Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (29 page)

"There's more," Stuart said.

"Yes." Knox cleared his throat. "After the
incident, we were all distraught, and we knew something had to be
done. We could not wait to see if they would leave, and after all
that had transpired, we knew the situation might only grow worse.
Harper and Tilda tended to the meals, so for dinner the next
afternoon, Tilda put poisonous mushrooms in their stew. We waited.
When the poison took hold they thrashed and tried to fight it. Once
they were silent, I set the room on fire. Perhaps I overreacted,
but they deserved no less. Not one of those vile creatures made it
off our property alive."

Emma noted a glimmer of pride in Knox's
eyes.

"But we had no way to control the flames,"
Stuart said. "The blaze spread quickly. If the rain hadn't come
that night
—
"

"We would have lost everything," Knox said.
"I always believed vengeance belonged to the Lord, until that
night. When we dropped the remains of those bodies into the swamp,
I knew that we had done the right thing."

Emma turned to Stuart. "Why didn't you tell
me?"

His face contorted, he replied, "It wasn't
proper for a letter."

In her heart, Emma agreed, but numbness
paralyzed her as she took in the room and played the scene through
her mind. Had she been there, under the same stress as the rest of
her family, dealing with the loss of Henry and the mistreatment of
her mother, Emma may have consented, or even contributed to, their
malicious actions.

"I want to see my mother."

Knox held Emma by the shoulders, as if he
were considering whether or not such a reunion should take place,
but the tormented, disgraced look in his eyes told Emma there was
no alternative.

****

Nothing could have prepared Emma for what she
saw next.

The curtains in Olivia Cartwright's room were
drawn tight. All traces of sunlight, or any light, were shunned.
Knox entered with Emma by his side and pulled open the window
coverings. As light struck the space, Emma noticed her mother's
beloved French bureau was gone. Rumpled cotton linens, a departure
from Olivia's favored silk sheets, splayed the unoccupied bed.

"Olivia?" Knox said.

"Have they come back?" asked an anxious
voice.

Turning their head to the corner of the room,
Knox and Emma found Olivia on the floor with her knees to her
chest. Wearing a nightgown, Olivia grasped a pistol with both of
her trembling hands.

"No, my dear," Knox said. He approached her
slowly. "They won't ever come here again. Remember the fire?"

Staring into oblivion, Olivia nodded and
seemed as convincing as a puppet on a string.

"Olivia, I have a wonderful surprise for
you." Knox knelt and made eye contact with her. "Your daughter has
come home. Emma is here to see you."

Slowly, Olivia turned her head toward Emma.
Olivia's tight, meticulous curls had been replaced with a loose,
sloppy bun at the base of her neck. Pallor graced her cheeks
instead of rogue. Glazed over eyes found Emma's face, but agonizing
seconds passed before a spark of recognition registered on her
face.

"Emma? Where have you been?"

She fought the urge to be furious with her
grandfather. Why hadn't he cautioned her more about her mother's
condition? He'd made no mention of the fact that her mental state
was shattered, or that Olivia had abandoned personal care of
herself. Cowered on the floor, Olivia acted like an animal that had
been trapped and placed in a foreign setting. Emma brushed away
fallen tears. She knew there were no words that could have readied
her for this encounter.

"I've been away, Mother. Just for a
while."

"Oh." Olivia grinned then reached for Emma's
shorn locks. "Your hair," was all she said before turning her head
away and drifting back to a state of semi-awareness.

"I missed you." Lost for the right thing to
say, Emma fought sobs and reached out to hold her mother.

"No! No!" Olivia screamed and pointed the gun
in Emma's face.

Emma fell back and held up her hands in
confusion. Olivia's finger ripped at the trigger like a nervous
instinct. Death flashed before Emma, but the gun only discharged
clicks.

"Stop, Olivia! Put the gun down!" Knox said
firmly. "This is your daughter. She won't hurt you."

Olivia squalled and squirmed as Knox wrestled
the weapon from her hands. Once Knox had the gun, Olivia burst into
a thrashing, yelling rage.

"It's all right!" Knox repeated. He worked to
subdue her.

"Master Knox?" Harper said, bursting into the
room. "Here! I's got the med'cin!" Harper poked Olivia's arm with
an injection. "You be fine now, Miss Olivia. Jus' rest now. It be
fine now."

Olivia's outburst withered like a dying
daffodil. As her sobs subsided, Knox helped her into bed and
covered her. Harper stroked her hair and spoke to her like she
would an infant nodding off.

Emma, still on the floor, wept at the
scene.

****

Emma envied the wisp of steam that drifted up
from her tea and evaporated, wishing she could do the same. Slumped
in a chair in the kitchen, she stared at her China cup and recalled
how her mother had boasted and exclaimed the day those dishes had
arrived. Back then, Emma cared nothing for the color and curvature
of the painted flowers around the saucers and cups. Now, noticing
the chip in her cup made her want to cry.

Much of the kitchen had remained the same,
though it now included two cornhusk mattresses. Harper, Pearl, and
Tilda, Knox had explained, had been moved into the house. Safety,
he now felt, dissolved the boundaries of what might be considered
proper.

"She's lost to us, isn't she?"

Knox stirred little at Emma's remark. Harper
prattled around the kitchen but avoided looking at the two. Stuart
and the rest of the family were scattered throughout the house.
Emma had no idea where Tilda was.

"The medicine from Doc Hadley helps," he
said.

"You mean it puts her out of her misery."

"Perhaps, but at the moment, I don't have a
better solution for her."

"And what about the gun, who's idea was
that?"

Knox gave her a deadpan look. "It has no
bullets, and it keeps her from crying inconsolably, gives her peace
of mind, something that the rest of us cannot accomplish. Why, she
hardly pays a speck of attention to young Thomas." He shook his
head. "I can't reverse what's been done to her. This is the best I
can do."

"There are hospitals," Emma snapped. "Good
ones, up North."

"She won't allow Doc Hadley to examine her
anymore, and she hardly leaves her room. How do you propose I
convince her to journey North and to trust a Yankee doctor?"

Gloom overcast Emma as she had no
cure-all.

"I considered sending for the children," Knox
said. "But with the state she's in, I fear that will only upset
them. I would not know how to deal with all of them."

Emma brightened at the thought of Sylvia,
though she, too, realized that her siblings would be no match, no
remedy for her mother's stupor.

"Have you heard from them?"

"Not often. I look back on the day we sent
them to Celia's. Hmm. Seems a lifetime ago. I disagreed with your
mother. She had it all planned out, knowing that Alexander and
Quinn would be leaving. I suspect you already know this, Emma
Louise, but your mother's intention that day was to separate you
from Sylvia. Olivia was certain that once your sister was no longer
here to fawn over you, that you would have no choice but to marry
Vaughn. I do not know how, but at the time, part of her logic
seemed so simple, perhaps even reasonable." His sad eyes met
Emma's. "I will always look on that as the day the war started
here, under our very roof. The day our family was seared."

Emma said nothing. That day, she well knew,
marked the beginning of her transformation. She'd courted hope that
day, a sense of adventure, and an apprehension of the unknown. But
in her passion to right a wrong and to create meaning out of
Basil's death, she'd given no thought to what her family might
face.

"At least you and the children were spared
the destruction wrought by those deplorable bluecoats. There is
that to be thankful for."

Emma reached for his hand and squeezed. Much
needed to be said, but Emma felt too stricken, too raw with grief.
The beating George Napier had rendered left Emma scarred and
emotionally wrought from Basil's death. Seeing her family and her
home succumb to extreme measures and unthinkable abuse, Emma lost
hope in mankind and began to wonder if the well-meaning intentions
of one person could impact a world contaminated with such lowly
evils.

****

Supper consisted of rice and puny vegetables,
though no one displayed much of an appetite. One of the parlors now
served as the dining room, with various furniture from around the
house. Emma held Thomas in her lap as he drooled and reached for
her plate. His blathering and innocence proved the lone bright spot
in the Cartwright house. Fierce love blazed in Emma, and she
couldn't get enough of his smile and chubby cheeks.

Conversation focused on the war, and the
recent announcement in the
Charleston Mercury
about Admiral
David Farragut's capture of New Orleans at the end of April.
Reportedly, the citizens had shown no resistance to Farragut and
his fleet of Yankees, a detail that surprised the Cartwrights. Like
Port Royal, this Union victory would mean heavy troop occupation,
especially now that the Union controlled the mouth of the
Mississippi. No one around the Cartwright table mentioned the
impact that would have on the South, but they knew.

Just as no one escaped thinking about Sylvia
and the other Cartwright children still living with their aunt.
Emma believed the Union takeover was a benefit and would likely
protect the citizens of New Orleans from further battles. However,
when she considered what the soldiers had done in her very own home
and to her mother, chills rattled her. Also unsettling was the fact
that no letters had been received from Celia or any of the children
for months.

Emma kissed the top of Thomas' head before
handing him to Stella. She excused herself and stole outside to the
garden for fresh air.

Moments later, Stuart, now in his wheelchair,
joined her.

"Do you regret coming back?" he asked.

"No, but there's a lot to accept."

Emma took in the full blooms of her favorite
flowers, but the solace of the garden was gone for her. The beauty
was now a stark contrast to the despair that enveloped the estate.
She brushed the petals with her fingertips, knowing their fragrance
and splendor meant nothing to her mother anymore. Their common
ground was gone.

"You know, I spent a lot of my life trying to
change the way things were," she said, "but when changes are forced
upon you or beyond your control, you don't much like the
outcome."

"It's because you're stubborn."

Emma's thoughts snapped to James and the
night in the hospital tent when he had accused her of the same
trait.

"How else do you explain how a girl can live
among a thousand men and not be found out?" Stuart shrugged.
"Because you're stubborn."

Emma laughed. "I used to think that was a
good thing, and I thought Pa and Granddad loved me more because I
wasn't like my sisters, and I didn't behave like a doll, the way my
mother wanted." She sighed. "But it's also what got Basil
killed."

"It would be best for you to let go of the
blame," Stuart said. "George was the one responsible for Basil's
death. You loved him and wanted the best for him, just like your pa
and granddad love you. And just like I love you."

For a second, the sentiment didn't impact
Emma. Silence hung, and when she considered the tone of Stuart's
voice, revelation struck like the lash of a whip. She turned to
him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Not like it's a secret. I've always loved
you, Emma."

"You know I love you, Stuart. We've been
there for each other for a long time."

"No, I don't mean as a cousin. I mean, I love
you, so much that I want you to be my wife."

Emma felt dizzy as her breath escaped
her.

"You're asking me to marry you?"

"It's not the fanciest proposal, but no one
could ever love you the way I do, Emma."

She thought again of James and their night in
the cabin. To her, love meant that consuming feeling that almost
felt painful. When she recalled the sensation of being in his arms,
the exhilaration surging through her from his kiss, Emma knew she
could never share such closeness with Stuart. In fact, she didn't
know if it was possible to feel the same way about another man.
Ever. Even though she had no promise from James, and no definite
hope that she would even see him again.

"I'm not sure how to say this gently," Emma
began, "but I don't think marriage would work for us, Stuart."

"When you left, I thought my feelings for you
would fade away, but every time a letter came, I knew I'd made a
mistake. I had let you leave without telling you how I truly felt.
I'm sure it must be the same for you, Emma. Think of how right we
are together, how it makes sense for us. We can take over the
plantation, run it any way we see fit."

"Stuart, I can't make a life here anymore.
Too much has happened, and that house could never be home for me
again."

"It's been a lot for you to accept," he said.
"You need more time to adjust. Once you're more settled
—
"

"I'm in love with someone else." Emma
regretted the sting her words delivered.

Stuart regarded her, looking as if he
suspected she was lying, but the glimmer in her eye, along with the
blush of her cheeks, convinced him.