Sibby tugged on her apron. “Ain’t no family coming for this place. Either we keep it or the army takes it.”
Ella’s face puckered. “How can that be?”
Sibby looked out the window once more, and her voice took on a distant sound. “Mr. Remington was certain that as soon as the war ended, his son would wed the girl from Willoughby, combine these lands with theirs, and keep everything going.”
Ella didn’t want to argue, but that seemed entirely too impractical. “You said the son went to the military academy?”
“He did. What’s that matter?” Sibby scrunched her face.
She shifted her eyes from Sibby’s form at the window to the fabric covering the walls and then down to the pianoforte. While trying to decide how best to say what she thought without causing offense, Ella trailed her fingers over the polished wood of the instrument and wondered what life would have been like to spend one’s days sitting about making music rather than hauling buckets of water to horses. “Well, I’d think a military man with a military son would consider that his son’s life would perpetually be in danger, therefore would have had an alternate plan, if necessary.”
Sibby lifted her hands. “If he did, I don’t know nothin’ about it.”
Ella tapped her chin. “Then it is possible someone else could come and lay claim.”
“That ain’t going to happen. No one is coming to take Belmont from us.”
Ella held her tongue against the foolishness of the statement. No point in arguing with the woman. She lifted the letter. “So if we know that the younger Remington man is dead as well….”
“They think. They don’t know,” Sibby retorted.
Noting that the letter had been dated weeks prior, Ella reasoned that if the man truly lived, he would have turned up by now. “Very well. But let’s say it is true.”
“Then you be his widow, same as you told them soldiers.”
Ella looked down at her stained dress and laughed. “I do not pass for the wife of a plantation man!”
Sibby crossed her arms. “They believed you.”
A miracle. “They did not look closely upon me, and I had to pretend only a few moments.”
Sibby let her gaze roam down Ella’s form, then lifted a shoulder. “I can work on you.”
“Really, that’s not necessary.” She ignored Sibby’s dubious expression. “I’ll just work in the kitchen and help with the housework. I can work in a garden, too, and help plant crops. Then….”
Sibby laughed. “Ain’t no white woman going to work in no field.”
Ella cocked her head. “I have done so many times. Cared for livestock as well.”
Sibby regarded her with disbelief.
“Not all women of my color are wealthy, Sibby.” Ella bent her lips. “Some of us have to work.”
“No.” Sibby shook her head. “That won’t do.”
Ella pinched the bridge of her nose, then steered the topic. There would be time to convince the woman later. “What about planting and sharing the crops?”
“We can do that.” Sibby brightened, becoming excited. “It could be a good idea.” She leveled a steady gaze on Ella, her eyes brimming with meaning. “They will plant the fields as long as you promise them they’ll see something for they work.”
“Me? What does my word matter?”
Sibby regarded her as though she were daft. “Who else is gonna promise them?”
Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Sibby waved her hand. “Look here. We is able to keep our home cared for on our own. We don’t need no masters tellin’ us what to do. But Yankee or not, white folks don’t think so. They see a bunch of us here with no white masters—or even employers—and they will take everything from us.” Her hand fidgeted in her skirt. “Most of us don’t have no other place to go.”
Ella could not deny that truth, so she said nothing. It seemed unfair, but then such was the case with everything in life.
“Now, ways I see it, you and me can make a deal.” Sibby’s hands flew about, punctuating each word. “You need a place to stay and help with that baby. We need someone with white skin to speak for us.”
Ella considered the claim, which had merit. “So, I pretend to be the widow if any soldiers come by and the rest of the time I work here with you.” She brightened. “That will be good. You do what you need to with your people and the lands, and if….”
Her words dissolved under Sibby’s chuckle. Ella cocked her head. “What?”
“You still ain’t understandin’ what I sayin’.”
Ella stared at her.
Sibby looked up at the ceiling and then back at Ella. “It’s got to be more than just when them soldiers come by. If anyone even starts thinkin’ that you ain’t really Mr. Westley’s wife, then them tongues will get to waggin’ and we’ll be had.”
A good point, one which she could not counter. “Well, I suppose.”
Sibby strode past Ella and to the doorway. “No. This here town is going to have to believe you is his wife and that child is Mr. Westley’s son. There ain’t no other way.”
Ella followed her to the foyer, but found no words to refute her. Temptation stole away every sound reason she should speak. How nice would it be…? She could pretend the baby belonged to her and have a place to live that was far and away better than that rancid inn. As though sensing Ella stood on the brink of decision, Sibby gave her a moment to consider. The deception seemed wrong, but…would she find any better options? And she had arrived at this place at just the right time. What would one small lie hurt?
As soon as Ella gave a nod, Sibby gestured toward the stairs. “Then that little fellow has his name.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, ’um.” A sly smile slid onto her full lips. “He ain’t no other than Westley Archibald Remington the Forth, Master of Belmont Plantation.”
Sibby seemed rather pleased with herself. “Now, since we got that decided, let’s get you settled.” She eyed Ella. “Is you got any belongings?”
“Oh!” She’d forgotten all about the valise. “Yes. I dropped my things by that magnolia out in the yard.”
Sibby strode to a door at the rear of the foyer just as grand as the one on the front and poked her head outside. “Nat! You out here?”
A moment later a big youth nearing on manhood came through the door, his smile wavering as his ebony eyes landed on Ella. “Who’s that?”
Sibby smacked his thick bicep. “Boy! Where your manners?”
He rubbed his arm but didn’t hide his scrutiny of the intruder. “What? I ain’t got to cower for no strange white lady. What’s she doing here?”
Sibby pinched his ear and he let out a yelp. “Uh-huh. You keep right on spoutin’ that mouth, boy. I’m the one you’s disrespecting.”
This time the youth she’d called Nat looked apologetic, but Ella couldn’t be sure if remorse or the painful grip Sibby had on his ear caused his broad lips to turn down. “Ouch! I’s sorry, Sibby. I’s sorry.”
Satisfied, Sibby released him. “Now. This here is Eleanor…Remington. She’s the new mistress here.”
Nat’s mouth fell open and he cut his sharp gaze from Ella to Sibby. The look she gave him in return made Ella cringe, and he snapped his jaw closed.
Sibby straightened her apron and stood taller, her eyes daring anyone to disagree with her. “Least, that’s what everyone is going to say. You got it?”
Nat looked none too pleased, but nodded all the same.
“Good.” Sibby patted his arm. “Now, she done left her bag out by one of the magnolias. Go and fetch it for me, and then gather the…house folks up.”
He scowled at Ella as he passed, and the smile she tried to offer faltered on her lips. He let the front door slam, causing the chandelier overhead to quiver.
“Sibby, this might not be a good idea.” Ella arched her eyebrows. “What if your people refuse to accept it?”
She snorted. “They’ll do as I tell ’em.”
The youth being e
vidence of the likelihood of such a statement, Ella was inclined to believe it. A small cry pierced the silence that hung over them, and both women took the opportunity to escape the tension in the foyer. They found Basil in the nursery, lifting the babe from the crib.
“He’s a right fine boy, miss.” She beamed at Ella. “Plump and pretty. What happened to his parents?”
Ella reached for him and snuggled him close. “His mama died in the birth.”
“What ’bout his daddy?”
Sibby waved her hand. “You hush now. You got too many questions than what’s good for you. Some things we just don’t ask.”
Glad she didn’t have to attempt to explain despondent circumstances to such a cheery girl, Ella smiled. “Sibby is right.”
Basil poked out her lip. “Nobody thinks I’m big enough for nothin’.”
Ella gazed down at the perfect little face in her arms while Sibby gently lectured the girl on proper behavior and how some things only came with age. Such a beautiful child. No doubt one day there would be young ladies fanning themselves over those expressive eyes and dark hair… Ella frowned.
“What?”
Ella glanced up to see that Sibby watched her closely, as though she doubted Ella knew what to do with a child. She didn’t really, but it offended all the same.
“He has such dark hair.”
Sibby glanced at him. “Yeah, he do. So?”
“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” Ella said with a turn of her lips, “it looks nothing like my own.”
“Hmm.” Sibby inspected her as though she hadn’t yet realized Ella’s features. “You do got some red hair.”
Ella laughed. “You just noticed?”
Sibby shrugged. “That don’t matter. You white folks have all kinds of colored hair.”
“Usually features do run in a family, Sibby. Surely you know that.”
She squinted at Ella, then looked down at the baby. “Well, you got that bright hair and them green eyes, but baby Archibald has dark hair and eyes like Mr. Westley. Should be all right.”
Ella made a face. “Archibald?”
“Course.”
She knew she must bestow the family’s name on the child, but still…. “Why not Westley instead?”
Sibby shook her head, tight curls trembling. “That’s Mr. Westley’s name.”
Incredulous, Ella opened her mouth to retort, but Sibby continued as though her logic followed reason.
“That’s not the way it goes. The first Westley Archibald Remington went by Westley. Then his son was Archibald, then Westley again. See? Keeps it clear that way.” She gave a smug smile, as though she had just explained something extraordinary to a dullard.
Ella arched her eyebrows. “Well, as there are no others here to cause confusion, then I don’t see why Westley is a problem.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t care for Archibald.”
Sibby clicked her tongue. “That ain’t how it’s done.”
“Sibby,” Ella said with a snort. “Do you really think ‘how it’s done’ applies? How it’s done would have been with a proper wedding and a child born to the father he’s named for.”
Sibby glared at her. “You want this to work or not?”
The baby started to make little noises Ella guessed would portend hungry wails. “What if this is an utter disaster? Then what? When I leave here, I don’t want to call my boy Archibald for the rest of his life.”
“Humph. It’s a right respectable name.”
He loosed a fist from the blanket and flailed it about. Ella stroked his tiny hand, and he grasped her finger with surprising strength. Bright eyes stared up at her, and her heart lurched. Yes, no matter what happened here, she would not give up this child.
Nor would she call him Archibald.
Sibby groaned. “Fine. We don’t have to call him Archibald. How ’bout Archie?”
“No.” She liked that even less. “Perhaps we can call him something else entirely. He can keep the official name for documents and such, but we call him something more fetching.”
“No, ma’am. We ain’t doing that. You ain’t going to convince the people around here that child belongs to the Remingtons if he is called by a different name.”
Ella sighed. “Very well. Then Westley it is, so called for how much I dearly miss my husband now lost to me.”
Sibby’s mouth fell open, and Ella offered a sweet smile. “A good compromise, yes?”
“Oh, Lord.” Sibby groaned. “What kind of mess have I done gotten us into?”
Baby Westley began to wail and Ella bounced him. “There, my little Lee. Are you hungry?”
“Lee?”
Ella smiled and handed over the child so Sibby could nurse him. “Just as I am Eleanor called Ella, so he will be Westley called Lee. Surely you do not begrudge me giving something of myself to the boy who will be my son?”
Sibby took the baby and settled into the rocker, flicking an annoyed gaze at his mother.
Mother.
Ella let the word flutter through her, taking root deep into her heart in such a way that she could not fathom being anything different. Though not of her womb, this boy was nevertheless the child of her heart. A sense of rightness engulfed her, and she knew that it could be none other than the will of God. Someone to love.
Thank you, Lord, that I no longer have to face this world alone. Here can be someone who will love me. I promise I will be a most devoted mother.
She slipped from the room before Sibby could see the tears brimming in her eyes and decided to wait in the wide upper hall. She’d no sooner stepped from the room than Basil scurried over to her.
“What’s going on?”
Voices bounced up the stairs and washed over them. “I think Sibby wanted a gathering.”
Basil chewed on her lip. “Really? Somethin’ wrong?”
Fear leached into her veins, causing them to form icy rivers along her arms. She clutched them to her an in effort to ward away a chill that could not be cured with warmth. “Well, nothing, really. I don’t think.” She glanced at the stairs. “At least, I hope not.” Would the people revolt against Sibby’s will? Demand she and Lee be tossed out?
Basil crossed her arms. “See? Nobody wants to tell me nothin’.”
Despite herself, Ella chuckled. “There, now. Don’t get yourself in a dither.” She patted the girl’s thin shoulder. “Sibby will be down soon enough and tell it all.”
Basil eyed her. “Got something to do with you, don’t it?”
“It does.”
“You’s right pretty, you know that?”
Startled, Ella looked back at the girl. What an odd thing to say. She didn’t have opportunity to refute the flattery, however, because Nat made the turn on the landing and headed right for them. He scowled at Ella and then turned his eyes to Basil. “You better get on down them stairs.”
“But I was talkin’….”
“I said go!”
Basil shot Ella an apologetic look. “Just ’cause you is my brother don’t mean….”
Ella missed the remainder of the words Basil grumbled as she descended the stairs. Feeling Nat’s eyes boring into her, she tried to offer a friendly smile.
“Here’s yo stuff.” He tossed the bag to her, and it landed on her foot.
Determined not to wince, she kept her features even. “I thank you.”
His eyes drifted down her form. “I don’t like this.”
Ella remained still, unsure how to respond.
“We all respect Sibby, as is her due. If she says you is going to stay, then that’s what it’ll be.” He took a step closer, the combination of his large form and her short one causing Ella to have to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his face.
She wondered about the woman who seemed to be in control here. She was much too young. But then, perhaps Ella was just more of a girl and less of a woman than she should be.
“If you go and give her any grief…”
“Nat!”
Ella jumped
. Sibby stood in the doorway, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders and hiding the front of her dress, likely concealing the baby who still suckled.
“You make me get up from feeding this here child to come out here to scold you? A boy so close to being a man that he should know better?”
Nat cringed. “Sorry, Sibby. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Humph. You leave her alone.”
He cast Ella one more scathing look and hurried down the stairs before Sibby could scold him further. Sibby rolled her eyes. “That boy means well. He’s only lookin’ out for me.”
Ella offered a faltering smile. “That’s good he cares for you.” She was tempted to ask more into their relationship, but decided against it. It was none of her business. She would not look into matters that did not directly affect the care of her child.
Sibby looked at her strangely a moment, then gestured at the bag at Ella’s feet. “You got something else in there to wear?”
She scooped up the bag. “Yes.”
“Then you come on in here. Mrs. Remington’s room will be yours now. You go on and get changed. When I finish with the boy, I’s going down to talk to my people.”
Ella opened her mouth to ask if Sibby would be passing through the room while she changed, but she answered the question before Ella had the chance to speak it.
“And don’t worry ’bout you being seen. There’s a door that leads out of the nursery to the back porch. I’ll go round that way.”
Ella released a breath and followed Sibby back into the rose room, closing the door to the nursery after she passed through with Lee. Clutching the valise tightly, Ella stared at the room through the tears that pricked her eyes. Such finery. How had she gone from sleeping on the storeroom floor to an entire room of her own? Even at home, she’d slept in the open loft over the common room, the house’s only private bedroom having been reserved for her parents.
Shaking away her disbelief, Ella tossed the valise onto the tall bed and opened it. She plucked out her spare dress, a faded yellow frock that carried the stains of too much kitchen grease. She’d tried washing it until the fabric had begun to thin, but still the stains remained.
In His Eyes: A Civil War Romance Page 5