset that he didn’t warn me about all of this before we came.” She looked at her brother with angry eyes. “Because he knows if he had told me beforehand, we probably wouldn’t have come at all.”

  “I think it would’ve been unreasonable for y’all to stay back in Beaufort all by yourselves over Christmas because you’re too worried that Aunt Celie is going to have hurt feelings. Of course I didn’t warn you about all of this. How would I? In a letter? I had no way of knowing how upset she’d be! And I thought she’d be happy Charles Jr. is planning to get married—and to a freewoman no less.”

  “I don’t see how any of this matters now,” said Adam. “What’s done is done. I don’t reckon Aunt Celie’s heart would be as fragile if she weren’t still mourning the loss of Old Charles. If she feels upset because Annabelle is doing all the cooking and cleaning for Charles Jr. right now, that’s going to be something they’re going to have to work out for themselves. I think Charles Jr. ought to let his mama cook for him at least. Mamas live for doing that kind of thing. I’m sure I can find a roundabout way to talk to him about that, since knowin my mama, she’d be just as bad.”

  “Would you, Adam?” Laney asked. “That might help a bit. If she can at least be able to do those simple things for her son, I think it would help. We can address the emancipation issues later.”

  Adam nodded. He looked at Laney and Will and then asked if he could be excused to get cleaned up before supper.

  * * *

  THE DINING ROOM TABLE WAS quite a sight. The room had been a common, if not high-end, eating space the previous two times Adam had seen it, but now it was transformed into a proper banquet room.

  The table was dressed with a damask cloth and lace runner, along with fine china with full place settings. On the sideboard there were covered dishes of white-and-blue porcelain. When the lids were removed for Annabelle to serve each person around the table, Adam’s mouth began to water. There was a standing rib roast, a deep dish of creamed potatoes, another filled with ham hock–seasoned snap beans with cornmeal dumplings, and another with stewed carrots. There was a large basket of rolls, a crock of butter, and for dessert there was a pear cobbler with a pitcher of fresh cream.

  After everyone was seated and it seemed unlikely that Martin would show up on time, he stumbled through the front door of the house and scurried into the dining room.

  Adam rolled his eyes at Martin, then shook his head, annoyed.

  “What?” said Martin. “I said I’d make it for supper, and here I am—just in time it looks like.”

  “Honestly,” said Laney, “you have the manners of a wild boar hog. Doesn’t it embarrass you to come tumbling into a fine meal late like this?” She waved her hand over the fully set table and the sideboard.

  “Embarrass me?” Martin feigned shock. “Why should I be embarrassed? Y’all are family. You ought to know not to expect much.”

  Will grimaced and looked at his wife. It seemed as if he was silently apologizing for having such unrefined relations.

  “Just have a seat, Martin. We’re about to give thanks,” he said.

  Martin scuffled over to the chair next to Adam and sat down.

  Adam inhaled deeply but discreetly. He wanted to know whether it was just the initial whiff from when Martin sat down, or if the rascal really did reek of alcohol. No, it wasn’t just a fleeting odor. Martin smelled like he’d been pickled in rum.

  It was awkward for everyone. Nevertheless, Will said grace, and they all started eating.

  For a few moments no one said anything. They were too busy chewing. Eventually, Martin spoke up.

  “So, what have you heard about that murder that happened south of Clermont Plantation, Will?”

  The mention of the murder piqued Adam’s curiosity, but he bristled at his friend bringing up such a grisly subject at a fine meal, where he’d already pushed the limits of tolerable behavior.

  Will first glanced at his pregnant wife, who appeared to grimace at the mention of a murder, then he wrinkled his brow and looked pensive as he chewed a mouthful of beef.

  Maybe he’s trying to decide whether or not to send Martin upstairs, Adam thought.

  Will took a deep breath before answering. “A husband and wife were returning back to New Bern from visiting family out on Clubfoot Creek when they were accosted by two highway
men. There was a struggle, and one of the two travelers lost his life. The other survived.” Will lowered his eyes at his cousin and in a serious tone said, “I think that’s enough of that kind of talk at the supper table. If you want to know any more, you can ask me about it after the ladies have retired for the evening.”

  “Fair enough,” said Martin.

  “I know what I’d like to talk about,” said Will. “Adam, what’s this I hear about you being Emmanuel Rogers’s grandson?”

  “I know it!” said Martin. “And how ’bout that? We’re all grandsons of pirates, after all!”

  Adam grinned proudly and nodded. “It came as a surprise to me. I found that out months ago. I hadn’t thought about the fact that y’all wouldn’t know about that yet.”

  “I mentioned it to him in a letter,” Laney said to Adam, “but I told him it was a long story and that you could share it with him when you saw him.”

  “Aw, Laney,” said Adam. “I’m touched that you would even mention me in your correspondence to your brother.” He gave her a wink.

  She blushed and smiled, then quickly said, “Oh, of course I did! You know it was the biggest news after y’all got back from Havana. Who wasn’t talking about it?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Adam grinned. Whether she had written it in a letter because it was local news or not, Adam still liked thinking that she thought enough about him to mention him to her brother.

  “So tell me!” said Will. “What’s all this about? How did you find out?”

  “Well,” said Adam, “your sister’s right. It is a long story, and I don’t know that all of it is appropriate for the supper table, but I’d be happy to tell you all about it later.”

  “Very good,” said Will. “I’ll hold you to that—but tell me, what did you think when you found out? And I hear you met your father as well!”

  Adam nodded. “I did, but I don’t know if you heard that I had barely gotten to know who he was when I lost him.”

  Will wrinkled his brow in sympathy. “Did you really? Oh, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

  Adam proceeded to explain the highlights of the story, without getting into any of the gruesome details. He told Will that he was thrilled to learn Emmanuel was his grandfather, especially considering he already thought so much of him as a master.

  Catherine seemed to be especially moved by Adam’s account and asked what his mother had thought about him finding his father, or learning of his fate.

  “My mother was worried to death about me going to Havana, and I just couldn’t understand it. I know for a fact she wouldn’t have been quite as worked up if I’d have been going anywhere else, so obviously, when I learned her reasons, I realized why she was so concerned. Above all else she was just relieved that I made it home safe, and she was as surprised as I was about Emmanuel being my grandfather—especially since my father didn’t even know.”

  “That’s unbelievable!” Will commented. “You ought to write it all down. That’s quite a story!”

  Adam chuckled. “Ah, no. I don’t think I’ll be airing our family’s secrets for all the world to read. This isn’t exactly the kind of family history you want to brag about. I’m only telling you because y’all are like family, anyway. And it’s not like I would hide that Emmanuel is my grandfather now that I know about it. Neither would he.”

  “Well, I for one think it’s a beautiful, tragic story,” said Catherine. “It sounds to me like your mother and father loved each other very much, and it’s heartbreaking to think of how they were kept apart for so long.”

  Adam nodded and gave her a small smile. He didn’t know what to say, though. Of course it was tragic. Of course it was heartbreaking. No one could imagine how he, or his mother, or father, or even Emmanuel felt or were impacted by all of the years of keeping secrets. He was just grateful that the truth was out now, though.

  After the meal Laney and Catherine cleared the table, as they had dismissed Annabelle after dinner was served. Will invited Adam and Martin into the parlor for drinks and gentlemanly conversation, which mostly amounted to Will peppering Adam with questions all about his adventure in Havana. Martin had quite a bit to add as well now that the ladies were out of the room.

  Will answered Martin’s and Adam’s questions about the murder that had been mentioned at the supper table.

  “How did you find out about all of that?” said Adam. “Mr. Davis didn’t say nearly as much down at the paper today.”

  “Ah well,” said Will, “my good friend Alexander Pearce is the family’s attorney. He knows all of the details firsthand from the lady victim. We never give all of the information to the papers, though. We wouldn’t want to influence any possible witnesses.”

  “Very smart,” said Martin.

  The three of them sat up until nearly midnight talking, but Adam finally suggested they all get some sleep, as he and Martin would be leaving early the next morning to return to Beaufort.

  Chapter Six

  FIRST THING FRIDAY MORNING CHARLES JR. took Adam and Martin to the wharf and wished them well on their journey back to Beaufort.

  Adam remembered what he had told Laney and Will about speaking to Charles Jr., so he told Martin to wait a minute while he went over to the carriage to talk to him before he left.

  “Listen,” said Adam, “I wanted to mention something to you before we leave for Beaufort.”

  Charles Jr. seemed surprised as he looked at Adam. “What’s that, Mr. Adam?”

  “A little bird told me your mama is not real happy right now.”

  “Excuse me?” Charles Jr. seemed perplexed that Adam would be approaching him about his mother. “Whatchu mean, sir?”

  “Well, from what I gather, seems she’s sad because she came all the way here and had it in mind to cook for you and clean for you and do all those things mamas like to do.”

  “Oh.” Charles Jr. rolled his eyes. “I see. She’s actin plain foolish. I told her I got Annabelle lookin after me now. She ought to just rest! When she’s ever been able to do that, huh?”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” said Adam, “but—”

  “Goodness gracious! I try to do something nice and she still gon’ holler about it!” Charles Jr. continued. “Ain’t no need for her to be doin all that hard work!”

  “That’s the problem, though,” said Adam. “Without anything to do, now she feels useless.”

  Charles Jr. pulled back his head and twisted up his face in shock. “Do what? Why she thinkin like that?”

  Adam put his hand on Charles Jr.’s shoulder. “Come on now, Charles. You’ve got to know that mamas live for fussing over their children—even when we’re grown. Trust me, I know. My mama raised me by herself, and she’s the same way.”

  Charles Jr. put his hands on his hips and laughed as he seemed to consider the shared emotions of mothers and their sons, slave or free.

  Adam gave him a look as if to say, Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.

  Charles Jr. nodded in understanding. “I’ll see if I can’t make ’em both happy.”

  Adam smiled, then shook his hand and wished him well, then climbed back into the periauger. Charles Jr. waved at them and rode away.

  “What was all that about?” Martin asked.

  “Oh, just giving some son-to-son advice,” said Adam.

  He explained everything he had learned about Aunt Celie’s emotional turmoil. He then recounted the advice he’d given to Charles Jr.

  “Aunt Celie’s right to be worried about Charles Jr.’s emancipation,” said Martin. “The safest place her or her son can be is sheltered under the wings of my cousins’ family.”

  “I understand her worries,” said Adam, “but there are plenty of free Negroes around. Don’t you reckon they’re a lot happier being free than they would be being slaves?”

  “Sure,” said Martin. “Some of ’em are, but also don’t forget they’ve got to work a lot harder so they can afford all the
things that they would just be given if they had masters.”

  “Work harder?” said Adam. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! They already work their fingers to the bone for their masters, then they don’t even get paid for that. I don’t see how being free they have to work any harder. The only difference is they get to keep the fruits of their labor rather than it fattening their masters’ coffers.”

  Martin made a face at Adam. “Tell me what it is that Aunt Celie or Old Charles or Charles Jr. is doin that’s makin my cousins any richer. I don’t see no tobacco plantations or cotton plantations in this family!”

  “I know that,” said Adam, “but still, don’t you reckon it frees Will up to focus on his attorney’s work with Charles Jr. doing the labor around his house?”

  “Yes,” said Martin. “And yet still my cousin plans to give him his papers. And then he’ll hire him to do the same work as a freeman.”

  “Right,” said Adam. “He’ll get paid to do the same work he’s been doing for free as a slave all of these years.”

  “Yes, but Charles Jr. will no longer be able to say he belongs to the Martin family, and since a Negro can’t testify against a white person in court, what recourse would he have if someone did abuse him in some way?”

  “Your cousin is an attorney, for goodness’ sake,” said Adam. “You don’t think he’d seek justice for Charles Jr. if, God forbid, anything like that were to happen?”

  “Of course he would,” said Martin, “but Will might not always be around. Then what?”

  Adam waved his hand dismissively at Martin. “Oh, this is a ridiculous conversation. You can’t convince me that a slave has it better than a freeman.”

  “Not just any freeman,” said Martin, “and not just any slave. I’m talking about a slave in our family versus a free Negro.”

  Adam decided to drop the conversation. He understood both sides of the argument, but no one could convince him that it was better to be a slave than to be a freeman—regardless of what family that slave belonged to. He was glad Will apparently agreed with him and had worked out that deal with Charles Jr.