The pattern of her heart, p.21
The Pattern of Her Heart, page 21
Mr. Turner gave her a perfunctory smile. “I’m sure that’s a fact, Mrs. Houston, and I’m going to do my very best to secure the highest possible price for your family’s home. I merely wanted to warn you in advance that the sale might take longer than you would normally anticipate. So long as we’re clear on that issue, I believe we can sign the necessary papers and I can be on my way.”
Nolan and Mr. Turner took care of the necessary paper work, and Mr. Turner wished them a good evening.
“I don’t particularly like Mr. Turner,” Jasmine said to her husband after the land agent had departed the house.
“He seems as trustworthy as the other agents I spoke with. He bears a good reputation in the area, though I suppose he is rather negative,” Nolan replied.
“Truly? I barely noticed,” she said with a glint in her eye. “Anyone listening to him for long would find himself in a state of utter despair.”
Nolan glanced up from his desk and motioned Toby forward. “Come in and sit down,” he said while pointing his pen toward the chair opposite the massive desk.
Toby hesitated for a moment but finally dropped into the chair and stared into Nolan’s eyes. “You wanted to see me, suh?” he quietly inquired.
“Yes. Please understand I’m not passing judgment, Toby, but given the circumstances, I would highly recommend you and Prissy marry immediately.”
“Yessuh. Prissy told me ’bout the situation this afternoon. I told her not to be worrying—that we’d get ol’ Samuel to marry us. Ain’t no need for nothing more’n the three of us to get things taken care of. I’m going down an’ talk to him soon as we’s finished with our talk.”
Nolan nodded. “Miss Jasmine asked me to tell you we would be pleased to help with any wedding preparations. Surely Prissy would prefer something just a bit more elaborate than repeating your vows before Samuel.”
“No, we’s agreed ’bout the marriage. Everything should be taken care of by dis time tomorrow,” he said. “It’s better dis way.”
“If that’s what you prefer. And did Prissy tell you that if the two of you want to come to our farm in Lowell, we’d be pleased to have you come and work for us? You’re not obligated, but Prissy was concerned about finding work and there’s plenty at the horse farm. You could stay until after the baby is born, and if you then decide you want to leave, we’ll not have any objection.”
Toby began to fidget at the mention of Prissy’s condition, and Nolan regretted going into detail.
“You and Miz Jasmine is very kind. When da time comes to go north, we’d be proud to work for you, Massa Nolan.”
“Good. And if you need anything for the wedding, please—”
“No, suh, we ain’t gonna be needing nothin’—nothin’ at all,” Toby said. “We’s jest fine. If we’s through, I believe I’ll go on down to the quarter and talk to ol’ Samuel.”
“Yes, of course.”
Nolan was deep in thought when Jasmine entered the library a short time later. “Did you talk to him? What did he say?”
“I talked to him. They don’t want any type of large ceremony. Toby has gone to speak to Samuel, and he advised me that they will be wed by this time tomorrow. He said he and Prissy are in agreement about wanting just the three of them present when they say their vows.”
His wife exhaled and she frowned. “And here I was hoping for something cheerful to focus upon.”
“I’m not certain Toby shares your enthusiasm. However, he did accept our offer of employment, so at least that much should please you.”
“Yes. It pleases me they’ll be with us and I’ll have the pleasure of seeing their child,” Jasmine replied. “If only all of life’s problems were so easily resolved!”
CHAPTER • 14
February 1858
NOLAN ADJUSTED his silk top hat before lifting Alice Ann into the carriage and onto Prissy’s lap. “I believe we’ll have ample room in the carriage. Especially since Henrietta and Martha decided they weren’t feeling well enough to join us,” he told Jasmine.
“I do hope you don’t mind going along with us this evening, Prissy. With Henrietta and Martha both ailing, I thought we might be forced to remain at home,” Jasmine said. “But the children wouldn’t have forgiven us if we attended the festivities without them.”
“It’s fine, ma’am. I’s glad to help.” Prissy peered at the house. “Where’s Henry? Ain’t he gonna drive the coach?”
“Henry’s ailing too,” Nolan said. “I told him to remain abed and perhaps he’ll be better by morning. Besides, I enjoy driving my own coach from time to time. It will give the gentry of Mississippi yet another grievance against me,” he said with a grin.
Jasmine stroked Clara’s soft hair. “Clara and Alice Ann will likely be asleep soon after we arrive.”
“I won’t sleep. I’ll remain awake until we return home,” Spencer promised. He was sitting beside his father and obviously feeling quite grown up.
“Personally, I would have been happy to remain at home,” Jasmine told her husband. “Besides, I find it strange that we received an invitation to the gathering at Rosewood. After all, we’ve been excluded from every other social function since our arrival. Why would the Woodsons invite us to their party celebrating the final picking? After all, there’s no denying the fact that John Woodson dislikes us intensely.”
“He’s extended an olive branch, my dear. The least we can do is reciprocate in kind. And the children haven’t had an opportunity to participate in any festivities. Christmas, after all, was quite glum this year.”
“You’re right, but services at the church were quite nice, I thought,” she said as they made their way down the lane. “And I’m completely surprised you want to attend tonight, Spencer. I feel certain some of your schoolmates will be among those invited.”
Spencer flashed a smile at his mother. “Since we’re leaving next week, this will give me a chance to tell all of them what I truly think of their deeds.”
“Now, son, I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Nolan warned. “No rowdiness.”
He nodded. “Not unless they start it.”
“No fighting whatsoever!” Jasmine insisted in a stern tone. “If you encounter any difficulty, you must come directly to your father or me for assistance.”
“All right,” he begrudgingly agreed. “Do you think it’s snowing at home?”
“Probably so,” she replied absently.
Spencer scooted around in his seat and directed his attention to Prissy. “Just wait until you move up north. One morning you’ll wake up and look out your window, and you’ll see piles and piles of white snow covering the ground.”
“We had us some of dat white stuff one or two times. It come fallin’ from da sky in little white flakes, but it melted to water when it hit the ground—didn’t do no piling up,” she said. “Massa Wainwright told us snow was for up north, where it be cold and unpleasant, an’ rain is for in da South, where it be warm and agreeable.”
“That sounds like something my father would say,” Jasmine commented. “However, the North is not unpleasant, though it does grow cold in the winter. But you’ll soon learn to love the North.”
“I s’pose,” Prissy said, although her voice lacked enthusiasm.
“Here we are,” Nolan said as he pulled back on the reins and the horses brought the carriage to a halt outside the main entrance of Rosewood.
Festive decorations adorned the foyer of the big house, where both John and Ramona Woodson stood near the entrance greeting their guests. Mrs. Woodson immediately directed one of her house slaves to escort Prissy and the children upstairs, where they were to be entertained.
“We’re pleased you accepted our invitation,” Mr. Woodson said as he pointed to another slave to take their wraps.
Jasmine directed a dutiful smile toward their host. “We were pleased to be included.”
Mrs. Woodson whispered to a butler, who stepped forward and ostentatiously announced their arrival to the many guests gathered in the loggia, where music was playing and the guests were beginning to dance.
“Shall we?” Nolan asked as he led Jasmine to the dance floor.
“Seems everyone in the area is in attendance,” Jasmine said as they circled the floor. “It’s been years since I’ve attended one of these parties, yet most of the faces remain familiar. It appears as if few of my generation have departed this area. You’d think they would want to strike out and see another part of the world.”
Nolan led her in a wide circle toward the rear of the dance floor. “I’m certain they do see other parts of the world. Most everyone here is widely traveled. But unlike you and McKinley, they chose to return.”
“They travel, yet they’ve not yet become enlightened,” she remarked.
Nolan cocked one eyebrow. “I believe they would quite disagree with you, my dear. In fact, I believe you’d find they think you are the one who is unenlightened.”
“No doubt.”
The music proved quite delightful, and Jasmine spent much of the evening dancing with Nolan and a few of her schoolmates from years ago. Throughout the evening, she watched the doorway closely, almost expecting to see Spencer emerge with a bloody nose, but such was not the case. Instead, he remained ensconced upstairs until after midnight, when they were preparing to depart for home.
“From all appearances, you and the other boys got along well this evening,” Jasmine commented as she settled Clara into a nest of blankets in the back of the carriage. Prissy helped Nolan settle Alice Ann in beside her sister.
“Yes. They were quite friendly—even apologized for their behavior and said the issue of slavery was one that should be settled by our parents.”
“I’m pleased to hear their parents have spoken to them and explained their actions were inappropriate,” she replied.
“Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Nolan inquired as the carriage rocked to and fro on the uneven road.
“The evening was tolerable, though I didn’t find it as jovial as I remember from my childhood. And what happened to all of the men? One moment the dance floor was filled with more couples than one could imagine, and suddenly it seemed as if all of the men had disappeared and the women were standing about fanning themselves and drinking punch.”
Nolan nodded. “I wondered at that myself. I even commented to Woodson about his missing guests. He said they’d gone into his library to conduct business of some sort. Rather rude, if you ask me. Seems they could conduct business somewhere other than a social gathering that occurs but once a year.”
“Indeed you would think so. I thought Lydia looked quite lovely this evening, though she and Rupert both were somewhat aloof, didn’t you think?” Jasmine asked.
“Jasmine! Look up ahead! Is that glow of red coming from the direction of The Willows?” Nolan’s voice was an urgent plea begging for a denial from his wife.
She stretched to the side and leaned out the carriage window. “Oh, Nolan! The Willows is on fire! Hurry! Hurry! It appears to be the house. Martha, Henrietta, and the other house servants are in there.”
Nolan flicked the reins and urged the horses into a gallop. “It’s more than the house. The entire sky seems lit up. It’s coming from all directions. It appears that nothing has been spared. I fear the entire plantation is afire.”
“Surely not. Dear God, let this be a dream!” she cried out.
Jasmine leaned heavily against Nolan’s chest, clutching his arm, as they surveyed the plantation, unable to believe the devastation that surrounded them. Fires burned in varying degrees throughout the plantation. Unremitting flames snaked across the acreage, licking and scorching every vestige of habitation lying in their destructive path. Smoke curled upward and spread across the sky like a giant blanket that had been unfolded to hide the starlit heavens. The heavy stench seeped downward and filled their nostrils—a continuous reminder of the fire’s catastrophic obliteration.
Fear swelled through Jasmine, clawing at her with an unrelenting insistence. “We must see if anyone has survived. All of the servants were in the house, even Martha and Henrietta.” Her voice was shrill and cut through the February air. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone attempting to put out the fires.”
Nolan wrapped her in a protective embrace. “We can’t possibly contain these fires. It’s much too late for that. The most we can hope for is to find the servants alive.”
“Look over dere, Miz Jasmine,” Pr issy exclaimed. “Someone’s wavin’ a white cloth from behind da tree.”
Nolan cupped his hands to his mouth. “Who’s there? This is Nolan Houston—come out and show yourself.”
Jasmine squinted as she attempted to make out the figure running toward them. “I believe it’s . . . Yes! It’s Henrietta. Henrietta!” she called. “Praise God, you are safe! Where are the others? Martha? The house servants? All of the former slaves that were down in the quarters? Can you tell us anything?”
Henrietta dropped to the ground and began to weep in deep inconsolable sobs, her body heaving up and down as she clung to the hem of Jasmine’s gown.
Nolan hurried to where she sat and helped her to her feet. “Let me assist you into the carriage, where you and Jasmine may sit and talk,” he urged.
“You’re safe now, Henrietta,” Jasmine whispered as she pulled the woman close and patted her back. “Please tell us what happened. You’re the only person we’ve been able to locate.”
Henrietta nodded her head up and down as she appeared to choke back her sobs. “It was terrible, Miss Jasmine, just terrible. Martha was overcome by the smoke. I pulled her out of the house, but I don’t know if she’s alive. I’m ashamed to say I was afraid to remain. After all, what could one woman do against all that? I ran out here to hide,” she cried, beginning to weep once again.
“It’s all right. You did the right thing, Henrietta. What about the others? Did any of them survive?”
“The men took all the colored folks from the house and the quarters. I heard a gunshot, and then someone yelled that they’d shot Mr. Draper. I don’t know if it’s true—I’ve been afraid to show myself for fear they would kill me too.”
“What do you mean the men took all the colored folks?” Jasmine asked. “What men?”
“The men that started the fire,” she gasped.
Jasmine and Nolan exchanged a worried look, but it was Nolan who spoke. “You say they took the coloreds—did they not put up a fight?”
“Those men had guns, Mr. Houston, and I heard them yelling back and forth. They put all of them in chains so they couldn’t run off. I kept praying you would return or that one of the neighbors would come down the road on their way home. I kept praying someone, anyone, would come and help.”
“What did these men look like, Henrietta. Did you know them?”
“They were white, riding horses—a few carriages too, but mostly on horseback. They were dressed in fine clothes, but I don’t know folks from around these parts. I heard one of them laugh and say something about paying a neighborly visit.”
Nolan slapped his top hat on his leg. “This is an outrage! There’s no doubt these fires were set by the very men who were at that party this evening. I’d venture to guess they weren’t in John Woodson’s library at all—they were out setting fire to our plantation while they knew Woodson would keep us occupied at his party. Every one of them took part in this travesty.”
Prissy leaned forward from the rear seat of the carriage, tears lining her cheeks. “D’ya know what happened to my Toby, Miz Henrietta?”
“They took him—they took all the house servants first and put them in chains. Some of the riders had gone to the slave quarters, and that’s when I heard the gunshot. Soon after they brought all the others back to the main house, where they chained and put them in the wagons. I was still hidden near the house and knew I had to get away from there before they spotted me.” A look of terror sparked in her eyes and she hesitated a moment. “Do you think they took Martha?”
Nolan slowly shook his head back and forth. “No. I don’t think they would take a white woman. They came with shackles and chains in order to steal the coloreds and force them back into slavery. I’ll go and see if I can find Martha. You say she was outside the rear of the house?”
“Yes, sir. Behind the big trees along the path to the water troughs.”
Jasmine grasped Nolan’s arm. “Wait a moment, please. It sounds as though a rider’s approaching—or is it my imagination?”
“You’re right; someone is coming down the road. I’d best wait and see who it is. I’d like to think it’s someone coming to lend a hand, but I don’t know who that would be since it appears as if all of our neighbors took part in this devastation.”
“Looks like it might be Rupert—and I’d guess that he smells like smoke.” Jasmine climbed out of the carriage at the same time that Prissy grabbed a blanket from off the front carriage seat and scooted into the far corner beside the children, being careful to pull the cover over herself. Fortunately, the girls were sound asleep, and Spencer was watching in wide-eyed silence.
“Are you cold, Prissy?” Jasmine asked.
“No, ma’am, just wantin’ to stay out of the way,” the girl meekly replied only moments before Rupert reined his horse to a halt beside the carriage.
He tipped his hat and directed a wide grin at Jasmine. “Cousin,” he greeted. “Appears you’ve been forced out of this place.”
“These fires were intentionally set, and we know that you and your friends are responsible,” she accused, “and to think you call yourselves gentlemen. You’re all a disgrace to mankind.”
“Careful, Jasmine. You’ve already made enough enemies in these parts with your judgmental attitude and quick tongue. Just as these fires were meant to deliver a message, I’m here to enlighten you. You and your kind are not wanted in the South—it’s best you realize that before it’s too late.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out some folded papers.
