by Mercy Levy
“I thought he was going to hit me.” Emmaline blurted to Isabella when they were alone. “I thought Uncle Dennis would let him.” Isabella rubbed her wrist, where red and blue undertones had begun to blossom in a vise grip pattern.
“I thought he might actually drag me all the way back to Camelot.” Isabella confessed. Emma wondered how far, exactly, Izzy’s old plantation had been from the romantic story of nobility and equality that it was named. “I did not want that to happen, and if it does, I will certainly kill myself before I let him take me.” She declared.
“Izzy, I told you I was your friend. I won’t just let anyone take you.” Emmaline reminded her maid. Isabella patted her leg through the linens.
“Don’t you ever put yourself in harm’s way again, young lady. I will not have you getting hurt over me, or any other slave.” She walked to the other side of the room and busied herself with the cleaning while she waited on Edwin.
“Is he really that terrible? Did he hurt you especially when you were there?” Emmaline did not know how to ask her question so delicately that it would not offend or frighten.
“What happens in that big house, and even in the slave quarters, is not fit for a lady such as yo’self to hear or even think about.” Isabella scolded her sternly, but Emmaline saw her hands shake as she picked up her mending.
“I’m sorry, Izzy. I wish things like that never happened.” Izzy shot her a quick smile to let her know her apology was accepted. Edwin returned with a bottle of brandy and a single tumbler. He poured a finger of brandy in the glass and gave to Emmaline, who promptly handed it to Isabella.
Izzy stared at the glass for a long time without touching it. Emmaline encouraged her, reminding her that she was the most in need of something to brace her up, and finally, with a glance toward the bedroom door, she accepted the tumbler of copper liquid and sipped it. Her eyes widened as the liquid burned her throat, but she finished and handed the tumbler back to Emmaline.
Instead of returning the glass to the tray, Emmaline held it out as a silent request for more. Edwin hesitated and glanced at Isabella, who wore an expression of dumbfounded horror.
“I’ll get you a new glass, miss.” Edwin took the glass out of her hand and set it on the tray.
“How are you going to explain a second glass to the lady of the house? Emmaline reminded him. “I understand that here people think about, see, and treat people differently than I am used to. But there are those who have slaves in every corner of the union. The point is, I know that I am just a person, a woman, like you, and I am not afraid that touching your skin, or sharing a glass, is going to affect me in any way. I have not given up my mother’s dream for true equality. Please just refill the glass so no one suspects I have not been drinking alone.
Izzy shot Emmaline a small, grateful smile and Edwin filled the glass, giving Emmaline a larger portion than he had her servant. The liquid burned down her throat and shot straight to her head, making her feel light and fuzzy all over. She laid down in her bed and Izzy stroked her hair until she fell asleep, her dreams troubled by two men, one dark and ugly, but shot through with light, the other mysterious and handsome, with darkness in his eyes.
5.
Izzy woke Emma up to the sounds of industry and the warmth of morning sunlight as she laid out her mistress’ clothes, tidied her room, and when Emma refused to admit she was awake, the mouth-watering smells of breakfast that she brought up on a tray. Emma finally rolled over and with a heavy sigh, sat up so Izzy could place the breakfast tray over her legs.
She watched her maid work as she nibbled on sweet cornbread and honey and drank her tea. She wanted to ask Izzy more about her former owner, but she had upset the woman so much the last time, she was reticent to try again. Izzy rambled on about the day ahead and the schedule that Aunt Rebecca had set out for me with the staff. Emmaline stopped listening somewhere between the dress fitting in town and the promenade with her aunt and Mrs. Higgins who lived farther down the cobblestone lane.
She snapped back to attention as she realized Izzy had asked her a question about the handsome Frenchman, Mister Du Morney. The woman was watching her and fanning herself as she waited for Emma to respond.
“Please repeat yourself Izzy, I was gathering cobwebs.” She rubbed her temples and smiled at her maid, who shook her head and chuckled.
“I was jes’ saying that Mister Du Morney seems like quite a well-cut gentleman. I might expect a lady to have difficulty concentrating with a man like that sitting close and all alone.”
“Izzy! I am a lady and am certain I do not know what you are insinuating, but I will not be swayed from my lessons by the cut of a man’s suit, no matter how well turned out he may be.”
“Of course not, miss Emma. My mistake.” Emma was not at all certain that Isabella’s apology was sincere, but left it alone. As handsome as her tutor was, there was bound to be gossip among the tight-knit societal types. She had no time or attention to give such shallow matters when her heart was aching from the loss of the only person in the world she had ever truly mattered to. “Izzy, you will sit with us this evening while I take my lessons. Do you read or write?”
“A little, Miss. Only enough to read a list of chores or a recipe.”
“Well, that is plenty for you to begin with. Make sure you have a pen and paper to practice on and you may chaperone the lesson and expand your learning while you do.” Izzy chewed her lip and fretted before replying.
“I don’t think the missus will be too please with a slave asking for a pen and paper if it isn’t for work, miss.” Emma frowned. She considered it for a moment, then smirked.
“It isn’t for you, Izzy, of course, it is for me. Should I give it to you to use once we are in there, surely she cannot blame you for following my orders.” Izzy dipped her head in acquiescence and left Emma to ready herself for the day.
Before she knew it, her aunt was bursting in to hurry her up and take her into town, and between dress fittings for the parties that would accompany the Thanksgiving festival season, and introductions to the women of Charleston society, Emma completely forgot about her father, the poor escaped slaves, and even the dark-haired, dark-eyed professor. Only the dull ache of her mother’s death stayed with her at every minute, each new experience and friendly face was a reminder that she was now alone.
She sat out on the veranda and composed a letter to her mother in her head while she sipped her tea and waited to be called for supper. Just as the houseman stepped out the front door to bid her come and eat. Mister Du Morney cantered up on his big bay stallion. He leapt down and strode up the stairs to meet Emmaline at the door.
“My dear lady. It is my utmost pleasure to see you again.” He took her hand and smiled to himself as he heard her breath catch and hold. Turning his head so his eyes met hers, he lightly brushed his mouth across her skin and rubbed it with his thumb as he watched her eyes widen and her lips part.
“Mister Du Morney, it is so good to have you. Please, come in, dinner is being served.” She stood watching him like a mouse watches a snake, waiting for his next move. Ever the gentleman, Stephen offered his arm with a smile.
“My lady, let us not keep the master of the house waiting.” His thick French accent made him sound so exotic and worldly to Emma that she giggled a little despite herself and slipped her hand over the crook of his elbow. He felt warm and strong next to her, and her pulse jumped when he placed his free hand over hers and pressed her lightly into him.
The others dining together had already gathered at the table and were making small talk over their wine as Emma and her tutor made their appearance. Stephen felt Emma stiffen at the sight of a rather unsavory looking character seated near her uncle, chatting amiably with the plantation owner. Emma pressed herself even closer to her companion as Edwin showed them to their respective seats across the table from each other. Stephen felt a flash of anger as the stranger at the table perused Emma from his perch at her uncle’s elbow. That burst of anger became
a slow burn of jealousy as Emma returned his predatory smile with an innocent grin of pleasure.
“Mister Taggert, you’ve returned. I’m so glad you are here so I can thank you properly for coming to my aid last evening. I apologize if my sudden retreat offended in any way.” Stephen glanced from his pretty student to her apparent hero.
“Miss Emma, it was my duty to prevent harm from befalling Mister Auburn’s favorite niece, especially at the hands of one of his closest friends, over money.” He lifted his glass to her in a salute before drinking. Stephen quietly watched cooling his temper and accepting the wine that the houseman, Edwin, slipped into his hand
“Oh, Stephen, umm, Mister Du Morney.” Emma began “We had a spark of excitement here last evening, between another client of Mister Taggert and my uncle. Mister Taggert came to my rescue, and that of my maid. I will admit, sir that I was quite taken aback by your imposing appearance when I first saw you. I am not so intimidated by you, now that I know you are a gentleman.” Emmaline’s humble confession made Taggert laugh out loud, and she and Stephen shared a look of confusion before he answered.
“I am not nearly as scary as I make people think, miss. I am not paid to look genteel, but I was gifted with a mother and do know which hand to hold my knife in, if I am forced to behave myself.” Emma’s uncle gave a short bark of laughter and ordered the first course be served. Emma was taken aback by her uncle’s mood, but was too shy to ask, as she had been forbidden to speak up in front of her father when she had lived at home, even before the pneumonia had taken her mother from them.
Through the course of dinner Emma learned that Taggert and the slave owner, Towers, had come to an acceptable agreement that for payment for his search for the slaves who had managed to run away, and would be staying on with Emma and her family as he began. He believed that with the influx of friends and family for the upcoming celebrations, that his first step to finding the renegades would be to question inbound travelers.
“That reminds me, I have incredible news for you, Emma.” Her uncle boasted. “Your father has sent word that he is going to be here for our feast of Thanksgiving. You must be missing him terribly.” Emma’s eyes flew wide and she dropped her eyes as she recovered her composure.
“That is wonderful news, Uncle,” she replied breathlessly when she realized he was still staring at her. I shall endeavor to make an exceptional showing on my examination, so that when he arrives, he may be pleased with my work.
“Knowing your father, he’d prefer it if you were engaged to be married, over being an excellent student,” her uncle guffawed. Emma cringed and glanced furtively at Stephen, who was conversing with her aunt and apparently hadn’t heard, much to her relief. She felt so drawn to him, she did not want her father’s social agenda to muddy the water between them.
Taggert proved to be amiable and generous, and Emma desperately wished to ask how he could hunt human beings and return them to bondage, especially under such dire circumstances as she knew Tower’s plantation, Camelot, had to be. Finally, her curiosity overwhelmed her and she blurted out over a question of swampland navigation from her tutor directed toward the roughneck tracker.
“Is it very difficult to return slaves to bad owners?” She asked and immediately crimsoned and fell silent, appalled at her own audacity.
“No, miss, it is not,” the burly man replied more gently than she was expecting. She looked up with anguish in her face. “You see, Miss Emma, it is not my place to decide who has a good life or a bad one. My only concern is to return them to their home in the best health possible. What happens after is between the slave, their master, and God. Emma sat straighter and thrust out her chin.
“Well, it isn’t fair,” she chastised the older man. “They’re people, and they’re treated like belongings.” She glanced again at Stephen, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
“I understand your point of view, Emma,” he agreed. “I have never been comfortable with the idea of owning a human being. However, I understand that this is a way of life that would take great effort to change.” Mister Taggert nodded.
“It might surprise you to know I don’t have any slaves of my own miss, but I do not. I simply return fugitives, any people who are breaking the law, so they may face the consequences. Not everyone is a slave owner, my little Yankee sister.” Rebecca’s uncle and aunt exchanged a look and smiled benevolently on her as the two men gently courted her attention. Emma smiled at Stephen, emboldened by his views.
Shortly after dessert was served, Edwin requested the gentlemen remove themselves to the study for brandy, and Emma showed Stephen back to the library for her lesson. Izzy awaited them with pen, ink, and a sheaf of paper, flushed and glowing at the opportunity to learn while her mistress did. Stephen heartily agreed to the extra student and chaperone, and the three set themselves to work.
By the time her uncle Dennis came to check on them, Stephen had placed Emma as per her previous knowledge and education and she and Izzy were writing furiously as Stephen lectured them on the colonization of Africa and India by the British. He glanced down at Izzy, whose handwriting was almost as neat and clean as his niece’s.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Uncle?” Emma gushed as he glanced down at her own paper. Izzy is such a wonderful writer, she is taking some notes, and I am taking others, to help me study later, while professor Du Morney is able to cover more, and more easily.” Emma’s uncle saw a flush in her cheeks and sparkle in her eye that had been lacking since the day she had arrived.
“Well, Isabella, you are brighter and more educated than I was led to believe. Emma has a good friend in you. Keep up the hard work.” Izzy glowed with pride and handed Emma the next full page of notes, which she blew across gently to dry the ink before setting them in a pile off to one side. She and Emma shared a quick, happy look, and her doting uncle puffed up in pride that he’d done so well for his brother-in-law’s child.
The moment he left, Izzy slipped out the second door to the servants’ quarters, claiming a pain in her stomach, and promised to return shortly. Left alone, Emma became quiet. She stared down at the paper on the desk and tried to calm her quaking stomach. She was startled into looking up at her tutor when he placed a hand over hers on the table, making her heart crash against the waves of desire and fear that made her chest feel tight and her mouth dry.
“Mademoiselle Emma, I must be honest about my intentions with your family,” Stephen murmured as he drew a chair close and sat, still touching her skin, warm and solid and strong, with such a gentle caress. She flushed and looked away, but left her hand under his as he spoke.
“Perhaps we can extend our lessons to include the sciences that I might learn of the local flora and important crops of this part of the country. Even if that includes walking together in the fields and farmland nearby. Chaperoned, of course.” Emma added abruptly before meeting Stephen’s eyes.
“I believe that the sciences are essential to your ability to complete your schooling, and I will return in two days’ time with that in mind, following your examination of the commerce of the Nile.” Emma nodded and smiled at him, a slow, sweet revelation that made him feel possessive and careful at once.
“I will await your instruction, Mister Du Morney,” she bowed her head politely, still smiling. He stared for a moment before collecting himself.
“Until then, Miss Govern.” Stephen kissed her hand, then turned it over so her palm was facing up, and placed another soft kiss there. Her gasp made his mouth water and his body tightened at the thought of moving those kisses to her lips, her throat, then down to the gentle swell of breast that floated above the deep neckline of her dress. The need to undress her and touch all of her grew as she smiled shyly at him, innocent of his craving for her body
Emma heard a horse whinny seconds before Izzy returned to the room, breaking the spell between Tutor and student. Stephen smiled briefly at the two young women and began to gather up his papers into his satchel, as Izzy tidied up Emma’s no
tes and put away her pen and ink.
“People are beginning to arrive, Miss. I have never been part of the Thanksgiving season here before. The other servants have been talking about it for days and I cannot wait to see you in the dresses your aunt purchased in town.” Emma blushed and smiled. The more Izzy talked, the more she was reminded of her dear Sukie. She sent Izzy to join the others and help carry in luggage for whoever had arrived.
“Lovely mademoiselle, why do you look so sad?” Stephen looked aghast at the crestfallen girl as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
“My mother brought me to the autumn festival when I was very young. It will be difficult to be here without her.” Emma knew Stephen had been told about her loss, as had every listening ear within miles of her aunt. She hadn’t realized how torn she would be once she was here. “I was determined to be angry and sad and have a terrible time to show I was a good daughter, but… I want to be happy. Is that very terrible of me?” She stared down into her lap and wrung her hands together.
“Sweet Emmaline. I can think of nothing a loving mother would want more than to look down on her daughter and see that she has found happiness.” He took her hand in his and knelt before her. “There is nothing I would love more than to see you happy, for your mother’s sake.” She blushed, but didn’t pull her hand away, and he lifted it to his lips.
“I want to learn.” She stammered. She licked her lips and tried again. “I was brought her to be married off, but I do not know how to please a man.” She crimsoned and dropped her eyes back to her lap. His hands massaged hers for a moment, then he abruptly let go and stood, pacing across the room.
“What are you asking, Emmaline? I need to know what you want from me.” He strode across to her and tilted her chin so he could look her in the eyes.
“I want to know how a woman should… how a woman should kiss a man.” Emmaline blurted. Stephen was torn between relief and disappointment. He already knew no matter what his young charge had asked of him, he would have given it gladly and shamelessly.