Knowing that he could fully trust his friend, Jeff explained his story, concluding, “So, you see, it’s a touchy situation. Lebeaux tells me a family named Madariaga bought the girl.”
“That would be Alfredo Madariaga,” he said. “I know the family.”
“Lebeaux seemed to think they are proud people.”
“They were, but it’s pretty common talk that the family’s not as prosperous as it once was. There have been some bad cotton crops. If you’re prepared to pay a stiff price, you may be able to purchase the girl.”
“Could you give me a letter of introduction?”
“Glad to. You’ll probably find them in town here, although they may have run away to their plantation to avoid the fever.”
“I’ve got to find her. I’m worried about Father. This thing is preying on his mind.”
“It may take a little negotiating. Look, go to your hotel and get your things.” Elmo reached out and squeezed Jeff ’s arm. “I’ve missed you, old boy. What I’d like to do is persuade you to stay here and go into practice with me, but I know that’s impossible.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t leave my father, and St. Louis is all he knows now.”
“We’ll have a good time while you are here. I’ll have my man take you to get your things after lunch, and then we’ll see about buying this girl.”
Chapter ten
The Madariaga plantation was expansive, Jeff discovered. He had borrowed Elmo’s buggy and driven out of New Orleans, having learned that the family had indeed left town until the yellow fever epidemic passed. The house that rose out of the flatlands was enormous, white with four columns, and on all sides the fields stretched away over the land. Pulling up in front of the house, Jeff met a young black man who inquired, “Shall I put up your horse, sir?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll be here long. You might water him, though.” He fished in his pocket, pulled out a coin, and gave it to the man, whose eyes lit up.
“Yes, suh!” he said and went to lead the buggy away.
As Jeff walked up to the stairs leading to the porch, he rehearsed in his mind what he was going to say. He was not satisfied with it. No matter how he phrased it, his explanation for coming all the way from St. Louis to buy a single slave sounded feeble.
He pounded the big brass knocker on the front door, and almost at once, it swung wide. He found himself facing an older woman wearing a gray dress and a white cap on her head. “Yes, sir?” she said. “May I help you?”
“I would like to see Mr. Madariaga, if possible.”
The woman hesitated, then said, “May I have your name, sir?”
“Dr. Jefferson Whitman.”
“Will you step inside, please? I’ll see if Señor Madariaga is available.”
Jeff obeyed, and the woman disappeared. As he waited, he silently rehearsed his speech again. The woman returned and said, “Come this way, sir.”
Jeff followed the woman down the wide hallway, and then through a door on the left. The woman stepped aside to let him pass, and he found himself inside a spacious room with a beautiful oriental carpet. The walls were a pale gold and reflected the sunlight that came through the tall window at one end. The man who rose to greet him was dressed in a rather formal way, with black trousers, white shirt, and a tie. He had a smooth, olive complexion and light brown eyes, and he nodded courteously, saying, “Dr. Whitman, welcome to my home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Madariaga. I must apologize for coming without an appointment, but I do have a note from a mutual acquaintance, Dr. Debakky.”
Madariaga took the note that Jeff extended, read it quickly, and smiled. “Yes, Dr. Debakky was very helpful to my family once during a sickness. Will you sit down?”
Jeff accepted his invitation and decided that the best approach was to bring his business into the open as soon as possible. “I will not take much of your time, sir. I’ve been commissioned to find a young woman, a slave you purchased recently. I can’t reveal the details, but I would like to buy the young woman, if it’s possible. Her name is Charissa.”
Instantly, Madariaga drew himself up straighter. “Yes,” he said evenly, “I do own such a girl. Could you tell me a little more about the details of your mission?”
Jeff had known that he would have to say something, and he had come up with a story that explained his mission in the vaguest of terms. “The gentleman who sent me felt that he had done an injustice to the mother of Charissa. I believe her name was Bethany. I was sent to purchase both the mother and the daughter, but I discovered that the mother died recently. I’m sure my principal would be willing to pay any reasonable price for the girl.”
Madariaga tapped his fingertips together thoughtfully and then shook his head, a puzzled look in his eyes. “This is all rather strange, sir. I hardly know what to say.”
“I wish I could reveal more, but I can’t.”
“Do you know the girl, may I ask?”
“No, I’ve never seen her.”
“The girl was a gift to my daughter on her graduation. I could not think of selling her unless my daughter agreed.” He hesitated, then said, “She has had trouble with the girl, I must tell you. Charissa is strong-willed. Personally, I would be willing, but you must get my daughter’s consent.”
“Would it be possible to speak with your daughter, sir?”
“Yes. If you will wait here, I will send her to you.” He left the room and turned down the hallway. There he encountered Dolores, his housekeeper, and asked if she knew Damita’s whereabouts.
“She is out in the garden, sir.”
“Go get her, and tell her to come inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Dolores stepped outside, Madariaga stood thinking over this turn of events. Dolores returned with Damita at her side.
“Damita, come with me, please.”
“What is it, Papa?” Damita was wearing a pale yellow dress and a bonnet to shield her face from the sun. She pulled it off now, gave it to Dolores, and followed her father down the hall.
He paused halfway to the den and lowered his voice, saying, “There is a man here, a physician from St. Louis. It’s a rather unusual situation. I don’t understand it.”
“What is it?” Damita asked with curiosity. “What does he want?”
“He wants to buy Rissa.”
“Buy Rissa? He’s come all the way from St. Louis for that?” Her eyes narrowed, and she asked, “But why?”
She listened as her father repeated the explanation their visitor had given, then said, “I told him that I would not sell the girl without your permission, but I want you to think carefully, Damita. The girl will never make a proper maid for you. I think you should allow the man to buy her, and we’ll find a more suitable servant.”
Damita looked at her father, then said, “Let me talk to him, Papa, and we will see.”
“He’s in my study. After you’ve talked, come and tell me what you’ve decided.”
Damita entered the study and saw the tall man sitting in a leather-bound armchair. He rose to his feet and bowed slightly, and she said, “I am Damita Madariaga, sir.”
“Dr. Jefferson Whitman, ma’am.”
“I understand that you want to buy my maid.” As she spoke, Damita surveyed the gangly figure of the doctor. Though she had a stubborn prejudice against Americans and called them all “Kaintocks,” this man was a physician. She saw that he was educated and not crude, as many Americans were. Still, her voice had a hard edge when she asked, “Why do you want this particular girl?”
“Miss Madariaga, as I told your father, I have been sent to buy the girl by an individual who feels that he did her mother an injustice. That’s all I can say. I am bound to secrecy.”
“That sounds odd to me,” Damita said, somewhat haughtily. She had seen how men’s eyes followed her maid and wondered if this man had the same intentions. She met his eyes steadily. “I would have to be assured that your interest was not more personal.”
; “More personal? I don’t understand.”
“Rissa is a very attractive girl. Men are interested in her.”
“But I’ve never even seen the girl, Miss Madariaga.”
Damita was a fair judge of character, and she saw the surprise in the deep-set eyes of the man before her. He was homely, not handsome in the least, and he seemed to project honesty. Still, he was a Kaintock. She came to a decision. “If you will stay here, I will get the girl.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell her any more than I’ve told you, Miss Madariaga, but I would like to meet her.”
Damita stepped outside and found the young slave. “There’s a man here to buy you, Rissa.”
“Buy me!” she exclaimed. “What do you mean, Miss Damita?”
“Just what I said. He’s come all the way from St. Louis.” She lowered her voice, then asked, “Did you ever hear of anyone named Jefferson Whitman?”
“No, ma’am, never.”
“He says another man, who owed your mother a favor, sent him. Did she ever mention anybody by that name?”
Charissa was silent. “I’ve never heard the name before.”
“Come along. I want you to see him. He’s an American. A Kaintock, but he’s a doctor. I suppose that makes a difference.”
The two women entered the room, and Jeff was visibly startled when he saw the girl. Her hair was as black as any he had ever seen, but what caught his attention was her eyes. They were light green, exactly the color of his father’s.
Both women saw his eyes widen at the girl. Damita said, “This is Dr. Whitman, Rissa. He’s the man who wants to buy you.”
Charissa studied the tall man. She had learned to read men’s faces, and she examined the doctor’s for signs of lust. Men could not cover their desires from her. Yet she saw none of this in his eyes. “Why do you want to buy me, sir?”
“The truth is, I can’t say much, but the individual who sent me said that he wanted to show a kindness to your mother. He didn’t know she had died. He commissioned me to purchase you and your mother.”
“Who is this man?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say any more than I have.”
Charissa had, long ago, built a wall of defense against men, and now she stood silently for so long that Damita finally asked, “What do you say to this, Rissa?”
“I don’t trust any man,” she said, her voice severe.
Damita smiled. “You may go now, Rissa.”
Rissa left the room, and as soon as the door closed behind her, Damita said, “Dr. Whitman, I think I must disappoint you.”
Jeff stood awkwardly before her. He tried to think of arguments, but none came. The sight of the girl had shocked him; he had not expected her beauty, and the eyes were so much like his father’s that he could not think clearly. “I wish you’d reconsider, Miss Madariaga,” he said.
“I’m afraid I won’t do that. Good day, sir.”
Jeff accepted his dismissal and left without another word.
As soon as he was gone, Damita went to find Rissa, who had gone to the kitchen. “You don’t want that man to buy you?”
“I’d rather stay here,” Charissa replied evenly. “At least here I don’t have to bed down with any man. You have made me safe from that.”
Damita responded, “All right, but I’ll expect to see a little better behavior in you, since I’m doing you this favor. My father wanted to sell you, but I’ll keep you, on the condition you mend your ways.”
“I’ll try.” Charissa forced out the words and bowed her head.
Damita turned and went to find her father, who was waiting for her in her room. “What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t want to sell Rissa, and she doesn’t want to go.”
Alfredo was not particularly interested in Rissa’s desires, and he was plainly disappointed. “Come into the study. We need to talk.”
Surprised, Damita followed her father into the study, and he turned to say, “We’re going to have to cut back.”
“Cut back! But we already have! What do you mean, Papa?”
“The market has been bad. I told you before that the crops have been terrible, and I’ve had some business dealings that soured at the last minute.”
Damita knew that her father was a gambling man, although she never mentioned this to him. Despite their discussion on the balcony those months ago, she had always assumed that he would manage to keep things as they were. Now she saw that he was deeply troubled, and this, in turn, troubled her. “I’d like to keep the girl, Papa.”
“I’ll see what can be done, but I can’t make any promises. The man obviously has money, and as I told you before, it may be necessary to sell Rissa. Not to mention a few of the other slaves.”
“So, Madariaga refused to sell the girl,” Elmo said. “I’m a little surprised, since I know he’s low on cash. Most of these planters are now.”
“I think it was his daughter’s choice. Do you know her?”
“I’ve seen her. Good-looking woman, but proud as Lucifer—but all those Creoles are. What are you going to do, Jeff?”
“I don’t know.” Jeff stood despondently in front of his friend. “If I won’t be in the way, I think I’ll stay for a time. Maybe an idea will come to me. Maybe I’ll offer so much money, they can’t turn it down.”
“That might work. And it’ll be good to have you. As a matter of fact, I wish you’d make the rounds with me.”
“I’ll be glad to do that, Elmo. You look tired.”
“I need an associate. Sure you won’t change your mind, Jeff? We could find a good place for your father here and move your whole staff.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Elmo.”
Elmo sighed. “I thought it would be, but I had to ask.”
For the next two weeks Jeff found himself working as hard as he ever did at the hospital in St. Louis. The yellow fever epidemic had struck a serious blow, and Elmo saw patients from early morning until late evening. Jeff accompanied him and shared the load.
He had written his father several times during his journeys. He broke the news that Bethany was dead, but the girl was alive, and he’d found her. He told his father of the difficulties of purchasing the girl and asked if he wanted him to pursue the sale. Irving’s reply by return mail stated: “Yes, pay any price, and buy the girl.”
Jeff shared the contents of the letter with Elmo, who nodded and said, “You’ll have to do it, Jeff, no matter what it takes.”
On May eighteenth, late in the afternoon, a visitor surprised Señor Madariaga. He looked up from his desk in the study when the housekeeper said, “Mr. Pennington is here to see you, sir.”
“Pennington? Show him in.”
A worried look crossed Alfredo’s face, and he rose to meet the man who entered the door. Asa Pennington was the vice president of the bank where he did business. His appearance at the Madariaga home was unusual, because they had always conversed at the bank. He covered his nervousness well, however, and smiled, saying, “Mr. Pennington, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
Asa Pennington was a small man dressed in plain clothing. He had a thin, pale face and tight lips. Words were money to him, and he spent them as cautiously as he did his own cash. When Alfredo asked him to sit, he replied, “No, sir, I’m in a hurry. I have several calls to make, and I’m afraid I have unpleasant news.”
Alfredo licked his lips nervously. “And that might be what, Mr. Pennington?”
“We’ve carried your loans as long as we can without a payment, Señor Madariaga. We must have money, or I’m afraid we’ll have to take action.”
Alfredo knew then that what he dreaded was occurring. “Sit down, and we will go over the figures.”
Pennington replied, “We can go over them, but the bank must have at least ten thousand dollars at once, or we will have to foreclose on either your town house or this plantation.”
The very idea was repugnant as well as frightening. Alfredo agreed, “Of course, Mr. Penningto
n, you have always been most generous. The crops have been poor.”
“I know. I have had to make this sort of call to five other gentlemen. But the bank must have some assurance in monetary terms.”
“I will sell off some of my slaves, Mr. Pennington.” Alfredo shook his head and said, “You will have the money by the end of the week.”
Chapter eleven
Elena noticed that her husband had eaten little and said almost nothing during the morning meal. Her eyes shifted to Damita, and Elena thought, She looks so tired. She’s never really gotten over that terrible shipwreck, and I know she misses Juanita.
Alfredo interrupted her thoughts when he said abruptly, “Ladies, come into my study. I have something to say.”
Elena knew then that whatever was troubling her husband would soon come out. She and her daughter rose and followed Alfredo. He turned into his study and stood by the door. When they had entered, he shut the door behind him and walked over to his desk. “I have something to tell you. I’ve tried to keep it from you as much as possible, but that’s impossible now.” Alfredo hesitated.
“What is it?” Elena asked. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
“No, I’m not ill. But I’ve never talked to you much about the finances, and I have to now.” Perspiration shone on Alfredo’s forehead. Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped it away, then straightened up. He looked at his wife and daughter and said, “I suppose you know that the crops have been bad. Our income has been cut more than fifty percent, but our expenses haven’t. I know you’ve made some sacrifices, but they haven’t been near enough. I’m afraid we’re going to have to make some—adjustments.”
“Of course,” Elena answered. “We understand.”
“We aren’t in danger of losing anything permanently, are we, Papa?” Damita asked. She had never seen her father this troubled.
“It’s more serious than usual. We’re going to have to sell off some property, and we’re going to have to seriously reduce our living expenses. I’m hoping that we won’t have to sell the house in town.”
“Sell the house!” Elena exclaimed. She loved their peach-colored home and living in the city. The idea of staying twelve months a year on the plantation was repugnant to her. “It’s not that serious, is it?”
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