Strands of Bronze and Gold (32 page)

“Christmas gift!” First Toby, and then the other young boys, jumped out from a doorway, and I gave them each two pennies as a reward for startling me so. Bernard had warned us of this Southern holiday custom to be the first to say these words upon meeting anyone, and he had supplied us with coins for the forfeit.

I hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly dawn. I felt wretched, but I tried to shake myself out of it because it was Christmas morning and my family was here.

A fiddler wandered through the house, playing frolicking tunes. I followed him, running to each of my siblings’ rooms as I always had on past holidays. Anne laughed, while Harry and Junius grumbled at the early hour—just as they always had. Little things …

Before our breakfast we had a ceremony of making eggnog and dipping the creamy, spicy liquid into tall glasses. Everyone—servants, master, and guests—all drank to each other’s health right there in the cavernous kitchen. The place seemed almost jolly.

Our meal was a traditional Southern one: scrambled eggs, slices
of cured ham, oysters brought by the barrel on steamboat from New Orleans, fried catfish, bacon, hot flaky biscuits drowning in butter and syrup, several kinds of fruit preserves, cold milk, and strong coffee.

The servants dished up our breakfast hastily. They were excited to be transported out to Wyndriven Plantation for the day’s festivities.

Bernard, Anne, Harry, Junius, and I all retired afterward to the drawing room for the exchange of gifts. My siblings enthused over the items I had bought for them that November day in Memphis. Bernard gave me a velvet-covered album; several books; a sparkling, elaborate ruby set; and his new photograph in an ornate silver frame. I thanked him extravagantly, but I privately thought the photograph didn’t do him justice. It looked flat; it hadn’t captured his vitality.

As he spread out the tapestry I had made for him and praised my workmanship, I was silent. I had done a morbid and terrible thing. What had gotten into me? He must never, never learn what threads made up the fire.

He stroked the flames, and my stomach clenched.

“Amazing,” he said, “and dramatic. Such brilliant silks.” An odd expression passed over his features. “It almost scorches my skin. What magic did you work into your stitching, my sweet sorceress?”

He put it down rather abruptly and rose then—time to visit the plantation. Thank goodness. Hopefully he would never again examine his tapestry closely, but if he did, I would certainly pass off all the hair as my own.

As we drove, the smell of barbecuing meat and the smoke of bonfires wafted from a distance. In a clearing amid a grove of live oaks,
a pit had been dug and a couple of hogs roasted. Girls turned the spit while a woman spooned drippings over them; the juices sputtered in the glowing coals. Several dogs watched the proceedings with interest as running, jumping, overly excited children tossed inflated hog bladders back and forth.

Today the plantation seemed a happy place. There were to be three days free from work—three days of dancing and merrymaking.

Bernard rang the great plantation bell in the yard, and people streamed in from everywhere. We stood beside a wagon and distributed flour, sugar, meal, coffee, molasses, and the fabric and clothing we had prepared. They bobbed their heads and thanked us profusely, which embarrassed me. I wasn’t suited to being Lady Bountiful. What had we done to deserve us being in our position and them in theirs?

Aunt Cassie, the “tender” of the children, lined up her charges before us as we gave them their packets of treats and smiled benignly at their delight. Bernard tossed a handful of coins in the air and laughed at the scramble that ensued.

Now the band struck up, with knucklebones and sticks, two fiddles and a banjo, the spritely notes punctuated by the popping of firecrackers. There was to be a wedding and a dance that night in the barn. I wished we could stay to watch them shuffle and jig and “cut the pigeon wing” (which I was curious to see), but Bernard had no intention of remaining for it.

He explained that the slaves’ marriage ceremony involved “jumping the broom,” since they couldn’t be wed legally, as “property”
could not enter into a lawful contract. Bernard chuckled over this; I and, from their faces, my siblings were horrified by it.

We sat on planks stretched over barrels and ate yams and ham and corn bread and okra. The simplicity of the meal soothed me.

As I surveyed the crowd, a familiar face stood out. Charles. Charles, who had been arrayed so splendidly in sapphire velvet livery, now wore a much-patched jacket and homespun shirt. Talitha was beside him, her hand tucked in the crook of his arm. They stood slightly separated from the rest, complete in each other. Talitha felt my eyes on her and looked my way. She gave me a faint, expressive smile before turning back to Charles.

I was tired and silent as we drove back to the abbey. All those people, and there was nothing I could do for them. Perhaps it wasn’t true, but it seemed as if I were as much in Bernard’s power as any slave on the plantation.

Everyone else acted preoccupied as well, looking down at their laps or gazing sightlessly out the windows.

Suddenly Anne broke the silence. “Monsieur de Cressac, in conscience I must speak. How can you justify this way of life? Yes, you give those people presents at Christmastime, but that doesn’t make up for their bondage all year round. How can you believe it right?”

Oh no, oh no
. I braced myself.

“It is right in the eyes of the law, ma’am.” Bernard’s smile was twisted, as if he were about to enjoy this challenge.

“Now, Anne,” Junius said, “it’s not our place to question these things. The quarters look decent and they clearly have food. They—”

He might as well not have spoken. Neither my sister nor my fiancé paid him any heed.

“There is a higher law than man’s law,” she said quietly.

“None that I recognize, ma’am.” He gave her a half bow.

“And that isn’t right either. You should not keep my sister from church. From her connection with God.”

She should have known no one must question Bernard. No one must challenge him. His tone, the overly polite way he addressed her as “ma’am,” the way he leaned slightly forward, all showed his extreme displeasure.

I clutched his arm. “Please—” I whispered.

The tendons bulged in his neck, but he half smiled, and his next words were spoken evenly, calmly, though they caused my stomach to turn over. “Do you know, Sophia, I believe it is time for your family to bring their visit to an end.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Now, really, Monsieur de Cressac—” Harry started to say, but stopped himself.

My mouth was so dry it was hard to form words. “They haven’t even been here a month, and the wedding is in just a few weeks. They must be here for that.” I kept my own tone even. Instinctively I knew this was not a time for tears and pleading.

“I do not see why,” Bernard said coolly. “You yourself said you wished for a small wedding. We shall have a very small one indeed. All we need is a witness or two and a preacher. Your friend Mr. Stone would do nicely.”

“You cannot separate Sophie from her family!” Anne cried.

Oh, couldn’t my sister be quiet?

“ ‘Cannot’? You must know that I can do whatever I please. Sophia is my fiancée and she is also my ward. I can keep her from whomever I wish whenever I wish. I assure you I have her best interests at heart.”

My gloved fingers were digging into his arm. One by one he pried them off and then imprisoned my hand in his own, so tightly that I winced.

Too late Anne saw what she had done. “I apologize, sir, if I was impertinent. I beg you’ll forget my words and not punish Sophie for my mistake. Please, may we stay on for the wedding?”

“No, I think not,” Bernard said. “If you will excuse me, I will go now to instruct the servants to bring down your trunks, and tomorrow morning you will be driven to Memphis. Samuel will purchase your train tickets there and see you safely off to Boston.”

The carriage had pulled up before the abbey as he spoke. Now he alighted and reached out to help me down. He then turned his back on us all and stalked into the house.

My sister and I wept as we held each other.

“Sophie,” Harry mouthed over Anne’s shoulder, “um—have you asked him yet?”

I shook my head slightly.

“Well, Anne,” he said, “you’ve certainly made a mess of things.”

“Don’t blame her,” I said, pulling away. “What she said was true, and I should have stood up to Bernard on those subjects long ago, but I’m a coward. There’s no way Anne could have known the effect confronting him would have.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but possibly Bernard had provoked the confrontation so he’d have an excuse to send my family packing. Probably he’d been waiting for such a moment.

“Well, we’d better go see to our baggage,” Junius said. “Do you think de Cressac will still allow me into his business, Sophie?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ll talk to him. And I’ll speak to him for you too, Harry. I’m so sorry.” I covered my face with my hands and sobbed in earnest now. “Oh, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go.”

Junius and Harry both patted my shoulders awkwardly before going inside with slow, tired steps.

Anne waited until I could choke back my tears. She looked me intently in the eyes. “You mustn’t marry him, Sophie. He was so cold. So terrible. Come away with us. We’ll get by somehow.”

“No.” She needed to understand some things, so I pulled myself together. “I have to marry him. He’ll never let me escape, and the ways he’d punish us if I tried to leave would be far, far worse than being married to him. At least if I’m his wife, he’ll let me do some good here and there with his money. It’s enough; don’t worry about me. I know quite well how to handle him and I’ll be careful.” With conviction I didn’t feel, I added, “I’ll be fine.”

Bernard didn’t join us for our silent supper. Golden light glowed beneath his office door. Having neglected his business pursuits these last weeks, he now returned to them, shutting us out. My siblings and I spent the evening quietly together and retired early. They had a long day of travel ahead and there was nothing more to be said.

I went to my room and put in action a desperate plan.

Rather than having Odette help me into nightclothes, I brought out my off-the-shoulder gown of plum-colored satin—one of Bernard’s favorites. She raised her eyebrows but dressed me and brushed out my rippling hair. I dabbed on the violet scent Bernard liked.

I was reminded of Queen Esther in the Bible, how she had donned special apparel to face King Ahasuerus to plead for her people. Had she brushed out her tresses and used special perfume as well? As I made my way down the corridors and grand stairway to Bernard’s office, I thought about her still. According to ancient Persian law, if someone approached the king unbidden and he didn’t hold out his golden scepter, the person was executed.

I paused with my hand raised to rap on the office door. Would he hold out his scepter to me?

I knocked.

“Come in,” Bernard said.

He sat behind his desk with papers spread about. He looked tired. I breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled and rose, holding out his arms. “And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I was working away, late and lonely, and now you bring me a lovely surprise.”

I put my arms around his neck. “I missed you at supper. Weren’t you hungry?”

His arms tightened. “Mmm. You smell good. I ate while I added figures. I had abandoned my work too long. Besides, I supposed you would like to spend the evening alone with your family before their departure.”

I played with his black silk neck scarf. “That’s one reason I came down to see you, besides missing you. I wondered if you would
reconsider and let them stay on until the wedding. It would make me so happy.”

His arms loosened. “Oho! So that is what you wondered? Well,
ma belle
, you are certainly very beautiful and very enticing, but what you ask I will not do. They have met me, they have seen you are well and realized the advantages of our marriage, and that goal is now accomplished. I want them gone in the morning and you to myself once more. If you all behave yourselves, perhaps they may come again next year.”

I looked into his face for one moment to be certain there was no use pursuing the subject, then, with a gasp of exasperation, broke free and swirled out the door.

“What?” Bernard called from behind me. “And I thought you had missed me.” Unlike Queen Esther, I had failed. At least the penalty for me was not death.

In my bedchamber I slammed my fist against the pillow. If only it were his face.

“He’s not a bad sort,” Harry said, “but—be careful, little sister. And remember to ask for what we talked about.”

“I will. At the right time.”

Junius shuffled his feet and looked down at his boots, then clumsily took my hand. “If you’re worried about anything—
anything
—write to me and I’ll come. I don’t care what happens to me, I’ll come get you. Remember that.”

“I’ll remember.”

Anne held me tightly. “You have a secret strength he knows nothing of,” she whispered. “Hold on to it.”