The man seemed appeased, and Ella hoped she had stumbled on the right thing to make him go away. Then he frowned again. “And how many people do you have to work these lands?”
Ella’s heart thudded so loudly in her chest she felt certain the men could hear it. She drew herself to her full height and did her best to emulate the fine ladies she had sold lace to back home. “Sir, as you obviously noticed, I have just had a child and my husband has not yet returned to me. We plan on letting out the land, and as spring is upon us, those plans will be carried out soon. Now, if you will excuse me, my son needs me.”
The man had the good graces to look apologetic. “Certainly, ma’am. We won’t take up any more of your time.”
A genuine smile spread over her face. She dipped her chin. “Good day to you, gentlemen.”
The man tipped his head and donned his blue kepi, then lifted his hand to gesture the other two men off the porch. Ella turned and reached for the doorknob when his voice stopped her once more.
“You won’t mind if we return in a few weeks to check on the progress you’ve made with the planting, will you?”
Oh, dear. Well, at least that gave these people a little time to figure out what they would do. She clasped her hands at her waist, and faced him once more. “Of course not.”
“We may even have more to send you, should you require extra hands.”
Ella cocked her head. Odd. “I’m not sure if that will be necessary, but I will let you know once we see how to settle our own people.” She had no idea how many called Belmont lands home.
Seeming satisfied, the soldier gave a small bow and then spun away. Ella watched them mount their horses just to be sure they were leaving, then grasped the doorknob and hurried into the house to find the babe.
Ella leaned against the heavy door for just a moment to regain her composure. What had she been thinking? Had she made things worse for these people? What would they do when the soldiers returned? Pushing the worry away for another time, she stepped forward into the wide entry and put a hand to her throat. Thickly woven carpet cushioned her feet, and she lifted them to be sure she didn’t trail in any dirt. Overhead, a chandelier sparkled, and she imagined it would send shimmering light across the blue walls and decorative plaster work come evening. Everything about the place, from the wide doors cased in carved frames to the shining wood floors and grand staircase, spoke of wealth and luxury.
Even amid the destruction of war, this house seemed barely touched. Perhaps because the Remington man had been in the Federal Army. Ella took a step forward. Now, where to find the woman who had taken the child? The house stood quiet, the only sound Ella’s own erratic breathing.
“Hello?” she called tentatively.
A second later a young girl Ella guess to be around twelve darted from the doorway on her right. She skidded to a stop and smiled up at Ella, her teeth looking all the whiter against her ebony skin. “I’m Basil.” She reached out and grabbed Ella’s hand. “Sibby done said to bring you once you came in da house.”
Ella allowed the little girl to guide her to the stairs, then she dropped Ella’s hand and bounded up the staircase. “I saw what you did with them soldiers,” she said, grinning over her shoulder at Ella.
Ella smiled, not knowing what to say. The girl didn’t seem to expect an answer, though, and made the turn on the stairs to go up another flight. “She’s up here in the nursery with that little one you brought. He yours?”
Ella pressed her lips together. Did she lie and say he was? Her heart yearned to do so. Surely they would let her work here if the baby was hers, right? Ella let out a sigh. “No. His mother died having him.”
The little girl giggled. “Didn’t think so. You don’t look like you just had no baby.”
Had the soldiers thought the same? Ella declined to answer as they reached the second floor and Basil led her through the first door on the left. The room featured a large canopied bed with mosquito netting hanging against its rose-colored quilt, and beautifully carved furniture sat against the high walls of the same hue.
As though sensing her thoughts, Basil waved her hand at the room as she walked to a door on the left hand wall. “This here was the mistress’s room. It connects to the master’s room on the other side,” she said, pulling the huge door open, “and to the nursery on this ’un.”
Basil flung the door wide and motioned for Ella to enter. “I see you downstairs later.” Her narrow face scrunched. “Sibby said I can’t be botherin’ you until she’s had her time for talkin’”.
Without waiting for Ella’s response, the girl spun around and scuttled away. Ella drew a breath and stepped into the room. Every bit as elegant as downstairs, the room featured a crib with netting, a rocking chair, a thick rug, and a washing tub. Such luxury! The little one would be cared for, sure enough.
Her gaze landed on the woman who rocked the babe in the chair. Up close, she looked younger than Ella had thought. Trim and strong-looking, she had short, tight black curls, a nose that flared at the tip, and dark eyes that studied Ella as boldly as Ella studied her.
Ella looked down at the little one, her hand fluttering to her chest as though it already missed his presence. “How is he?”
“He be just fine, now that his belly’s full.”
Ella let out her breath. “Oh, thank goodness. Cynthia said I could find a wet nurse here.”
The woman, whom the little girl had called Sibby, rocked slowly, snuggling the child with experienced arms. “And here I was almost out of milk. Been ’bout a week now since I helped with one of my people’s babies, but now she done started weaning, and she was the last of ’em. We ain’t got no other babies about what needs me.”
Ella clasped her hands. “Will you be able to care for him?”
The woman’s deep brown eyes studied her. “Who is you, anyway?”
Seizing an opportunity to appear more than a farm girl with no prospects and no security, she straightened her spine and decided to take on her full name, a name that had passed no one’s lips since her mother had died. “I’m Miss Eleanor Whitaker. I was present during the birth of the child.” Her eyes dropped down from Sibby’s knowing gaze for fear that the woman already saw through her sham. “His mother did not survive the birthing.”
Sibby stared at her for so long Ella began to fear the nurse would cast her out of Belmont. Then, finally, she gestured toward the single person bed. “Sit, and tell me what done happened.”
Ella sat, glad for a place to rest her weak legs. She released her story in a gush, as though the words burned within her, keeping her eyes on the patterned rug underneath the nurse’s scuffed boots. She didn’t look up until she had finished the tale.
When she did, the other woman, whom Ella guessed to be about her own age or perhaps only a bit older offered her an encouraging smile. “Yeah, I remember them two. I nursed Cynthia’s sister’s baby until the missus found him a place at the orphanage.”
“Cynthia said that the Remingtons were known for helping girls like that.”
Sibby’s features softened, and compassion shone in her eyes. “You one of those girls?”
Ella wrapped her arms around herself. How close had she been to becoming one? That night came back to her, but she forcefully shoved it aside. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
What use was it to try to appear anything more than she truly was? Naught but a farm girl turned scullery maid. “I earned my keep in the kitchen.”
“I figured somethin’ like that.”
Ella found that to be something of a comfort, and the breath left her.
“I’m Sibby, but Basil done told you that.”
Ella smiled. “Sweet girl.”
“Where is you from?”
“Woodville. Southern part of Mississippi, getting close to Louisiana.”
“Confederate?”
The question surprised her, though Ella didn’t know why. Of course this woman would want to know who she sided with. Hadn�
�t everyone? Ella shrugged. “In some ways, yes. Not in others.”
Sibby frowned, so Ella hurried with an explanation. “Papa never did care who bought our horses as long as they had money. Once we even had a colored man in a fine suit from up north buy six of our colts. And we never had any slaves, just a few poor farm boys who worked the horses and kept the stalls. We did everything else on our own.” She looked at Sibby earnestly. “I never did think one person ought to own another, though.”
“Hmm.” Sibby regarded her for several moments. “But still Confederate?”
Ella stiffened, but saw no reason not to tell the truth. “If I had to say one way or the other, then yes.”
“Why?”
Ella tilted her head. This woman seemed nothing like what Papa said slaves were—skittish as an unhandled colt and as bright as a barn cat. And she was certainly quite bold. Ella liked that about her. “Well, I felt in my own heart that the country should stay together, even though the entire thing was really about money and the fact that the North needed the raw supplies from the South to support their factories—couldn’t go adding foreign taxes and the like. Then the slavery aspect became part of it, and I figured that was a good thing, too. The South wouldn’t have let go of their workers without some persuasion.”
Sibby grunted. “Sounds loyalist to me.”
“But then they invaded our lands, burned our crops, and pillaged our homes. They stole our horses, our livestock, and even our furniture. A confiscation act, they called it. I called it robbery. It became not a war between armies, but an assault that settled not on soldiers, but on women and children. They attacked those most vulnerable, leaving regular people destitute, starving, and desperate.” Ella shook her head firmly. “No. I could not side with people like that.”
Silence settled and they sat beneath its weight for some time. Ella felt certain the woman wanted to ask her to leave, and Ella couldn’t bring herself to offer to go, as would be proper, so they continued a stalemate that she knew she would eventually crumble beneath. She simply couldn’t deny the ache in her chest that begged her once more to hold the boy. No matter her dignity, she would not give up hope of finding employ here, where perhaps she would not suffer men’s attentions and the baby could remain near. She would beg to stay, if that’s what it took.
“So,” Sibby finally said, “what did you tell them soldiers to get them to leave the porch?”
Relief surged in her only to quickly be replaced by heat rising in her neck. She dug her fingers into her skirt, lamenting the foolish words desperation had flung from her lips. “I said I was Mr. Remington’s wife.”
To her surprise, Sibby let out a hearty laugh, startling the baby and making him squirm. She bounced him a bit, and then he drifted back to sleep. “Did you, now? Well, I reckon that gave them what they was lookin’ for.”
Ella allowed herself a tentative smile. She’d tell Sibby later that the men would be returning. That would be something to disclose once she’d secured their future. She looked at the child. “May I hold him?”
Sibby seemed taken aback by her sudden request, but rose from the chair and handed the child to Ella. She smiled up at the taller woman and accepted him gently, enjoying the feel of him back against her.
“What’s his name?” Sibby asked as she settled back into the rocking chair.
Ella shook her head. “I don’t know. His mother didn’t give him one.”
“Then I reckon you best do it. Child needs a name.”
Ella frowned. She’d never considered what to name a child. Such a thing was of great importance. “I’ll have to think on it.”
The chair creaked as Sibby began to rock. “Well, there ain’t no more orphanages in these parts that will take a baby.” Her voice hitched. “Them poor children is scavenging in the streets like dogs, from what I hear tell. No one’s got nothing to give them.”
Ella’s pulse quickened, and the words left her mouth in a gush. “Then could we stay here, instead? I will work hard—I promise—to earn our keep. I will do whatever you need me to do.”
Sibby’s eyebrows rose. “You want to work here?”
Ella pulled the baby closer. “Please. I don’t know where else we can go. I’ll scrub floors and whatever else you ask of me so long as he is cared for and I have a roof and something to eat.”
Sibby continued to stare at her, and Ella felt her chance slipping away. “I can sleep on the floor in the kitchen. It won’t bother me a bit, and I…”
The nurse held up her hand. “You that desperate?”
Ella swallowed hard, then nodded.
Compassion swam in the other woman’s eyes. “I ain’t never seen no white woman offer to be sleepin’ on the kitchen floor.” Then her gaze narrowed. “You related to this child?”
“No.” She smoothed the fuzzy hair on the top of the baby’s head. “But I have seen enough suffering these last years. This child was born from unfortunate parents in a war-torn land. It’s silly of me, I know, but….” Tears gathered and threatened to spill. “But I thought that maybe if this little one could get a chance in this world, then perhaps not all hope would be lost.”
Sibby laced her fingers and placed them over her crisp white apron. “You is willing to work for that?”
Ella nodded again.
“And you would see that this here babe is cared for and loved?”
The tears escaped their confines and left two trails down her cheeks that she could not hide. “I ask only to be given a chance to earn a place to work and provide for the two of us, and I would love him like my own.”
A smile played about the woman’s lips. “Then I gots an idea.”
“What did you say?” Ella blinked back her surprise, certain she had heard Sibby incorrectly.
Sibby laid the boy in the crib and gently tucked a crochet blanket around him before turning back to Ella. “It makes sense, you being white and all.” She ushered Ella toward the door.
Ella hesitated a moment, glancing once more at the child. “I hardly think that has anything to do with….”
“It’s what you told them soldiers.” Sibby pointed at the door, her expression clear they would have to have this discussion elsewhere.
Ella pulled her arms around her waist as she stepped into the next room. The opportunity to tell the whole of the mess she made presented itself. “Well, yes, but….”
“See? And they believed you is the lady here. So will any others that come sniffin’ around.”
Ella lowered her gaze. “I didn’t tell you all of what went on.”
Sibby looked over her shoulder from where she’d nearly made it out of the room that had once belonged to the real Mrs. Remington. “What you mean?”
“Well…they kept asking questions and prodding, and I was trying to get them to leave.” She dropped her arms to her sides and attempted to stand up taller.
Sibby waited.
Nothing for it but to just blurt it out. “They plan to keep a check on Belmont to see that the freedman laws are followed.”
The other woman’s lips curved. “So next time they is gonna find you here as a Yankee wife and still no slaves. Then they’ll go away and leave us all alone.” She stepped out into the upper hall. “Basil! You keep watch on the little ’un and come get me if he wakes up.”
The girl slipped into the room and gave Ella a wide smile. “I knew she’d let him stay,” she whispered as she passed.
Too flustered to respond, Ella hurried out after Sibby, shaking her head. A pin loosened, painfully tugging at a lock of her hair. She pushed it back into place. “It’s more than that. They want to see that the people are not effectively still slaves.”
Sibby huffed. “We ain’t been slaves since I was a girl. Nothing’s changed.”
Exasperated, Ella struggled for the right words to make herself understood. “They think we are going to pay people to work the fields and then share the crops.”
Sibby stared at her. “Why’d you tell them that?”
“But?”
Ella inwardly groaned. “But they said they would be coming back to check and make sure we were doing that.” Sibby blew out a breath, but Ella forged ahead. “And…they also said they would send us more helpers if we needed them to continue the work.”
Sibby’s wide brow furrowed. “We don’t want no strangers here.”
Ella sucked a breath. Like her? They stood there for a moment, each considering the other until finally Sibby bobbed her head and started down the stairs. She made it to the first landing before Ella gathered herself enough to follow. “Does this mean I am to leave?”
Sibby paused and looked over her shoulder, giving Ella a sour look. “Course not. I can’t let that baby starve.”
Knowing she could still insist Ella leave without the child, she said carefully, “I thank you.”
Sibby shrugged. “Sides, I got someithin’ to show you.”
Ella followed her down to the entryway then turned right into the music room. Sibby opened the top to a small pump organ and shoved her hand inside. Curious, Ella stepped closer.
After a bit of searching, Sibby plucked a folded paper from within and held it out to Ella. “What I told them soldiers wasn’t all truth either.”
Ella unfolded the letter and scanned the brief words. “You already knew he wouldn’t return?”
“I was afraid if I said all of them was dead…” her voice waivered and she averted her gaze to the window.
“If you had told them the truth, and said that Major Remington is assumed dead, you would have been in danger of them taking your home.” She bit her lip. “I understand.”
Sibby cast her a grateful look that revealed the shimmer of tears in her deep brown eyes.
“Someone must stand to inherit these lands.” Ella tapped the paper. “Perhaps I can pretend only until one of the family arrives.” Yes. That seemed like a good plan. It could be months before anyone came, and that would give her some time to figure out what to do next. Perhaps they would even allow her employment, and she wouldn’t have to leave the babe.
In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance Page 4
