The man looked to Eugenia, chuckled, and said, “You wouldn’t remember me exactly. My name is Patrick Garrett Arrington. I’m your older brother. Well, your half-brother, to be truthful.”
“Half-brother?”
“From your father’s marriage to Madeline,” Eugenia said. “You recall my telling you about Madeline and her son Patrick?” she asked, her eyes narrowing down onto me, studying me, waiting to see me flustered and cringing from thinking back to the night she revealed to me that my mother had seduced my father, which had resulted in my sinful conception. “This is Patrick, all grown up. A handsome Confederate naval officer.”
I stared up at Patrick, looking for features that resembled Daddy’s. Patrick didn’t have soft blond hair or sky-blue eyes. He was slightly taller than Daddy and his features bolder. Jacob Thomas resembled Daddy more than this man did.
Patrick allowed me to look him over while I struggled to find the family resemblance. He eased my curiosity by saying, “From what my mother told me from the time I was a little boy, I am the spitting image of my maternal grandfather.”
“Oh,” I muttered, embarrassed.
“How about you and I get to know each other this evening?” he suggested politely.
I nodded as my words choked back in my throat from nervousness. He proceeded up the stairs, only a step behind Mammy.
“Go find Hamilton and tell him to bring the tub up for Patrick,” Eugenia said, and added, “Put on your finest dress tonight. We must welcome Patrick Arrington in proper fashion. I will have Cordelia prepare a fine supper with the best we have left. I think using the last lamb will suffice. And have Warren wear his uniform.”
“The blood-stained uniform?” I gasped.
“Abigail removed the stains. Stop your back talk now. Go upstairs and study. And after supper tonight, I want you to play your music for Patrick. Not hymns, but classical music.”
Oh, how excited I was! I could dress up and look pretty for once. We would dine formally, like we used to. Back then I was allowed to play classical music, which had always been my favorite. I wasted no time and hurried up to my room to decide on what dress to wear.
My armoire was full of the finest dresses money could buy. There was one that I loved most, which flattered my curvy figure and boosted my voluptuous bosom. It was a lovely green taffeta, with different shades of green on the pagoda sleeves and pretty lace trim on the collar and cuffs. I wore a large crinoline under the ruffled skirt to make the dress flare out.
After deciding on my dress, I called Mammy in to help me with my hair. I needed her to help me create fashionably long ringlets.
“I’m not having time for that now, Miss Amelia. Hamilton will fetch Hattie, and she will help you get dressed.”
“Splendid,” I sang. “Yes, Hattie will help me prepare for supper.”
Excitement filled the early evening air as we all prepared for a fine meal. Hattie assisted me, listening patiently as I went on and on about Patrick.
“He looks nothing like Daddy. Though Daddy is extremely handsome, Patrick is even more so. Did you happen to see him when he arrived, Hattie? Did you see how dashing he looked in his uniform?”
I didn’t wait for her to answer, I was so wrapped up in talking about Patrick.
“I can’t wait to hear what he’s been doing for all these years. I mean, I know he’s an officer and all, but where has he lived? I wonder why he never came to visit before.”
“I’m certain you will find all that out,” she said flatly as she began to tie my corset.
“Aren’t you excited, too? After all, he is your half-brother as well.”
“Don’t say such ridiculous things. I’m not his sister, and I wouldn’t go saying such things to him. He is serving in the Confederate Navy.”
From the reflection in the mirror I could see her standing behind me off to the side. Her expression was serious, her tone displeased in every way.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He is fighting to uphold slavery.”
“So?”
“So?” she repeated and tied the last row and lifted my dress off the bed. “Do you support slavery?”
I frowned at her, and she mimicked my frown back.
“Don’t ruin the evening with such talk. You know I don’t want you to be a slave. Now stop talking such nonsense and help me with my crinoline.”
The rest of our time together that evening was spent in complete silence. She assisted me without speaking again, and I was annoyed with her foul attitude.
When I was finally ready, looking as beautiful as I possibly could, I sent her off and I stole down to Eugenia’s room to take a few drops of her sweet perfume Daddy had bought her and placed the scented oil behind each ear.
“There, perfect,” I said to myself, happily gazing at my reflection in her mirror.
Warren, Patrick, and Eugenia were already seated when I strolled into the dining room. The men rose to their feet the moment I stepped into the room, and there was a momentary silence.
I smiled at Warren and then turned my smile to Patrick. He didn’t smile back, only nodded his head as Warren hurried over to hold my chair out for me.
“You look lovely this evening, Amelia,” Warren said to me.
“Thank you, Mr. Stone,” I replied. “You’re quite the gentleman.”
Eugenia sat at the head of the table, and I sat beside her, as I did when it was Daddy who occupied that seat. Warren and Patrick sat next to one another, opposite me. Two sets of candelabras were lit, as well as the crystal chandelier above the table. Flickers of yellow candlelight danced across the ceiling, creating an effervescent setting and mood.
Dinner was served, and Eugenia carried on a lengthy conversation with Patrick about the plantation’s happenings. I could feel Warren staring at me throughout the evening. I occasionally acknowledged his smile with a simple grin, but I was preoccupied with watching Patrick. He spoke eloquently, just as Daddy did, and used similar hand gestures.
After we listened patiently to Eugenia’s tales, I encouraged Patrick to reveal where exactly he had been living, if not on a vessel out at sea. “Have you lived all over the world, here in America, or just in England?” I asked.
“Well, let’s see . . .” he began, slowly tapping his long fingers together, “After leaving England after serving in the Royal Navy under the rule of Queen Victoria, I came straight to America and stayed in New York for a year. There I decided to study law. I became bored with law rather quickly. I missed the sounds and smell of the sea. Life on the sea is like no other. The sea is captivating . . . always changing, moving in different currents. The depths are varied; two swells are never the same. Violent storms rage on the sea, often taking down giant vessels and their crews without mercy to a dark, watery grave. Still, one who loves the sea never fears it but appreciates its awe and power. So I decided to return to the Navy, only this time, the United States Navy.”
“And how did you come to serve in the Confederate Navy?” Eugenia asked.
“For the sake of my father,” he declared with pride heavy in his voice and posture. “And I shall be leaving to join my crew aboard the C.S.S Virginia in a few weeks. For now, I would like to thank you, Eugenia, for inviting me to stay here at Sutton Hall until that time.”
Eugenia smiled with approval. She liked Patrick, it was obvious.
“And you, my comrade, I understand you have a severe case of amnesia,” Patrick said to Warren, who sat to his left side.
“That’s what the doctor suggested. I cannot recall any event prior to the day I woke from my coma. My uniform reveals that I am a colonel for the Confederate Army. I carried no identification and only remembered my name by sheer good fortune. And,” he continued, “my good fortune truly began when Amelia saved my life. She is a true angel.”
Patrick looked over at me and with a twinkle in his eye said, “She looks just like one.”
A heated blush ran through me. When I turned away so he c
ouldn’t see, I realized he was still staring at me. Both Warren and Patrick were staring, until Eugenia belted out for Mammy to come clear the table, distracting the men. Patrick cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Warren.
“Has anyone come looking for you? It would be uncustomary for a soldier to simply vanish. Have you contacted the local infantry?”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” Eugenia said. “Warren, you take a ride into Savannah tomorrow.”
“I will go with you and help you solve the mystery. I’m sure your family has been worried about you.” Patrick offered.
Warren agreed. “You’re right. I’ll appreciate any help you are able to give me to return to my battalion and continue to serve.”
“Very good, then. Shall we retire to the parlor where Amelia will play some classical music for our entertainment?” Eugenia suggested.
All were in agreement.
“Allow me to freshen up and be down shortly?” I asked Eugenia.
“Certainly.”
The time allowed me to powder my nose and change into another dress. With Mammy’s help this time, I changed into my off-the-shoulder blue dress, made of taffeta and velvet, then hurried back downstairs.
I had been gone nearly an hour, and already the men had relaxed with a bottle of Daddy’s best bourbon and expensive cigars. The men stood as I entered, and their eyes widened as I floated into the room and took my seat on the piano bench. I turned to Eugenia and waited for her nod to begin.
With my eyes locked on the music, I ran my fingers over the ivory keys as gracefully as a warm summer breeze sweeping over a field of flowers, playing Chopin’s Concerto No. 1 in E Minor, then on to Mozart’s Piano Concertos Nos. 21 and 23. When I played the piano, it was as if I were in the room alone, no one watching or listening except for the angels in heaven. Playing was emotionally private for me; it was spiritual, until the moment I stopped and heard the fervent applause from my small audience.
“That was beautiful” Warren exclaimed.
“Well done,” Eugenia added.
Patrick, however, only stood and drank me in. I went over to where he stood and asked him if he liked my recital. I so wanted to please my newfound brother, to show off my talent, and to make him proud, the way Daddy used to be.
“Amelia, I’ve never heard anything more lovely in all my years.”
~ ~ ~
~ Fourteen ~
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that night. My thoughts were entirely occupied with Patrick until, after tossing and turning, I finally fell into peculiar dreams.
Patrick and Daddy changed roles throughout my dreams, as they each in turn cared for me and doted on me, buying me expensive perfumes, and dresses. Then Patrick turned into Perry, and we became lovers - real lovers. He took me into his bedroom and loved me the way a husband loves a wife. In my dreams I was enraptured with every kiss and every touch Perry gave to me. He whispered softly into my ear between kisses how he loved me and only me and that he would take me away soon, where we would live by the sea, alone, he and I. There we would be married and have children, he envisioned. Then before he came into me, he gazed into my eyes, and said, “Be still, my heart, for you are the most beautiful woman I have even seen.”
I startled awake in a heavy sweat. A loud clap of thunder that shook the entire mansion had brought me out of my dream.
It was early morning according to the clock, though the sun was hidden behind black storm clouds. Exhausted, I lay my head back against my pillow and closed my eyes, trying to take myself back into the dream, wishing it were real. It had seemed so real.
Again a clap of thunder boomed, this time even louder, shaking the bed and rattling the windows. I heard Eugenia’s voice in the back of my mind, commanding me to stop my sinful yearning. “God will punish you,” I heard her say. “And you will burn in hell, just like your mother!”
My eyes snapped open, and I instantly cursed myself for allowing my dreams to take me to such wicked places. I was annoyed that my body was reacting to such intimate thoughts, so I grabbed hold of my Bible and prayed never to have such dreams and thoughts again.
The storm blew in with violent fury and woke the entire mansion. Mammy frantically knocked on everyone’s doors. “You need to get up, Miss Amelia! Come to the cellar!” she yelled over the hollering winds.
Several of the windows blew out on the second floor, causing rain and wind to rush inside. In the distance, trees snapped off their trunks and barreled onto the ground. I shot up out of bed and opened the door.
“What’s going on?” Eugenia shouted, hurrying down the hall with a lit lamp in hand.
“Got to be a twister, Mrs. Arrington. Can smell it in the air. We need to hurry down to the cellar, fast!”
Warren and Patrick bolted out of their rooms, and without a word, Warren took hold of me while Patrick guided Eugenia as quickly as possible down the grand staircase, through the dining room, and into the kitchen where we had access to the cellar stairs.
Hamilton and Hattie were nowhere in sight. Mammy had Jacob Thomas already sitting in the far corner. He was crying, and I ran to him and scooped him up, planting several kisses on his wet cheeks.
“There, there Jacob. Everything will be fine,” I hushed him.
“Hatt, Hatt,” he called out.
“Hattie will be here soon, Jacob.”
But I was more worried than I could have revealed.
Outside the winds howled, sounding as if a train were heading straight toward the mansion. Warren insisted that Eugenia, Mammy, and I huddle in the corner while he and Patrick shielded us from harm. The only light we had was Eugenia’s one small lamp.
The cellar was eerie and damp. In all my years on the plantation, never once had I ventured down those stairs, but now I was grateful we had such a place, where we could hope to keep safe from such a furious storm.
Jacob trembled and clung desperately onto me, his eyes wide with fright. The mansion above us shook as if it might be pulled off the foundation at any moment. Patrick backed up against me, then peered down and shouted to be heard over the storm, “Are you all right?”
I nodded, feeling safe in his presence.
But I knew Hattie was out there, and I prayed that Hamilton was keeping her safe. I knew Mammy was praying as well. She had her hands clasped together, and I could read her lips as she mumbled the Lord’s Prayer. Eugenia appeared especially frazzled and alarmed.
Suddenly there was an unnatural silence, and we all looked to one another with apprehension. Then came a tremendous rumble and a deafening howl. Patrick timed the tornado perfectly and threw himself over Jacob and me, and Warren shielded Eugenia and Mammy with his body as the tornado came through. I buried my face against Patrick’s chest while Jacob froze in sheer terror.
Above us we could hear the floor creaking and banging and items crashing and breaking all around. Boxes on top shelves came tumbling down around us, spilling their contents all about.
The terror seemed to go on forever, and then finally it was over. We all sat silent, listing to make certain the storm was past and it was safe to venture out of the cellar. Even Jacob stopped crying.
“I think it’s really over,” I said quietly.
Patrick lifted himself up, and with Warren’s help, removed many of the wooden boxes that were blocking the stairs to the cellar door so they could lift it open. Warren tried to lift it first and couldn’t. He banged it several times. “It’s slammed shut. I think something landed on top of it.”
“Let me try,” Patrick said, and he attempted with all his might to lift the door.
Out of breath, he came to the same conclusion.
“The pantry must have fallen over,” Mammy said.
“Or the entire roof collapsed on us,” I said.
“Now don’t say such a thing,” Eugenia snapped, insisting that the men keep trying to budge the door. But it was to no avail. With bruised shoulders, they came and sat back down next to me.
<
br /> “Abigail, is there no other way out? Some secret passageway I know nothing about? Please tell me now. I will not reprimand you for keeping such a secret. We need to get out of here.”
“No, Mrs. Arrington. Only other room down here is the wine cellar over there.”
“We have plenty of food and drink until we are rescued,” Warren observed.
There were baskets of vegetables and fruits, enough to last a few days, if needed. Extra candles were stored down in the cellar as well, and as the hour passed, we each lit our own and took it to a corner. We kept ourselves occupied in one way or another, hoping someone would lift the door open for us at any moment.
Mammy sang softly to Jacob, and he fell into a deep sleep. Eugenia rested her head against the cool rock wall and dozed, while Warren nibbled on an apple ever so slowly, to make it last, while he prepared rations for all of us. “Just in case we are here for a day or two,” he said.
I made my way into the wine area and counted all the bottles. There were literally hundreds. Patrick had followed me in, and he took one and smashed the top against the wall. There were several tin cups on the floor; obviously we weren’t the first to be digging into the wine collection.
Patrick poured me a small cup, then filled his to the top and said sarcastically, “Cheers.”
Thirsty by now, I took a big gulp, and he did the same. We sat across from one another on the cool dirt floor.
“Does your shoulder hurt badly?” I asked, noticing him rubbing it and wincing.
“Just a little. The wine is helping the pain go away,” he replied, and poured himself another glass.
I remained quiet until the wine kicked in, and then I began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asked with a frown.
“You,” I giggled.
“And what’s so funny about me?”
“You’re in your long johns.” I hadn’t realized until then that he was still in his sleeping attire.
He looked at me and laughed aloud. “And what about you?”
I gazed down at myself.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 13