21
Though Catherine covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, she could not block out Aurelia’s groans as the whip struck her back. Blood soaked her gown. Angel sobbed. Catherine had tried to take the child away, but DeMornay forbade it.
She despised him.
Pleas to stop only increased the punishment. It went on past Catherine’s endurance.
All she could do was hold on to Angel and sing refrains from the hymns that had comforted her as a child. Even so, anger seethed within. Jesus said to turn the other cheek, but how could anyone turn away from such undeserved punishment? Not her. Not on Maman’s beloved plantation.
If only it was hers. She must find the papers that Papa had signed. If she had them in hand, if she destroyed them, then Chêne Noir would be hers. A day ago, she might have said that was wrong. Papa had sold her portion and received the funds. That large credit on the accounts confirmed it. By all rights, the plantation did not belong to her, but she could not stand by in the face of injustice when she possessed the means to correct those ills.
When DeMornay was finished, he hung up the whip as casually as hanging a hat. He then brushed off his hands and demanded Catherine go back into the house.
“I will not.” She was the only protection Aurelia and her children had. She led Angel to her mother, who remained crouched on the ground until DeMornay left. She then helped Aurelia to her quarters and the straw pallet covered with ticking that served as a bed.
“Rest here while I fetch medicine, soap, and warm water.”
Aurelia’s wide eyes were filled with pain. “Don’t come back. You jess bring trouble.”
Catherine felt a pinch of guilt. She should have realized DeMornay would grow angry when she sat at the head of the table. “I didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.” Especially since Angel was his daughter.
She retrieved soap, water, and bandages. When she returned, she found Angel dabbing at her mother’s wounds with a dirty cloth.
“Here. Use this one.” Catherine dipped a clean cloth in the pail of water and squeezed it out. She then gave it to Angel.
Aurelia glared at her from the pallet. “Shouldn’t’ve come back.”
“I had to.”
“He won’t like it.”
Catherine dipped the bloody cloth in the bucket and squeezed it out again. “Apply pressure anywhere it’s bleeding.”
Angel nodded solemnly.
“I couldn’t find anyone in the cookhouse. Where is Walker?”
“In the overseer’s house.” That was said with bitterness. “The rest are in the fields. Except my boys, Gibson and Hunter.”
Catherine looked up to see two sets of eyes watching her from the other room. The boys.
“Who will take care of you?” Catherine asked.
“My Angel.”
Catherine was still trying to wrap her mind around the scarcity of servants. “Were there ever more household servants?”
Aurelia didn’t answer for so long that Catherine figured she didn’t know. Then she whispered, “When old massa Henri alive, dere be more, but dey go. One by one.”
“What happened to them?”
Aurelia shook her head.
“Mammy. Her last name was Benjamin. Was she one of them? Is that how you learned of Key West?” Catherine held her breath.
This time Aurelia didn’t clamp her mouth shut. “He wanted her. She die rather’n let ’im have her.”
Catherine tried to control her trembling hands. Was this the horror under the surface of Black Oak? “Where did she go? Did he sell her?”
Aurelia stared at her. “He beat her ’til she dead.”
A cry threatened to burst from Catherine’s throat, but she could not break down in front of the children, lest they fear DeMornay would do the same to their mother. Instead, she took the cloth from Angel, cleansed it in the basin of water, and took over caring for Aurelia’s wounds.
The children silently watched. Catherine’s insides knotted at the terrible thoughts crowding into her mind. Would DeMornay go too far the next time he took out his anger on an innocent? Would he lash out at her? She’d assumed he wouldn’t dare touch her, but she was no longer certain. Crossing DeMornay brought terrible repercussions.
Once the bleeding subsided, Catherine applied liniment and bandaged the wounds. “I will come back in the morning to change these.”
“Don’t,” Aurelia warned. “He jess git mad. Make things worse fo’ us.”
Catherine swallowed the truth that this was her fault. “I’m sorry. I will do what I can when Mr. DeMornay is not here.”
Aurelia looked away. “Don’t be doin’ me no favors.”
“I must. This is no life, not one worth living. I will bring you—all of you—to freedom.”
Her impulsive declaration drew a sharp look. “Don’t be talkin’ foolish. He’ll hear.”
“How?”
“He hear everything.”
Fear shivered down Catherine’s spine.
Again, silence stretched between them.
When Aurelia next spoke, it was in such a whisper that Catherine had to lean close. “You ask where de others go. After Massa Henri pass, dey disappear. Some die. Most jess go. One night dey here. Next mornin’ dey gone.”
“Where?”
“Only de devil knows.”
Catherine drew in a breath, trying to shake off the fear that had her on edge. “He said he hires workers for the harvest.”
“Don’t believe nothin’ he say.” Aurelia glanced at the doorway to the other room and scolded the boys until they slunk outdoors. “You think you strong, like yo’ mama. He break you.”
Catherine drew on her reserves of strength to give the woman hope. “I’m not easily broken.”
“Leave. Find dat captain, go, and don’t come back.”
“But I can’t.” In that moment Catherine knew it wasn’t just because of the plantation and the terrible hold that DeMornay had on it. She must find a way to take Aurelia and her children from this misery.
Only after Catherine returned to her room did the force of what had happened hit her. She collapsed onto the bed in tears. She was too shaken to take supper. Aurelia was in no condition to cook or move about, but DeMornay would probably force her to cook. Thankfully, he did not demand that Catherine appear.
That evening she paced from window to window in her bedroom. The bright moon held no joy. The stars twinkled unknowingly over this evil place. Her heart was ripped to shreds. She must seek Judge Graham’s help to free Aurelia and her children. Captain O’Malley insisted she needed to travel to Key West with ownership papers in order to then emancipate them. Perhaps she could do it here. If she was indeed the owner of Black Oak. The judge would know what must be done.
The door to her room creaked open, and Catherine spun around. “Who’s there?”
DeMornay entered. “You did not join me for supper.”
She should have latched the door. “I was not hungry.”
“I will have Aurelia bring you something.” He lifted a hand to ring the bell.
“No, don’t!”
He lowered his hand. “If you hope to be mistress of Black Oak, you need to learn the ways of life here.”
Bile rose in her throat. “If that’s normal life, I don’t care to learn it.”
He stepped farther into her room. “England is very different.”
She crossed to the window farthest from him. From here she could flee onto the veranda. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. What good would it do? DeMornay could outrun her. His physical strength was far superior. No one was here to help. The only household servants present were a groom devoted to his master, an injured older woman, and three small children.
She should have left with Tom and Rourke. They would have ensured her safety. Where was Tom now? On a ship moored along the river or sailing downstream for New Orleans? Had she thrown away her only chance?
DeMornay moved close. She felt it in the prickling of her skin.
“I’m sorry for that harsh lesson,” he said softly. “Perhaps I should have warned you. Life here is hard. To maintain control over a labor force that far outnumbers you requires a firm hand.”
“And fear.”
“And fear.” He touched her arm, and it took all in her power not to jerk away. “That is a difficult lesson for someone as kindhearted as you. That’s why it’s best to leave the management of the plantation to those who can bear it.”
“Such as the manager.”
Had he flinched?
She drove home the point. “That’s why my cousin gave you control, isn’t it? So he would not have to deal with the labor force.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“It’s not the way I was raised. At Deerford, we treated the tenants with dignity and respect. They were our friends as well as our tenants.”
“And your estate fared well?” Even his voice seemed to smirk.
She would never acknowledge that his cruel ways were right, not when the Bible laid out the relationship between masters and servants so concisely in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. “‘Masters, do the same things unto them, forbearing threatening: knowing that your Master also is in heaven,’” she quoted.
He recoiled a step. “A noble if impractical sentiment. What do you want, Catherine?”
He did for her. “Black Oak. It’s in your blood, and you can have it—with the right alliance.”
He meant himself. She felt it as certainly as it was night. “Please go. I am tired.”
“Clearly you are still distressed. I will send Aurelia to prepare you for bed. A good night’s sleep will restore you. In the morning you will see everything much differently.”
She would not. Ever.
“It’s gone!” From the deck of the James Patrick, Tom stared at the empty cove where his father’s ship had been moored. “You saw it. Everyone saw it.”
Rourke nodded. “Did you expect DeMornay to keep it here now that he knows you’ve returned?”
Tom raked a hand through his hair. “I should never have shown myself.”
“You were worried about Catherine.”
Tom blew out his breath. “But my ship!”
“Your father’s ship at best,” Rourke corrected. “Even with the proper documents, it would take time and persuasion to convince a court.”
“Where would DeMornay take it?” He scanned the river. “It can’t be far away. He must be hiding it somewhere.”
“Or they set sail and are on their way to the Gulf.”
“Why would they sail? They only just returned. The ship hasn’t been here long enough to load anything, and there was no crew aboard.”
“They might have taken it to the city.”
“That makes no sense. Why would they come up here only to turn around?”
“Perhaps there was something they needed to load or unload here. Regardless, it is gone. If it sailed downriver, it has the advantage of speed and time. We would never catch it.”
Tom squeezed his hand into a fist. “To have it this close after all these years only to see it vanish. I can’t accept that.” He slammed his fist onto the rail.
“What do you plan to do? Hunt for it in New Orleans?”
That was the problem. DeMornay wouldn’t keep it in broad daylight in the city. He’d send the ship to another hiding spot.
“We’ll scour the area,” Tom insisted, “search for another place it might be moored.”
“We can do that for a couple days, but then we need to make a decision. As much as I care about you and your concerns, I can’t hold my crew here indefinitely. What do you plan to do?”
Tom had no idea. Not once during the night had it occurred to him that DeMornay would set sail. No, Tom had fretted over Catherine and what that man might do to her. Never the ship. He’d been dwelling on the wrong problem. DeMornay would never harm Catherine. She was a Lafreniere. Her family might not want to admit kinship now, but they would in time. DeMornay had everything to gain from an alliance with her.
“We should have anchored outside this cove last night.”
“‘Should haves’ won’t solve anything,” Rourke said calmly. “The question still remains. What do you intend to do now?”
“I don’t know.” Tom hated to admit that, but he was at a loss. “You’re leaving, and I won’t have a way back to Key West.”
“Except the way you came.”
Tom groaned. “I can’t leave without her, but she refuses to leave. She seems to think she will one day become mistress of Black Oak.”
“Perhaps she will.”
“DeMornay would never allow it.”
Rourke nodded. “I asked you this before, but a decision is now urgent. If you can have only one, which is more important to you? Catherine or your father’s ship?”
Tom squirmed. “I thought we weren’t going to discuss hypothetical situations.”
Rourke laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I admire that stubborn determination in you. Catherine has it too. Perhaps that’s why you’re drawn to each other.”
“Perhaps that’s why we’ll succeed.”
“Or fail. I won’t ask you to answer that question now, but you need to ask yourself which one you’re prepared to lose. Seldom in life can you have it all. Pray on it, Tom. Ask God for guidance. His way is always the right way.”
Tom knew that in his head, and it made sense with the bigger things like life or death. But a ship? Did God care if he got Pa’s ship back? Yet that quest had ruled Tom’s life for ten years. He would never forget how broken Pa had been when he returned, only to suffer pitying looks. Thomas Worthington Sr. had gone from proud shipowner and master to defeated deckhand who couldn’t even provide for his family—a family that was now in the care of Pa’s rival.
Tom flexed the fingers he’d been clenching so tightly. “I can’t forget.”
“No one ever can. Not completely. I can’t forget the arrogance I showed my father. He died before I asked his forgiveness. Though my mother told me he’d forgiven me, it was hard to forgive myself and impossible to forget what I’d done. Yet God says He not only forgives but forgets, as far as the east is from the west.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Elizabeth says it helps to say the words over and over.”
Tom stared at Rourke. “You expect me to say that I forgive DeMornay? Never.”
Rourke looked at him a long time before heading to the captain’s cabin. Tom was left alone on deck with the bitter taste of hatred and a quest cut short.
Catherine had to get away from the plantation and especially DeMornay. The man disgusted her. Moreover, he clearly had designs on her that she could not and would not fulfill. On the other hand, she could not leave Aurelia and her children in that man’s grasp. She needed help, and Judge Graham was most likely to be able to give it. He could find a way for her to get Aurelia and the children away from DeMornay. Since there was no transfer of ownership on record, she might have sufficient control. The judge could give her answers.
A trip to the stables revealed three horses and Walker, the groom who’d driven the carriage the night of the dance.
“Can you take me to town?”
In spite of her clear question, the groom’s eyes widened. “No, miss. Need four horse fer de carriage.”
“I don’t need a full carriage. A small buggy would do.” But no matter how many times she asked, she got the same response.
He wouldn’t hitch a horse and buggy for her. That left walking.
“How far is it to Titchwood?”
He shook his head slowly. “Two mile each way, maybe more.”
She had walked that far many a time, for the village lay a good two miles from Deerford. It had never been this hot, though. By the time she reached the junction where the judge had let her and Tom from his conveyance, she was wilted from the heat.
The oak, part of its trunk scarred black, offered cooling shade. No carriages had passed her on the road thus far, but now that she was heading toward the village and off Black Oak lands, surely someone would pass. A respectable couple might offer to let her ride with them, sparing her the heat of midday. In the meantime, she would rest a spell beneath the oak.
She set down her small bag containing the documents the judge had given her and laid her head on it. Soon the sound of the river’s coursing coupled with the heat drove her eyelids downward. No matter how much she fought, they grew heavier and heavier until she lapsed into a fitful sleep populated with terrible images of a woman getting beaten. Except this time it wasn’t Aurelia. It was her!
She awoke with a start.
“I had a mind to let you sleep. You looked so peaceful.”
The familiar voice drove sleep away. She squinted to make out Tom standing with the sun behind him. “You could offer to assist a lady to her feet.”
“I could. If she would give me the slightest indication that she wished to get to her feet. A hand, perhaps?”
Though her heart had leapt at the sight of him, his teasing annoyed her already bruised emotions. Nevertheless, she stuck out her hand and he pulled her to her feet. She brushed off her skirts.
“You are the last person I expected to see here.” The bits of dried grass and leaves clung fiercely to her gown.
“Who did you expect to meet? DeMornay?”
She glared at him. “Someone respectable who might offer me a ride to Titchwood.”
Tom laughed. “I gather that I am not respectable enough for your tastes.”
“You do not have a carriage,” she pointed out.
“Ah, then you would abandon the demand for respectability if a scoundrel had a proper carriage.”
“You are the singularly most frustrating man I have ever met. Do you intend to stand there mocking me, or will you assist me?”
His grin faded. “As you see, I don’t have a carriage. So how can I assist you?”
“I need to get papers drawn up for Aurelia and her children. I can do that in Titchwood.” A thought crossed her mind. “Or New Orleans. Is Captain O’Malley still here? He would take me to the city.”
He looked around her. “You haven’t any baggage.”
“It’s a short trip.”
He didn’t look pleased by that answer. “Then you don’t plan to leave?”
“Not without Aurelia and the children.”
That brought a smile to his lips. “I can take you to the James Patrick in the ship’s boat. It’s pulled ashore between the landing and here.”
He held out his arm, and she gratefully took it. Tom had always been a gentleman—well, except perhaps when he’d stolen that kiss from her in the pigeonnier. She smiled at the memory.
“Let’s hurry,” she urged.
DeMornay would soon return from the cane fields and find her missing. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out where she went. Walker would not keep a secret. Only when she reached Captain O’Malley’s ship would she feel free.
Tom led her around a fallen log. “Nervous?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Tom smiled. “Because you’re gripping my arm like you’re afraid I’ll leave you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I wouldn’t, you know. Leave you, that is.”
The words swirled through her consciousness with a delightfully calming effect. He would never leave her. “Even in difficult times?”
“Especially then.”
“Even if it gets so hot that I can’t walk any farther?”
He grinned. “I would carry you.”
She laughed at the image of him struggling to carry her. “Shall we put that to the test?”
He looked stricken. “It might not be the best time.”
She laughed again but then sobered as a far more important possibility crossed her mind. What if she did end up the owner of Black Oak? “Even if I ask you to stay here with me?”
He hesitated long enough to give her the answer.
“You wouldn’t stay,” she said for him.
“I’m a sailor.”
“There are ships here. We could get one for the plantation, to haul sugar to market.”
He looked even more uncomfortable. “That is a big endeavor.”
But his manner gave her the answer to the niggling question of a future with Tom Worthington. It wasn’t possible. Not on her terms, anyway.
“You might go to Key West with me,” he said a bit too eagerly.
As much as that island tugged on her heart, she could not leave matters here unaddressed. People suffered. She could not step away when she had the ability to help.
“We need to go through the bushes here.” Tom indicated a seeming wall of vegetation. “I will lead. Hold on.”
She grasped his hand, and he plunged into the foliage. Branches swatted her face, and twigs tore at her skirts. They climbed a sweltering levee and plunged back down the other side and into the foliage again, even denser here. The uneven ground made her stumble, but Tom caught her.
He drew her so close that she could feel the beating of his heart and his breath upon her cheek. She hazarded a look up and lost herself in those brown eyes, dotted with flecks of gold revealed by the sunlight.
“Catherine.” Her name sat ragged upon his tongue. His finger traced the curve of her jaw.
She trembled beneath his touch, losing the will to resist him. Her eyelids drifted shut, and her breaths came quickly. Her lips tingled in anticipation.
He did not disappoint. The first brush of his lips was light as a butterfly’s wing. The next deep as the chasms of the ocean. She fell into it, forgetting the world around her. The river, the plantation, everything retreated into the sanctity of that kiss.
“Oh, Catherine,” he groaned softly when their lips parted.
His forehead dropped to hers.
She drew in a ragged breath. What had she done? He would expect her to join him, would expect her to leave with him, but how could she? She needed Rourke to take Aurelia and her children to Key West. Even if she had to travel with them in order to convince authorities that the slaves belonged to her, she must still return to Louisiana until ownership of the plantation was resolved.
“We should go,” he whispered, but he did not move.
“Yes.” She must be the stronger one, the practical one. She pulled from his grasp and attempted to navigate the sloping ground. Her feet kept slipping.
“Here we go.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her down the slope.
She held tight, drinking in this moment.
Then he halted.
She adjusted her bonnet to see what had caused him to stop. She gasped at the sight.
“Miss Haynes. Mr. Worthington. Going somewhere?” DeMornay stood on the riverbank beside his horse, holding on to a line leading to the rowboat that Tom had tied to the bank.
Tom set her feet on the ground but did not let go of her. “We are if you will step out of the way.”
“I think not.” DeMornay tossed the line into the boat and kicked the skiff out into the river.
The current caught it and sent it spinning away.