by Becky Lower
“I’d like to meet him, if I could.”
David’s glance moved from Heather back to George, puzzled by his request. “Certainly, sir. He’s a good boy, just into his teens.”
“Are his parents on the plantation, too?”
“His mother is. She takes care of our kitchen garden. But Jericho’s father was from another plantation, so Jericho never knew him.”
“Would you consider letting me buy Jericho from you?”
David stared at George. “But you don’t own any slaves!”
“No, son, I don’t. I want to take Jericho away from this place, since right now I like him a whole lot more than I do you or your mother. He at least took good care of my daughter. I’d like to reward him for his bravery by granting him his freedom and take him to New York to learn a trade before his spirit is broken by the yoke of slavery.”
“I’ll give him his freedom and you can take him north with you this afternoon. I don’t want your money, sir.”
“That will be fine, David. I think the boy should be given something for looking out for my daughter when no one else did.”
“Yes, sir,” David replied as he hung his head.
“Oh, Papa, really? We can take Jericho to New York? How wonderful. He’s such a quick learner, I’m sure we can find him an apprenticeship easily.” Heather clapped her hands together in excitement.
David looked her way again, his eyes pleading with her to say something to him. She returned his gaze, and then looked away. The remainder of the ride to Bellewood was accomplished in silence.
• • •
Susan Whitman stood at the entrance to her home, watching the carriage as it rolled its way up the long and winding driveway. She had a sense of calm and was truly satisfied to the depths of her bones for the first time since David had returned home. The whore’s father had come to retrieve his wayward daughter, and the dreadful young woman who had turned her son’s head would soon be nothing more than a nightmare she had lived through. She rubbed her hands together as the carriage neared and lifted her chin as she glided down the wide front stairs. She could afford to be gracious now.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Mr. Fitzpatrick,” David handled the introductions as the men alighted from the carriage. “He was on the train when the bridge collapsed last year outside of St. Louis. You remember, I wrote you and Father about the disaster.”
“Yes, vaguely, I recall that letter. Mr. Fitzpatrick,” Susan nodded to him.
George tipped his hat. “Mrs. Whitman,” he said in an even tone before he turned from her to help Heather and Colleen down from the carriage. Neither acknowledged Mrs. Whitman, nor did she pay them any attention. The two women walked with haste toward the cottage where their belongings were, to begin packing. George followed David and his mother into their home.
“I have tea waiting for us in the parlor,” Susan said as she led the way into the room. “How was your train ride down from the north?”
“I want none of your parlor conversation, Mrs. Whitman, nor do I intend to stay here long enough to drink a cup of tea. I merely wanted to meet the harridan who was responsible for placing my daughter in jeopardy.”
Susan gasped as she turned to face George, and her back stiffened. Obviously, she had underrated him. “How dare you offend me in my own house, sir! I only did what I had to do to protect my home and my son’s livelihood.”
“Did it not occur to you, Mrs. Whitman, that you could have been tossed in jail along with my daughter, since the illegal activity you accused her of took place on your plantation?”
Susan’s face paled but she remained indignant. “Sir, that would never happen. I am a Whitman, and the Whitmans have been in Georgia since before Georgia was even a state.”
“And my daughter was engaged to a Whitman, and therefore protected by the same forces you are. In fact, your son promised me his name would shield her before I agreed to let Heather come to Georgia. I have asked the constable to join us today, to press charges against you and your son. After all, my daughter can profess ignorance of your Georgian laws, being a visitor from up north, as she is, but you don’t have the luxury of that excuse. Let you two spend a couple of days in jail and see how you like it.”
Susan’s eyes blazed at George Fitzpatrick. It seemed he was a formidable adversary, unlike his mousy daughter. “What do you want of me?”
“At minimum, I’d like you to apologize to my daughter. I know David has been caught in the middle, trying to do what’s best for both you and Heather, but do you really think destroying any chance of a happy life for them is going to make things better?”
“I don’t plan to ruin her life, I merely want her removed from here. I’m certain your daughter will survive without my son, and will marry well, to one of her own kind. And, if she can’t be here to tempt him, David will see that Blanche Beaufort is who he truly needs by his side to run Bellewood the same way his father and I have done for more than thirty years.”
David shifted his gaze from George to his mother and rubbed his hands over his face. “Mother, I keep telling you, Blanche and I are never going to marry. She loved Jacob, not me. And I love Heather. It doesn’t matter if she’s here or hundreds of miles away. I’ll always love her. And I’ll always hate the fact that you drove her away from here.”
George locked eyes with Susan. “I think I hear the constable’s horse outside, Mrs. Whitman. What shall I tell him?”
• • •
“All right, Mr. Fitzpatrick, you do seem to have me over a barrel. I’ll give your daughter an apology, if that’s what you want. But I want you to remove her from Bellewood, and from Georgia. She is no longer welcome in my home.”
David turned from George to look at his mother. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the woman who had given birth to him, but whom life had turned into a mean and spiteful person.
“I think you forget, Mother, that this is now my home. It no longer belongs to you. And, if anyone is not welcome here, it is you, not Heather.”
Susan sputtered at her son’s words. “David, you don’t mean to uproot me from the only home I’ve known and install that woman here, in this home that I took care of for years and with such pride. What kind of son are you?”
David whispered through his clenched teeth, “What kind of mother are you?”
He straightened his body, and then turned to George. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, if you will deal with the constable and tell him we no longer need his services, I’ll take Mother to the cottage, where she can apologize to Heather. We’ll meet you there.”
David walked his mother across the wide lawn of the estate. He held tightly to her arm. She shrugged under his grasp, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
“I see no reason why I need to go through with this foolish charade, David. I am not sorry for my actions.” She struggled again to remove herself from his grasp.
“Well, you’d better get sorry in a hurry. The constable is still here, Mother. Shall I tell him we’ve changed our minds?”
Susan looked over her shoulder at the constable on his horse, talking with George Fitzpatrick. She quit fighting her fate and sighed as she and David continued to walk. The cottage loomed closer.
At their knock, Colleen opened the door and barred the entry.
“How dare you bring that woman to this doorstep, Lieutenant!”
“Please, Colleen, my mother has something she wants to say to Heather.”
“Jaysus, don’t you think the woman has said enough hurtful things to her already?”
Susan Whitman locked eyes with Colleen. “I’d like to apologize to Miss Fitzpatrick for my actions, if you don’t mind.”
Open-mouthed, Colleen moved aside and allowed David and his mother to enter the small cottage. Heather sat at the rough kitchen table, folding some of her clothing. She looked up when they entered, but said nothing.
David nudged his mother forward.
Susan cleared her throat before speaking. “Miss Fitzpatrick, I apologiz
e for my behavior, which resulted in you spending time in jail. I want you to know that I never would have pressed forward with the charges. I merely wanted to teach you a lesson.”
Heather’s gaze lifted from the table to the woman who had made her life miserable for weeks. “Lesson learned, Mrs. Whitman. I don’t belong here, in this backwards state. And I pity anyone who does feel at home here, including you.”
Susan bristled at her comment. “You pity me? You’re the one who should be pitied. You come here, invade my home, entice my son with your sexual prowess in order to gain possession of him and our ancestral home, and you pity me? You’re the most pitiful, pathetic excuse for a woman I’ve ever come across.”
“Mother, that’s quite enough! You make me ashamed to be a southerner, and to be your son. Please leave this place before I get the constable after you myself.”
As Susan left, David turned to Heather. “I am so sorry. I hoped Mother would be truly remorseful, but she’s a vindictive shrew. You should not have ever been subjected to her tirades. How can I make it up to you?”
Heather rose from the table, finally, and met David in the center of the room. She ran her hand down his cheek, giving David hope. Then, she took it away and sighed.
“You can’t make it up to me, David. We were truly mismatched souls from the beginning. Love shouldn’t be this difficult, but we tried our best. You deserve someone with your same values, someone like Blanche Beaufort. And I need and want someone I can respect and admire, and I can’t do that as long as you cling to your life as a plantation owner, and work your slaves into an early grave. I’m going home to New York, but I will never forget you and the love we had and tried to nurture.”
David’s eyes welled with tears as he turned from her. Strong, military men never wear their emotions on their sleeves, but Heather’s words had cut to the quick. Up until that very moment, he thought he could change her mind and convince her to stay in Georgia with him. Maybe not at Bellewood, but at least close enough.
Drawing in a ragged breath, he left the cottage and strode back toward the mansion. But he had no wish to see his mother or George Fitzpatrick, so he turned his steps to the stables. He ordered his favorite horse saddled, and raced off at a gallop across the fields, where he could grieve for a future that was now lost to him.
• • •
Less than an hour later Heather and Colleen had everything packed from the cottage and were ready to leave. Shadrach and Jericho pulled up in the open wagon, accompanied by George Fitzpatrick and David, who had returned from his wild ride to see them to the station. The slaves loaded the heavy traveling wardrobe and the chest that contained their dresses and other garments.
Heather took one last look around the small cottage that had been such a source of enjoyment to her. She sighed a little as she remembered the nights in David’s arms, where she learned about the pleasures a man could provide a woman. She ran her hand over the table where she first taught young Jericho how to spell his name. She brushed away the unwanted tears.
As she stood at the threshold of the cottage, she stole a glance at David. He looked somber, but Heather knew he was well-mannered enough to be here to see that his company departed without mishap. And she knew that he would honor the promise he made to her father about Jericho.
David approached the young man. “Jericho, Mr. Fitzpatrick knows a livery owner in New York who is in need of a young, strong man who is good with horses.”
Jericho’s head swiveled from David to George. “I loves takin’ care of the horses in Master David’s stables, sir.”
“Yes, I’ve seen how you handle these horses,” George replied. “I think you might be exactly what my friend is looking for. I’m not a slave owner and I don’t want to tell you what to do. This has to be your decision. Would you like to come to New York with us?”
“You mean it?” He looked to David for approval, unsure of what to do.
“Because you risked your life to get the word to me about Miss Heather being in jail, Mr. Fitzpatrick and I both think you deserve to be rewarded. If your mother will allow you to leave the plantation, that is. Why don’t you go talk to her while I draw up your freedom papers?”
George Fitzpatrick smiled at the boy. “If you’d like, I can go with you to talk to your mother.”
Jericho’s eyes widened. “You mean, I’ze gonna be free? You don’ need to talk to her, Mr. Fitzpatrick. My momma won’t say no to dat!” He danced around in the red Georgian clay.
David got a small smile on his face. “Go, grab your stuff. You’re heading to New York with the Fitzpatricks as a free man.”
“Don’t y’all leave without me,” Jericho cried out as he dashed to the cabin where he lived. “I’ll be back in jez a minute.”
Several minutes later Jericho returned with his mother and some of the other slaves he had grown up with. He was carrying a bundle that contained what little possessions he owned. He tossed the small bag onto the wagon and turned to David, who handed him a document.
“You listen to Mr. Fitzpatrick, and do as he says now. You’ll work and live in the livery, but you will be paid wages. Mr. Fitzpatrick and Heather will help you all they can. Congratulations, Jericho. You’re now free. Make something of yourself.”
Jericho looked up into the eyes of his master. His former master. “Yes, sir. You bet I will.”
He hugged his mother and his closest friends one last time before he hopped into the wagon. Heather, Colleen, and Mr. Fitzpatrick climbed aboard the carriage for the drive to the train station.
Heather took one last look at the big white mansion, which impressed her on first sight, only weeks ago. Now she realized it for what it truly was — an oversized and run-down relic of the past that housed a woman desperately trying to hold on to the only life she had ever known. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of it as David’s home. Resolute, she turned her gaze from the house and began to discuss Jericho’s future with her father. She was eager to see New York again, and to embrace her mother and sister. That was, after she gave Jasmine a good dose of grief for causing the hell Heather had just endured.
Chapter 29
New York City, Late May 1856
Charlotte Fitzpatrick met the train that carried her husband, daughter, and Colleen. Tears filled her eyes as her arms encircled Heather and drew her in.
“It’s so good to see you again, dear. I’ve missed you so. And when I think of what you endured at the hands of David’s wicked mother, my heart just breaks.”
“I’m home now, thankfully, and I can put all of Georgia behind me forever. Except, of course, for this rapscallion.” She pulled young Jericho into her mother’s line of sight.
Charlotte smiled at the eager light-skinned teenage boy in front of her. “And who is this?”
“This is Jericho, my first-ever student, and my hero. He was near the cottage and saw when Mrs. Whitman had me taken to jail. At great risk to his own safety, he saddled a horse and rode ten miles to the farm where David was visiting, and told him what had happened. David was not scheduled to return home until the next afternoon, so without Jericho’s intervention, I would have spent at least one more day in jail.”
“Well, then, you’re my hero, too, Jericho. Welcome to New York City.”
Jericho grinned at Charlotte. “I’ze happy to be here, and as a free man, ma’am.”
Charlotte glanced from Jericho to Heather, for an explanation. “Papa asked David to grant Jericho his freedom for helping me, and he agreed to do so. Papa’s going to inquire about a position for him in the livery, so Jericho will be able to stay in New York.”
“What wonderful news! New York can always use another enterprising young man.” Charlotte kissed her husband, embraced Colleen, and gave orders to the baggage handlers. While George and Jericho walked down the street to the livery, the ladies climbed into the carriage, which was loaded down with their luggage, for the ride to the Fitzpatrick brownstone.
“How is Jasmine’s ankle? Has
she fully recovered yet?” Heather inquired.
“Physically, she’s better. Still in her cast for several more weeks, but she’s given up the crutches and now just thumps about the house. However, she is devastated over the part she played in your problems in Savannah. I hope you’ll go easy on her. She’s been beating herself up pretty well on her own.”
“I have no intentions of going easy on her. Jasmine handed Susan Whitman a loaded gun, and the woman pointed it right at me. No, I have every intention of making her squirm for quite some time.”
Charlotte shook her head. “How that woman who calls herself a mother could do such a thing is beyond me.” She gave Heather a long and caring look. “But you’re home now, and we won’t talk about Susan Whitman or jail again. I know you’ll want to take Jasmine to task, but remember her impetuous nature is part of what we love about her.”
Heather smiled. “I’ll make her suffer a little first, if you don’t mind. But she is my twin, after all, so I won’t do too much damage.”
“So how did you leave things between yourself and David?”
Heather’s smile faded. “David is no longer a part of my life. His place is in the south. His family has owned their land for over a hundred years. The family burial plot is there, and despite his feelings about slavery, which were changing to fall more in line with mine, he belongs in Savannah and on that plantation. He can’t find a buyer for it, so he will stay, and I canceled our engagement.” She turned away from her mother’s inquisitive face.
Charlotte reached over and embraced her daughter. “Oh, honey, I was afraid this would be the outcome, especially after his mother’s awful treatment of you.”
Colleen had been quiet up until this moment, allowing mother and daughter to share this time together. “Jaysus, that woman was a real wagon, she was.” Colleen grinned over at the Fitzpatrick women. “I’m so glad to leave that awful red earth behind me along with that terrible woman and to be back in New York.” They all shared a laugh.