Alex went first, describing his travels since the day he woke up in a cotton field in Snipes County. Before he had finished, Hannah jumped in. “Okay,” she said, “now, about Scotland…”
But Alex interrupted her, looking very guilty. “I have to tell you something,” he said hesitantly. “Somebody stole the calculator from the Crystal Palace.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Hannah said breezily. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out the calculator. “This it?”
Alex gasped with relief. “Yes! How did you find it?”
Hannah preened. “Oh, you know, I have my ways…”
“She stole it,” Brandon said.
“Hey, there was a reason,” Hannah protested. “I figured we needed to give it to That Woman. Now we just have to wait for her to show up.”
Alex looked uncomfortable. “I keep trying to give it to her, but she won’t take it from me. She keeps saying the time isn’t right, or something like that…”
Brandon exhaled noisily. “You know what I think? I think that finding the calculator is only one of the things we’re supposed to do. Trouble is, I don’t think even she knows what they are. Oh, hey, wait a minute… I did find out that Henry Watson was born in Verity and Eric’s house!”
“Uh-huh,” Hannah said skeptically. “But like I told you, how are you going to prove it?”
Brandon looked worried. “Maybe that’s what we have to do before we can go home. We have to find some way to prove where Henry was really born.”
But Alex, staring into space, had his mind elsewhere. “It would help,” he said quietly, “if I knew what was up between Mr. Thornhill and Lady Chatsfield. It’s weird that she’s still alive. Everyone in Savannah thinks he’s a widower. Are they divorced?”
Brandon sat up straight and pointed at Alex. “That’s it! No, they’re not divorced. But I read how divorces are hard to get in Victorian England. Even if you’re rich and can afford it, it’s a big scandal, and the husbands get custody of the kids, no matter what. So a lot of people just quietly split up, you know, separate, because it’s less hassle than a divorce. I’m guessing that’s what those two did. But now they have a problem: Now Mr. Thornhill is Lord Chatsfield, it’s like he’s won the lottery. Do you guys think they’ll get back together?”
Alex looked pained. “I don’t know… He hasn’t talked about it. Did you guys know that they had two sons who moved to Georgia with him, and that they both died?”
Hannah and Brandon exchanged shocked looks. “No way,” Hannah said. “But why did he leave Sarah here?”
“Who’s Sarah?” Alex asked. “Is she that girl who came up to him at the Exhibition?”
“That’s her,” Brandon said. “She’s his daughter.”
“That’s even more weird,” Alex said slowly. “And get this. His house slaves in Georgia said he’s remarried, and he has a new family in a plantation way south of Savannah. But he never mentions them to me, either…” His voice trailed off, and he slumped in his chair, looking miserable. “I wish I knew what they were saying to each other, Mr. Thornhill and his wife.”
Then suddenly, he had a moment of inspiration. He jumped to his feet, ran to the fireplace, and to the surprise of the others, stepped inside, sticking his head up the chimney. Seconds later, he ducked down, and hissed to Brandon and Hannah, “Come on, we can hear!”
Hannah was unimpressed. “What? I’m so not going in a dirty chimney.”
“After everything you’ve been through,” Brandon said to her skeptically, “I’m surprised you care about a bit of soot.”
“Shush!” whispered Alex as they joined him. And then they could hear the voices, unclearly at first, but soon, with a little concentration, they could make out all the words. Mr. Thornhill was speaking.
Mr. Thornhill was pacing around the room, while Lady Chatsfield sat anxiously wringing out a handkerchief. “I have told you a thousand times,” he said, “and yet apparently I do not make myself plain. I intend to sell this estate.”
She spoke to him in a frightened voice, to Hannah and Brandon’s surprise: This was not the self-confident Lady Chatsfield they knew. “But surely the estate is entailed. It cannot be sold, but must remain within the family.”
“You are mistaken, Emma. The estate belongs to my cousin, the Earl, and he has his own lands in the Midlands. He has agreed to my selling this property for my own profit and, in return, his son will assume the title as Viscount Chatsfield. He already has an estate for his son, and so has no need of Balesworth Hall. We have no sons, so who would inherit the title after me, eh? Moreover, I have no interest in managing farmland or sitting in the House of Lords. Manufacturing, exporting and importing, that’s Britain’s future, and that is what interests me. Being Lord Chatsfield does not provide me with cash, but the sale of Balesworth Hall will provide me with all the capital I need to expand my business as a merchant. And it will allow me to afford a divorce, so that you will be free to remarry if you wish…”
“But what of me… and of Sarah?” Lady Chatsfield pleaded.
Mr. Thornhill’s voice was firm. “I shall make provision for you. There is a cottage in Balesworth that belongs to the estate. You and Sarah…”
“No!” cried Lady Chatsfield, putting her handkerchief to her mouth. “I couldn’t bear it. It is but a mean little place, fit only for servants. I would be excluded from society if I lived in such a place. How could you possibly consider it?”
His voice grew hard. “It does not matter to me where you live. Your position in society, and that of your daughter, is worse than precarious. But you will not be poor, so count your blessings. Understand that the money from the sale of Balesworth Hall is mine, and that I will not be told what to do with it.”
The kids could hear Lady Chatsfield weeping bitterly, and they exchanged uncomfortable looks. “I dunno, you guys, this is kind of embarrassing…” whispered Hannah.
“No, listen…” said Brandon.
Mr. Thornhill was continuing in a quiet but steely voice. “I have not forsaken you. Not only will I provide you with the house in Balesworth, but I have purchased an estate in America, and you may live on its proceeds.”
“He won the plantation in a poker game,” Alex whispered.
“This estate,” Mr. Thornhill was explaining, “will afford you a greater quality of life than has been possible on the slim allowance that I have sent you in the past. I have also provided you with a servant. Young Jupiter will remain my property… Er, that is, he will remain in my employ…”
But Lady Chatsfield had not missed his stumble. “He’s your slave?” she asked, shocked.
“Sounds like it to me,” Hannah whispered to Brandon, “From what Jupe told you, he might as well be a slave.”
But Mr. Thornhill was trying to backtrack. “No, he is not a slave. I have freed him. Jupiter is now your servant, and I shall pay his expenses. You will need fewer servants in your new home. You may retain one of your maids and your cook, but you must discharge the rest of the household staff.”
“Your arrogance, sir, is beyond measure,” said Lady Chatsfield. “America has changed you for the worse.”
“Silence,” roared Mr. Thornhill. Alex jumped. He had never heard Mr. Thornhill so angry.
“I have one further question,” Lady Chatsfield said, sounding quite defeated. “What is this place in America on which you say my future fortune will depend?”
“Are you quite sure that you wish to know?” Mr. Thornhill said quietly. “Very well, I shall tell you. It is a small plantation near Savannah. It is not terribly profitable, but it is, nonetheless, profitable. I will draw up papers transferring its ownership to you.”
“Knowing how deeply I oppose slavery, you insist upon me accepting a slave-run plantation for my income?”
There was a silence, and Alex imagined Mr. Thornhill nodding. In fact, he was simply gazing at his wife, watching her reaction. Satisfied, he said, “Yes. It is time that you understood the ways of the world. What,
you think your riches come from Chatsfield’s puny estate? Of course not. I have seen men work as machines, Emma. Whether they work in factories or in fields, their labor makes our wealth possible. It is a pity, perhaps. But there it is.”
“Very well,” said Lady Chatsfield. “But I will grant my slaves their freedom, as you have done for young Jupiter.”
“Oh, you cannot do that,” Mr. Thornhill said calmly. “It is now illegal for a plantation owner to free his slaves in Georgia. Even if it were not, the plantation has no value without slaves, you see. You do not understand America, Emma. There are precious few free workers in Georgia, and there is abundant land for all free men who desire to own it and work it themselves. They cannot and will not work my land for wages. Slaves are all we have. And if you decide to sell the land, I promise you that its next owners would not have the same scruples about slavery as you do. They would buy more slaves to work on it. In any event, the point is moot: I will retain ownership of the slaves.”
“You are a cruel, wicked man,” sobbed Lady Chatsfield.
Mr. Thornhill sighed heavily. “No, Emma, I am not. I am merely a man of the world.”
Hannah muttered to Brandon, “I vote for ‘cruel and wicked.’ He’s charming and all, but he’s such a sleazy character.”
In the darkened fireplace, Hannah did not see that her brother was standing wide-eyed in disbelief.
Now the three of them were all ears as they heard Lady Chatsfield ask about Alex. “Who is that boy with you?” she said suddenly. “Is he your son by another woman?’”
Mr. Thornhill paused for a second, almost as though he was taunting her. Then he said, “Alexander? Oh, he’s my protégé, if you will. I intend to remarry, but I already know that my future wife is unable to bear me sons. At least I shall have Alex to train up as my successor, to take over my business from me.”
Hannah glanced at Alex, who continued to look stunned.
Suddenly, the sounds of skirts rustling and feet moving announced that the meeting was coming to an end. The kids quickly ducked out of the fireplace.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brandon said to Hannah. “If Mr. Veeriswamy catches us in the library, we’ll be in deep trouble. Alex, look, I know you have to go with Thornhill, but we’ll be in touch. We’ll send a letter, though, because those telegrams cost a ton.”
Alex was left alone, feeling very empty. He had liked Mr. Thornhill. He had ignored the warning signs that this man, while pleasant and kind, was not someone to be trusted. Thornhill was no better than MacGregor the slave trader. How could he not have seen what kind of man he was? And how was he going to get away from him?
A few minutes later, Mr. Thornhill opened the door to the library, and said abruptly, “Come along, Alexander, we must leave.”
But Alex didn’t move. “Sir, I don’t feel too good. I have a really bad headache. I think it’s a migraine. Can I stay behind?”
Mr. Thornhill looked concerned. “Yes, of course. I will tell the servants to make up a bed for you.”
Then he reached into his inner coat pocket, and pulled out a small bundle of papers tied with a white cloth ribbon. “Alexander, once you feel better, copy out these papers for me. Send the originals to Baird in Savannah, so that he can set to work while we remain in England.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said, taking the papers from Mr. Thornhill. “I’ll see to it.”
But Alex knew the chances were good he would never see Mr. Thornhill again. And, despite everything, that made him sad. Despite everything, he would miss him.
Alex had just settled into a huge comfortable curtained four-poster bed when he heard a knock at the door. It was Hannah, bringing his supper on a tray.
“I don’t know why you get to lounge around in bed stuffing your face,” she grumbled as she dumped the tray in her brother’s lap. “You never have migraines. That was Mom’s thing.”
“Of course I don’t have a headache,” said Alex as he rearranged his pillows and tray to get comfortable. “I was just trying to buy time, and it was the only thing I could think of. I thought it was pretty quick thinking.”
“Uh-huh,” said Hannah, sitting down on the bed. “Listen, I gotta talk to you about this Julep kid…”
“Jupe,” Alex corrected her, before slurping a spoonful of beef broth.
“Whatever. Do you know what Thornhill told him?”
Alex shook his head, and spooned another load of soup in his mouth.
“He told Jupe that he would earn room, board, and one shilling a week….”
“Wow, that’s not good,” Alex interjected.
“No, no, wait, that’s not my point…. Actually, that’s what I get paid, too... No, here’s the weird part. Thornhill told Jupe that if he ever left Balesworth Hall without permission, he would sell his parents.”
Now she had Alex’s full attention. He put down his spoon. “Whoa, he said he would sell Jupe’s parents?”
“That’s what I just said,” said Hannah crossly. “Man, he’s totally sleazy. How did you manage to put up with him for so long?”
Alex considered this. It all, horribly, made sense. Mr. Thornhill had only freed Jupe as a sick joke, to taunt his wife about her anti-slavery beliefs. In fact, he hadn’t really freed Jupe at all, but was keeping him enslaved by blackmail. It was evil.
To his sister, Alex said simply, “He seemed nice, but he wasn’t. Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?”
He took a bite of chicken pie and chewed slowly. The pie was delicious, but suddenly he wasn’t very hungry. He wiped his mouth and sighed. “I dunno, sis, I just feel really stupid. Why the heck did I trust him? What was I thinking?”
“You’re a good person,” Hannah said, stealing a bit of pastry from the pie. “You wanted to think he was cool and, anyway, like you said, he was nice to you. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Just then, there was another knock on the door. Hannah jumped up, but it was only Brandon. “Hi, I guessed I would find Hannah in here,” he said, as he sat down on the other side of the bed.
Alex cleared his throat. “Brandon, I think I have the perfect idea for an official-looking document that says Henry was born in Verity’s house. I got the idea from some legal papers that Mr. Thornhill gave me to copy out. And I think I can help Jupe, too.”
“You’re like the Wizard of Oz, aren’t you?” said Hannah. “What you gonna do, give Jupe some courage?”
Alex smiled. “Oh, he already has that, and a brain, and a heart. No, I have another idea. What Jupe needs is just a little prod in the right direction… and a lot of money. That’s the hard part.”
Now Alex explained his second idea. By the time he finished, Brandon and Hannah were gazing at him with new respect. “Wow,” said Hannah, “You’re not as stupid as you look.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Alex sarcastically.
“I hope you’re right about all this,” Brandon said with a grin. “Otherwise, you’re not the Wizard of Oz, you’re just a little guy behind a curtain.” He yanked on one of the bed drapes and laughed. “Oh, and by the way, did you know that Jupe has an auntie in Massachusetts?”
“He never told me that,” said Alex, his eyes widening. “How come he’s telling you all this stuff, Brandon? He just met you.”
Brandon looked embarrassed, and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s because you’re black, isn’t it?” Hannah said matter-of-factly.
“For once, Hannah’s right,” Brandon said. “Look, Alex, think about it. Do you think Jupe knows any white people? I mean, really knows them? In 1851?”
“He knows me,” Alex said stubbornly.
Brandon sighed. “Man, this is kind of awkward… Listen, before he met you, Jupe had never met a white person who wasn’t mean, and who didn’t think that black people were dumb animals. He trusted your Mr. Thornhill, and look where that got him. He’s basically still a slave, only now he’s three thousand miles from his folks, too. He doesn’t trust you much, either. Never did. It’s not personal, Alex. I
t’s just the way it is. Hey, even now, there are plenty of really racist white people in Snipesville. I made friends with this white kid in second grade, but our friendship kind of died because his mom always sort of ‘forgot’ to invite me to his parties and sleepovers. Whenever I invited him to my house, there was always some reason why he couldn’t come. Then he transferred to Snipesville Academy, so there wasn’t any more danger of him making a black friend. ”
Brandon looked sad for a moment, and Hannah unexpectedly patted him on the back. “His loss, Brandon. What do you care? I bet you have tons of friends…”
“Is that what you guys think?” Brandon said. “Man, you don’t know me as well as you think you do… Anyway, this isn’t about me. This is about Jupe. We have to get him out of here before he spends his life as Lady Chatsfield’s slave.”
Chapter 15: Land, Landed, Landing
The following morning, Brandon stole into Alex’s room, and found him sitting in bed with a large wooden box across his lap. “Check out my new laptop!” laughed Alex, opening it up to reveal a flat writing surface covered in green felt and topped with a sheet of blotting paper, along with compartments for pens and an ink bottle.
Alex lifted the writing surface, and pulled out from underneath it the packet of papers that Mr. Thornhill had given him. “This is what he asked me to copy, the documents that give Kintyre Plantation to Lady Chatsfield… Mrs. Thornhill. ”
Brandon was confused. “How can you copy these? It’s not like we have copier machines in 1851.”
“No, of course not,” said Alex, “That’s why Mr. Baird and I always copy out documents by hand. Anyway, I did it last night. All we have to do now is make some changes to the originals.”
Brandon looked worried. “I’ve been thinking about that part of your plan, and I have a question for you. Won’t Lady Chatsfield get half of all his money if they get divorced?”
“No,” Alex said. “In England, even if a lady owned money or land before she got married, it doesn’t belong to her. It belongs to her husband. In Georgia, she would at least be allowed to keep the property that she had when she got married, but not here. I didn’t spend all my time with Mr. Baird doing errands, you know. He taught me stuff about law, and we even handled a divorce. Mr. Baird said that, even in Georgia, a woman can’t keep anything after a divorce unless her husband gives it to her, except what she owned when they got married.”
A Different Day, A Different Destiny (The Snipesville Chronicles) Page 34