Heaven and Hell (102 page)

The clerks fetched portmanteaus from their carriage. Ashton pointed toward the road to the old slave quarters. "You'll find them scattered around down there." Charles folded his arms, high color blotching his dark cheeks.

"Now," Ashton said as the clerks hurried off, "the important business. Where might I find Madeline?"

"Around in front," Charles said with a jerk of his head.

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"Thank you, you're so polite," she said with a sneer. She ought to take his sullen behavior as a tribute to her victory. Unfortunately, it just made her mad. She couldn't think when she was mad. She composed herself as best she could and swept down the side of the whitewashed house and stepped around to the lawn overlooking the river, only to be figuratively knocked flat by the sight of three women seated there, stiff as subjects in a photo gallery. One of the women was Virgilia Hazard.

"Virgilia, I'm floored. I'm positively floored."

"Hello, Ashton." Virgilia stood up. She was old, and heavy, and gray as a mouse in her drab dress. Ashton remembered Virgilia's past behavior. Her arrogant pronouncements about Southern ways and Southern people. Her lust for black men. The woman was an abomination; Ashton wanted to spit right in her face. But Mr. Herrington was standing beside her. He wouldn't approve.

"What a charming surprise," Ashton said. "Was your brother too busy to come? Did he send you down here to wring you hands in his behalf?"

The little blond tramp, Cousin Charles's companion, shot her a furious look. Madeline merely looked despondent. Virgilia said, "I regret that George is in Europe."

Ashton pursed her lips. "Oh, too bad."

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"For God's sake," Madeline exclaimed, "let's load the wagon and get out of here."

"In a moment," Virgilia said. "There's something Charles and I would like to say to Ashton in private."

That startled the visitors. Down by the ruined dock, Ashton noted, Charles's ugly little boy was chasing geese again. She studied Virgilia, her expression opaque, searching for some sign of a hidden intent. She could detect none.

"I can't imagine we've anything substantial to discuss," she said.

"Mont Royal's mine, and that's that."

"Yes, true enough. But we would still like to speak with you."

Ashton tilted her head and blinked prettily. "What do you think, Favor?"

"I see no purpose, but I see no harm in it."

"Well, then, all right."

"While you're busy, I'll join my clerks, if you don't mind."

"Yes, you just go right on ahead," Ashton trilled. Charles threw a swift look at Willa; he seemed to be signaling her in some conspiratorial way. Neither Ashton nor her lawyer paid attention.

Virgilia gathered her dowdy gray skirt in her left hand, which Ash 650 HEAVEN AND HELL

ton noticed for the first time. "Let's step inside. We'll only be a moment."

Ashton's

sense of triumph puffed her up again. She could afford to be generous to these whipped curs. She was smiling radiantly as she stepped in front of Virgilia without apology and preceded her into the cheap little room that served as Madeline's parlor.

Everything was packed and piled near the door except for one handmade shelf holding a small stoppered apothecary's bottle of dark amber glass. Dim light fell through the curtained window in the stove alcove. Charles followed the women inside. He closed the door and leaned against it, with arms folded. His cigar had gone out but it still reeked.

Ashton's smile wavered and faded away; although there was absolutely no way these people could threaten her any longer, she was
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nervous. She cleared her throat and said to Virgilia, "My dear, is that an engagement ring?"

"Yes, it is."

"Very handsome. Congratulations. I should like to meet the gentleman." What her tone tried to convey was, / should like to meet the man desperate enough to marry an ox like you.

Virgilia seemed to catch that. "I don't really think you would.

He's a colored man."

Ashton could have gone all the way through the ground to China.

Even Charles looked thunderstruck. Ashton began to feel annoyed and genuinely upset by this queer confrontation in the dark bare room. "Well, that certainly is a piece of news. I wonder, could we just get on with this?"

"Immediately," Virgilia said. "Charles and I would like you to sign something, that's all."

Ashton tittered. "Sign? For mercy's sake, what are you talking about?"

Virgilia picked up the reticule lying on a crate. From it she drew a single sheet of stiff paper, folded twice. She unfolded it. "This. There's a pen in one of these boxes. It will only take a moment."

"What is it? What the hell are you talking about?" She was angry over the mummery.

"A very simple legal document," Virgilia said. "It transfers the title to Mont Royal to Hazard's of Pennsylvania, for a dollar and other considerations.''

That was even more shocking than the news about Virgilia's intended.

Ashton's mouth opened, and her eyes widened. She gaped at them as if they were crazy people. She abandoned all pretense of politeness: Crossing Jordan 651

"You Yankee bitch. You fat whore. What are you thinking? Have you drunk yourself into a state?"

"I suggest you calm down, Cousin," Charles said behind her.

"You shut your mouth, you goddamn good-for-nothing. You're both ready for the asylum. There's no consideration on God's earth that could make me sign that, and you're lint-headed fools even to think it."

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"Perhaps this consideration would influence you," Virgilia said.

From the shelf she took the amber bottle. She showed it, stoppered, in her open palm.

Ashton's squeal went right up the scale. "Oh, what a fool you are--an idiot! A complete ninny! I always thought you were a crazy woman, now I'm sure. Get that out of my sight, whatever it is. Charles, you open that door."

She stormed toward him, only to stop abruptly when he stayed put, arms still folded. He frightened her.

"Do ^ou think--" Ashton's voice quavered just a little--"do you think some shabby little gift would do anything, anything at all, to influence me? Mont Royal's mine, and I'm taking it."

"Gift?" Virgilia repeated with a puzzled smile. The smile disappeared as though a curtain had come down. "For the likes of you?"

Ashton felt a distinct chill. What in God's name were they up to? "Stand fast, Charles. Don't let her out."

Ashton's heaving bodice showed her agitation. She seemed to lose an inch or so of height. Her black-gloved hands fisted at her waist.

"What's going on here? What is that bottle?"

Virgilia drew out the stopper. "It's something for your face, but it isn't perfume." She held out the bottle. "Oil of vitriol."

Charles said, "Sulfuric acid."

Ashton screamed.

It didn't disturb Virgilia. "Go ahead, yell. That feeble lawyer,of yours has gone off to find his helpers. If he hadn't, Willa was prepared to lure him away. You'll have no witnesses to support anything you say about this conversation."

Ashton held still, trembling. From the corner of her eye, she gauged the distance to Charles. A fly buzzed near Virgilia's forehead. Ashton clenched her fists and cried, "Favor!"

Silence. Virgilia smiled in a dreamy way. "My dear, it's no use.

Even if he were standing right outside and tried to force the door, I'd still have plenty of time to splash this all over you." The smile grew broader. "You know I wouldn't hesitate. I'm a Yankee who hates you and your kind and I'm crazy to boot. So I suggest you sign. There's an old quill and some ink in that box right beside you."

"A paper like that--it's no good," Ashton raved. "I can take it
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to court. I can take you to court. I only have to say that you forced me--"

"Why, there's no duress," Charles said gently. "I'm a witness.

There are two of us to testify that you signed voluntarily. Where are your witnesses to say otherwise?"

"Damn you. Damn you!'1

"Ashton, you're wasting your energy for nothing," Virgilia said.

"This paper is perfectly legal, and it will be legal after you sign it. We can hire the best lawyers in the nation to guarantee it. As many lawyers as it takes. My brother George can easily afford that, and a lot more.

So be sensible. Sign."

Ashton screamed again.

Virgilia sighed. "Charles, I'm afraid we miscalculated. Her appearance isn't important to her any more."

"Her face, you mean--"

"Yes. Her face."

Virgilia held out the open amber bottle and started walking toward Ashton. Ashton pressed her wrists to her temples and screamed for a full five seconds. Then she sagged to her knees, rooting in the box. "I'll sign. Don't hurt my face. I'll sign it. Here, I'm signing it--"

She spilled the vial of ink as she dipped the quill in. Huge black spots spread on the rose pink bodice and skirt from Worth's. Spots of ink fell like black tears on the margin of the paper she didn't bother to read. She flung it on top of a stack of books for support, then signed her name.

"There, goddamn you. There." Tears coursed down her face.

Her hand was shaking visibly as she thrust the paper at Virgilia.

Virgilia took it and examined the signature. Ashton tottered to her feet, sweaty, pale, breathing noisily. She dropped the quill. It bounced off her skirt, leaving another stain. The vial of ink lay on its side on the floor, gurgling as it emptied itself into a black pool.

Virgilia nodded and folded the paper. "Thank you, Ashton." She
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flung the contents of the bottle in Ashton's face.

Ashton swayed and raked her cheeks with her nails, screaming like a harpy. "You Yankee bitch!" Her nails drew blood. "You've destroyed me!"

"With a little well water? I hardly think so. Let her out, Charles."

He stood back and opened the door. Sunlight spilled in, lighting the pool of ink. Outside, he saw Madeline and Willa, both anxiously watching the doorway. Farther down the lawn, Gus pointed out something on the river for the paunchy bailiff.

f

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"Goodbye, Ashton," he said.

She screamed as she ran past.

The barouche went down the lane even faster than it had come up, taking Ashton away. The clerks and Favor Herrington, Esquire, showed up an hour later. The bailiff had already taken the other carriage. The bewildered lawyer and his clerks had to walk back to Charleston.

1869

Union Pacific and Central Pacific lines meet in Utah, creating transcontinental railroad.

Samuel Clemens publishes a best-seller, Innocents

Abroad.

Jay Gould and Jim Fisk manipulate gold market on

"Black Friday"; thousands of small investors ruined.

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John D. Rockefeller organizes Standard Oil of

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Ohio.

Congress passes first Force Bill to guarantee civil

rights, stop anti-Negro terrorism in the South.

Washington receives first black Senator, Hiram

Revels of Mississippi, and first black Representative, Joseph Rainey of South Carolina.

1 87 1

Professional baseball players form the National

League.

Chicago fire kills 300, destroys 17,000 buildings.

Indictments returned against William "Boss" Tweed of Tammany for stealing millions from New York

City.

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1872

Dissident Republicans, unhappy with Grant, nominate

crusading journalist Horace Greeley; Vice

President Schuyler Colfax accused of accepting

bribe from Union Pacific's Credit Mobilier construction company.

Congress refuses to authorize operating funds for

Freedmen's Bureau; Bureau closes.

Authorities arrest Susan B. Anthony for attempting

to vote; voters return Grant for second term;

Greeley dies from mental strain of campaigning.

1873

Presidential proclamation authorizes Centennial Exposition for 1876.

Rumors of corruption in the Grant administration

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continue to circulate.

Collapse of Jay Cooke banking house touches off

panic leading to three-year depression.

1874

Eads' Bridge, world's longest arch, spans the Mississippi at St. Louis.

General Custer confirms discovery of gold in the

Dakota Territory.

Cartoonist Thomas Nast draws an elephant to represent Republicans.

1875

Gold prospectors illegally overrun Sioux lands in the Black Hills.

Grant's secretary, Babcock, linked to "Whiskey

Ring" scheme to defraud the government of liquor taxes.

Secretary of War W. W. Belknap grants Army trading

post licenses in return for cash bribes.

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THE INTERNATIONAL CENTENNIAL

EXHIBITION AT PHILADELPHIA.

a glimpse of fairmount park--the buildings

and their surroundings--sixty acres

roofed over--the world's trophies

at America's feet--what there is to see

and how to see it.

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To-day the grandest spectacle ever witnessed on this

continent--and one unlikely to be repeated on our

shores for years to come--will begin its six months'

existence at Philadelphia. The Nation's hundredth

year will be inseparably associated with never-to-be

forgotten memories of the choicest products of every

branch of industry and useful and ornamental

art. . . .

Charleston News and Courier May 10, 1876

70

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."

Rain at dawn yielded to sunlight through the clouds. Special passenger trains from downtown Philadelphia pulled into the new Pennsylvania platforms one after another, disgorging crowds.

"My countrymen. It has been thought appropriate upon this Centennial occasion to bring together in Philadelphia, for popular inspection, specimens of our attainments in the industrial and fine arts. . . ."