The Quaker and the Rebel (4 page)

Hours later the promised tour revealed much to Emily. Bennington Plantation wasn’t really a plantation at all, but more of an elegant subsistence farm. There were apple and peach orchards, fields sown in corn and oats, and a substantial garden behind the kitchen. But no crop appeared large enough to supply more than necessary for man and beast in residence.

Lila stopped the open carriage near the gate to a grassy paddock. Sleek, beautiful horses grazed and frolicked with several new colts. As soon as the girl set the brake, Emily jumped down and ran with her skirt and petticoats clutched in her fist. She loved to run despite her mother’s insistence on ladylike behavior at all times. After all, only Lila would witness and she quickly caught up and beat Emily to the fence. Breathless, they climbed up to the top rail for a better view.

“Those are some beautiful horses, Lila. Are they Thoroughbreds?”

“Yes, ma’am, they are. Dr. Bennington’s pride and joy.”

“Does he race them? I bet they’re very fast. I do wish Matthew—he’s my intended—could see them. He’s particularly fond of horseflesh.” Emily couldn’t contain her giddiness.

“No, ma’am, there’s no place on the island to race. Dr. Bennington breeds horses and shows them off to his friends. But he grows so attached, he seldom sells a foal.”

“I would get attached too. And don’t call me ‘ma’am’ when it’s just you and me. Please call me Emily.”

Lila shook her head. “That would not be right, Miss Harrison. I won’t do it.”

“Fine. As long as you address me as ‘Miss Harrison,’ I shall address you as ‘Miss Amite.’ ”

Lila looked both confused and suspicious as they walked back to the carriage. “You may call me whatever you prefer.”

Emily inhaled deeply. “Ah, the smell of timothy grass. We grew it in our best pasture. Only honeysuckle is sweeter.” Emily climbed into the buggy and took up the reins. After a cluck of her tongue, the horse broke into a brisk trot down the shady lane.

“You can drive a carriage?” Lila gripped the seat with both hands.

“Of course I can. I didn’t grow up on a plantation like this. I lived on a small hardscrabble farm where I learned to do most everything.” Which wasn’t exactly true, considering her cooking abilities. Emily pointed at a low, whitewashed building bustling with activity. “What goes on in there?”

“That’s our dairy,” Lila said proudly. “We have four hundred head of Jersey cows on the island. We make our own butter and cheese to sell in town, along with any milk we don’t need.”

“Dr. Bennington has time to run a dairy besides his medical practice?”

“No, the workers run it and take the cheese to Parkersburg on market day. They split the profits down the middle with Dr. Bennington.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “Are those men slaves?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lila reached up to pluck low-hanging leaves overhead.

“He lets them keep the money they earn from
his
milk?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lila looked at her from the corner of her eye.

“What do they do with it?” Emily’s questions were starting to sound inane even to her.

“They buy their freedom once they’ve saved enough. That’s what my two brothers did last year.” Lila looked at Emily with pride.

“Do they still work here?” Emily pulled on the reins to slow the carriage.

“No’m. They both moved to Cleveland to work on the ore boats. They don’t much like being sailors, from what we could figure out from their letters. My brothers don’t read or write well, like I do. There’s another business on the island too. Dr. Bennington makes whiskey from the five-hundred acres of corn grown here. He takes the whiskey down to Cincinnati to sell twice a year. He keeps all that money, though. He says it’s for the lean times when people can’t afford to pay their doctor bills. Mama says Mrs. Bennington doesn’t know anything about the whiskey, she being a former Quaker and all. Quakers don’t look kindly on spirits.”

“I’m well aware of that, being a Quaker myself.” Emily brought the carriage to a halt. “Hard liquor is produced on this island?”

Lila drew in a sharp breath and pursed her lips. “Have I erred in telling you this, Miss Harrison? Mama will skin me alive if the secret gets back to Mrs. Bennington.” She looked uneasy. “You did say you wanted to be friends and all,” she added for good measure.

Emily swallowed down her revulsion over a distillery in close proximity. “Your confidences are safe, Miss Amite. Have no fear. How the Benningtons run their personal lives is of no concern to me. I’m an employee here, nothing more, the same as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lila relaxed against the seat again.

“Did you purchase your freedom, Miss Amite?”

“My father did, a long time ago. I don’t much remember.” Lila sat up and reached for the reins, which Emily handed over to her. “We’d best get back to the house. You might want to rest before dinner.”

“Very well. You’ve answered enough questions for one day.” Truth was, the island wasn’t what Emily had expected or the residents quite the demons her mother had described slaveholders to be.
But appearances can be deceiving,
she reminded herself.

“Will you be eating in the kitchen with the young ladies or dining with the Benningtons?” Lila’s bright eyes revealed an unspoken third possibility.

“If you’re checking to see if I will again attempt to cook for myself, the answer is no. But I don’t see why they don’t all eat together. My family did. Every family I’ve ever known eats together at mealtime.”

Lila thought before replying. “Miss Margaret is fourteen. Soon she’ll be asked to join her parents at the dinner table on a regular basis, but Miss Anne is only eleven. She’s much too young to be expected to comport herself that long. She dines with the family only on Sundays and on special occasions.”

Emily’s inaugural dinner later that evening explained much as to why an eleven-year-old wouldn’t be welcome. No one could expect someone that young to sit still for a three-hour meal. Having decided
to eat in the kitchen with the girls, she had changed her mind after discovering the heavy vellum card that had been slipped beneath her door while she was out with the maid.

In a spidery script, Mrs. Bennington had written: “Please join us for dinner. Dr. Bennington is looking forward to making your acquaintance.”

How could she refuse such a summons from her employer?

T
WO

D
onning her best Sunday dress—peach muslin with a lace collar and cuffs—Emily made an appearance downstairs promptly at seven o’clock, but not a soul was there. Stepping into the lovely dining room, her eyes drifted up to the high ceiling. Hand-carved plaster rosettes encircled a magnificent crystal chandelier that held at least three dozen candles. Another thirty tapers burned in silver candelabras along the windowsills, throwing dancing light and shadows across the room. The red pine floor had been polished to a high gloss with a thick Aubusson carpet beneath the Hepplewhite table. Emily gingerly picked up a piece of Haviland bone china from a place setting. A band of gold trimmed each piece. Emily gasped, having seen such opulence only in catalogs at Miss Turner’s school.

“That is a dinner plate, Miss Harrison.” Someone spoke near the windows.

Recognizing the taunting voice, Emily lurched in her shoes. “I
know
what it is. I was merely admiring the pattern.” She kept her words soft and controlled. She had no intention of letting him under her skin again.

“I believe the pattern is called ‘Maiden Bride’ or ‘Long-Suffering Maiden,’ something like that.” Alexander came up swiftly and loomed over her shoulder. He plucked the dinner plate from her fingers to examine more closely

His breath on her neck sent tingles up her spine, but flanked by a high-back chair on both sides, Emily was enclosed. “Do you enjoy trapping people on walkways and in between heavy furniture, Mr. Hunt?”

“Ah, you remembered my name from yesterday, Miss Harrison. It does a man’s heart good to realize he’s not…forgettable.” He bent
close as he replaced the plate, breathing in her fragrance in a none-too-subtle manner.

“That pattern is called ‘Versailles,’ Alexander.” Mrs. Bennington spoke from the doorway. “I had no idea you took interest in place settings of china.” Angling her nephew a wry glance as she entered, she leaned on a cane and the arm of a distinguished-looking gentleman. Her wheeled chair was nowhere in sight. Joshua followed vigilantly behind the pair.

“Good evening, Aunt Augusta.” He bowed deeply. “You look lovely this evening, as always.”

Mrs. Bennington turned her attention to Emily. “Forgive our tardiness, Miss Harrison,” she said with a gracious smile. “I’m glad you decided to join us for dinner.” She was dressed impeccably in emerald satin with a heavy jeweled pendant that glittered in the candlelight.

“Thank you for the invitation, ma’am.” Emily bobbed her head politely.

Once seated, Mrs. Bennington made introductions. “Miss Harrison, this is my husband, Dr. Porter Bennington. Dear, this is Miss Emily Harrison, formerly of Ohio.”

Emily pulled her contemplation of the mysterious nephew to gaze into the watery blue eyes of her employer, her adversary—a
slaver.
She had to admit he didn’t look evil.
Don’t let appearances deceive you.
She could hear her mother’s words ringing in her ears even as she extended her fingers to the genteel man. “How do you do, sir,” she murmured.

“Miss Harrison.” Dr. Bennington nodded and clasped her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” With graying dark hair and a deeply lined forehead, his face was too haggard and weathered to be handsome. Yet his eyes sparkled with compassion, especially as he listened to his wife recount Emily’s list of attributes as governess. When she had concluded, he grinned. “Our unschooled daughters have fallen into the right hands. You’ll have your work cut out for you to prepare them to be received into polite society. I’m afraid our isolated little island has beguiled us, and our girls will be at a disadvantage in the world.” From
the tureen presented on his left, he ladled a hearty portion of soup into his bowl. “I join my wife in welcoming you and wish to extend anything that might make your stay more pleasant.”

“Thank you, sir,” Emily said.
It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so blasted nice.

Dr. Bennington glanced at his nephew. “Good evening, Alexander. I trust you have introduced yourself to our new governess.”

“Good evening, sir. Yes, I made proper introductions on the path to the summer kitchen yesterday.”

When Emily remembered Alexander’s bare chest, dappled with water droplets down to the waistband of his trousers, she felt a hot rush of color creep up her neck.
Proper indeed
. Emily sensed his gaze as she ladled creamy soup into her bowl. Glancing up, she found her intuition correct. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Hunt.”

“I assure you that the pleasure is mine. My aunt and uncle are fortunate to have someone to squelch any calamites that arise.”

Blushing to her hairline, she concentrated on getting soup to her mouth without spilling it on her gown.

“What calamities are you talking about, Alexander?” asked his aunt.

“Didn’t you hear? Miss Harrison handily doused a kitchen fire yesterday, thereby saving Matilde’s domain from certain ruin.”

The soup in Emily’s spoon sloshed over the edge onto her dress. “The cook and I handled the situation together.”

“Truly, I’m sure she’s made her first friend on the island in Matilde.” He beamed at her and then focused his attention on her soup stain.

Emily sank lower in her chair.

“Is that right?” asked Dr. Bennington. “Our cook has been with us a long time. I must say, first impressions go a long way with Matilde. Well done, Miss Harrison.”

“And your new governess is also a chef, Uncle. I believe she was exchanging recipes with Matilde when the blaze broke out.”

“When the
blaze
broke out?” Mrs. Bennington sounded distressed.

“You are exaggerating the story out of proportion, Mr. Hunt. You’re
making it sound like an out-of-control inferno.” Emily set down her spoon. “And I don’t wish to give Dr. and Mrs. Bennington false expectations.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure you’re being modest about your attributes and abilities.”

The Benningtons looked perplexedly at each other and then at Alexander. His aunt’s face registered suspicion as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“My wife tells me you are betrothed?” asked the doctor, changing the subject.

“Yes, to Matthew Norton of Marietta. He’s proudly serving with the Ohio volunteer infantry.” Emily straightened her back. “In the Federal Army,” she added unnecessarily.

A muscle twitched in Alexander’s neck. He opened his mouth to speak, but his uncle’s reply was quicker.

“Most of us here in Wood County weren’t pleased when Virginia seceded from the Union, myself included. There is little reason to preserve the antiquated institution of slavery, especially in these western counties.” Dr. Bennington studied his new employee.

But you do preserve it. You continue to own human beings
. Emily’s unspoken words hung in the air like a fog.

Clearing his throat, Joshua lifted a lid to reveal an elaborately dressed pheasant on the sideboard. A cornucopia of fruits and vegetables surrounded the roast bird. “A marvelous presentation, Joshua, thank you. You may carve now.” Mrs. Bennington’s compliment curtailed the uncomfortable moment.