“You’re right,” I laughed, and then he laughed even harder.
“Tell me, Amelia, tell me about your life here at Sutton Hall. Who is Mammy to you, other than a slave? Is that her son, the boy you call Jacob? How do you get along with your stepmother, Eugenia?”
So many questions at once, my head was spinning. Perhaps it wasn’t all from the inquisition, but from the wine.
“Mammy is the woman who raised me, like a real mother. And that is her son, Jacob Thomas.” I wasn’t yet prepared to divulge who exactly Jacob was to this family at that time. “She also has a daughter, Hattie.”
“That’s who we’re waiting for?”
“I know he is going to find us. He and Hattie are fine,” I said more to myself than to him.
“Of course. They just need to realize we are all down here.”
“As for my stepmother,” I said in a whisper, “she and I don’t get on that well.”
“I never imagined my father would marry such a homely woman,” he whispered back, and I chuckled.
“Was your mummy pretty?” I dared to ask. I hadn’t thought how inappropriate that was to ask; it just came out before I could take it back.
“She was stunning. And for that matter, so was your mother.”
My eyes widened with surprise. I didn’t expect Patrick to acknowledge my mummy. I believed he must have been bitter for his own mother dying and his father having an affair with the lowly chambermaid.
“You remember her?”
“Of course. Charlotte was the chambermaid. She was a comfort to me when my mum passed away,” he revealed, then took another sip of wine.
“You knew my mother,” I repeated to myself.
“She was a sweet woman. She cared for me deeply. After my mother was gone, she was the only person who made me happy. It was her gentle nature, her sweet voice, her tender touch that healed me. She was all I had, and if it weren’t for her, I don’t know how I would have survived such a loss.
“And what’s amazing is that you are the exact image of your mother.”
I sucked in my breath. Oh, Patrick revealed so much in one moment that I would treasure forever.
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Certainly.”
“Did our father love her - truly love her?”
Patrick didn’t reply right away. His eyes went half closed and relaxed, his rosy red lips cracked a cynical smile.
When he finally answered me, he cleared his throat and said, “He loved her the way any man would love one of the most beautiful, voluptuous women who ever crossed his path.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, and before I could have him explain it, Eugenia appeared. Patrick scrambled to his feet.
“I see you two are getting to know one another. How nice,” she said with a strong hint of sarcasm.
“Would you like a drink? I can open another bottle. You must be parched,” Patrick said calmly.
“Please.”
I realized that Eugenia was completely dressed. It didn’t surprise me that even a tornado couldn’t take Eugenia by surprise.
Patrick handed her a cup, and she drank the wine fast and asked for a refill.
“And pour some for Warren. Abigail can get her own.”
“I don’t mind pouring a cup for her,” he replied.
“I said she can get some herself,” Eugenia snapped back.
Patrick looked at me uneasily.
I nodded, indicating that he should to do what Eugenia said.
“All right then. Well…I suppose there is not much else to do but prepare for a long day ahead. I will have Warren help me look through all the boxes to see what we can find to sleep on.”
Eugenia agreed that it was a wise idea. And while the men dug through boxes for the next hour or so, I took Jacob from Mammy to allow her time to get a drink for herself and Jacob. He had become quiet and remained sleepy. It didn’t help that it was so dark and chilly down in the cellar.
I decided to recite some stories Daddy used to tell me when I was a child. I told him the story of Jack and the Beanstalk, then the story of King Arthur, and finally Robin Hood. Warren and Patrick gathered items that we could use while listening to my stories. I could tell they were paying attention, as they often stopped and looked at me.
Finally, hours later, as we all prepared to sleep for the night after nibbling on our small ration of vegetables, I laid the little boy down next to Mammy and sang him some of my favorite hymns. He fell asleep peacefully. Eugenia had already passed out. She had drunk nearly an entire bottle of wine by herself.
“Good night, Mammy. Hope we get out of here by the light of the new day,” I whispered, “because I want to give Hattie what for. She is surely taking her sweet time getting us out of here.”
Mammy smiled at me and brushed away the tear that had trickled down her smooth face.
“Good night, Miss Amelia.”
I sighed heavily and then wandered with my candle in hand back to the wine room. I had set up that area for Warren and Patrick while the women stayed together in the main room. Warren sipped some wine, and Patrick prepared his little area with scraps of old sheets that we’d found. Warren even found some poker chips and playing cards.
I already had a slight headache from the wine, and when Patrick offered me some more, I declined. “I’d just as well get some sleep. Are you gentlemen going to play cards?”
“I don’t feel much like card playing,” Patrick replied. “Sleep sounds good to me. It has been a long day. Warren, blow out the candle. We’ll keep just this one lantern I found going all night.”
Warren extinguished the candle. “Good night, sleep well,” he said.
“And you as well, Mr. Stone.”
“Sweet dreams, Amelia,” Patrick said, and the tenderness in his voice made my heart skip a beat.
“And you, Patrick Garrett.”
I continued to think of Patrick’s revelation of how my mummy had cared for him at his time of greatest need, how he loved her. And of course how he thought I was just as beautiful as she was.
~ ~ ~
~ Fifteen ~
Hours later there was a colossal boom of thunder. I tried to focus my eyes, but it was pitch black. The lantern in the wine cellar had gone out. I could hear breathing, and I felt Mammy’s legs next to me. My heart began to beat frantically, and I was consumed with panic. I was finding it hard to breathe.
The booms above us were continuous, and I feared that another tornado would cause the entire mansion to collapse on top of us, and we would never again see the light of day.
I tried desperately to calm myself; I closed my eyes and lay back down, shivering from the cold and trembling from fear. I attempted to ignore the mansion shaking above us. I was wrestling with my fear when I thought I heard Hattie calling for me.
“Amelia!” I heard her faint voice calling. “Momma!”
I sat up again and listened more intently.
“Mrs. Arrington, are you down there?”
It was Curtis P. Boyd’s voice! Now I knew it wasn’t my imagination. They were coming for us.
I quickly woke Mammy and Eugenia by feeling around and shaking them.
“Wake up! They have found us.”
“In here!” I yelled back. “Hattie, we are down here!”
My calls for help woke everyone, though no one could see a thing.
We scrambled around to find our way to the stairs. We could hear banging and crashing as Warren and Patrick made their way from the wine cellar to the main area, knocking over everything in their path. Then Mammy cried out.
“Mammy, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my leg. I tripped over something.”
“I can’t see anything!” Warren yelped as he banged into a box.
“Everyone slow down and just stop,” Patrick ordered. “I will find the way to the stairs. Just stay put!”
Patrick made his way slowly. Jacob whimpered a little, frightened of the dark, and Mammy softly
hushed him, trying to ignore her pain.
“Hey, there! We’re down here!” Patrick hollered. He began to bang on the cellar access door.
“We hear you.” Hattie called back. “We’re almost there.”
I believe we all breathed a collective sigh of relief as we waited for all the debris that was blocking our escape to be removed.
“Thank God,” Eugenia whispered.
“Amen,” I said to that.
It seemed as if it took for them forever to make it to the access door, and when it was finally lifted open, a stream of intense sunlight came pouring in, nearly blinding us all. I raised a hand to my face to shield my eyes, and that’s when I saw Hattie looking down at us.
“You all right?”
“Warren, take Abigail up,” Eugenia instructed.
Hamilton and Curtis P. Boyd continued to move pieces of wood out of the way to clear an exit.
I scooped Jacob up into my arms, and Patrick guided me up the steep stairs.
I nearly cried when we were finally out and I handed Jacob to Hattie. “Oh, Hattie, I was so worried about you.”
“We’ve been looking for you all. Finally figured you were in the cellar.”
When we were all out, each of us gazed around at the terrible destruction, staring in disbelief. Eugenia gasped at the sight of the plantation fields in ruins. The entire back kitchen had fallen onto us, leaving a giant gaping hole in the mansion. We could see that half the slave cabins and the spinning house had been demolished. Luckily, the barn and the icehouse had been spared. We learned sorrowfully that a dozen of our loyal slaves had perished in the storm, including Abraham, Cordelia, and Helen.
“They already buried in the cemetery.”
Mammy, already suffering from her injured leg, now cried for the loss of her family.
All the main portions of Sutton Hall remained intact. Hamilton attended to Mammy. Eugenia and Patrick walked the property and took inventory of the disaster, while Hattie and I took Jacob Thomas inside her cabin to clean him up.
“How did you manage to survive the storm?” I asked.
“It was Hamilton who shielded me from the falling debris.” Hattie’s eyes were full of tears. “Momma heard the storm coming and grabbed Jacob Thomas and fled to the big house to wake you all. She yelled for me to come too, and I tried to follow, but a tree came crashing down and nearly fell right on me and blocked the way. Then Hamilton came and found me trying to stand against the blowing wind. He scooped me up and took me back inside the cabin.”
Jacob was fully washed. I left him with Hattie so she could get him fed while I washed and changed my clothes, and then I went to see how Mammy was faring.
Hamilton had just finished taking her small plate of food away when I came in.
“How are you feeling, Mammy?”
“Hurts,” she replied. She had the saddest expression. My heart sank for her.
“Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” I asked. I stroked her hair, just as she used to do for me when I was sick in bed.
“No, Miss Amelia. I be fine in a week or two, I’m sure.”
“I will be back to check on you later,” I said, as she fell into a deep sleep.
I found Patrick alone downstairs in the library. He seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“I want to thank you for taking such good care of me,” I told him.
“These past two days sure have been a whirlwind, no joke intended,” he laughed. “I expected to have a rather uneventful stay. But Father is not here, the plantation needs a tremendous amount of work, and . . .” he cleared his throat and gazed awkwardly away, “and I never expected to have such a lovely young woman as a sister.”
“I never expected to have a brother. I only learned about you recently.”
“Oh?” he was surprised. “Father never mentioned me?”
“No. I learned about you from Eugenia, amongst other things.”
“What other things?” he asked, his brows lifting in question.
“Nothing,” I quickly replied and changed the subject. “What are we going to do about all the damage?”
Patrick lit the cigar he was holding, puffed on it, and blew the smoke out ever so slowly. I watched him while he stared out the windows toward the destroyed gardens.
“This is quite a place, you know. Father had a large estate in England, but not as grand as Sutton Hall.”
I wondered why he didn’t answer my question.
“Amelia, have you any idea why Father came to America?”
I sat down in the nearest chair.
He then turned to me, shaking his head as if to clear out a temporary daze, and then smiled. “Never mind. You’re not old enough to understand.”
“I’m certainly old enough. I understand a great deal,” I replied, defiantly.
He briefly looked me over, and then stared at me for some time with a somewhat confused look on his face, before finally replying, “I know how old you are. I was there the day you were born.”
I realized then that Patrick could reveal many secrets that I had not managed to discover on my own. But I would have to be patient, for I believed that in time the whole story would come out. God must have sent Patrick to me, I told myself, so I could finally understand how I came into existence. I needed to know if my mummy was truly a sinful vixen, as Eugenia had led me to believe all this time.
In the week that followed the storm, while Mammy was laid up in bed nursing her ankle, it was left up to me to care for everyone’s needs and wants. Hattie minded Jacob while I took care of the cleaning, cooking, and washing, and the men worked on the rebuilding. Whether it was unfortunate or not, I wasn’t quite certain, but Curtis P. Boyd had a heart attack and died while lifting a heavy beam.
Eugenia was beyond distraught for our losses and was also fretting about Daddy’s partaking in the battle at Allegheny Mountain. Newspapers reported at least ninety-seven soldiers had been wounded, and many more were dead or missing.
Eugenia now had to sell some of our valuables to pay for new wood and windows. To make matters worse, the weather was cold and damp and sent a lasting chill throughout the mansion, which sank right into our bones.
It was the week before Christmas, and it certainly would be unlike any Christmas we’d had before. There was no giant tree decorated in the parlor and no plans for a gala holiday event. No doubt there wouldn’t be any form of celebration or presents for anyone. If it weren’t for the date on the calendar and plans to attend Christmas morning church services, we wouldn’t have known it was Christmas at all.
It seemed as if most all of us, all but Warren, were moping, which was to be expected in such a terrible time. Even Patrick was sullen and spent most of his time working on the mansion. I did all I could to please him. I took him coffee and made him meals that I hoped would be tasty enough. I washed his clothes with great care and always gave him a pretty smile.
He was always grateful and thanked me with a genuine smile in return. But that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted his undivided attention, and the only time I received it was each evening when I played the piano. Though my bones ached and my hands were raw from cooking and cleaning, I never felt pain in my fingers when I played the piano. It was then that Patrick’s eyes fixed on me. My recitals lasted until late into the evening and gave everyone the only pleasure of the day.
Warren was clearly enamored, and he began to court me. In my mind, he barely existed, though he made his feelings known at every opportunity. And if Eugenia hadn’t been so preoccupied with financial worries, she would have put Warren in his place and made certain he ceased his advances toward me.
Eugenia read the reports of horrible battles with considerable losses of Confederate troops and worried sick about Daddy. As the letters became fewer and fewer, she fell into a strange depression and stayed aloof, locked away most of the time in her room. The only times she ventured out were for my recitals and church services.
I felt uncomfortable with Warren
’s affections for me at first, and I gave Mammy the flowers he picked from what remained of the gardens and left by my door. I repeatedly refused his requests to go walking with him or to ride into Savannah for supplies, until I noticed it bothering Patrick. Every time Warren addressed me, Patrick would make a subtle scowl, though he seemed to hope no one would notice.
My heart beat fast when I thanked Warren for the latest bunch of flowers, and Patrick excused himself from supper without finishing. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why it bothered him. But I liked making him feel uncomfortable, for whatever reason, and did it just because he didn’t pay me enough attention. I was disgruntled when he ignored my requests to talk more about Mummy and sent me away, saying he was too busy to talk at the moment. “Another day, we will walk and talk.”
Warren drank in my flirty smiles and beamed when I agreed to go with him into Savannah the day before Christmas. Patrick had just come inside to warm up from the cold morning he’d spent replacing one of the kitchen windows.
“We’re going into Savannah, Patrick. Do you need anything?” I asked politely, while Warren assisted me with my wrap.
Patrick was rubbing his hands together and blew warm air from his lungs onto them, then abruptly stopped.
“I do need a few things. Why don’t you wait a few minute and I’ll take you. Warren can finish the trim on the far east window.”
“Wait now,” Warren interjected. “I need to go into town, and I asked Amelia to go with me.”
Patrick straightened his back, just the way Daddy always did when he was confronted, and in a matter-of-fact tone said, “You will finish the trim.”
Warren knew he had no choice, for he was a guest here at Sutton Hall, living free, without financial burden, just because we felt sorry for him. But I could override Patrick’s decision, and that’s precisely what I did.
“Warren kindly asked, and we are going together.”
I placed my arm through Warren’s, and together we walked out to the wagon where Hamilton had the team hitched and ready to go.
I didn’t wait for Patrick’s response, and I gave all my attention to Warren. He carefully lifted me up onto the seat and then climbed up beside me, took the reins, and we were on our way.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 14