A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “As soon as Francine is able to travel, we will take your fastest sloop to Annapolis. After I report and make the proper arrangements, I’ll return here and do my best to make Mistress Kira Cornwall our ally. Hopefully, I will be able to persuade her to take over where her father left off.”

  “If James Cornwall does not prevent you!”

  “I can’t let him. He’s doing too much as it is.”

  “More than you know,” replied the Commodore in a tight voice. Sean’s eyes commanded the older man to continue. “News arrived only minutes before I left to meet you. Those damned English ships took another merchantman not fifty miles from here! Impressed five of our boys. Again!” The Commodore pointed out over the waters. “We must stop them. We must find out how Cornwall is supplying them with ammunition and foodstuffs.”

  “If only these selfish fools would realize the loss and the cost of a return to English domination. All these fools can think of is cotton, rice and their bellies! Damn Cornwall and all the rotten sympathizers who follow him!”

  “We will win, you know,” Commodore Finch said simply.

  “But not on faith alone,” said Sean, as he took the older man’s weathered hand in his.

  “And hardly with the aid of Congress. They voted down the latest embargo act. The President is at his wit’s end.”

  “I know,” said Sean as he released the Commodore’s hand. “I’ll get word to you when we’re ready to leave.”

  The Commodore nodded and walked away. Sean waited several minutes for the older man to disappear while he carefully surveyed the area. When he was satisfied there was nobody lurking in the shadows and the Commodore had not been followed, he quietly made his way back to Robert Chatham’s house. The two of them would have to map out the stratagems that must be put into action. One of the plans, if successful, would keep him close to the beautiful woman whom he so desperately desired.

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  The sun shone brilliantly through the lightly draped window of Kira’s bedroom. The warm light beckoned her to greet the day, but Kira turned her face from the window and lay still. Today was the funeral; the day her father would be put to rest in the earth of the place he loved most. Today would be Kira’s final goodbye.

  The past three days seemed an eternity, bringing visitors by the score to pay their respects. Relatives arrived from all over the area to attend the funeral and the reading of her father’s will. As was the case in most families, some came out of greed, hoping for a bequest. Many came simply because of their love for Jonathan Cornwall.

  Kira’s days were long—the nights unbearable! Over and over she relived the tragedies of the past week. Each time she would try to change the ending, only to wake up shaking and in tears.

  Many times over the years, her dreams had held her so enthralled that Ruth had been forced to wake her from them. Last night it had happened again, and Ruth had gently awakened Kira from the terrible dream.

  This particular one had disturbed her more than all the others.

  Kira called the images up, hoping to understand what they meant, but all she experienced was the same fear she’d lived while in the grip of the nightmare.

  In the dream, she was riding in her carriage near Charleston. The driver was a shadowy figure who drove the horses wildly, bringing them to a final, abrupt stop that knocked her to the side of the carriage. The man jumped down, forced her out of the carriage and then pulled her to him. She could actually feel his breath against her skin. Then he forced her mouth to his. She was helpless in his arms, powerless to defend herself. His mouth was on her neck and the warmth of his lips drew a soft moan from deep within.

  Pulling her to the ground, he began to caress her. His hungry hands roamed her body as her own hands went around the man’s strong back. She could not stop her body’s response to him and heard herself moaning in passion. When the man undid her bodice, she saw the sapphire blue of his eyes, and then, before she could utter a sound, the eyes turned into the dull, dark eyes of her uncle James.

  Kira forced away the remnants of the dream and called to her servant to help her dress. Ruth, in her crisp, clean work dress, hair neatly tucked into a white head cloth, was one of the prettiest black women at Haven. And one of the luckiest. She had been born only a few weeks before Kira. Jonathan Cornwall felt it would benefit both girls if they had the same education, although in teaching Ruth, he had broken many laws. Ruth led a double life. To outsiders, she was an illiterate slave. When she was alone with Kira or with her husband, Abraham—whom she herself had taught to read— she conversed in the best English. Ruth and Abraham loved Kira and her father as they did their own family. They owed everything to the Cornwalls of Haven.

  Although she was ready to help Kira through her ordeal, Ruth had strong but mixed emotions. She was deeply saddened by the loss of her master and benefactor and was concerned about her mistress’ grief, but she had strong hopes that she and Abraham would receive manumission—emancipation from slavery—at the reading of the will.

  Jonathan Cornwall was a man who had ideologically disagreed with slavery, but who nevertheless had to both work and live within the system. To do otherwise would bring both financial ruin and social ostracism. However, Jonathan Cornwall had let it be known that he would follow a practice adopted by many planters: for each year of a slave’s servitude, a sum was set aside, dependent upon the work and station of that slave, so that one day that slave would be able to purchase his freedom. It was also rumored that upon the death of Jonathan Cornwall, all his slaves would receive manumission.

  Ruth and Abraham, among the other household slaves, did not think the rumor completely true, but even after today, if they were freed, she and Abraham would choose to remain in Kira’s service. Their life was safe and comfortable as it was.

  “Has Uncle James arrived?” Kira asked, as Ruth began to lay out Kira’s clothing for the day.

  “Yes. He and your aunt Emily,” answered Ruth.

  “Is everything ready?”

  “Everything. I’ve just left Martha. Your father’s library has been set up for the reading.” Ruth paused as she saw the momentary pain flash across Kira’s face, then continued in a soft voice. “Your uncle is having breakfast alone, and the minister has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Ruth. Please help Martha now. I’ll dress myself.” Kira stood and removed her nightgown, reaching for the fine undergarments that lay at the foot of the bed.

  “Shall I bring you some food?” asked Ruth, as she reached the door. Kira shook her head and Ruth nodded silently as she quietly closed the door.

  When Ruth had gone, Kira sank back down on the edge of her bed. She was surprised that Aunt Emily had come out so soon after Benjamin’s death. She’d heard that her aunt had collapsed sobbing on Benjamin’s grave and then was carried to her room where she refused to receive anyone. Kira felt a bit guilty that her own mourning had kept her from Benjamin’s funeral. She might have been able to help her aunt more than her unfeeling uncle. Then felt more guilt for her unworthy thoughts about her uncle James. Again, unbidden, tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. No more! I’ve cried enough for now! She dressed and, when she determined she was presentable, she went down to the main salon.

  Nearing the bottom of the staircase, she heard the subdued rumble of many voices. Bracing herself, Kira took a deep breath. She was mistress of Haven now, and she had to greet them in a manner befitting her new station. She entered the salon, and all faces turned toward her while the newcomers walked quickly to where she stood waiting. She greeted each by name and exchanged a few words, forcing herself to see to everyone’s needs. This role may be a blessing, she realized, as the minister entered the room and came to stand beside her. She simply had no time to be weak and emotional.

  The clergyman took her cool hand in his. “Are you ready, my dear?”

  Kira nodded and the crowd of people grew silent. The minister placed Kira’s hand on his arm and escorted her outside. They walked slowly toget
her to the cemetery. The family and friends of Jonathan Cornwall left the house and followed the casket, which was carried by six slaves dressed in formal livery. The procession moved at a dignified pace through the tree-lined gardens, skirting the slave houses until it reached the family burial plot on a small rise overlooking the Ashley River.

  When the group was gathered around the freshly dug earth, the minister began. Although he spoke movingly, Kira did not hear him. She stood straight, staring at the oak casket holding her father and allowed her own precious memories to fill her mind. She didn’t cry, even when the casket was lowered into the ground of Haven. Although it was customary for mourners to leave at this point, Kira stayed. She stood, poised and controlled, watching until the final shovel had been emptied on the mound. In deference to the young mistress, no one else moved either. At last, when Kira realized her father was at rest next to his wife, she turned to the assembled people, nodded and began the long walk back to the main house. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure move behind a distant oak, but the sun’s angle made her unsure as to whether it was a person or only a shadow cast by the long, swaying branches.

  At the house, Kira and the rest of the family moved into the library. The slaves’ voices, united in rich harmony, could be heard through the window, filling the still room. They were having a funeral of their own and their songs made Kira’s throat tighten. The sincerity of their grief almost caused Kira to lose the tight control she had been exerting all morning.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated,” requested Jason Roberts, the family attorney. Kira walked away from the window and took a chair next to his. When everyone was seated, the attorney picked up a large sheath of papers.

  “As per my instructions, the reading of Mr. Jonathan Cornwall’s will shall take place now.” Roberts paused briefly as his eyes swept over the gathering, taking in the many curious expressions. “Although it is most unusual to read the will on the same day as the burial, Mr. Cornwall left very specific instructions,” explained the attorney, and he looked at Kira to see her nod in agreement.

  Kira glanced around the room idly until her eyes settled on Uncle James and Aunt Emily. James met Kira’s stare and held it for a moment before he pulled his dull brown eyes from hers, but it was her aunt who held Kira’s attention. Her hands moved absently, clutching and releasing as though she were wrestling with something that was trying to get away.

  All during the funeral, she had leaned on her husband, seemingly unable to walk alone. Emily’s eyes were downcast now, watching her own hands moving in her lap. She was oblivious to her surroundings.

  The lawyer’s voice broke Kira’s concentration and she returned her attention to the reading of her father’s will. For the full hour it took the attorney to read the bequests she listened patiently: the small allotments to her cousins, the stipends to the faithful employees of his shipping business. The list seemed interminable until, finally, Kira heard the first mention of the plantation’s slaves.

  Kira listened more intently as the words rolled from Roberts’ lips. “‘I hereby grant full and unrestricted manumission to all the household slaves of Haven, as listed below, and also declare that each shall be given a certain sum of monies, set in list, attached heretofore as article thirty-seven. The field slaves to receive the sums of monies set aside for them, and if such monies are deemed sufficient, they shall be permitted to purchase their manumission. This full manumission for both household slaves and field slaves will be dependent upon the special amendment, known as clause seventy-five, attached to this document.’”

  When Roberts finished this section, he looked at Kira. It was another short moment before he continued with the final readings. “‘To my only daughter, Kira Cornwall,’” he went on. “‘I bequeath Haven and all properties owned by me at the time of my death. To Kira Cornwall I add to the bequest complete control of Jonathan Cornwall Shipping, Ltd. Any who begrudge or challenge this bequest shall be stricken from all mention in this will.’”

  The hum of voices rose in the room. Kira was suddenly relieved and confident. She knew her father’s business well, having spent more time than most felt proper for a woman in his office. Interested to see how he had taken this news, she turned to look at her uncle. She was surprised to find him smiling.

  “There is more. Please, your attention!” called Roberts. He waited patiently for the room to quiet before starting again. “The final clause of this will is the special amendment, number seventy-five, and reads as follows: ‘Any and all bequests, grants, manumissions and inheritances are to be executed immediately after the reading of the will, so long as one or both of the following conditions have been met:

  Firstly, that Kira Cornwall be twenty-five years of age upon the reading of this document; or, secondly, that Kira Cornwall be legally married; whichever shall come first.’”

  The blood drained from Kira’s face. She was paralyzed, unable to believe her ears. This was unheard of, impossible! She did not even hear the comments that now buzzed loudly throughout the room.

  “Quiet please!” admonished Roberts, “there is more.” He again waited until he had everyone’s full attention before reading, “‘If neither condition has been met at the time of the reading of this document, I, Jonathan Cornwall, do hereby place Haven, my plantation and Jonathan Cornwall Shipping, Ltd., into the trust and safekeeping of James Cornwall, brother of my blood. Also be it known that I charge James Cornwall with the guardianship of my daughter Kira, until one or the other of clause seventy-five’s conditions have been met. On the day that Kira Cornwall attains her twenty-fifth birthday, or she marries, whichever occurs first, James Cornwall is instructed to turn all possessions he holds in trust back to Kira Cornwall, with full accountings. At the time of Kira Cornwall’s acceptance of this inheritance, she is charged with fulfilling the clauses that pertain to the manumission of the slave property of Haven to the best of her ability. I place my signature to this document and state that I am of sound mind...’”

  “No!” Kira screamed at the attorney, bolting from her chair. “Never! My father would never do that!” She whirled to face her uncle, challenging him with her eyes, her lips drawn back in an angry grimace. “It’s a lie! My father would never write such a thing!” Then she saw James Cornwall signal and Doctor Wycuff began to move toward her.

  “Kira,” cooed Dr. Wycuff in a soothing voice, “come with me, you are getting overwrought.”

  “I am no such thing!” she flung back at him. “I am being cheated and you say I’m overwrought. You, better than anyone else, know that my father would never make Uncle James my guardian! He would never leave Haven to him!” As she finished her tirade, James Cornwall reached her side.

  “But he did, my dear niece,” said Cornwall smoothly, “and, I’m afraid I’ll have to take charge immediately. Dr. Wycuff, please take Mistress Cornwall to her rooms and give her something to help calm her.”

  “No!” said Kira, her voice now a low, harsh whisper. “The will is a fraud!” she cried to those around her, who all stood transfixed by the strange turn of events.

  James Cornwall smoothed his face into a conciliatory smile. “Kira is still overwhelmed by her loss,” he explained to those around him. “She is overly emotional and understandably so. I will look after her.” With that, he took Kira’s arm and began to lead her out of the room. She pulled against him, but he was a strong man, so she had no choice but to follow. When they reached the stairs, Cornwall tightened his grip on her.

  “Go to your room, Kira. I will hear no more of your ridiculous accusations!” Cornwall paused and then said, “I will speak to you later. We must discuss your move to New Windsor.” He left her there like a child who has just been dismissed, turning back to the library and the waiting people.

  Kira stood, numbed by the incredible events of the last few minutes, absently rubbing her arm where James Cornwall’s fingers had so cruelly gripped her, trying to rub away the red marks that now appeared on her white ski
n.

  “Come with me now, Kira,” Dr. Wycuff soothed, directly behind her. “It would be best for you to be away from your uncle.”

  Kira nodded silently and started up the stairs. She would need time alone to think this out.

  CHAPTER 6

  The house was quiet again. Everyone but Kira, Uncle James and Aunt Emily left shortly after the reading of the will. Although Kira had regained her composure, she refused to leave her room, even to say goodbye to those who had come for the funeral.

  As the sun kissed the horizon, she stood at the window of her bedroom, looking over the fields of cotton and rice that were washed with the gentle blue and lavender of twilight. She saw the long shadows cast by the slaves walking slowly to their cabins after another day of service to the plantation, even on the day of her father’s funeral. A deep sadness overwhelmed her as she watched them go.

  Kira had always loved early evening at Haven. It was a peaceful time, the day’s work finished and the only task left was the final preparations for dinner. The aroma of hot bread, roasting meats and spices had made the evening a time of anticipation that Bertha’s cooking always satisfied. Then there was the enjoyment of sitting with her father, dining, relaxing and talking. Each evening together had deepened the bond between father and daughter. Jonathan gave Kira his total attention, and she would bring her problems for him to consider, before helping her find their solutions. Often, they would talk of Haven and the shipping company, which helped Kira become even more familiar with their workings. But Kira’s favorite evenings were those when Jonathan would light his Dutch pipe, lean back in his large chair and tell her about his trips overseas, the courtship of her mother and the plans he’d made for their future.

  Tonight though, thought Kira, dinner with James and Emily would not be pleasant.

  She turned from the window as her door opened and saw Ruth standing in the threshold, looking silently at her.