Plantation Nation (9781621352877)

by King, Mercedes

  He sighed. "This isn't the way I hoped things would go."

  They both resisted what they wanted to say as they held each other with their stares. Men called for Trumball. He waved, indicating for them to wait.

  More than anything, Emma wanted to hold him and tell him she loved him. But she didn't. He would still leave, she knew, even if she confessed the depth of her emotions. In her mind, she assumed her feelings for him meant nothing to him.

  She swallowed hard before she said, "Good luck, Lieutenant," and brushed past him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Beaumont, South Carolina

  May, 1862

  After three trains, two closed railways, a burned bridge, and a rerouted stagecoach, Emma returned to the remnants of her hometown. People in town eyed her with uncertain recognition and suspicion. Gone, she found, was the high-waving hospitable greetings from the locals. Union soldiers also dotted the population, a result from their takeover of Fort Walker and Fort Beauregard after the battle at Port Royal. Even though she was a bluecoat herself, Emma couldn't help finding their presence insulting and demeaning.

  Emma walked the four miles from town to her home. During her travels, she had thought of little else besides James. Whether she had done the right thing in leaving him, she couldn't say. At the moment, though, she found the distance between them satisfying and liberating.

  She didn't focus on the emotional turmoil that would rise upon facing her family. Correspondence from the plantation had ceased, which worried her. However, in the nation's current state, she wasn't sure how the mail delivery was holding up. When her foot finally touched the path leading up to the house, a myriad of feelings raced through her. For the most part, the home looked the same from the outside, but Emma felt as if she had been gone for decades rather than a year.

  She thought of Alexander and the fact she would never see his face light up at the Thanksgiving table again, or that smugly pleased look he had whenever he brought home wild game.

  The stillness outside of the house troubled her, but she decided to wait no longer. Like a stranger come to call, she made her way to the massive front door and knocked. Her plain and simple dress had not traveled well, and she knew in its current condition, wrinkled and dust-caked, she looked more like a vagabond than a returning Cartwright. Her shabby hair, which she could do little with, intensified her unfortunate appearance.

  Harper answered the door. "Miss Emma!" Squeals and shouts followed as Harper announced Emma's arrival. Tilda came next, and behind her, Stella with a baby in her arms. Although Stella looked frightfully pale and thin, the baby, a boy they'd named Thomas, was chubby and playful. He gave Emma a shy smile and batted his eyes at her, eyes that reminded Emma of her father.

  As the wave of commotion subsided, Emma noticed Knox standing ramrod straight and motionless. Astonishment, anger, and relief washed over his face all at once, but a softening prevailed, perhaps mixed with forgiveness, that brought tears to his eyes.

  Emma took slow, shaky steps toward him and spoke first.

  "Hello, Granddad."

  Knox swallowed hard. "I thought I would never see you again in this life." He embraced her, and they both wobbled. After a long moment, he held her at arm's length and glanced at her shaggy hair, while Emma noted the deep lines that were now engraved into Knox's features. "I am eternally grateful for this moment, Emma Louise."

  "I'm sorry, Granddad."

  "For leaving your family or for betraying your heritage?" No malice laced his words.

  Emma considered it. "Maybe a little of both. I didn't do any of this to hurt you, Granddad, or to bring any shame on the family name. I… I had to find out who I really was."

  "And did you?"

  Emma wondered, what had she accomplished by running away? She'd escaped her mother's wedding plans and left her family, showing no more integrity than Franklin. Without thinking it through, she'd thrust another loss upon her family. Had her departure numbed them for the news of Alexander's death?

  She thought of James and their night together. Those unexpected feelings that swooped in and struck her heart like a cottonmouth snake luring in the swamps. The bite unexpected, the venom consuming. Yet being there at her homestead, on the soil where she was born and raised, Emma felt a tinge of guilt. She had abandoned James and her comrades at a critical moment. Had she given in to her emotions irrationally, the way a man would suspect that any woman might?

  Was this who she wanted to be?

  "I'm not sure," Emma finally said. "I think I'm still finding out."

  ****

  At the sight of Stuart, Emma caught her breath. She knew he would be there, as he and much of his family had moved to the Cartwright plantation, but she was not expecting the sight before her.

  "Stuart, you're walking!"

  He smiled slightly as his glasses dipped down his nose. "Not exactly, but it's progress." Propped on two crutches, Stuart made his way into the kitchen, where the family had gathered for refreshments.

  "How did you…?"

  "They could still use some improvement, and I can't wear them for long periods of time, but it's simple, really. The crutches belonged to my brother. I made leg braces for support. I basically tied my legs to iron rods, then used leather straps I made from tack…" Stuart paused and looked at Knox.

  "Yes," Knox said, "we, uh, had to sell most of the horses. Just couldn't be helped." His voice sounded matter-of-fact and detached.

  Emma knew how her grandfather prized his horses. She didn't want to let the impact of his words sink in, or the implication that the family might be enduring financial woes. She attempted to save the happy mood.

  "They're amazing, Stuart."

  Stuart beamed. "I can't believe you're back." A restrained elation danced in his eyes. "After the news about Alexander, I thought…"

  Emma nodded. "I know. These aren't easy times." Emma thought of the men who had died while she sat helplessly by their sides. She recalled the letters she had written to their loved ones and felt badly that Knox and her mother would have no such token from Alexander.

  She turned to Knox. "Where's mother?" Emma was surprised to hear such enthusiasm in her voice, and even more flabbergasted to find that her sentiment was genuine. Having proved to herself that she was capable of taking care of herself, and having discovered a newfound appreciation for lady-like decorum, Emma believed she could relate better with her mother now. She finally understood why Olivia valued poise and manners.

  The expression on Knox's face, though, dissolved Emma's zeal.

  "What is it?"

  "Your mother…" Knox could not finish his sentence.

  Silence infected the other family members. Eyes were averted. Smiles deserted the scene. Knox looked to Stuart.

  "Emma, there's an awful lot you need to know," Stuart said.

  "This will take some time," Knox added. "And I'm afraid much of it will be difficult for you to hear."

  Emma searched both their faces for a trace of reassurance, but she found none, and a feeling of dread enveloped her and rested on her like a wet wool blanket.

  ****

  Emma passed on a light helping of Harper's red rice, too anxious to learn what had befallen the Cartwrights in her absence. Her insides trembled as Knox and Stuart led her to the rear of the house. As they approached the northwest wing of the estate, a swampy, damp smell greeted Emma. A stretch of canvas hung from floor to ceiling, and furniture sat in front of the cloth, positioned like a barricade. Knox moved a few pieces of furniture and held open a slit in the canvas that allowed them to step through to the other side.

  Fresh air slapped her face, and the sight before Emma made her stomach drop. She stood where the dining room had been. Charred edges and ash surrounded her. Two chairs, blackened from soot, lay overturned. The massive table that had hosted numerous celebrations and holidays had been reduced to scorched remains, and Grandma Louise's handmade tablecloth was only a memory.

  "What happened?" Emma barely
had breath to speak.

  Knox walked across the room as though he were walking in a cemetery and remarked solemnly, "Union rebels."

  The remark made Emma's head reel.

  "After the conflict at Port Royal," Knox said, "Yankees invaded nearby homes."

  "Four soldiers barged into the house," Stuart added. "They had weapons, held pistols in our faces and threatened us. They said they were authorized by the government to take control of the house and the property. Everything, they claimed, now belonged to the Union and could be used however they saw fit. They claimed we were all traitors." He looked at Knox. "And if we showed any resistance, they swore they'd shoot us."

  Emma looked to Knox. His eyes were downcast, his face somber.

  "We were essentially captives, Emma, for three days."

  Emma dared to imagine the scene. Men, euphoric from victory, berating civilians and taking advantage of their sudden power. Worse, she knew some of her fellow soldiers could have behaved the same way. She found it easy to picture Nash, even Graham, looting and belittling Southerners and their homes.

  "But how?" she asked softly. "You outnumbered them, easily. With George and Henry and the others—"

  "George Napier is dead." No emotion came from Knox as he spoke. "News of the war spooked him. Shortly after you left, Emma, he attempted to steal two of my horses and Harper's daughter, Pearl. He did not make it far. Word spread quickly about his treachery. Our neighbor, Jeb Fisher, spotted him in Charleston, trying to get a passage to Boston. The sheriff shot George when he refused to cooperate. Fortunately, Pearl returned to us unharmed."

  Like Knox, Emma felt no sense of loss at the mention of George's death. Part of her thought he probably died too conveniently, without much pain or suffering, and part of her felt a release, knowing his drunken steps would no longer be seen on the plantation.

  "As for the slaves," Knox continued, "they've gone. Departed after the battle at Port Royal. I'll have you know I did nothing to stop them. I stood at the edge of the property as they left, sent a prayer with each of them. Tilda, Harper, and Pearl are the lone remnants and say they can't leave us."

  Emma ran the image through her mind. Knox, proud and straight, as the laborers migrated from the property. Selfishly, she was grateful she'd missed it.

  "The Yankees were not here long before their evil natures grew hostile toward each other," Knox said. "They drank themselves into a stupor, then argued over what they would take. They shouted at one another, began breaking things around the house. I tried to stop them, but they knocked me unconscious once. And your mother…" Knox reacted as though the words caught in his throat. "Well, throughout it all your mother acted in the only manner she knew how. She served them tea, kept a hospitable spirit about her, but…" Knox closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Dread tightened Emma's chest as she waited for him to finish.

  "It's best she knows," Stuart said quietly.

  "I am not entirely convinced of that. It does her no good to know!" Knox began to tremble. Tears escaped him.

  "She must, Granddad. When she sees Olivia—"

  Fearing her grandfather was near collapse, Emma went to his side and draped his arm around her shoulder. Knox took a moment to recover.

  "The cost of war, Emma Louise, is a price no man can afford," he said with a renewed strength. "The sinful nature of man is revealed, and what a horrid beast it proves to be."

  Anticipation gnawed at Emma. She wanted to ask, wanted to see her mother, but there had been so much for her to accept, she waited. In truth, she feared knowing what toll the war had taken on her mother.

  Knox calmed and straightened himself. With a deep sorrow in his eyes, he looked at Emma. "They violated your mother."

  As the meaning of those words permeated, Emma felt weak all over. Having known the fear from being stalked by George Napier, when his drunken lust would rage, Emma thought of those moments in the stable and the barn, moments when she had feared George would have his way with her, that he would penetrate her and possess a sacred part of her. Knowing her mother had not been rescued as she had made Emma cringe with nausea.

  "Henry?" Emma asked. It was the only word, the only thought she could manage.

  "He tried to save your mother, when he heard her screams, but they shot him three times."

  Emma gasped. Her thoughts swept to Tilda. How had she endured the loss of another child? How had Emma not noticed or detected such an emotional scar at the first sight of her?

  "I fear you will never forgive me for what has happened," Knox said. "Since the death of Thomas, I have been entrusted with the safe keeping of this family, and I fear I have failed you all."

  "Oh, Granddad, I could never blame you for such a thing," Emma said.

  "There's more," Stuart said.

  "Yes." Knox cleared his throat. "After the incident, we were all distraught, and we knew something had to be done. We could not wait to see if they would leave, and after all that had transpired, we knew the situation might only grow worse. Harper and Tilda tended to the meals, so for dinner the next afternoon, Tilda put poisonous mushrooms in their stew. We waited. When the poison took hold they thrashed and tried to fight it. Once they were silent, I set the room on fire. Perhaps I overreacted, but they deserved no less. Not one of those vile creatures made it off our property alive."

  Emma noted a glimmer of pride in Knox's eyes.

  "But we had no way to control the flames," Stuart said. "The blaze spread quickly. If the rain hadn't come that night—"

  "We would have lost everything," Knox said. "I always believed vengeance belonged to the Lord, until that night. When we dropped the remains of those bodies into the swamp, I knew that we had done the right thing."

  Emma turned to Stuart. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  His face contorted, he replied, "It wasn't proper for a letter."

  In her heart, Emma agreed, but numbness paralyzed her as she took in the room and played the scene through her mind. Had she been there, under the same stress as the rest of her family, dealing with the loss of Henry and the mistreatment of her mother, Emma may have consented, or even contributed to, their malicious actions.

  "I want to see my mother."

  Knox held Emma by the shoulders, as if he were considering whether or not such a reunion should take place, but the tormented, disgraced look in his eyes told Emma there was no alternative.

  ****

  Nothing could have prepared Emma for what she saw next.

  The curtains in Olivia Cartwright's room were drawn tight. All traces of sunlight, or any light, were shunned. Knox entered with Emma by his side and pulled open the window coverings. As light struck the space, Emma noticed her mother's beloved French bureau was gone. Rumpled cotton linens, a departure from Olivia's favored silk sheets, splayed the unoccupied bed.

  "Olivia?" Knox said.

  "Have they come back?" asked an anxious voice.

  Turning their head to the corner of the room, Knox and Emma found Olivia on the floor with her knees to her chest. Wearing a nightgown, Olivia grasped a pistol with both of her trembling hands.

  "No, my dear," Knox said. He approached her slowly. "They won't ever come here again. Remember the fire?"

  Staring into oblivion, Olivia nodded and seemed as convincing as a puppet on a string.

  "Olivia, I have a wonderful surprise for you." Knox knelt and made eye contact with her. "Your daughter has come home. Emma is here to see you."

  Slowly, Olivia turned her head toward Emma. Olivia's tight, meticulous curls had been replaced with a loose, sloppy bun at the base of her neck. Pallor graced her cheeks instead of rogue. Glazed over eyes found Emma's face, but agonizing seconds passed before a spark of recognition registered on her face.

  "Emma? Where have you been?"

  She fought the urge to be furious with her grandfather. Why hadn't he cautioned her more about her mother's condition? He'd made no mention of the fact that her mental state was shattered, or that Olivia had aba
ndoned personal care of herself. Cowered on the floor, Olivia acted like an animal that had been trapped and placed in a foreign setting. Emma brushed away fallen tears. She knew there were no words that could have readied her for this encounter.

  "I've been away, Mother. Just for a while."

  "Oh." Olivia grinned then reached for Emma's shorn locks. "Your hair," was all she said before turning her head away and drifting back to a state of semi-awareness.

  "I missed you." Lost for the right thing to say, Emma fought sobs and reached out to hold her mother.

  "No! No!" Olivia screamed and pointed the gun in Emma's face.

  Emma fell back and held up her hands in confusion. Olivia's finger ripped at the trigger like a nervous instinct. Death flashed before Emma, but the gun only discharged clicks.

  "Stop, Olivia! Put the gun down!" Knox said firmly. "This is your daughter. She won't hurt you."

  Olivia squalled and squirmed as Knox wrestled the weapon from her hands. Once Knox had the gun, Olivia burst into a thrashing, yelling rage.

  "It's all right!" Knox repeated. He worked to subdue her.

  "Master Knox?" Harper said, bursting into the room. "Here! I's got the med'cin!" Harper poked Olivia's arm with an injection. "You be fine now, Miss Olivia. Jus' rest now. It be fine now."

  Olivia's outburst withered like a dying daffodil. As her sobs subsided, Knox helped her into bed and covered her. Harper stroked her hair and spoke to her like she would an infant nodding off.

  Emma, still on the floor, wept at the scene.

  ****

  Emma envied the wisp of steam that drifted up from her tea and evaporated, wishing she could do the same. Slumped in a chair in the kitchen, she stared at her China cup and recalled how her mother had boasted and exclaimed the day those dishes had arrived. Back then, Emma cared nothing for the color and curvature of the painted flowers around the saucers and cups. Now, noticing the chip in her cup made her want to cry.