With a feeling of despair that nearly overwhelmed her, Adella knew, in one way or the other, her life would never be the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A full week had passed since Seth locked Jeptha in the shed. Making his daily trek to it now, he carried fresh water and a small burlap bundle Aunt Lu prepared for the confined man that should contain two slices of stale bread. But one whiff from the package told Seth that wasn’t the case, and he couldn’t help grinning. There was no mistaking the distinct aroma of bacon wafting up from the rough fabric. Yesterday, it had been roast beef. The day before that, ham.
Shaking his head, Seth knew he should toss the meat to the dogs and reprimand Aunt Lu for breaking the rules, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, neither in acknowledgment that he knew the meat was there nor in discipline. The fact was he wished he could simply let Jeptha out of the shed, at least until Luther and Adella returned. But there were slaves on the plantation he didn’t trust to keep quiet about it—Celia, for one. Despite being Jeptha’s woman, she seemed rather put out that he’d gotten himself locked away, especially when she learned his punishment had to do with Zina. When Seth warned her against going near the shed, she informed him she had no intention of visiting Jeptha.
“He got hisse’f thrown in dat nasty place. Now I gets dat ol’ bed all to myse’f. He can stay in der as long as Massa want. Don’t make no never mind to me.”
Seth sighed.
Women. It didn’t matter the color of their skin, there just wasn’t any way to figure them out. Take Zina, for instance. The day after the incident he’d run across her in the kitchen. The fear that came into her eyes when she saw him still unsettled him. It was as though she expected him to snatch her up and drag her down to the shed, even though she’d been there when he tried to defend Jeptha to Luther.
Following the path that took him past his cabin, he headed toward the far end of the quarter. The sun was yet to make its appearance over the horizon, but there was enough light to observe the slaves’ morning activity. Trails of gray smoke billowed up from cook fires, where pots of corn mush were being prepared. From the open door of one crude cabin, a baby squalled. A dog barked nearby. Soon he’d need to blow the ram’s horn, summoning everyone to work, but he’d wait until he finished delivering the sparse meal to Jeptha. He also needed to check on Monroe and see how the man’s recovery was coming. Seth despised the thought of Mammy having to extend kindness to the vile driver, but the old woman didn’t seem to mind. Monroe’s wounds were healing, but it would be some time before his arm and ribs mended. One could only hope that time spent with the kind old woman would soften the man’s cruel heart.
“Mornin’, Mistah Brantley, suh!”
Seth turned to find Oliver hurrying toward him on bare feet. The eager smile on the little boy’s face never failed to bring one to his own lips. “Morning, Oliver.”
“You’s goin’ ta see Jeptha?” he asked, eyeing the water and burlap bundle.
“Yes.” Seth continued walking. Oliver fell into step beside him, making an effort to match Seth’s long stride by taking huge leaps of his own.
Seth grinned and slowed down a bit. “It’s gonna be another hot one today. You be sure to have some nice cool creek water in that bucket of yours.”
The little boy nodded with enthusiasm. “Yassuh, I sho’ will.” He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a round, shiny white rock. He held it on his flattened palm. “Looky heah what I found yest’day, Mistah Brantley. I gettin’ water from the creek over by the chu’ch, an’ there it be, jest a-shinin’. It pure white, it is. Just like them snowflakes that falls come winter.”
Seth observed that it was indeed.
“Mammy say it remind her o’ what us’n’s heart look like when the Lawd wash it clean. She say he take out all the ugly black sin an’ make it all nice an’ white, like this here rock.” He cocked his head and looked up at Seth. “Is yo’ heart already white ’cuz you’s a white man, Mistah Brantley?”
The question caught Seth off guard. He felt certain his heart was not white, but confessing such to the boy didn’t seem quite appropriate.
Not waiting for an answer, Oliver shook his head. “Naw, I don’t think that how it work. Mistah Haley was a white man, but I know fo’ sho’ his heart weren’t white. He meaner than Monroe, an’ Mammy say Monroe’s heart is blacker than his skin.”
Seth certainly wasn’t going to argue with that.
“Mammy say I should keep this here rock in my pocket so’s it remind me to al’ays do the right thing. Says I don’t wanna grow up an’ act like Monroe. Says this rock can be my con … con …” He looked up at Seth for help.
“Conscience.”
Oliver smiled. “Yep. That what Mammy say.”
They rounded the edge of the quarter and went toward the shack.
“That there shed sho’ do stink,” Oliver said, wrinkling his nose as they drew near. He waved at the horde of flies buzzing around the place.
“You best not do anything that will get you put in there.” Seth gave the boy a stern look. “It smells even worse inside. Run on back to the cabin now and get ready for the day.”
“Yassuh, Mistah Brantley.” Oliver skipped away in the direction they’d just come from.
Seth walked over to the hole that had been cut out of the shed’s wall. “You awake, Jeptha?”
Several moments passed before a low moan came from the other side of the wood. “Yessuh. I ’wake.”
Seth frowned. Jeptha sounded weak. Long days without proper food and exercise were no doubt taking their toll on his body. Despite Aunt Lu’s sly attempts to sneak extra food to him, the deprivation was mounting. Added to that were the hot, sultry temperatures of the past few days, which would be even worse sitting in a stinking, windowless shack.
Guilt pricked Seth. As overseer of the plantation, he should have been more aware of Monroe’s history of attacking women. Had he known what the man was capable of, Seth wouldn’t have allowed him so much freedom, especially after the workday was over. After he’d broken up the fight and locked Jeptha up following their meeting with Luther, the reality of what could have happened slammed him in the gut. Not only would Zina have been violated, but it could have happened to any of the Rose Hill women, including Adella.
Awful scenarios had rolled through his mind that night, keeping him awake nearly until dawn. What if Monroe had found Adella Rose alone in the barn sneaking an apple to Freedom? Luther was a fool for keeping the slave. Monroe should have been sold after the first incident.
Jeptha’s grimy face finally appeared in the hole. The whites of his eyes had a yellowish tint to them. “I hopes you got a big ol’ side o’ beef for me today, Mistah Brantley, suh.”
Seth gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I wish I did, Jeptha.” He passed the burlap bundle through the hole. “But all I’ve got is Aunt Lu’s stale bread again.”
Their eyes met. Seth simply stared back, giving no indication that he knew there was more than stale bread in the wrapping, although he didn’t believe for a moment the slave was fooled.
Jeptha gave a nod. “Thank ya, kindly, Mistah Brantley, suh.” His face disappeared from the hole.
A silent message of trust passed between them in that moment. What it meant, Seth had no idea, but somehow he felt exonerated for not keeping Monroe under better supervision.
“When Missy s’posed to get back?” Jeptha’s voice came from inside the shed, down low and to Seth’s right. He must have been sitting on the ground to eat his meal. Seth couldn’t imagine having to spend one hour in this stinking hole, let alone three weeks. He had to admire Jeptha. The man hadn’t uttered a complaint the entire seven days he’d been in there.
“I’m not sure.” Seth leaned his back against the wall. Truth was, Adella being away at Le Beau was driving him mad. He hated the thought of her anywhere near Brevard. Seth imagined Luther plotting with Brevard to make the marriage happen as quickly as possible. He ran a hand through
his hair and let out a frustrated sigh, wishing he hadn’t convinced Adella to wait to tell her father about them. They should have declared their love immediately and dealt with Luther’s anger, come what may.
“Missy a real smart lady, Mistah Brantley. She ain’t gonna do something she don’t want to do.”
Surprised, Seth turned to look over his shoulder at the hole in the wall. He almost expected to find Jeptha peering at him, reading his very thoughts. But the hole was empty.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Had Adella confided in the slave? Did he know about their secret plans to marry?
A light chuckle came from inside the shed. “I known Missy nearly my whole life. Funny thing is, if we was the same color, we’d be like brother an’ sister. I knows I ain’t got no right to such, but I feel kinda protective of her. Don’t want her making no big mistake that can’t be undone.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Brevard’s smug face flashed across Seth’s memory. He shook his mind free of it.
Jeptha chuckled again. “I ’spect she’ll make the right choice when the time comes. I’ll be right happy for her when she does.”
Seth grinned. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he’d just gained Jeptha’s approval to marry Adella Rose.
Adella sat in Le Beau’s beautifully appointed library, her stomach in knots. Papa had summoned her shortly after breakfast, although she had not partaken of that meal in the dining room. Nor had she joined the men for dinner the evening before. After her conversation with Marshall down by the lake, she’d been ill—if not physically, then spiritually and emotionally. Learning that her father had, by all accounts, sold her to Marshall Brevard left her reeling. Clearly, she was no more than property to him, like one of his slaves.
With a nervous glance at Marshall, who stood near the grand fireplace, she wondered how much of their conversation he had divulged to her father. He gave nothing away as they waited for Papa to arrive. He took out his pocket watch once again, glancing between it and the clock on the mantel. After a moment, he opened the glass face of the porcelain timepiece to adjust the hands.
“Ah, I see my daughter has finally allowed us the privilege of her presence,” Papa said, entering the room. With a loud bang, he closed the double doors behind him.
Marshall frowned. “I don’t think the slamming of doors is quite necessary, Luther. We are all adults here. This matter can easily be resolved without resorting to boorish outbursts.”
Adella’s brow raised. Never had she heard anyone speak to her father in such a manner. Shifting her gaze to Papa’s face, he seemed taken aback as well.
“See here, Brevard—” he began, only to have Marshall interrupt.
“No, Luther. You are the one who needs to see.” He glanced at Adella, who was certain her shock was evident on her face. “This whole affair should have been handled with greater care. Had Adella Rose been privy to the agreement months ago, we would not be in the predicament we find ourselves in today.”
Papa glared at Marshall. “I have never discussed business with a woman, and I do not intend to start now, daughter or not. Not even my dear departed wife was ever included in business discussions.”
“Perhaps she should have been. Mayhap then your finances would not be in the sorry state they are now, hmm?”
Adella gasped. Surely such a rude comment was uncalled for.
Papa’s eyes rounded and his fists clenched. “How dare you!”
The meeting had hardly begun, and emotions were already out of control. “Please,” she said, her voice trembling. She stood, glancing between the two men. “Can’t we discuss this calmly, without insults and angry words?”
Marshall inclined his head. “My apologies, Adella Rose.” He glanced at her father. “Luther.”
Several ticks of the clock passed before Papa gave a begrudging nod. “Let us resolve the situation and be done with it.” He moved to sit at a polished mahogany desk, and his eyes settled on Adella as she returned to her seat. “Marshall tells me you have refused to marry him.”
His composure surprised her. She had expected him to bellow threats at the very least. “That is true, Papa,” she said, guarded. Something about his calmness set her on edge.
“He also informs me that he has told you the nature of our agreement with regard to my financial situation.”
Adella nodded, embarrassed for her father. That he’d mismanaged Rose Hill funds to the point of needing Marshall’s help was certainly not something he would wish to review with his daughter.
“Then you understand the dire circumstances that forced me to make decisions involving your engagement and pending marriage.” Papa drummed his fingers on the desk, speaking of her future as though it were of no more importance than the purchase of a plot of land.
“Yes.” She cast a quick glance at Marshall. He stood with his back to her, looking out a tall window. The edge of the small lake was just visible through the trees, and she couldn’t help but remember his expression when she admitted she was in love with Seth.
Papa leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing on her. “Let me understand, then. You are fully aware that we could lose Rose Hill if you do not marry Marshall, yet you willingly refuse his offer of marriage.”
Adella swallowed the fear rising in her throat. Putting the complicated issue in such blunt terms left her shaken. “Surely there is another way to secure the funds to pay the debts, Papa.” She looked again to Marshall, but he continued to stare out the window.
“No, Adella Rose. There isn’t. The banks won’t lend me any more money.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Imagine that. Luther Ellis, owner of the largest plantation in Williamson County, denied a loan at the very bank where I have deposited untold thousands over the years. But can they help a man out when times get hard? No. They have their eye on Rose Hill, you mark my words. And they will get it, too, if you persist with this silly notion of marrying Brantley.”
Adella’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I know about him.” He smirked. “How you think you are in love with him.”
“I am, Papa,” she said, but he cut her off.
“This is not about love, Adella Rose. It is about your future. It is about George’s future. You may not like it, but the fate of Rose Hill is now in your fickle hands.” He closed his eyes for a long moment before leveling a stern look at her. “You must marry Marshall, or we will lose the plantation. The home your mother and I built together. I cannot make it any more plain.”
She returned his gaze, the gravity of their situation rendering her mute. Since learning of her father’s financial disaster the day before, she’d thought of little else. Surely there was a way to raise the necessary funds and pay the debts without sacrificing her dreams of marrying Seth. Yet she had to assume her father had exhausted every avenue to come up with the money to no avail. His pride would have not allowed him to ask for Marshall’s assistance if there was any other way.
Swallowing her own pride, she stood and moved to Marshall’s side. He turned to her, his face a mask, devoid of emotion. “I am begging you, Marshall. If you care for me at all, continue with the business agreement with Papa, but don’t force me to choose between love and my home.”
He shook his head. “I am not forcing you to do anything, Adella Rose. I have asked you to be my wife. Despite the events of the past twenty-four hours, I am still willing to marry you. I know we can be happy if you will but allow yourself to see beyond your childish fancies.”
Anger welled up inside her. “Why can’t you simply do the right thing and help Papa? He is your friend.”
“I am a businessman, Adella. I have achieved my wealth by making decisions that benefit me financially. I would be as poor as a pauper if I gave money to everyone who asked.”
His blasé remark infuriated her. She was angry with Papa for putting her in this position, but she despised Marshall for making her father look like a beggar. He and her father had a very lucrative business deal from which M
arshall would benefit for the next decade. Papa certainly didn’t deserve the man’s scorn.
She turned back to Papa, determined to find a way out of this for all of them. “Isn’t there anyone else who would loan you the money? Surely Mr. Langford would help now that Natalie and George are married.”
“I will not have Langford knowing my business,” Papa said with a scowl. “I’ve known the man for two decades. He would have never given his consent to the marriage had he been aware we were on the verge of bankruptcy. George will inherit Langford’s holdings someday, but we need the money now.”
Adella refused to give up. “Perhaps Seth’s father could help. He has been your friend—your true friend—for many years. When he was here for the wedding, he gave Seth and me his blessing. I know he would help.”
“Daniel knew about you and Brantley?” Papa’s scowl deepened.
“Seth spoke to him about us.”
“I don’t know what lies Brantley told you about his father’s finances, but suffice it to say Daniel would not have the kind of money I need to save Rose Hill. Which is yet another reason why you need to abandon this nonsensical idea of marrying Brantley, Adella Rose.” He slammed his palm against the desktop. “He has nothing to offer you. No property, no inheritance. Marshall, on the other hand, is willing to give you the world on a gold platter. You are a fool if you can’t see the difference.”
Her chin rose. “You may see it as foolishness, Papa, but there are more important things in life than money. Seth and I will not have much starting out, but I believe in him. God will provide if we but seek Him.”
Papa shook his head in disgust. He looked past her to Marshall, who had turned from the window and now faced Papa. He gave a single nod, which Papa returned. The silent communication was evidently planned. Again, their calm in the face of her refusal unnerved her.
Papa’s attention fell back on Adella. “If you continue to spurn Marshall, you will leave me no choice but to take measures I would rather not.” Papa leaned back against the leather chair, the wooden frame creaking under his weight in the silent room.
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