“Hmmm,” she hummed, checking on her patient again. “I think, if you’ll stay with her and keep doing what I’ve been doing of dabbing her face with the wet rag, I could go to ‘the quarters’ and take a peek.”
“Uh, Mrs. Fontaine wouldn’t allow that,” the boy stated bluntly.
That surprised her. “And why not? Isn’t she in charge of watching over the…” she stumbled, trying to find the right phrase. “Help?”
Chapter 43
“Joe Johnston would have retreated after two days of such punishment.”
—Ulysses S. Grant surmised, familiar with the CSA General in the West, May 7, 1864 Battle of the Wilderness
Francois sat in the library, pouring another glass of wine and sank back into the chair. Coming home had turned to hell. He’d expected a marvelous event, not this. Perhaps seeing Jack? Emma? His nephews? Nope, they were all gone. As to Emma, that was probably good. Nothing like bringing another woman home and having to contend with hell.
Fact was he was here because they were sick in Louisiana. Sick of the Yankees, sick of the War, sick of the occupation but also physically sick with the yellow fever that ran rampant through here in the summer months. Reason his family had their retreat in New York. But the way it looked now, from what he’d seen of the war, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see that home again.
As to Ada, his thinking stopped. His heart was heavy. He’d gotten over Emma, so he should congratulate himself. Ada was perfect. A beautiful lady, one with a head on her shoulders he should be wary of. Despite everything, he’d fallen for her. She didn’t like him being a Southerner or a slave-owner, but she’d saved his life in more ways than one and was a passionate demon in bed with him. He’d saved her from wasting time on that scoundrel, yet, was he bad enough to be one as well? He poured another glass.
The doors to the room slammed open. He glanced up, halfway expecting her and she was there, breathing fire and brimstone, if he could read her face right. He girded himself up for the attack.
“You, you heathen!”
Now, that curse startled him. He relaxed a little. “Hardly, my dear. I’m a good Catholic, born and raised.”
“That is not what I meant!” She flew in and stopped before the desk. Mildly, he wondered if her witch’s broom was stuck in the furniture or on the ground?
“How is Mama?”
“Your mother is well on her way to recovery. The fever broke just before I left for the quarters.” She paced, flushed and furious. Yet to him, she was so alive, it ignited his passion. “I go down there and find a flock of mulatto children, all with unusual eye color. Green and blue are hardly normal colors for the coloreds!”
“How do you know? Did you become an expert on this? Yankee schools teach you that cockamamie stuff?”
She whirled, her skirts swishing as she turned. “How dare you! And I thought you were more enlightened!”
That made him get up, hobble around the table and take her by the shoulders, forcing her to sit. “Ada, mulattos are pretty much prevalent down here. Millions of reasons why, majority of which you’d despise and the rest denied. But it does happen.”
“And with a great deal of regularity here! How many of these did you father? They carry your blue eyes,” she snapped.
Inside, his heart broke. He’d lose another again to the family tradition. “Yes, one was mine. I was a young man. Not supposed to go play with the pretty little lady next door, so…” he shrugged, realizing that sounded bad to even him. “As you might bet, blue runs in the family, too. Slaves of that color fetched a pretty sum, or so the family claimed.”
“You fathered slaves for profit?!”
“I guess you could view it that way,” He was going to hell, and he knew it.
“Ah, no wonder Mrs. Wiggins laughed at me for agreeing to wed you! You realize I don’t share well!”
“You’re not sharing. Haven’t in a long time. We don’t even have slaves here, thanks to my brother Jack. He freed them all last year.”
“I beg your pardon?” She frowned. “I don’t believe you! They call you massa and—”
“Yes, they do. Some habits die hard. Look, Jack freed them and gave them a parcel of land, plus for those who stayed, he paid them. Not a bad situation, considering. Some did leave, but the bulk stayed.”
“Well, of course. You can’t go traveling anywhere here as a freeman!”
“Yes, they can and they have.” He ran his fingers through his hair as frustration threatened. “They were slaves but given their freedom. Jack’s offer was good and here, they were still covered by us on anything that’d go wrong. Yes, there are still the remains of that time, but they’re given a chance. Creoles handle this situation differently. Having freed servants isn’t a rarity.”
She stood there, heaving to breath but the corset restrained her. “How could you?”
For a long time, he never given it a thought. It was done. Now, though, a voice, deep inside him, croaked the same question. Started when he was with her, maybe before when they waited for a fight, but the reality was hitting when he started to heal and listened to her. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but it did make him question.
“You simply don’t dispute the family rules,” he stated. Or how the family accumulated their wealth. “We’re around them all the time. We grew together. I knew her well. I told you I was young and she was pretty.”
She walked right up to him and slapped
