AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mary braced herself against the trunk, her breath coming in quick bursts. Mary's mind became crowded with questions but she couldn’t think clearly. Tears began to immediately flow down her cheeks. There were so many letters, all of them unopened and addressed to her. She managed to regain her composure long enough to look frantically in the trunk for more letters, but there were none. Mary quickly discarded what was left of the brown paper and shut the trunk and headed for the door, the adrenalin replacing fatigue with rapid speed. Mary was unsure of what to do next. The implications of revealing the existence of these letters was too great.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth green eyes were filled with tears. It had been a long day for me and it was turning into a longer night. Ever since our heated debate at the dining room table a few months ago, the tension in our marriage had not eased.
“It’s been a year and I still feel like a stranger here,” she said. “And if that isn’t enough, I have sit here all day and be tortured by the slaves. I hear them whispering in the hallways and the bedrooms...talking about why you left Bellevue.”
“Slaves will always talk, Elizabeth,” I said slowly, making sure to measure my words. “It’s all in the past and I’d prefer to keep it there.”
“That’s a bit hard to do with the same old niggers living here.”
I felt the tension in my body began to rise. “I will pretend you didn’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. I have to deal with them every day whether I like it or not.”
“What would you propose I do? Sell them all?” I said.
Her eyes narrowed. “A few lashings across their backs would certainly quiet their tongues.”
I turned and sat on the edge of the mahogany sleigh bed. For a minute, I couldn’t say a word.
“Is that your solution to ease your discomfort?”
She came to me. “No,” she said with venom. “It’s to put them in theirplace. The majority of the niggers here have been at Bellevue for years, which means they are a part of your past, and that puts me in a very uncomfortable position as your wife. I shouldn’t have to feel shame in my own house, especially over some nigger wench.
“That is perhaps how your father and the rest of the slave owners handle their affairs,” I said, “but this is Bellevue. And I have the final say on what happens here.”
“So, we live here and pretend you were never in love with a nigger wench?”
I eyed her closely. “And so what if I was?” My tone was biting and vicious.
A look of pain crossed her face. “Oh, my god...you still love her,” she said, bracing herself against a chair.
I wanted to deny it, but I said nothing. A darkness settled over me and I leaned back against the bolster of the bed, trying very hard to control my own emotions. She turned away from me and covered her face with her hands and began to cry from deep within her soul. After a few moments, she gathered herself and made her way to the door.
“I think it best for me to sleep in the guest room,” she said through heavy tears. “That is the best place for me right now. I’d rather be there than living in the shadow of a nigger.”
“Then that is where you shall be,” I said, my tone equally biting and vicious. “There are worse places for you to live.”
Elizabeth’s obsession with Jeyne continued to haunt our marriage. And as the months wore on, my heart grew heavy with regret. The constant need to explain the past was beginning to wear thin. Bitterness began to consume me and the emotional walls I had built were becoming harder and harder to penetrate. Our differences were deep and unbending.
Yet, we were still both privileged members of an elite family, a society couple, and we were expected to adhere to all the responsibilities that our social position entitled us. Our status demanded that we pretend and forget about our troubles despite the wounds that were festering inside of us. And we did forget. Sometimes. And as I continue to reflect back on that moment, the same pain that gripped my heart that night came upon me again. Our argument had been all the proof I needed: that Elizabeth and I should have never married.
Had we been too desperate in our loneliness? Were we so blind in our quest for domestic happiness that we didn’t see the obvious? As for my feelings regarding Elizabeth’s past, I had no reason or desire to compete with Nathan. But I was no fool. I knew how deeply she had loved him and I suspect her anger towards me was, in part, a diversion from her own feelings, a way to distract herself from the anguish she still felt.
Chapter Eighteen
“Jeyne! Jeyne, please hurry!”
I watched on helplessly as she struggled with the chains that bound her.
“They won’t come off, Thomas,” Jeyne said frantically as tears streamed heavily down her face. “They won’t. They just won’t!”
The chains that bound her were tight around her ankles. Her hands were free but she was unable to release herself, and she was too far away for me to reach her. My legs felt as if they were cemented to the ground. I couldn’t move. Suddenly, I could hear men coming, their footsteps heavy and urgent.
“Jeyne, please...you‘ve got to try. We don't have much time!”
I was desperate for her to get free, but it was too late. The men and their dogs were already upon us. Tall and menacing, they all carried heavy whips and guns. I couldn't make out how many men were actually in the crowd, ten, fifteen...twenty.
