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The days passed and there was no letter or invitation from Elizabeth. I was concerned and realized I had said too much. And then a letter arrived.
March 8, 1856
Dear Thomas,
When presented with unsettling news, it is often wise to pause and reflect. You spoke from the heart that day in the sitting room making it painfully obvious that your heart is still with another and a nigra wench no less! How could this be? I cannot begin to tell you what a whirlwind I have been in since you spoke those words to me. My heart is heavy, heavier than it has been in a very long time. We all have ghosts from our pasts, and sometimes there is courage enough to fight them, especially if we are to live an enriched and meaningful life. I believe in my heart that I have let go of mine, but in this new awareness, I have been forced to wonder if you have let go of yours, so much so that I have no choice but to reconsider being your wife.
Elizabeth
Over the course of days, I found myself slipping into a deep melancholy. Elizabeth’s letter was disheartening and made me realize my initial fears - that any love between us would always be out of reach, and not because we weren’t willing to try, but because our pasts would not let us.
For years, I had asked myself why my devotion to Jeyne was so strong. Why was I unable to let her go? I was no longer that young boy desperately in love with a slave girl, but a man now, well aware of what life expected. Rereading Elizabeth’s letter made those demands even more clear: She wanted a proper husband, one who would be fully committed and devoted to her, in mind as well as in body. It was all or nothing. To say I would be able to provide her what she needed would be a lie. I was still, and perhaps always would be, in love with Jeyne.
Chapter Twelve
Days after receiving Elizabeth’s letter, I was summoned to the Cunningham estate. When I arrived, I was greeted with the usual politeness from the house slaves but Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. I was ushered into Aunt Rachel’s private parlor where she sat waiting for me. She was wearing a dark, green dress which made her pale skin look even paler. Physically, she was a stark contrast to her daughter. Where Elizabeth was slender and graceful, Aunt Rachel was short and thickset with pudgy features. She stood up and greeted me with a brief hug.
“Elizabeth won’t be joining us,” she said.
I frowned. “I’d like to see her.”
“You will in time,” she said, patting the red, cushiony space of the divan next to her. “Let’s you and talk for a moment, shall we?”
Despite my discomfort among the overly decorated room with its ostentatious ceramics, paintings and sculptures, I sat down next to her, my mind completely on Elizabeth.
“Nephew, I will dispense with the pleasantries and get straight to the point,” she said with a cold smile. “I have written to your mother and she and I both agree that you and Elizabeth are well-suited for each other. There’s no reason why a wedding date should not be set and in quick order. Elizabeth would no doubt make a fine wife for you. She is beautifulandeducated. You could extend the courtship, of course, but it is quite obvious you two belong together.”
I almost laughed at my aunt’s audacity. As far back as I can remember, Aunt Rachel was always giving unwanted advice and orchestrating other’s people’s lives and those of her daughters. And even though Daniel Cunningham III was the patriarch of the household, it was quite obvious who ran the family. It was clear Aunt Rachel was up to her manipulative ways again.
I knew for a fact my mother had not written to her about Elizabeth. Although she was eager for me to take a wife, my mother also knew I wouldn’t be forced to do it. I took a deep breath and summoned all the social niceties I had been taught as a young man. Anything said to Aunt Rachel had to be done with the utmost of care. I took in the severe, determined look on her face.
“Aunt Rachel, Elizabeth and I are still finding our way to one another,” I said. “True love takes time. And we don’t want to get married only to regret it later.”
“Love?” she said waving me off with her jeweled hand. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about marriage, children, and maintaining a legacy. That is why Elizabeth and you were promised to each other, to maintain it.”
“With all due respect, Aunt Rachel, that was years ago,” I said. “Elizabeth and I are adults now. Free to choose, free to think. Free to just...be.”
“Are you speaking for yourself or for her?”
“I would like to think she would speak for herself if she were sitting here.”
Aunt Rachel laughed. “All those years up north turned you into a philosopher, I see,” she mocked. “This love business, that is between you and Elizabeth. In reality, love is a luxury, one that we can’t always afford.”
“How are we to remain happy without love?”
She sat up straighter, her heavy chest rising. “Look, don’t make mistake me,” she said directly, her face hard as stone. “I, in no way want to force my daughter on anyone. But all couples have their differences and they press on despite them.”
“And when those differences can’t be resolved, what then?”
Aunt Rachel leaned into me. “You be a man and deal with it.”
“I have no problem with being a man,” I said. “Marrying for the sake of maintaining a legacy, that’s another story.”
“You may not think so,” Aunt Rachel said, “but you have a moral obligation to marry her. Or do you plan to run off and abandon her again?”
I returned her insult with a smile. “From what I understand, Elizabeth had no problem replacing me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning her honor?”
