Chapter Thirty-Two

APRIL 1865

I did not think the gift extravagant for the many years, let alone the generations, that Obadiah’s family had served the Belvideres. It was more than earned. But I hoped that Grayson would not know, would not get wind that Father and Elliott had given Obadiah and Martha one hundred acres of prime land and one hundred dollars in gold as their wedding gift.

“The war will be over soon, Minnie,” Elliott explained one morning when we were the only ones at breakfast. “The South has all but lost and slaves everywhere will be free before long. Thanks to you and Mother, those who’ve served us know how to read and write, how to count their money, but they’ve had little opportunity to use those skills. Now they will, and we must do all in our power to help those that remain not be taken advantage of. There will be many opportunists. I saw it in the war —men eager to clean the unsuspecting soldier or the ignorant worker out of his coin with promises for something better that doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not sure how we can do that. We’ve no right to interfere in their lives —that’s what freedom is, what it means. The few who’ve stayed won’t be living here, not anymore.”

“I’m thinking there may be some who’ll want to stay on. Maybe have their own home or cabin, own a stretch of land but still work our land or in our home for wages.”

“Can we afford that?”

“Not as much land as we gave Obadiah and Martha, and I don’t know yet about the amount in wages. But if we sell some of our land, we surely can settle thirty or forty acres on those few who are left, and a wage that will enable them to live. It must be a fair wage. That’s what I’m recommending to Father. If they don’t want the land or want to sell it, I’ll offer a fair price so our property lines are not divided, not split up by folks trying to take advantage.”

“Why are you telling me this now? Why, when you’ve never included me before in any of our family’s business dealings?”

Elliott leaned forward. “Because I don’t trust our brother. If left to him he would still own every man, woman, child, and acre of land. I’m not sure that even the war’s end will end the war of greed in him.”

“It’s more than greed. He’s hurt and angry and in debt. He’s not the man that you or Obadiah are, and he can’t abide that. He can’t abide that Father doesn’t respect him.”

“He’s worked hard to earn Father’s disrespect. I cannot change that for him. But I’m worried for the rest of you. He’s bullied Father. He’s bullied you. I’m worried for Alma, for the way he treats her, speaks to her, looks at her.”

“As am I. I will hate to see her leave us, but I think it would be best, before . . .” I didn’t want to finish.

“I spoke with Obadiah this morning. He’s going to build a cabin on the edge of the acreage Father gave them. We’ll deed land to Alma, but I wonder if he and Martha would make room for her to live with them —for safety. She’s Martha’s sister, after all.”

“Mmm. If I don’t miss my guess she won’t be wanting to live with her sister.” I smiled.

“Meaning?”

“You didn’t notice the attentions Shadrach of Chatsworth Lodge paid her at the party?”

Elliott cocked his head, considering. “You think —”

“I do, as soon as Shadrach is free. Alma told me he’s been saving to buy his freedom, hoping Mrs. Chatsworth will agree, but he’s loath to leave her so soon after Tom’s death. They grew up together, you know, as you and Obadiah did.”

Elliott raised his brows. “Apparently not exactly as we did.”

“No,” I sighed. “It was the ownership of others they considered as less than themselves that Tom and his mother could never get beyond, that Tom and I could never agree on.”

“That day of reckoning is coming. The war is going to end, and soon.”

“I pray you’re right, but I wonder —will it make people change their ways? The moment I saw Grayson burning those freedom papers and land deeds, I realized that the strong, the politically powerful rule this world, even if it means they flaunt the law. And our people are free now, but I worry that —”

Elliott leaned back in his chair. “I’m tired, Minnie.”

“Let me help you to the parlor. You can rest awhile before Mother Sally brings Ellie in to play.” I stood to go round the table to him.

“Yes, but that’s not all I meant. I wish you were settled.”

I stopped. It was the thing I could not think about.

“Is there no one?” He looked so tired, yet genuinely concerned.

“When has there been time for courting?” I tried to laugh it off as I handed him his crutches, helped him stand. We walked together, my arm about his waist to steady him, into the parlor, where he sank into the overstuffed chair. I propped pillows round him.

“In the field hospital, when we were wounded, Tom spoke to me about you. He wanted —”

“What Tom wanted I could not give him.” I turned away, biting my lip. “He gave me a set of Les Misérables —did I ever tell you that?”

“Tom?”

“He said the books were so popular in the Confederate ranks that men called themselves Lee’s Miserables.” The memory and hope of Tom and my disappointment that he’d taken such different meaning from the book had burned a sharp dagger in my soul.

“I heard men say that. There were copies of the books, ragtag and spines broken, passed from man to man. They talked about it around the fires at night. But what they read was a different edition. Pirated, changed.”

“Yes. Every reference to the freeing of slaves omitted. Without that, it was not what Victor Hugo wrote —a compromise and more, a lie. You can’t take what’s real and bend it to suit a notion. That’s what that Richmond edition did. And that’s what Tom and his mother believed about slavery —that it was not really slavery in the sense that the people they enslaved lost anything. They believed —Mrs. Chatsworth still believes —that they need to care for the people they’ve enslaved, as if they can’t navigate the world on their own. How would they know? They never gave them the chance. Bending a notion to suit —well, it didn’t suit me and never will.”

“People do it all the time, Minnie. They do it with law, with politics, with Scripture. They take a truth and bend it to mean what they want.” He paused. “I’m sorry about Tom.”

“Sorry? It sounded to me as if he left you to die. He didn’t speak for you —he told me so, though I didn’t understand what that meant until Shadrach told me what happened.”

“Don’t hold that against him. I’d told him a hard truth he didn’t want to hear.”

“But it was truth, Elliott. I wouldn’t have married him, couldn’t have, knowing his beliefs, his actions.”

A knock came at the door. “Miss Minnie? Mr. Elliott? I’ve got little Miss Ellie here.”

“Alma, come in, please. And remember what I told you? No more mister and miss.” Elliott smiled, reaching for his daughter.

“Old habits die hard, Mr. —they just die hard, Elliott.”

“For all of us.” He smiled again, but I saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and the way his arms still trembled in weakness as he took Ellie. Though she weighed little she was sitting up now, squirming and wriggling, determined to stand and jump, all the while needing to be held. She was a handful, even for me.

“I’ll be in the kitchen with Martha. Just call when you want me to come get her.”

“We will,” I assured her.

When she’d gone, Elliott whispered, “Minnie, can you take her?”

“Come to Aunt Minnie, sweet girl.” I scooped Ellie into my arms just before Elliott dropped her. “Elliott?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not myself. I don’t seem to be getting any stronger.”

“You just need more time. So much has happened, Elliott. You —”

“Listen to me, Minnie. We need to get the deeds signed and registered at the courthouse.”

“I thought you believed it would be safest to wait till the war’s over. You said it won’t be long.”

He shook his head. “We need to do it right away. I’d like to think I have all the time in the world, but I know that’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

Looking into his eyes, his Belvidere eyes as blue as the Blue Ridge at dusk, I gripped Ellie too hard, trying in my heart to hang on to all we had, what we were together. It was too much for Ellie. She sent up a wail, a wail I wanted to echo.

To have my brother home at last, to share a like mind on so many things, to not stand alone against Grayson . . . I could not bear to lose him now. “Hush, now, Ellie. I’m sorry, lovie, I’m so sorry.” I cuddled the little girl closer, already mourning all she would miss in her dear father.

Elliott used every ounce of energy he had to speak with those freed men and women who’d remained working at Belvidere Hall after receiving their papers. Together they selected and he allocated plots of land. I wrote out the deeds. Elliott signed them, and to make certain there would never be a question, I helped Father sign as well and press his seal.

Elliott wanted to register the deeds himself, but he’d grown too weak to manage even the short ride into town, so I went, and Obadiah went with me.

“You sure your brother knows what he’s doin’?” the clerk in the courthouse office asked. “Registerin’ land to slaves ain’t legal, Miss Belvidere.”

“These are all deeds for land awarded to free persons, Mr. Bass.”

Mr. Bass’s eyebrows rose high in his forehead.

“Each and every one possesses free papers. Each and every one is now our employee.”

Mr. Bass’s face reddened. “I don’t know as I can —how do I know these ain’t forged? It’s not likely for a woman to come in here —”

“You may know that my brother, who served in this war, was wounded at Hatcher’s Run and is now at home, resting and recovering from a lost limb.”

“Then how do I know he’s in his right mind? This hardly leaves Mr. Belvidere with enough acreage to —”

Obadiah stepped forward —six feet and well-muscled, towering over Mr. Bass, who couldn’t have been more than five feet three and balding. “I believe you’ll see both signatures there, Mr. Bass . . . that of Mr. Elliott Belvidere and that of Mr. Horace Belvidere, owner of Belvidere Hall.”

I saw the Adam’s apple in Mr. Bass’s neck ride up and down. “Well, I don’t know . . .”

“The deeds are legal and binding, Mr. Bass. It’s your job to register deeds, isn’t it? Or do I need to take them to your superior?” I had no idea who that might be but stood as straight as I could and rose up on my toes, giving the impression of every inch I could muster. Obadiah stepped closer to the counter.

“Well, all right then, if you’re sure these people he’s signing over land to are free.”

“Legally free,” I affirmed.

“Well, all right then. I’ll take care of it.”

“We’re happy to wait.” I smiled. “I’ve never seen deeds registered. I’d like to see exactly how it’s done.” I pasted the most innocent, possibly flirtatious smile across my face I could conjure. Obadiah shifted beside me, and I sensed he was trying not to smile.

Mixed emotions swept across Mr. Bass’s face —annoyance, anger, a bit of humiliation lined with intimidation, and then an inclination to the feminine interest being shown him. But he did his duty, at least I hoped he did. Obadiah and I both witnessed his actions.

When we walked down the courthouse steps I felt as if the world had been righted, as if there was hope for a new day, possibly a new era. Until I saw Grayson standing outside the saloon, leaning against a post, arms crossed, watching us.