Infidelity: Manor (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4

  My father had tried to wear the airs of a man of business. He had worn his only suit, ill-fitting and frayed as it was. He had leaned back and lit his pipe in the sitting room, tucking a finger in his vest pocket. The Colonel smiled at him with all the sincerity of a cat looking at a mouse. I guess my father was figuring his cut. And later he enjoyed too much of the Colonel’s imported brandy, and we had to help him into the carriage.

  On this my wedding day, Sallie took me down the long hall, past the dining room, and into a series of private closets and wardrobes. Several young black women stood about, waiting to attend to me. She showed me to the room where my wedding dress hung, as if worn by a ghost floating in the corner. I shuddered when I saw it. I would have rather seen the stripes of a prisoner than that puffy white wedding dress, hand-stitched by my loving mother from the finest material, paid by the man she was marrying her daughter to. That same woman now waited in the sprawling yard, chatting with her betters about things she knew little of.

  “Don’t worry, Missus Sarah,” Sallie had said, seeing my distant stare. “You’ll be just fine. Colonel Montague is a good man. A noble soldier. He’ll treat you just fine. Just fine.” But her beautiful brown eyes betrayed her. I knew she didn’t mean that with her heart. She was only trying to comfort a scared young girl about to face the demise of her dreams.

  I nearly fainted during the ceremony. My sweat soaked my wedding dress, and I teetered and blanched. I told everybody it was the heat, but it was much more. Later, we were led into the large dining room, and slaves brought in a lavish feast. I couldn’t eat. Sallie helped me find a chair in a quiet room, and my mother brought me cool drinks. Both ladies smiled at me, those same wan smiles I’d been seeing all day.

  That night, the Colonel took my maidenhead. Sallie had helped me dress in a nightgown she had taken from my few pieces of luggage. I was half asleep when Colonel Elijah Carmichael Montague climbed on top of me. I didn’t know what he was doing and tried to pull away from him. He pinned my thin arms down and thrust his manhood into my small, unprepared opening. His filthy beard, foul tobacco-breath, and patchy pink skin covered me like a pall. His heavy thrusts tore my virginal insides. I cried out. He finished, then rolled off of me. I vomited in the wash basin while his snores echoed through the room. Sallie cleaned me and held me as I wept. Tears were in her eyes as she stroked my hair and hummed a sweet song to me. I turned sixteen the following month.

  Unbeknownst to me, President Buchanan fiddled while our country burned. While he fought for control of his own party, the North and South had become more and more alienated. The increasing tensions between both were heating up. Far away from us, powerful men argued about issues of states’ rights, slavery, and the balance of power and trade. Men I never met began to pound the drums of war and prepare arms and armaments. In two years, Abraham Lincoln and the Republicans would take power on an anti-slavery platform, the South would secede, and the entire world would change forever.

  1864 – Tobacco

  The following morning, General Bradley rode out early. A storm was coming up, and he was just ahead of it. I watched from my bedroom window and saw his elegant, erect posture pushing up from the stirrups. He was joined by several young officers. He headed toward the port. The rain started just after his departure.

  Sallie came into my room. She saw me watching out the window.

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yes,” I said, not taking my eyes off the figure as he grew smaller and smaller.

  “He is quite beautiful, isn’t he?”

  “Pardon?” I turned to face her. She wore a big smile. A knowing smile. She gave me a judgmental nod.

  “You can pretend all you want, Sarah, but I know better.”

  “Know better about what?” I was flushed red and turned away.

  “Okay, never mind.”

  We busied ourselves around the home all day. When we cleaned his room, I found a note on his nightstand.

  For services rendered, it said, and there was twenty dollars. Union money. I wouldn’t be able to spend it in Savannah, so I left it.

  I checked on the workers in the fields. We had amassed a huge amount of cotton and tobacco, not being able to ship it to our distribution channels. Our tobacco barns were full, and our large cotton barn was overflowing. With the bad weather, we had to work hard to keep the cotton and tobacco dry. The tobacco barns needed fires to fight mold and insects. The cotton would last for some time, though eventually pests and weather would damage the quality. The tobacco, though, would spoil quickly. I had been unable to find distribution, except for a small amount locally. The trains no longer moved, so I couldn’t even send it to Jacksonville or Birmingham. I decided to try to put my boarder to work for me.

  When General Bradley returned in the late afternoon, I was waiting for him.

  “General, I need your assistance,” I said as he dismounted. He looked at me and smiled that crooked smile of his.

  “Well,” he said, “I’ll do what I can for my kind host.”

  I didn’t return his smile. “I have crops I cannot move. I cannot sell. I have tobacco and cotton. The tobacco will begin to spoil in a few weeks if I don’t find a market for it.”

  “How can I help with that?”

  “Well,” I didn’t lower my gaze, “certainly someone up north could use this tobacco. Certainly even your soldiers could use some. We could both solve our respective problems.”

  “We don’t need tobacco, Mrs. Montague,” he said. His voice wavered a bit and he looked away from me. I didn’t back down, and he saw the directness of my gaze. He hesitated. “You see…”

  “I’m sure that you can solve this. You control the logistics for your troops. They’ll need tobacco, either tomorrow or within a few weeks. I have tobacco that needs to be sold. So there you go.”

  He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. I knew he was searching for a reply. I wasn’t going to give him time to waver. I turned on my heel and walked back into the house, leaving the door open for him to follow if he wished.

  Over dinner that night, he didn’t say much. He obviously had something on his mind, and he had a few stacks of papers he was reading while he ate. I didn’t press and left him to it. I did, though, sneak a few peeks at him. He was so focused that he didn’t notice my gaze. I saw him reading carefully. He seemed to read and re-read each document multiple times. His icy blue eyes moved quickly over each line.

  I was in the kitchen when I heard him call from the living room. He was still working on the bottle of brandy I had given him the previous evening. “Mrs. Montague?” he called out. I dried my hands.

  “Yes, General?” I asked, bothered to have been summoned in my own home by a stranger.

  “Sorry to bother you, but might I try a pipe of your tobacco? If I’m to help you sell some to my soldiers, I should at least try it to ensure its worth.” That crooked smile of his made me blush like a schoolgirl.

  “But of course, sir,” I said, feeling much less perturbation. I went to the closest tobacco barn and found some freshly cut leaf. When I returned, he had his pipe out. I gave him a pouch of it, and he loaded his pipe.

  “Do you mind if I smoke by the fire here?” he asked, suddenly seeming very mild and charming. His deep, growling voice thrilled me.

  “I do not mind at all, General,” I said.

  He took a punk from the fireplace, and lit his pipe. He smiled around the mouthpiece, and drew a couple times. He appeared to savor the flavor.

  “That is some mighty fine tobacco, Mrs. Montague,” he said, blowing smoke into the fireplace.

  “Thank you. The Montague Farm has grown tobacco for over one hundred years. It’s the best in Savannah.”

  “I see.” He took a few more draws. “Might I ask for your company, ma’am?” Instantly, my face felt hot. “I haven’t had the pleasure of speaking with anybody for some time. I could really use some pleasant company.”

  I didn’t move. “But General,” I protested, “w
e’ve spoken several times.”

  “You’ve been a wonderful host,” he conceded, again drawing from his pipe, “and offered me polite conversation over your delicious dinner. I’m asking you to join me to truly talk to me.”

  I didn’t answer, but moved to the chair opposite him. As befitting a lady, I lowered myself into the seat, keeping my back straight and hands folded in front of me.

  “It’s in the evenings that I feel my…loss…you see…”

  “Loss, General?”

  “I’m sorry. Never mind.” His face was dark.

  He continued to smoke, and at first was very quiet. I almost got up to leave when he again spoke.

  “You see, war is about loss, isn’t it?”

  “You have no idea, General,” I said. I felt the sting of all that had been lost over these last two years. “I imagine I’m experiencing the loss more than you can imagine.” How stupid and arrogant I was to think I was the only person who was experiencing loss in this war. I was so young.

  “You’d be wrong, Mrs. Montague, though I don’t blame you for saying that.”

  “You’ve lost as well?”

  “Quite.” He knocked his pipe clean and then loaded it again. “I’ve lost more than any man should ever lose. I’ve lost enough for a few lifetimes.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He pulled his pipe from his lips and looked into the bowl. “That is truly some fine tobacco, Mrs. Montague. I will speak to my quartermaster and see what I can do about taking some of it off your hands.” His eyes were locked on the fire. He was a million miles away.

  “I’m much obliged to you, sir,” I said. And I was.

  I wanted to say something. I wanted to find out what he was thinking. But it wasn’t proper. I watched him stare into the fire for a few minutes, then I excused myself and returned to the kitchen.

  1864 – Money and Freedom

  Two days later, the 20th of November, there was a lot of hustle and bustle. Several soldiers came and went. The general held court by our large fireplace, and when soldiers would enter they would salute sharply, then conduct their business. He stood, smoking his pipe earnestly. It was a cool, breezy day, but not unpleasant. A welcome relief after several days of extremely cold weather. We had the windows open to circulate the smell of the magnolias and honeysuckle, who were giving us their last fragrances.

  As we neared lunch, the general found me in the kitchen. Sallie and I were preparing food for our cookout. We had a large hog already dressed and another waiting to be. He smiled at me as he entered and took off his hat. I could tell he had a lot on his mind.

  “Mrs. Montague?” he asked. I dried off my hands and turned to him. His eyes were intense today, and he looked at me knowingly.

  “Yes, General?” I asked.

  He paused for a minute. He was looking at me very directly, though there was a distance in his stare. His fiery cobalt eyes seemed dimmed. His eyebrows were furrowed, his shoulders tense. He seemed a little older today. It took him a moment to speak, and I wondered at the portentous feeling I was having.

  “Mrs. Montague,” he said again, shaking off his distance, “I have a flat transport carriage arriving in two hours. I’ve secured the sale of your tobacco. Some thousand pounds, if you have that much available.”

  “Yes, I do, sir,” I said calmly, but inside my heart was fluttering. That would deplete nearly all that we had. I would still have a lot of cotton to move, but at least the spoilage of tobacco was solved. “Thank you for your kindness, sir.”

  When I looked up at him, his blue eyes suddenly blazed and burned into my soul. He looked like he had something to say, something to shout. But then didn’t. “If you could please have your slaves load the carriage upon its arrival, I will ensure it is taken out today.” He was half mumbling when he spoke.

  “Workers. Remember, I don’t believe in the ownership of humans, General.”

  He looked deep into my eyes again, adjusted his lean form from one side to the other, and then smiled. “You are definitely unique, Mrs. Montague. My guess is you’re the only woman in Savannah who feels this way.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a near smile.

  “I may be. I would take that as a compliment.”

  “You should.” And now he smiled broadly at me. His eyes regained their focus and brightness. It was as if a spell had been broken. He looked at our work in the kitchen. “You are preparing a lot of food there, ladies,” he remarked and my guess is he was changing the subject from what he was thinking.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, turning to Sallie. “Today is our weekly cookout. It’s a tradition. The house staff prepares a good, hearty meal for our field workers.” I then added, “Since it is so cool outside, we’re having the cookout inside our home. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  “You mean for the…” He paused. “I mean, well, you have a big feast for your entire staff of workers?” he asked, emphasizing that word.

  “Yes. We would be lost without them. They do most of the hard work, and so it’s only fair that we share in the rewards.”

  “I see. Am I invited to this cookout?”

  “Would you like to be?”

  “I can hardly contain myself…I would be greatly honored to join in this feast.” And he swept his hand down and bowed low at the waist.

  I couldn’t help but smile at his exaggerated bow. “Excellent. We will stop work early. The food should be ready around three o’clock. Please be washed and dressed appropriately.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  At three o’clock sharp the general was downstairs and dressed in his best uniform. His long blue coat looked freshly pressed, and his brass buttons shone brightly. He had washed and looked fresh and handsome. I had to work hard to avoid his gaze, but I couldn’t stop peeking at him. He was so tall and lean, so handsome in a way of strength. Like a lion is handsome but also somewhat dangerous. He had even shaved, and his face looked so smooth and clean.

  The guilt inside me weighed heavily. I was a married woman. A kept woman. And I lived in the stately Montague Manor, named for the lineage that included my husband. He was far afield, fighting a war against these very Union soldiers. Meanwhile, I found myself very attracted to one of these soldiers my husband was fighting. What kind of woman would feel such a thing? What kind of woman would even entertain these thoughts?

  And yet I felt them. My husband was an aged man. Kind to many, but one who expected the world to bow to him. He was indifferent to the needs of others. For the many times he had penetrated me, he had never even thought about how I felt about it. He had never even considered the pain and displeasure I experienced.

  Now, here was a general in an army we were told were bloodthirsty savages who were looking to destroy our way of life. He had taken ownership of my home and turned me into his servant. In my own home. His army marched through our streets and foraged by taking our community’s resources. They no doubt had intentions to destroy our city, as they had done in Atlanta.

  Yet he had also been kinder to me than my own husband. He had been kind to Sallie and our other staff. He had worked hard to help me unload the tobacco, which just an hour ago had left on a carriage. And, I have to admit, I knew I could never find my husband attractive or desirous. Maybe that wasn’t meant to be, but how could I deny that this younger general had captured my eye? He was handsome and charismatic. He had a presence. He was lean, and his jaw was chiseled from stone. He was kind but not weak. He was physically beautiful and polite, kind even.

  At three o’clock sharp, the workers began to arrive. They came with smiles and hugs, kicking off muddy boots and hanging wet jackets. From the cookhouse, plates of food arrived as well. As we began our feast, General Bradley pulled me aside.

  “Mrs. Montague, I have to say…I’ve never seen slaves…I mean…workers…dressed as nicely as yours are. Not here in the South, anyway. Most slaves don’t even have shoes.”

  “Thank you, General,” I replied. “I’ll
take that as a compliment. I value these men, women, and children. The least I can do is to take care of them.”

  He continued, “Their quarters are nicely kept as well.”

  “Yes, thank you. How could I live in this large manor and know that my workers were living in broken-down shacks? Two years ago, we renovated and rebuilt all the cabins, and we nearly doubled the number of rooms. All cabins now have fireplaces and glass windows. Plus, we added the schoolhouse for the children.”

  He paused when a fiddle was produced. Furniture was moved to the side, and then there was laughter and song. He looked at the dancing, then at me, and then back to the dancing. Suddenly, he laughed aloud, and then a big smile crossed his face as he clapped along with the music. When he smiled, he suddenly looked much younger, and his face shone in the dim light. He was so perfectly handsome I could hardly breathe. His smile brightened and warmed me all over.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his long blue coat. He pulled out a large envelope. “Now, I must have your strict assurances that you will never tell any others of my army that I gave this money to you.”

  “A fair exchange of goods, I would hope to say…”

  “You don’t understand, Mrs. Montague. We are to forage for our needs. Those are the orders of General Sherman. I would be instructed to take that tobacco, not purchase it.”

  “I see.” I continued to eye the envelope.

  “So if word got around that I was buying from slave labor, I would be relieved of my command.”

  “Then why are you doing this?” I challenged. It was stupid to do so, but I wasn’t one to be walked on or talked down to.

  “Because I care for the woman who was left to fend for herself and her…workers…in a difficult time like now.”

  He moved the envelope toward me.

  And in that moment it suddenly became clear to me. With the fiddle playing behind me, I suddenly saw exactly how things must go. Like sunshine lighting my path, I understood why events had played out the way they had. As clear as a Sunday church bell, I heard my inner voice guiding me to what I needed to do.