Candle In The Darkness Part 3

"But-"

"Go on! Get!" It was the only time in my life that Eli had ever spoken harshly to me. He turned his back and moved away, raking in the opposite direction as if his life depended on it.

Chapter Three.

July 1854.

By the time I grew accustomed to going to the Richmond Female Inst.i.tute every day, the school year ended for the summer. I'd celebrated my thirteenth birthday by then, and I was sometimes allowed to eat dinner in the formal dining room with Daddy and his guests-and with Mother when she was well enough to join us. The three of us were seated at the dinner table one warm July evening when we heard an urgent pounding on our front door. Gilbert stopped serving and sailed out to answer it, returning a few minutes later to speak to my father.

"Excuse me, sir. Young gentleman at the door say he your nephew, Jonathan Fletcher. He don't have a calling card."

"Jonathan?" Daddy's face registered surprise. "Show him in, Gilbert."

He wasn't a "young gentleman" at all but a boy not much older than me, looking hot and tired and dusty, as if he'd traveled a long distance. But even in his disheveled state, the resemblance between him and my father was uncanny. They had the same handsome square face and aristocratic nose, the same wavy brown hair and dark eyes. A pale shadow on Jonathan's upper lip foretold a mustache just like Daddy's in a year or so.

"Good evening, Uncle George . . . Aunt Mary." He bowed politely in greeting.

Daddy didn't rise from his chair. "Jonathan. What brings you to Richmond at this hour?"

The words rushed from Jonathan's mouth as if he'd been holding them back for a long time. "Father says you'd better come to Hilltop right away, sir. Grandfather is ill."

Daddy resumed eating, cutting his meat without looking up. "Is he dying?"

I watched Jonathan's face twist with emotion. He gazed up at the ceiling, as if to keep the tears that had sprung to his eyes from overflowing. "I . . . um . . . I believe so, sir." He cleared his throat but his voice still sounded hoa.r.s.e. "He had a dizzy spell, and now he . . . he can't move . . . or speak."

Daddy's eyes met my mother's. She shook her head slightly, then looked away. "You know how I hate it out in the country, George. The smell, the flies, all those Negroes . . ." She seemed oblivious to the fact that three Negroes, Tessie, Gilbert, and Ruby, were in the room serving us dinner.

"Would you like something to eat, Jonathan?" Daddy asked.

"Yes, thank you, sir. But I'd like to wash up first, if I may."

Daddy returned to his meal while Gilbert showed Jonathan where to freshen up. Ruby hurried to set a place for him at the table. When Jonathan returned I saw that he had won the battle with his emotions.

"Sit down, son," Daddy said, motioning to the empty chair across the table from me. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, "Caroline Ruth, this is your cousin Jonathan."

"How do you do," I said. Jonathan looked up at me in surprise.

"Very well, thank you." His words sounded stiff and formal. I wondered if he was making fun of me. But then he flashed a friendly grin, and I saw a glint of humor and mischief in his eye. He reminded me so much of Grady it astonished me. I usually wasn't comfortable around strangers, but I liked Jonathan from that very first night. He bowed his head in prayer for a moment, then began to eat, displaying the finest of table manners.

"We'll leave for Hilltop first thing in the morning," Daddy said after a moment. "I have a few things to take care of downtown first."

Jonathan appeared surprised. "But . . . Father said you should . . . I mean, he thought that you might want to come right away . . . tonight."

"You may return home tonight if you wish," Daddy said, "although I would recommend you spend the night and rest yourself and your horses. Either way, I'll follow you in my own carriage tomorrow. That way I won't be dependent on anyone to drive me back to Richmond . . . afterward."

Mother rested her hand on Daddy's arm. "George, I'd prefer it if you left Gilbert here with me. His manners are more refined than that other Negro stable hand of yours. That large, coa.r.s.e fellow makes me uncomfortable."

I was stunned to realize that she meant Eli. How could anyone not love gentle Eli? I longed to rise to his defense but I knew better than to contradict my elders, especially at the dinner table.

"If you wish, my dear," Daddy replied. "Eli can drive me tomorrow instead of Gilbert."

When the meal ended, Daddy and Jonathan retired to the library. I was about to follow my mother into the drawing room when Tessie suddenly stopped stacking the dirty dishes and pulled me aside.

"Missy Caroline!" Her eyes danced with excitement, as if something wonderful was about to happen. "Why don't you go along with your daddy tomorrow?"

"Go with him? Why?" The thought had never occurred to me.

"Nothing doing round here . . . besides, do you good to get out of this hot old city, meet your relations. . . ."

The more I pondered the idea, the more I liked it. I lived a lonely life, and I longed for a friend. Maybe my cousin with the impish grin could be a friend to me, like Grady had been.

"Would you come to Hilltop with me, too?" I asked Tessie.

"Oh, I would like that more than anything, anything, Missy." Her smile made the chandelier seem dim. I glimpsed a longing in her eyes, and it aroused my curiosity. Missy." Her smile made the chandelier seem dim. I glimpsed a longing in her eyes, and it aroused my curiosity.

"Have you ever been to my grandparents' plantation before?" I asked.

To my astonishment, her eyes seemed to grow even brighter as they filled with tears. "I born there, Missy. My mammy and pappy living there. I sure like to see them again. All my sisters and brothers there, too . . . if they ain't been sold off by now."

I didn't know what to say. Tessie had taken care of me since the day I was born. My entire lifetime had pa.s.sed-and nearly half of her own-since she'd seen her family.

"Tessie, you should have told me. . . ."

She swiped at her tears. "Never had the chance before, I guess."

"I'll go ask Daddy right now."

The aroma of cigar smoke filled the library when I entered. Daddy and Jonathan were deep in conversation, discussing all the troubles out west in Kansas. "Are you sure?" Daddy asked when I told him I wanted to go with him. "It's a very long carriage ride out to the plantation, especially in this heat."

"It's hot here in Richmond, too." I didn't mention Tessie.

Surprisingly, Daddy turned to Jonathan. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a fine idea, sir," my cousin said. He winked at me as if we were conspirators.

When Daddy finally agreed, I could hardly contain my excitement. I ran outside to the kitchen to tell Tessie, then stopped short when I saw a strange Negro man filling our kitchen doorway. He stood as tall as Eli, and he had his arms all wrapped around Esther. She was sobbing and wailing as they rocked back and forth.

"What's wrong?" I asked her in alarm.

Esther unwrapped herself, and I saw a broad grin stretched across her face. "Nothing wrong, child. I happy to see my boy, that's all. This here's my son, Josiah."

He was not at all what I expected. Josiah was a grown man in his late twenties. He looked for all the world like a younger version of Eli-the same ma.s.sive shoulders and broad chest, the same height and weight. But Josiah's handsome face had none of the gentleness and warmth of his father's. It was as if he'd been carved from cold black stone instead of rich brown clay.

"Pleased to meet you," I mumbled, then hurried inside to tell Tessie to start packing our things.

That night I was so excited about my trip to Hilltop I had trouble falling asleep. It was the first time I'd ever been excited about trying something new. I lay awake in bed a long time.

Later, not long after the downstairs clock struck ten, I heard a sharp click click as if something hard had struck my bedroom window. I lay in the darkness, listening. Then I heard it again, the sound a hailstone makes when it strikes the gla.s.s. Tessie rose from her pallet, opened the shutters a crack, and peered out. Before I could ask what she'd seen, she grabbed her shawl and hurried out of the room, wearing only her nightclothes. When she didn't come back right away, I climbed out of bed and went to the window to see for myself. as if something hard had struck my bedroom window. I lay in the darkness, listening. Then I heard it again, the sound a hailstone makes when it strikes the gla.s.s. Tessie rose from her pallet, opened the shutters a crack, and peered out. Before I could ask what she'd seen, she grabbed her shawl and hurried out of the room, wearing only her nightclothes. When she didn't come back right away, I climbed out of bed and went to the window to see for myself.

Tessie stood in the shadows beside the carriage house, her white chemise bright in the half-moon's light. Josiah had her wrapped in his brawny arms, just as he'd clasped his mother a few hours earlier. Then he bent and began kissing Tessie's neck, and her soft laughter floated up to me in the quiet night. I quickly turned away, closing the shutters once again.

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I left for Hilltop with my cousin Jonathan early the next morning, traveling northeast from the city on the Mechanicsville Turnpike. Tessie rode on the driver's seat beside Josiah, but neither of them spoke a single word. In fact, they acted as if they were perfect strangers, never so much as glancing at each other. It made me wonder if I had dreamt the scene by the carriage house last night.

"Why doesn't your family ever come out to Hilltop?" Jonathan asked as we rode along beneath a scorching July sun.

"I don't know. Too far away, I guess."

Jonathan grunted derisively. "It's not that that far-only three hours or so from Richmond by carriage. My father makes the trip into Richmond about once a month." far-only three hours or so from Richmond by carriage. My father makes the trip into Richmond about once a month."

I wanted to ask why Jonathan's father never visited us, but I didn't dare. "Daddy talks about Hilltop sometimes," I said. "He told me it's the plantation where he grew up. That's all I know, though."

"Want me to tell you about it?"

"Yes, please."

He laughed, and when I asked him what was so funny, he shook his head. "You won't need your fancy city manners at Hilltop. . . . Anyway, my father is William P. Fletcher II, the older brother. He and Grandfather manage the plantation together. I mean, they did until . . ."He leaned his head back against the seat, struggling for control.

"You're very fond of your grandfather, aren't you?"

"He's your grandfather, too, you know," Jonathan said hoa.r.s.ely.

I nodded, waiting until he could continue.

"Your father is the younger brother," he finally said. "He runs the business side of things in Richmond-operating the warehouses, selling the wheat or tobacco or whatever else we grow. Our fathers are supposed to be partners, but you'd never know it. They barely speak to each other. I don't know what that's all about exactly, but I have an idea."

"Tell me."

"Your father started buying and selling for other plantations besides Hilltop. He started importing coffee from South America and stuff from Europe and began making a lot of money. But I heard Grandfather say that his money is tainted tainted. He won't touch any of it."

My stomach lurched at the thought of my daddy doing something wrong. Maybe I shouldn't be discussing such things with Jonathan.

"Anyway," he continued with a shrug, "none of that matters now. Grandfather is ill, so the family will all come together. Our fathers also have two sisters. Aunt Abigail is married and lives in Hanover County. Have you ever met her?"

I shook my head.

"You will. My brother was sent to fetch her. The youngest sister is Aunt Catherine, who married a planter from Savannah and lives down in Georgia. I sent her a telegram yesterday from Richmond, before I came to your house."

It felt strange to learn about all of these relatives for the first time. I repeated their names to myself so I wouldn't forget them- Uncle William, Aunt Abigail, Aunt Catherine.

"You have two more cousins at Hilltop besides me. My brother Will is the oldest; he's seventeen."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen. We had a sister who died when she was just a baby, and another sister, Ruth, who died when she was eight. She would have been twelve by now if she'd lived. Then there's Thomas, the baby. He's six."

Jonathan began explaining to me how they used to grow tobacco at Hilltop but had switched to wheat because tobacco "used up" the soil. I was only half listening. Instead, I gazed at Josiah's broad back as we rode, remembering how I'd seen him kissing Tessie in the moonlight. Could Josiah be Grady's father? Eli said Josiah was born in Richmond, in our house, but I had no memory of him at all.

"When did Josiah come to live at Hilltop?" I asked when Jonathan paused for a moment. I hoped that the squeak and rattle of the carriage, the plod of horse hooves, would prevent Josiah and Tessie from hearing my question.

"There's a story behind his coming," Jonathan said. "Want to hear it?"

"Yes, please."

"When I was five I took a bad fall off my horse. Broke my collarbone, my arm, and my leg. The doctor fixed me up with splints and said I couldn't walk on my leg for at least a month. I got pretty bored lying around my room all day. When my father came to Richmond on business, Uncle George offered to send Josiah back home to carry me around. He said he was about to sell him at the slave auction so we may as well have him at Hilltop. Father wouldn't accept a gift from Uncle George, so he bought Josiah for me. Jo was plenty strong enough. Smart, too. He not only hauled me all around, he played dominoes and card games with me to keep me occupied until my leg healed."

"How old was he?"

"I don't know . . . late teens, I guess. n.o.body keeps track of his Negroes' ages-and slaves don't know how to count. Anyway, I haven't needed to be carried around for ten years now, but Josiah and I are best friends. Couple of years ago, he started working as an apprentice to Hilltop's blacksmith, but I still send for Jo whenever I need someone to go hunting or fis.h.i.+ng with, or just to ride around the countryside. I'll be going away to college in a few years and I want Jo to come with me as my manservant-although my father keeps threatening to make a field hand out of him because he's so big and strong. Says it's a waste of good manpower to use Josiah as a manservant, much less have him gallivanting around the countryside with me all day." He laughed, as if Josiah's future was of very little importance.

"May I ask him a question?" I asked.

"Sure, go ahead. Hey, Jo," he said, leaning forward, "Miss Caroline has a question for you." Josiah glanced briefly over his shoulder, then nodded curtly.

I hesitated, unsure how to begin. When I finally found my voice, my sentences all came out like questions. "Um . . . when you left Richmond? And moved to Hilltop? Did you, um . . . did you miss Esther and Eli a lot?"

Josiah continued to stare silently ahead. I couldn't tell if he'd even heard me. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, "Don't recall. Long time ago."

We crossed the sluggish Chickahominy River, and after a hot, dusty, three-hour ride over some of the b.u.mpiest roads I'd ever traveled, Jonathan pointed to a weathered line of split-rail fences. "Those mark the edge of our plantation," he said. "We're almost there."

I saw slaves working in several of the fields we pa.s.sed, their black bodies glistening with sweat in the heat as they bent to toil among the green plants. Pine trees lined the narrow road on both sides as we approached the house, forming a fragrant tunnel around us.

I fell in love with Hilltop at first sight. The white, two-story house sat atop a small rise, shaded by oak and chestnut trees and surrounded by fenced fields. The front facade had a peaceful ele- gance to it, with neat black shutters and four simple pillars supporting the portico. Josiah drove the carriage around to the rear of the house-to a smaller, plainer entry-and a yard that was alive with activity. A flock of chickens, geese, and other fowl scattered at our approach, along with a flock of small Negro children whose job it was to tend them. Nearby, their mothers scrubbed laundry in wooden tubs, draping the clean tablecloths and bed linens over bushes and fence rails to dry. Older children bustled back and forth hauling water and firewood.

As we drew to a halt, Jonathan's mother emerged from the house to scold him for driving the carriage into the yard and kicking up a cloud of dust. But she stopped mid-sentence when she saw me.

"Mama, this is Uncle George's daughter, Caroline," Jonathan said as he helped me from the carriage. "She's decided to pay us a visit along with her daddy-he's coming a little later."

"Welcome, Caroline. It's so nice to finally meet you." My aunt Anne's greeting was as warm as the summer day, but beneath the smile she looked very tired and careworn. She wore an ap.r.o.n and a plain, blue-checked work dress without hoops. Her graying, flyaway hair was gathered into an untidy bun on the back of her head. "You've caught me at a very busy time," she began, but Jonathan interrupted her apology.

"Don't you worry, Mama. You just go on back to whatever you were doing. I'll be glad to show Caroline around and keep her occupied till dinnertime. Her mammy can see to all of Caroline's things."

Inside, the plantation house was smaller and plainer than our enormous brick house in town. Jonathan explained that the original house, built by our great-grandfather, had only two rooms downstairs and two upstairs. Our grandfather had enlarged the house with a two-story addition on the west side. My Richmond house had five s.p.a.cious bedrooms-my mother's two-room suite, my father's adjoining bedroom, my room, and the empty nursery. Hilltop had only three modest-sized bedrooms upstairs, one for my aunt and uncle, one for the boys, and one that had belonged to the girls before they died. This latter room was where I was to sleep. After I'd freshened up a bit from the trip, I left Tessie to unpack my things while I went exploring with my cousin.

Downstairs, the double front and rear doors were left open all day to allow the breezes to blow through. The house had no library or drawing room like ours did, only the parlor to the left of the stair hall and the dining room to the right, where three slaves were busy setting the table for dinner. The parlor furniture was sheathed in cotton summer covers, like our furniture back home, but beneath the slipcovers I could see that their furniture was older and shabbier than ours. The door to my grandparents' room was closed, so Jonathan said I would have to wait until later to meet them.

Instead, he took me on a tour of the outbuildings, such as the kitchen, the dairy, and the smokehouse, all bustling with activity. More dark faces appraised me when we ducked inside a small work shed that housed a spinning wheel, a loom, and Hilltop's two seamstresses. The kitchen, a short distance from the house, was similar to ours, with a loft upstairs where the house servants lived. It looked much too small to accommodate the dozen or so servants I'd already seen working in the house and yard.