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Thomas had gone to New Orleans earlier that morning to run errands and wasn’t due back until tomorrow morning. This gave Elizabeth plenty of time to search and hopefully find something of significance, anything that would give her more clues about Jeyne. Her heart had been filled with anxiety ever since she overheard Fannie and the other slave talking about Jeyne, and she could barely sleep because of it. For there was something in Thomas’ tone and the way he carried himself that suggested there was more to the story than what he was telling. There was always an aloofness about him no matter the moment. But the more she pressed him for information, the more tight-lipped he became. Elizabeth was determined to find out the truth even if it meant searching through his private things to do it. It was a risk, but she had to take it.
Elizabeth noticed the wall-to-wall bookshelf and began taking books from it, methodically leafing through book pages to find hidden caches, secret compartments or carved out pages. Pages upon pages she looked through but she found nothing. The more she searched, the more frustrated she became. She felt under furniture and the cushions of the chairs, lifted heavy rugs, and even peeked behind framed paintings. Still, the clues to Thomas’ secret remained hidden from view. Mentally and physically exhausted from her search, Elizabeth sat at Thomas’ desk, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated.
The large plantation ledger lay in front of her and she began looking through it absently. The ledger contained mundane entries and daily accounts of the plantation’s expenses and business activities.Some of the entries revealed the health of the slaves, or the quantity of sugar refined.Even though O’Reilly was the overseer who was hired by Thomas’ father to run the day-to-day operations of Bellevue, Thomas didn’t trust him, and maintained tight control of the plantation’s details, never surrendering or apologizing to O’Reilly when he wanted something done differently.
Sept. 1, 1857 — A day of great weather yesterday. Today it is clear and quite cool. John landed 20 bottles of liniment from Leverich & Co. New Orleans.
Sept. 15, 1857 — Making bricks. Davis gang cutting cane stalks. No rain.
Sept. 16, 1857 — Making bricks. Cutting out weeds. Gathering corn. No rain.
Oct. 18, 1857 — Men cutting cane. Davis gang digging ditches. No rain.
Dec. 14, 1857 — Some impurities in the 1st strike, the rest is clear. Produced 27 Hogsheads of sugar.
March 15, 1858 – Mr. Jessup says he has lost 9 men in last 2 weeks due to pneumonia. A great deal of sickness here. The slaves must be secretly traveling (to see each other) and unknowingly spreading it. Heavy rain.
April 23, 1858 — Cecilia (Hannah’s child) died at 15 past 6 p.m., aged near one year.
May 5, 1858 — Gave the men, women and children their summer clothes. The day has been very humid. Afraid it will rain in a few days.
Elizabeth continued to flip through the large pages and entries, fascinated by all the details of their plantation life, details that Thomas never mentioned. She started to close the plantation ledger but noticed a letter hidden between the back pages. She pulled it out and noticed the letter was aged and worn. It was addressed to Mary but she opened it anyway.
Hamilton County
Red Bank, Tennessee
June 10, 1839
My dearest Thomas,
I pray these words find you. I still carry hope that you will receive my letters as they were intended, but maybe, just maybe, you will see them and feel my love. I long to see you, to touch you, to kiss you again…
Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face as she continued to read the letter to its end. She felt immediate jealousy upon seeing the words of his lover. The fact that the letter was dated over twenty years ago didn’t matter. Her heart still pounded a thousand beats. Elizabeth felt like ripping the letter into tiny pieces and leaving it plain view so that Thomas could see it. Instead, she shoved the letter into her bodice and ran to the door. Her one thought, urged on by anger and fear, was to get to run as far away as she could, to find safety, but from what, she did not know.
Chapter Thirty
The latest “passengers” to arrive at Bellevue came two nights before, exhausted, hungry, and disoriented. Such was the life of a runaway slave. To expect anything more would be foolish. Lizzie found them where she often did, huddled together in the cold dampness of her cabin - the place known to runaways as the “cabin with the curved bench.” For those who dared to escape, Bellevue had become known as a safe location, a place to replenish the body and soul before traveling on to Baton Rouge. But hiding slaves was a dangerous and risky business. Slave owners were constantly on the lookout for runaways and paid a hefty price for their return. A captured slave could fetch up to a thousand dollars or more, not to mention the fine and possible jail time for those who aided in the slaves’ escape.
Jonathan Walker was an abolitionist who became a hero to those in the Movement when he helped a group of slaves in 1844 escape from Florida and sail to the Bahamas. Walker was later tried, sentenced and branded in the palm of his left hand with the letters S.S. which meant “slave stealer.” The branding took place in a federal courtroom, no less, where a fire had been built for that purpose. Walker was fined and imprisoned for almost a year and released only after his fellow abolitionists paid his fine. Walker served as an example to all those abolitionists who dared to help runaways and became known as “The Man with the Branded Hand.” The tactic was an effective scare tactic for some, but not for the majority. The underground network, and the secrets that governed it, was stronger than ever.
Forever mindful to never use a lantern under the dark of night, Lizzie would greet the runaways and give them food and take care of any wounds or ailments they had. Within her cabin were small sections or “rooms” that were partitioned off by blankets, allowing each slave to have their privacy, if they needed. Then, once they were all fed, Lizzie would whisk them off to the main house and take them to hide in the wine cellar so they could avoid detection during the day. This cycle repeated itself until they were ready to leave and embark on the next leg of the journey to Baton Rouge.
This particular group - a married couple and a strong, self-contained man in his forties - had come to Bellevue severely dehydrated. Throughout the day, Lizzie had given them most of what they needed, but now, their dehydration had them drinking beyond what she had instructed. Despite Lizzie’s warnings, the water pail was running low with four more hours to go before nightfall.
“The more you drink, the louder your nature calls,” she had said firmly to them in the wine cellar. “And we cain’t have that. Movin’ and bein’ seen by folks ain’t good, even if them folks ain’t nothing but slaves.”
Despite her protests, Lizzie knew they needed more water. She walked quietly to the rear of the house and handed the bucket to a young slave who was scrubbing the back porch. Lizzie had to be discreet about how many trips she made to the cellar. As the head house slave, her moves were always watched.
“Katy, go and fill this for more me, please. And be quick.”
“Yes’m.”
“And just set it on the porch,” Lizzie instructed. “I’ll be back for it.”
“Yes’m.”
Lizzie walked back inside, eager for Thomas’ return from New Orleans so that they could continue to plan their next moves. The longer any group of runaways stayed, the greater they were at risk at being found. And the bounty hunters were nearby, Lizzie could feel them.
