The Planter's Daughter

by Michelle Shocklee

  Adella’s heart pounded. Surely, Seth must have told his father their secret, but she had no way to know if he approved or disapproved. It seemed she was about to find out.

  Once she’d settled on the cushion, he took a deep breath. “Seth tells me he is quite fond of you, Miss Ellis.” He looked at her and smiled. “I am sure I can see why. You are a lovely young woman. You remind me very much of your mother when she was your age. And from what Seth tells me, you have inherited her generous heart and sweet disposition. Lord knows the world could use more people like Martha Ellis.”

  Nerves kept her silent, though she deeply appreciated the compliments. Perhaps it boded well for her that he thought so highly of her mother.

  He gazed out beyond the house again, and they sat in quiet companionship for several minutes before he spoke again.

  “I have known your father a long time. Once his mind is settled on something, it is near impossible to get him to budge. Many businessmen have felt the harsh reality of crossing Luther Ellis.” With eyes so like Seth’s, he studied her. “I fear he will be completely unmanageable should you break off your engagement to Marshall. Seth has nothing to offer you, Miss Ellis. His older brother will inherit my land. I have no doubt Seth will find his own way and will do well, but it will be a simple life.” He waved his hand to indicate the house and plantation grounds. “You would be giving all this up. And more, if what I have heard about Le Beau is true. Brevard is a very wealthy man.”

  While he didn’t sound disapproving of their plans to marry, he hadn’t given his blessing either. “I understand your concern, Mr. Brantley. It is not my intention to hurt Papa or even Marshall. However, you should know that my betrothal was agreed upon without my consent.”

  “Yes, Seth said as much.” He shook his head. “My girls would have my head if I ever tried that.”

  She smiled, hoping to find a champion for their cause in Seth’s father. “I love your son. It doesn’t matter to me that he isn’t rich or that we won’t have much starting out. Isn’t that how my parents, as well as you and your wife, began life together when you moved to Texas? I am sure it won’t be easy, but I would much rather lead a simple life with a man I love than have everything money can buy with a man I don’t love.”

  Looking at her a long time, he finally nodded. “I believe you mean that, Miss Ellis. If you have half your mother’s spirit and fortitude, you will do just fine. For what it is worth—and I told this to Seth last night—you have my blessing. I don’t know how you will convince Luther, but if there is anything I can do, I will.”

  Overjoyed, she threw herself into his arms. With a fatherly hug and kiss on her cheek, he grinned. “I have to admit, it has always been my hope one of my boys would catch your eye.”

  “Seth did more than catch my eye, Mr. Brantley,” she said, smiling at her future father-in-law. “He captured my heart.”

  After her conversation with Seth’s father, Adella practically floated through breakfast. Not even Marshall’s constant presence at her side spoiled the morning. Mr. Brantley soon took his leave to return to the farm, sending her a special smile and a wink on his way out the door. He would tell Seth good-bye at the overseer’s cabin. The other guests also departed for their homes, leaving only Marshall, who planned to return to Le Beau on the morrow. The sooner he left, the better. She didn’t dare broach the subject of ending their engagement until all the excitement from the wedding celebrations had died down and things were back to normal. Then she would carefully plan how to break the news in such a way that Papa would clearly see marrying Seth was for the best.

  After the others were gone, Papa and Marshall retired to the parlor, the price of cotton ever on their tongues. Adella had no desire to sit and listen to them drone on about business all morning and announced she was going to the slaves’ Sunday service in the chapel. She and Seth had already agreed to meet there, and she was anxious to see him and tell him about her conversation with his father.

  But Marshall stood and smiled. “That sounds like a fine idea. Your father mentioned the traveling preacher who performed George and Natalie’s ceremony would be there to bring the good word.”

  Disappointment swept over Adella when her father also stood. “Yes, I thought we would all attend, Adella Rose.”

  Recovering quickly, so as not to draw Papa’s attention, she forced a pleasant smile. “It will be nice to have a formal preacher for a change. But I must say, Moses did a fine job last Sunday. I left the service truly uplifted.”

  Marshall scoffed. “I doubt an uneducated slave understands the complexities of the gospel message. They can’t even read the Bible for themselves. Much of what is passed down among them is folklore and superstition. True religion escapes them, of that I am certain.”

  “They cannot read the Bible for themselves through no fault of their own.” Adella tried to keep her voice even, but his comment riled her to the core. “Perhaps if we taught Negroes to read and write, they wouldn’t have to rely on folklore and superstition. But let me assure you, Mr. Brevard, Moses fully grasped the meaning of salvation through Jesus Christ. Much better than many white people I have known who wear the name Christian yet have no compassion for their fellow man.”

  The air tingled with her words. Marshall seemed taken aback, and Papa’s unsmiling face grew red. Adella knew he would reprimand her for her rudeness the moment they were alone, but she wasn’t sorry she’d spoken the truth.

  “I certainly meant no disrespect, Adella Rose,” Marshall said. “I am sure you are correct about Moses. He had the benefit of being owned by a man of the cloth, as I now recall Langford mentioning. Perhaps I have been hasty in making such a broad judgment of the darkies.”

  His choice of crude words nullified any apology he might have intended. Turning her back, she strode to the door without a backward glance. If she remained in the foyer another moment, there was no telling what she might say, beginning with how she sincerely doubted Moses would consider it a “benefit” to be owned by anyone, clergy or otherwise.

  Hurrying across the yard, with Papa and Marshall following more slowly, their heads together in deep conversation, Adella caught sight of Seth waiting near the entrance to the chapel. She knew the moment he realized she wasn’t alone because he ducked into the building. When she arrived at the door, she waited for the men to catch up before entering. Already, lively singing ensued.

  The three entered the crowded sanctuary, causing a bit of a stir among the slaves. Papa hadn’t graced the place with his presence in months, and most of the slaves had never seen Marshall except at a distance. Though the singing continued, it was definitely more subdued.

  Before settling into the last row, Adella spotted Seth partially hidden among several men standing along the back wall. Papa and Marshall hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, as they took their seats. For a brief moment, she made eye contact with him. His encouraging smile sent a warm tremor through her. It was as though she heard him repeat his promise: soon. Soon they could attend the service as a couple.

  When the singing subsided, Reverend Nelson, the short, older man who’d performed the wedding ceremony, stepped up to the crude pulpit, his Bible in his hand and a smile on his weathered face.

  “God loves our praise, folks. It don’t matter what color your skin is, how old your bones are, or if you sing like an old bear growlin’ for his supper.” Everyone chuckled, satisfying the preacher. “God loves our praise.”

  He paused a moment to let the statement sink in then flipped open his worn, black Bible.

  “I was reading in the book of Philippians the other day,” he began, looking out to the crowd, making sure he had their attention. “The Apostle Paul wrote this book, or letter as we know it was, when he was in prison.” At the surprised murmur that rose, Reverend Nelson nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh yes, Paul, like me, was a traveling preacher, but he’d been arrested and thrown in prison. All because he preached the good news about Jesus Christ. The folks in charge back then didn’
t want anyone thinking Jesus was the Messiah, the one God promised to send to set them free. No, sir. The folks in charge said Jesus was a liar.”

  “Shame on dem,” Mammy said, with others agreeing.

  “Yes, Mammy.” Reverend Nelson nodded. “Shame is right. They will be ashamed one day when they stand before Jesus; that’s for certain. But on the day they threw Paul in prison, after beating him and no telling what else, they didn’t feel shame. They felt pride. They felt they had done God’s work by getting rid of a troublemaker. I don’t rightly know how long Paul stayed locked away in chains. I don’t rightly know what kind of mean things his guards did or if he had enough to eat. But I do know something about Paul’s time in prison that surprises me.”

  “What that, Preacher?” someone called from the back.

  “I know he rejoiced in his circumstances.”

  The room fell silent. People exchanged confused looks, as though they’d misunderstood.

  A large man stood, glancing around him for support. Adella recognized him as one of the new slaves, although she didn’t know his name. “What’chu mean, Preacher man? You sayin’ that there Paul was happy bein’ in prison?”

  Others around him repeated the question, skepticism ringing in the joined voices.

  Reverend Nelson waited for the man to take his seat then picked up his Bible. “Let me read Paul’s own words, and you decide for yourself. This is from the book of Philippians, chapter four, verse four:

  “Rejoice in the Lord always; and again I say, Rejoice.”

  He tapped the book with his finger. “I don’t believe Paul would write words like that, from prison, no less, if he didn’t live by them himself. A little farther down in verse eleven he says he has learned ‘in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.’”

  Reverend Nelson looked at the text and nodded, as though confirming that was indeed what it said. “Paul doesn’t tell us to rejoice only when things are going well. When you have plenty to eat or money in your pocket. He doesn’t make mention of what color your skin is or whether you live in the big house or the slave quarter. He simply says rejoice … always.”

  “Ain’t easy to do, but we trys. We trys,” Mammy said, wiping tears from her face.

  “Yes, we must try, folks. Each of us. But remember what Paul said to rejoice in: the Lord. The Lord Jesus Christ and what he did for us on the cross. God doesn’t expect us to feel joy for the hard times, or the empty stomachs, or the beatings.”

  Next to Adella, Marshall fidgeted in his seat. Papa too looked uncomfortable. Even she had a prick of conscience at the man’s words. Was she content with the circumstances and blessings God had bestowed upon her? The life she lived held no hardships compared to the people around her, yet was she content? It warranted a deeper look when she next found herself alone.

  “God doesn’t expect us to rejoice because we are suffering,” the reverend continued, his compassionate eyes searching the crowd. “We are called to rejoice in spite of those things. We rejoice because Jesus overcame all of the ugliness of the world when He died and rose again on the third day. We rejoice that through Jesus’ own sufferings, his death and his resurrection, we too can overcome the hard things in this life, even unto death.”

  Mammy stood, clapping her hands. “Thank ya, Lawd!” Others joined in with shouts of their own until everyone stood around them. A song broke out.

  Papa and Marshall apparently had the same idea and, without looking at the other, headed for the door. With little choice, Adella followed. When she glanced to where Seth had stood at the back of the room, she found the spot vacant. He must have slipped out at some point, not wanting to be seen by the two men.

  Exiting the noisy building, Papa and Marshall stood waiting for her.

  “I don’t know how you stand that ruckus each week, Adella Rose,” Papa said, looking surly and out of sorts. “Martha insisted we allow the slaves their own church service, but I wonder now if it’s such a good idea. You saw that new boy stand up, challenging a white preacher without the slightest fear, despite knowing his master was just a few feet away.”

  While Marshall appeared to agree, Adella shook her head. “He wasn’t challenging Reverend Nelson, Papa. He simply asked the question that was probably on everyone’s mind.”

  Papa and Marshall exchanged a brief look. She could guess what it meant, making her want to scream her frustrations. Instead, she turned back to the chapel.

  “I am going to wait for the service to end. I would like to thank the reverend for coming and invite him to stay for dinner.”

  Marshall appeared indecisive, unsure whether to remain with her or go with her father.

  “We will see you back at the house then,” Papa said, solving his dilemma.

  Relief washed over her. Watching them walk away, a saying her mother used at times flashed through her mind. “Cut from the same cloth.” Papa and Marshall definitely fit the saying.

  “I thought they would never leave.”

  Smiling, she turned and saw Seth come out from behind the small building. “I wondered where you had gone. Papa insisted on coming to the service and then hated every minute.”

  He nodded, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Let’s walk to the creek where we can talk. When I noticed Brevard squirming, I figured it wasn’t long before he’d duck out, so I left before he did. Reverend Nelson didn’t mince words.”

  “No, he didn’t. Papa wasn’t at all pleased, especially when the new slave stood up.” She frowned. “I tried to explain he asked a question most everyone there wanted answered, but Papa didn’t agree.”

  Maneuvering through the brush lining the shallow creek, Seth led her to a grassy area. He took off his jacket and laid it down, bowing in a gallant manner. “Miss Ellis, I am at your service,” he said, grinning.

  Adella chuckled then sat, settling her wide skirt in a circle around her folded legs. “Thank you, kind sir.” She sighed, enjoying the peace and quiet. The singing from the chapel had quieted, and she guessed Reverend Nelson had once again taken over the pulpit. The service could go on for quite some time.

  “Rose Hill is one of the few plantations I know of that allows the slaves to meet together for a church service.” He sat next to her and stretched out his injured leg, leaving his other knee bent.

  “What harm can come from letting them have a church service?” The Langfords didn’t allow their slaves a service, but she’d never pondered why. Instead, some of their trusted slaves, like Zina and Moses, were allowed to come to Rose Hill on Sunday if the weather held. “I can only think it would benefit a slave owner to teach their people about Jesus and the Bible. A person who loves God isn’t going to cause trouble. Look at Mammy, and Aunt Lu, and Moses. You’d never meet anyone, white or black, more kindhearted than they.”

  Seth picked up a stone and tossed it into the sparkling water, sending ripples to the far edge and back. “They fear if they allow the slaves to meet in large groups, an uprising or some other plan might be hatched.”

  “If those plantation owners would join the slaves’ services, they would see that simply isn’t true,” she said, the praises of the Rose Hill slaves fresh in her memory. “You saw yourself that our people truly want to worship and hear the Word. They aren’t gathering to plot an escape.”

  “That may well be true here, but it isn’t true on every plantation.” Seth grew serious. “I know you care about your slaves, Adella. You treat Aunt Lu and Jeptha like family. But you need to remember they aren’t at Rose Hill by choice. If the opportunity to escape ever came, they would take it.”

  Disappointment flooded her. “You sound just like Papa or Marshall. I know our slaves better than anyone, and I know none of them would ever run away.” She paused a moment, thinking of the new slaves Papa brought the day Seth arrived. “Perhaps some of the newer ones might, but even then, it wouldn’t be because they were mistreated.”

  A patient smile lifted his lips. “I hope you’re right. Your father would have
my hide if one escaped on my watch.”

  “Speaking of fathers.” She remembered she hadn’t yet told him about the conversation she’d had with the elder Mr. Brantley that morning. “I spoke to your father before he left.”

  “I know.” He grinned. “We have his full blessing, Adella Rose.”

  She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “He said he had always hoped one of his sons caught my eye.”

  “Then I suppose I should be thankful he didn’t bring my older brother here to sweep you off your feet years ago.”

  Adella laughed, then grew serious. “But what will we do about my father? He is so set on me marrying Marshall and becoming mistress of Le Beau. I don’t know for certain, but I have a suspicion they have made some sort of business agreement that is tied to the betrothal.”

  Seth sobered. “Pa and I had a long talk about that last night. He, too, wondered if they might have an agreement that included you. Why else would your father force you into the marriage?”

  The stark truth of the question hung in the air. “I sincerely hope we are wrong about Papa. It is impossible for me to believe he would use me in that manner.” Yet hadn’t she been suspicious of that very thing since the day he had stormed into her bedroom?

  “I think it is best if we let things settle down and get back to normal. Then we will go to him together and tell him we want to be married.” Seth took her hand and squeezed. “Soon.”

  “Soon,” she repeated the promise.

  But she couldn’t quiet the feeling of foreboding that rose up in her. Papa would not give in easily. Of that she was certain.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Early Monday morning, Moses and Zina arrived at Rose Hill with a wagonload of Natalie’s belongings. Trunks and crates stacked several high filled the bed. Seth had just finished breakfasting in the kitchen and was on his way out when the wagon pulled up at the front door.

  “Howdy, Mistah Brantley, suh,” the big black man said once he had dismounted. He reached to help Zina down, and they both stood in front of Seth. “We’s done brought Miss Natalie’s things. Didn’t know if I should go ’round back or come right on through the front like.”