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Her husband, being the kind man that he was, had no known enemies.
He had never had problems with anyone.
He was even kind to his slaves. The slaves had grown to admire him for his gentleness, though they hated the very sight of Hiram, who used his whip too casually on them even after Virgil had warned him against such a practice.
Only one man came to mind when she thought of evil and meanness…and that was Hiram!
But surely…
No.
She wouldn’t allow herself to believe that Hiram could kill his own brother. Yet Hiram had much to gain if Virgil were out of the picture.
He would be able to run the plantation by himself, the way he wanted.
He was even planning on marrying his brother’s wife!
That thought made Lavinia stop crying and angrily push the blanket away from herself.
She slid out of bed, and barefoot went to the shutters at one window and threw them open.
She inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh air as it wafted into her room.
She knew she had to get hold of herself.
She had much to plan and do.
Besides burying her husband, she had accomplished one other thing today.
Twila was no longer living among the slaves in the quarters.
She was now at the house, with a little room of her own, and with housekeeping duties that were much easier than the chores she’d done before. Hiram was furious that Lavinia had given Twila so much freedom.
“And that’s only the beginning,” Lavinia whispered to herself.
She went to her dresser and took up her hairbrush.
As she pulled it through her long, golden hair, she went back to the window and found herself gazing at the massive live oak where she had seen the mystical panther earlier in the day.
The sunset was casting an orange glow on the moss, which hung from the limbs like the lace at the neckline of her delicate white gown.
Then she dropped her brush, gasped, and grabbed at the bedpost as she found herself gazing at the white panther, which was leisurely resting on the same limb as before.
Seeing it again convinced her it was real.
It wasn’t a figment of her imagination, unless…“Mama?”
Dorey’s sweet voice drew Lavinia’s attention as she came into the room. The smell of tomato soup wafted toward Lavinia, who turned abruptly to look at her daughter.
“Mama, I’ve brought you your soup,” Doreysaid, taking the bowl over to the bedside table. She placed it there and set a spoon beside it.
Dorey went to Lavinia. “Mama, you’ve been crying again,” she murmured. “Yet I’m glad that you are at least out of bed and brushing your hair. But, Mama…there is something I see in your expression that puzzles me. What is it, Mama? What’s wrong?”
Lavinia smiled weakly. She laid her brush on the bed, then turned slowly to look out the window again.
She had to see if the beautiful white panther was really in the oak, or just a figment of her imagination. If she still saw it there, she would point the creature out to Dorey. If Dorey saw it, too, then Lavinia would know without a doubt that it was real!
When she gazed at the exact spot where she had seen the panther, the limb was empty. A strange feeling of panic clutched her insides; she needed to know for certain that it had been there.
