The pattern of her heart, p.9
The Pattern of Her Heart, page 9
“Doesn’t sound like overly fascinating reading material,” Elinor said with a giggle.
“No, I don’t suppose it does. However, he’s agreed to preach in my stead in exchange for use of the parsonage during my absence, and I am in hopes the elders will be agreeable to the idea. Of course, I wanted to have proper arrangements for Reggie before firming up the plans with the elders, although I’ve told Reverend Conklin he’s welcome to come and stay at the parsonage in any event,” Justin said as he opened the front door.
“That’s most kind of you. I’ll look forward to hearing Reggie’s decision.”
Elinor closed the front door and raced through her sitting room and into the bedroom, pulling the ribbon from her hair as she ran. One glance in the small mirror that hung over her dressing table gave her a start. She looked a fright. Damp strands of hair clung to her forehead, and a streak of flour lined her cheek. Too late to fret, she silently admonished herself. If she didn’t hurry, her bread would be ruined and there would be no food on the table for the noonday meal.
“You seem happy,” Lucinda said as she hurried into the house a short time later.
Elinor agreed. “Indeed! It’s a beautiful day, and all is well with the world,” she said while rushing back and forth, retrieving bowls of food from the kitchen.
Lucinda and Ardith stared at her as though she’d gone daft, but Elinor didn’t care. She continued to smile and was singing when the girls left the house to return to work. Perhaps it was the thought of having Reggie come and stay with her. The child would break the monotonous routine of her life, and that prospect held great appeal.
“Please make her anxious to come and spend time with me, Lord,” she uttered aloud before she continued singing the first stanza of “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.”
Jasmine sighed as she settled into her mother’s beloved rocking chair in the parlor. The journey to Mississippi had taken its toll on all of them—especially the children. They hadn’t adapted to their new surroundings as smoothly as Jasmine and Nolan had hoped. Many tears had been shed since departing Massachusetts, but Jasmine continued to believe they would soon adjust.
Shadows were growing long across the willow-lined driveway leading to the Wainwright mansion when a knock sounded at the front door. Jasmine placed her mending in the basket beside her chair and hurried to the door.
She squinted in the early evening dimness. “Rupert Hesston? Is that you?”
“Has it been so long you’ve forgotten what I look like?”
She laughed and stepped back to permit him entry. “It has been a long time, but you haven’t changed so much that I wouldn’t recognize you. The lighting is inadequate,” she added.
“Well, I must say that you have changed dramatically. The years have been very good to you, Jasmine. But you always were a beauty. Did you know that when I was around eighteen years old, I attempted to convince our mothers we weren’t truly related so that I could call on you?”
“No, Mother never mentioned such a thing.”
For some reason, Rupert’s remark made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps because Nolan had gone to visit with their overseer, Mr. Draper, and hadn’t yet returned. Silly! Rupert was, after all, a distant cousin on her mother’s side and McKinley’s closest friend during their childhood years. In fact, he was now related to her on both sides of the family, for he had married Lydia Wainwright, one of Uncle Franklin’s daughters and Jasmine’s full cousin.
“Come join me in the parlor. Nolan and I were going to visit you once we were a bit more settled here at The Willows. I apologize for my tardiness. There’s no excuse for not immediately calling upon you to express my condolences. Please forgive me.”
“No need for an apology. I can only imagine the difficulty of having to return under these circumstances. The harshness of this epidemic has been dramatic among our families and friends. Thankfully, Lydia was in Europe and escaped the illness, and I suppose I’m just too ornery to die.”
“Are there any other family members who survived?”
“Lydia is your uncle Franklin’s only survivor, though one of your uncle Harry’s grandchildren lived. I believe the boy has gone to make his home with a relative in Tennessee. Lydia might have been delighted to rear the child had she been here to make her wishes known. I truly despair over the thought of delivering so much bad news.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“She sailed for Europe in early June. She had no set itinerary, and although she has written to me, it’s impossible to send word back. There is nothing she could have done, and had she returned home earlier, she might have contracted the fever herself. Like you, she’ll have to deal with the shock, yet she won’t be forced to feel helpless and watch as her family dies.”
His words were a painful reminder of the horror Jasmine had been attempting to set aside ever since she’d arrived at The Willows. “I’ll look forward to seeing Lydia upon her return. Please tell her to call on me or send word if there is anything she needs,” Jasmine offered.
“That’s very kind of you. And what of my good friend and cousin McKinley? Did he return to Mississippi with you?”
“No. Like you, I had hoped he would accompany us. However, he found it impossible to do so at this time. His position and family . . .” Her words trailed off into silence.
Rupert stared at her as though he expected her to say more, but when she remained silent, he said, “I recall your father telling me McKinley had married into the textile industry.”
Jasmine was taken aback by the comment. “Married into the textile industry? I find it hard to believe my father would make such a comment.”
He brushed the end of his dark brown mustache with his fingers. “Not exactly his words, I suppose, but I do recall Malcolm mentioning the fact that McKinley’s father-in-law held a lofty standing within the textile industry and that McKinley had accepted a position with the mills. Hard to believe.”
Had she detected a note of disdain in his voice? Rupert had always been judgmental and derisive, even as a young boy.
“How so?” she inquired. “Do you think McKinley illequipped for such responsibility?”
“Not at all. He is bright—there was never a question of his intelligence. In fact, he made the rest of us look like dolts. What surprises me is his ability to embrace Northern ideals and attitudes. Of course, he had the influence of both you and his grandmother Wainwright. And I suppose when he fell in love with a Northern girl, it became easier to turn against his Southern heritage. He’s probably embarrassed to return.”
Jasmine narrowed her eyes as she attempted to keep her anger in check. “Neither McKinley nor I have turned against our Southern heritage. There are aspects of Southern life we do not embrace. However, we are not embarrassed by our beliefs. Rather, we are proud of them, Rupert.”
The sound of the children clattering down the stairs caused Jasmine to turn her attention away from her guest. The diversion gave her a moment to calm herself. She needed to control her temper. Nolan had cautioned her they would be better served by remaining friendly with their Southern neighbors and divulging as little information as possible regarding their future plans.
“Come here, children. I’d like you to meet one of our relatives,” she said as the three children were escorted into the parlor by Martha and Henrietta.
“Rupert, these are our children, Spencer, Alice Ann, and Clara. This is my cousin Rupert Hesston,” she told the children. Rupert smiled at the girls and shook Spencer’s hand as though he were a grown man. Spencer’s chest swelled beneath his cotton nightshirt.
“We’re off to the kitchen for some milk,” Martha said.
“And cookies,” Alice Ann added with a broad smile that dimpled her cheeks.
“Lovely family,” Rupert said as he watched the children leave with the two women. “Only whites working in the house now? What’s happened to your father’s house slaves?”
Jasmine dug the tips of her fingernails deep into her palms and forced a demure expression. “Many of the house slaves died during the epidemic. Martha and Henrietta accompanied us from our home in Lowell. They have been in our employ for many years, and our children are comfortable in their care.”
“But what of the others? I know there were some who survived, for I visited The Willows both while your father was ill and after his death. Did you relegate them to the slave quarters?”
Before she could answer, Nolan bounded through the front door and strode into the parlor. “I saw the horse out front and wondered who had come calling,” he said, looking first at Rupert and then at his wife.
“Nolan,” she sighed, relieved to have an ally. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met Rupert Hesston, a distant cousin and Lydia’s husband.”
Nolan stepped forward and shook hands with their guest. “No, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Although I do recall hearing your name mentioned. You and McKinley were friends as young boys, weren’t you?”
“Indeed! We were inseparable, though different as night and day. I was in town earlier today and one of the locals mentioned some of the family had returned from up North. I hurried over, hoping that McKinley had returned. Of course, I’m pleased to see Jasmine also,” he hastily added.
Nolan gave a hearty laugh. “I understand completely. I know McKinley would be pleased to see you also, but circumstances prevented him from being here. And how is Lydia faring?”
“I was telling your wife a bit earlier that Lydia will be returning from Europe in the very near future. I know she’ll be pleased to see Jasmine, as they were dear friends during their younger years. How are you managing with your crop? Any problems getting the slaves to work for Mr. Draper? Always difficult when you have to put a new overseer in place, especially during a crisis,” he said.
“Things are going as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Mr. Draper is trying his best to meet my expectations.”
Rupert nodded and stood up. “I didn’t plan to stay long this evening but wanted to come by and see if there was anything I could do to help.”
“That’s kind of you. I’ll be certain to send word if we need assistance,” Nolan said as he grasped Jasmine by the arm and walked to the foyer.
“Thank you for calling on us, and please tell Lydia to send word when she arrives home,” Jasmine said as they bid her cousin good-bye.
The twosome remained on the front porch until Rupert was well out of sight and they could no longer hear the sound of galloping hooves.
“There’s something about him,” Jasmine told her husband. “Something that sets my teeth on edge.”
“Are you sure it’s not the setting you’ve been forced to deal with?” he questioned sympathetically.
She shook her head, her focus still fixed to the road. “No, it’s not just that. Rupert embodies an attitude that we shall be forced to face head-on before long. Once the community gives us time to settle in and mourn, they will descend upon us with their comments and reprimands,” she said sadly. She drew a deep breath and blew it out again. “Mark my words. We shall soon reap their judgment.”
Jasmine leaned down and pulled several weeds from the mound of dry dirt covering her father’s grave before she placed a bouquet of wild flowers near the joint headstone. The marker had been carved and set in place at the time of her mother’s death and forced her to accept the reality that both of her parents were now gone from this world.
“We’ll need to have the engraver carve the date of death,” Jasmine told her family in a trembling voice as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Why are you crying, Mama?” Alice Ann’s lips quivered as she asked the question.
“I’m sad because your grandpa Wainwright died and I won’t see him again,” she said, feeling the sting of her words.
“But we’ll see him in heaven, won’t we?”
“Yes, dear. My sadness is that I must wait until then to see him again.”
“But you always tell me that I’ll be more grateful when I must wait for something.”
Nolan and Jasmine exchanged a smile. “You are exactly right,” Jasmine said. “Enough of this sadness. Let’s go back to the house.”
“Can I go fishing?” Spencer asked.
The journey to Mississippi had been exhausting, and Spencer’s attitude since their arrival had improved little. He refused to be happy, except when he was at the small pond with his fishing pole. Thus far, school in Lorman was a fiasco. The school term had started nearly two weeks earlier than it would in Lowell. As if to punctuate his unhappiness, Spencer had become a constant source of trouble for the schoolmaster, and Jasmine and Nolan were daily receiving reports of his mischievous behavior.
“Be sure you return in time to wash up for supper,” Jasmine instructed, thankful it was Saturday and she wasn’t forced to deny his request.
He ran off without a reply, his feet pounding through the grassy meadow that surrounded the family cemetery. Jasmine took Alice Ann’s hand and strode alongside her husband, who had hoisted Clara into his arms.
“I’m concerned about Spencer,” she said to her husband. “He seems to be intent upon remaining unhappy.”
“And making the rest of us unhappy in the process,” Nolan agreed. “Yet I must admit, with all of the problems we’ve encountered here at the plantation, I’ve had little time to listen to his woes, which I fear only adds to his anger. It seems the little time I have with him is spent chastising him about his unpleasant behavior and poor performance in school.”
“I’m hoping that once we’ve finalized arrangements for the additional workers and actually begun the harvest, things will slow down somewhat.”
Nolan gave her a feeble smile and nodded. “I’ve asked the overseer to assemble the slaves Monday morning to tell them of our decision. I think it would be good if you were with me so they know that we are in agreement.”
“Yes, of course. Martha can look after Alice Ann and Clara, and I’ll have Henrietta make sure Spencer gets off to school on time. Have you advised Mr. Draper of our plans?”
Clara struggled to free herself from Nolan’s arms and he soon stooped down and set her on her feet. She toddled alongside him while holding tightly to his finger. “No. I haven’t decided if I can trust him to keep a confidence, and it’s best the slaves hear the plans from us first.”
“No doubt Mr. Draper will be as surprised as the slaves.”
“Probably more so,” Nolan said. “While Mr. Draper realizes we don’t believe in slavery, I’m sure he has no idea we would actually free all of them.”
“I only hope they’ll agree to what we’re offering. Otherwise, there’s no way we’ll be able to get the cotton harvested.”
Clara released her father’s finger, plopped down on the grass, and then raised her outstretched arms. “Tired of walking, are you?” he asked, lifting her high in the air and circling around until she giggled before setting her back on the grass. Nolan turned toward Jasmine, his countenance now more serious. “And what is the worst thing that could happen if we failed to bring in the crop?”
“I’d feel as though I’d failed to carry out my father’s last wish,” she ruefully admitted.
Nolan wrapped her in an embrace. “I don’t believe your father would be supportive of our plans to free the slaves, so it’s time you ceased being so hard on yourself. Nothing in our lives is dependent upon this crop.”
Jasmine leaned back and looked into her husband’s eyes. “Perhaps not, but if we are to carry out our plan and give the slaves their freedom, they’ll need the money to establish themselves up north. Giving them freedom without any means to support themselves as they attempt to begin a new life is tantamount to setting them up for failure. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course. However, worrying is not going to change one thing. I believe the slaves will quickly realize that they are actually working as freed men to bring in this crop. I don’t think there will be many who will choose to immediately leave the plantation. If they do, we can point out the difficulties they’ll face and wish them well. And there may even be some who will be afraid to leave, especially the house servants.”
She knew her husband was correct. Worry would serve no purpose but to render her useless. They were, after all, doing the proper thing by freeing their slaves. Surely God would see them through any difficulties that might lie ahead.
Alice Ann skipped off toward the house, and her younger sister raced on her chubby legs to catch up.
“After the announcement is made tomorrow, I’ll talk to Prissy,” Jasmine said as the two followed their children. “Since the day we arrived in Mississippi, she’s talked openly with me. Perhaps she’ll be willing to tell me what the reaction is in the slave quarters—especially if there’s any backlash from the other plantations. By the way, did I tell you she and Toby plan to marry?”
“No. Somehow, it doesn’t seem possible Toby should be old enough to wed.”
“He was small for his age when he was young,” she said, “but he’s come into his own as a young man. He’s eighteen now.”
“Interestingly, Toby made a deep impression upon me when I visited Mississippi for the very first time. More than anyone other than you, I remember the first time I saw Toby here at The Willows.”
“Truly? Tell me,” Jasmine said.
“At supper the evening my brother and I arrived at the plantation, Toby was—”
“On the swing above the table stirring a breeze and fanning away the flies.”
“Exactly. And I recall how he waved to you and flashed his big toothy grin from his perch.”
