Celia Garth: A Novel (49 page)

But then the news stopped. Three weeks went by and no scouts appeared. The letter box was empty.

They tried to hold up their spirits. Herbert and Vivian said the best thing to do was keep busy. Fields must be cared for, cotton must be seeded, soap and candles must be made. So everybody at Sea Garden kept busy. But white and colored, they all felt—and they felt it harder because they did not talk about it—that these silent weeks were like those weeks last year, before Darren brought news of the dreadful defeat at Camden.

Celia tried not to worry, but she could not help it. In the daytime she had work to keep her occupied, but at night when she was alone, all sorts of possible tragedies went through her mind. Marion’s men could have been defeated. They could have been trapped in a swamp and cut to pieces. And in defeat or victory, always some of the men engaged were hurt, some were killed. When Luke was with her it was easy enough to be brave. But not now.

Sea Garden might be raided by some plundering band. It was far from the main roads, but it was rich and tempting. Celia had once looked up Vivian’s birthday Bible verse. Vivian’s birthday was the sixteenth of June, and the sixteenth verse of the women’s chapter of Proverbs read: “She considereth a field, and buyeth it; with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.” A fitting verse for Vivian. But for her dear Sea Garden to be destroyed like Bellwood—Celia shuddered at the thought.

And Luke, Luke—

Night after night, Celia clenched her teeth and doubled up her fists. “I won’t give in,” she said to the dark. “I’ll keep smiling if it kills me.”

So she kept smiling, and she worked as hard as she could. Herbert and Vivian did the same, and they were all grateful to one another.

At last, on a bright April morning, a Negro man rode in from Pinevale, the plantation of Herbert’s son Eugene. The field-workers recognized him as he rode out of the woods, and one of them dropped his hoe and ran to tell the folk at the big house. Herbert and Vivian and Celia hurried out to the back porch to ask what news he brought.

But the man brought no news. He brought only a letter from Eugene Lacy to his father, in which Eugene was begging for news himself. He said he had received one note from Tom, telling how Tom had escaped the prison-ship. But this was a month ago. Had Herbert heard anything since?

Sadly, Herbert told the Negro to go into the kitchen and get a meal. Shaking his head, he walked back indoors.

Celia saw Vivian biting her lip and trying not to show how bitterly disappointed she was. Taking her hand, Celia spoke in an undertone.

“Maybe there’s a letter in the box. Shall I walk over there?”

Vivian nodded. “I wish you would.”

They smiled at each other with desperate cheerfulness.

Celia went through the room that they used as an informal gathering-place. Her sewing lay on a chair, where she had left it a few minutes ago. By the fireplace stood her spinning-wheel, and on the table lay several bound copies of the
Gentleman’s Magazine,
which Herbert used to receive regularly from London. Celia smiled. What a comfortable, welcoming room it was. Here at Sea Garden they had made her feel so pleasantly at home. If only she knew Luke was well, how happy she could be.

She started toward the boathouse. This was not the boathouse that had the exit from the secret passage; this one was nearly a mile from the big house, on another creek that flowed into the river farther upstream. Celia hurried along the path and opened the door.

As she went to the compartment where letters were placed, she felt a glow of hope. The silence could not last forever. One day she would find a letter. Maybe today. She opened the compartment.

The box was empty.

Celia choked back a sob. She wondered if any certainty could have hurt much more than this long pain of suspense. From the trees outside she heard the twitter of birds. They sounded so gay in the sweet spring weather.

Then she heard something else. The clang of the landing-bell.

She started with a cry of joy. At last, somebody from outside! Not Tories sneaking in to loot and burn, but visitors who sailed openly up the river, who rang the bell to announce their arrival. These would be friends. They would bring news.

Catching up her skirt, she began to run. She ran out of the boathouse and through the woods toward the main landing, but before she had gone far she stopped and told herself not to hurry so. Whoever the callers were, Herbert would go to meet them at the landing. In the meantime Vivian would open bedrooms, order refreshments, summon maids and house-boys to give service.

And she herself was now also a lady of the house. It was her place to stand beside Vivian to welcome their friends and help with the duties of hospitality. She must not run like a child, and arrive all breathless and damp-faced; she must walk in fresh and smiling, like a person who knew her manners. This would be her first experience at being a hostess in her own home. Vivian might appear to be giving all her attention to the guests, but Celia knew Vivian would also be observing her, to see what she was doing and how she was doing it.

With an effort Celia curbed her impatience and began to walk sedately along the path toward the house. She would smile at the company, explain that she had been taking a stroll when she heard the bell, and say how glad she was to see them. She hoped they would be people she knew.

Surrounded by the woodland growth, she could not see the visitors, but by now she could certainly hear them. They were a mighty noisy group. She heard men shouting. There seemed to be a great many. Some of them sounded like men giving orders. Celia stopped again. Those men did not sound like friends. They sounded—she wet her lips—they sounded like an army.

Whoever they were, they had terrified the Negroes. A woman screamed, an instant later there was another scream, and a man’s voice cried out, “Oh Lord have mercy on us!” Celia broke into a run.

She ran as fast as she could, panting, more than once nearly stumbling over clumps of grass. She felt her armpits suddenly wet. In front of her she was holding up her skirt so as not to trip on it; she saw drops of sweat on the backs of her hands. Oh, what a long way it was—the boathouse had never before seemed so far from the big house, and the shrubbery was so thick! If only she could see what was going on. She heard more noise, shouts of men and cries of women and rushing footsteps and a general confused commotion, and then at last she came out of the woods.

She saw the beautiful dwelling-house of Sea Garden. She saw the oaks around it, and the flowerbeds, and among the flowerbeds she saw men in red coats.

There were thirty or forty men in red coats, or maybe more—in her shock Celia was no good at counting. She saw the Negroes huddled in groups, around the house, on the front steps, on the piazza. As she went toward the front of the house she saw a British officer standing on the top step, facing the main door. In his hand he held a large official document with a red seal.

Before the front door, Herbert and Vivian stood facing the officer on the step. On the piazza, between the door and the steps, stood Roy Garth. At his side was Sophie, and with them a colored nurse holding the baby. Near by stood a group of about twenty Negro men and women, evidently servants they had brought with them.

Roy was very grand in a black cloak with three overlapping shoulder-capes and a gold buckle at the neck. Sophie had on a rose-colored cape of thin wool, thrown back to show a printed silk dress. The British officer wore tall headgear, looming a foot and a half above his wig; his red coat was held by white shoulder-belts crossing in front, and his red coat-tails hung behind him to his knees. His breeches were white doeskin, his boots black and gleaming. He had opened the document with the red seal, and now he was reading aloud.

“Know all men by these presents: In the name of George the Third, by the grace of God king …”

Celia crept nearer. She tried to walk softly on the grass. The other soldiers were quiet, standing at attention, and the Negroes were now too awed to speak. The reading went on.

“… John Cruden, Commissioner of Sequestrated Estates for his majesty’s province of South Carolina …”

Celia’s heart sounded like thunder in her ears. She felt as if she were making an agonized effort to wake up from a nightmare, wake up and find that this did not mean what she knew it did mean.

“… In consequence of the powers in me vested, by the right honorable Earl Cornwallis …”

From somewhere above her Celia heard the squawk of a jaybird. The officer went on reading. In her agitation Celia missed some of the words. It did not matter, for many of them were long legal words that she would not have recognized anyway. But she heard enough.

She heard “… confiscated … the owners having given aid and comfort to traitors during the late insurrection … confiscated and sold … therefore the estate known as Sea Garden is hereby declared the property of his majesty’s loyal subject … [Celia tried to pray, but the words would not come] … Sea Garden is hereby declared the property of his majesty’s loyal subject, Roy Garth.”

When Celia looked back, it seemed to her that she had considered every possible disaster but this. She had tried to steel herself to face any blow that might come. But she had not thought of the chance that Roy might take Sea Garden.

And yet it seemed to her now that this had been in front of her all the time.

Roy’s plantation was small, run down, in debt. From the day he married into a rich Tory family he had done his best to take advantage of his status as a friend of the king. Since the British marched in, Roy had been always ready to give aid, to act as guide or courier. He had been constantly on the move. Now she knew why. He had wanted to look the country over and choose his own prize.

She remembered his visit to Sea Garden last summer. How solicitous he had been about taking Sophie for a walk, so he could see more of the property. At that time the confiscation order had not been publicly issued, but men of the inner circles no doubt knew it was going to be. She thought of his return a few months later, the time he had so graciously bought Eugene Lacy’s promissory note—to see the place again, to compare it with others, to be sure he was getting the best. Roy was no foreigner. He would know, as well as Vivian had known, how to read the signs of trees and wild growth telling which was the richest soil.

So now he had it. He had obtained the confiscation order after the battle of Guilford Court House. This was the battle they had been expecting in North Carolina, and the redcoats were happy to tell them all about it. The Americans under General Greene had met the British under Cornwallis and Tarleton, and they said the Americans had taken a walloping defeat.

When news of the great British victory reached Charleston, they said cannon roared and church bells rang, and everybody put lights in the windows as a sign of rejoicing. John Cruden, Commissioner of Sequestrated Estates, celebrated by giving a grand ball in the residence he had confiscated for himself. He further celebrated by issuing more orders confiscating estates, so Tories who deserved the best could buy them for tiny prices. One of these orders conveyed Sea Garden to Roy.

After attending Cruden’s ball, Roy and Sophie made ready to go to Sea Garden. A detachment of British troops had been ordered to go up the coast by ship, under command of the officer, Major Edmore, to whom Roy had made himself useful on several occasions. It was not difficult for Roy to get permission for Major Edmore to escort him to his new estate.

Major Edmore was a kindly soul who tried to do right. While he knew traitors must be punished, he felt sorry for these misguided folk who had to lose their homes. Herbert would have to leave the horses in his pasture and the schooner in his boat-house, but Major Edmore said he would take Mr. and Mrs. Lacy on his ship to wherever they expected to live now. And Roy, not to be outdone in kindness to his fallen enemies, said they might each choose one personal servant to take with them.

As the man bringing Eugene’s letter had arrived that same morning, Herbert counted himself fortunate to know that Eugene still had a home—or at least had had one two days ago when the man started. He thanked Major Edmore, and said they would go to the plantation of his son. The Negro man would be sent ahead to tell Eugene to expect them. Major Edmore said they would leave tomorrow.

Through all this talk and movement, Celia had kept silent. At the beginning, both Roy and Sophie had greeted her with perfunctory smiles, but after that, with so much else to be noticed, they seemed to have forgotten her. The sun grew hot on the outside, so they all moved into the parlor, where Major Edmore said he would give further orders. Celia followed, but she stayed out of the way, moving aside when anyone came near her, keeping as inconspicuous as she could.

Here in the parlor she and Luke had been married. It was a beautiful room, its long windows giving a fine view of the oaks. Herbert and Vivian stood listening to the instructions of Major Edmore. Roy and Sophie were walking about, looking over their new possessions. Celia stood by the wall, trying to be as quiet as a leaf that lay on the floor, fallen from a vase of flowers.

She had heard everything they said, and her thoughts supplied what they did not say. General Greene, Washington’s own choice as commander, had been defeated. No doubt Cornwallis and Tarleton were triumphantly marching north right now, at last on their way to join Clinton for the final push that would win the war. And Marion’s men? Maybe they too had met defeat. But even if they had not, what use now to attack the supply roads and ferries? They could delay Cornwallis no longer. He was marching north. And Luke?

From outside, she could hear the Negroes wailing. They had been told they would have to stay and work for the new owners. Nearly all these Negroes had been born at Sea Garden, and had never worked for anybody but Vivian and her family. The house-folk, as well informed about the war as the white people, were appalled. Through one of the windows Celia could see two women, sobbing. She was glad Marietta was in town.