Southern Legacy: Completed Version Read online

  The responsibilities were enormous. Thankfully, Marie Montgomery had been the embodiment of patience. She set to train Jo in becoming a competent mistress of the grand plantation.

  Descending the staircase the first day she was set to shadow her future mother-in-law, Jo discovered a present on the side table. Opening it, she was deeply touched. It was a receipt book filled with detailed instruction for medical care for the inhabitants on the plantation. It held vital information for Jo to be able to perform her duties from preventing miscarriages to killing rats. Most times, it was handed down from mother to daughter.

  “Oh, Mrs. Montgomery!” Jo cried and clutched it to her chest.

  Smiling broadly, Mrs. Montgomery said, “My dear, I think it’s time to come up with something less formal. Please call me Mother Montgomery."

  “Mother Montgomery,” Jo agreed, wondering how something so simple as a name warmed her soul. Looking at the woman, she could see the world Papa wanted for her—to become the lady of Magnolia Bluff. Finding happiness in a home filled with lots of children. She wanted lots of children. Perhaps it would fill the void within her.

  Alongside Mother Montgomery, she began making shopping list needed for the upkeep of the plantation and keeping a ledger of housekeeping accounts. She had even accompanied Mother Marie to the sick house when one of the field slaves, Jolene, leg became infected from a spider bite. Jo watched the compassion Mother Marie showed and was impressed with the skill she treated the infection.

  Her work kept her busy. She couldn’t stop, if she did memories, would seep into her consciousness. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Time was passing ever so quickly. Christmas would soon be upon them, but she held none of her usual excitement for the holiday.

  Since she had first come to Charleston, she had celebrated the season at The Groves surrounded by her family. Those she thought loved her. She wondered if she would ever set foot again in what had once been her home.

  The rift between Papa and Grandpa Henry had grown wider. Over the last few weeks, Papa had cut ties with her momma’s family and steadfastly refused to talk of it to her, only demanding that she obey him. It frustrated her to no end. She wanted to tell Papa that she knew the argument stemmed from Harry Lee and Buck’s actions against her because Rosa told her.

  With Gillie’s departure, Clarissa’s maid had become hers. Rosa had the necessary skills to be an excellent maid. Unlike Gillie, Rosa did not invite confidences, but Jo discovered Rosa rarely kept an opinion to herself. She did more than hint to the rumors surrounding her cousins. She talked openly about the whispers.

  “Harry Lee and Buck are on the run from your papa with good reason, Miss Jo. It’s said that your papa wants to string them up for what they did to you. He has warned them if they come back it’s what will happen. It serves them right,” her maid carried on. “Caused a ruckus, they did with them lies. Told Miss Clarissa not to listen to the oldest one. He’s got the devil in him, he does. But ya got nothing to worry about now. Your papa is taking care of you.”

  Jo took comfort she was beyond the reach of her cousins. They could not do her more harm, but she missed Aunt Sybil and Grandpa Henry. Though, she admitted it pained her to know that Grandpa Henry had used her unmercifully.

  She was relieved that Papa’s anger had not extended to Grace Ann. Jo supposed that it had more to do with Grace Ann being the wife of Theodore Whitney than anything else. The older gentleman had been the epitome of graciousness.

  Mr. Whitney’s kindness extended far beyond his hospitality of using his Charleston home. After his return from Europe, Whitney helped Papa with his business dealings and managed to keep the peace between Papa and the Montgomerys.

  Miss Hazel told Jo that Mr. Whitney was repaying a kindness to Papa because of his parents. The Wrights had done Whitney a favor in his youth that Whitney hadn’t forgotten. While it explained why Whitney had offered his help, Miss Hazel irritated her. Jo sensed there was more to the story, but Miss Hazel refused to acknowledge anything else. She only shook her head when Jo pressed her.

  Her old mammy moved back to her farm when they arrived at Magnolia Bluff. It had distressed Jo, but Papa insisted he was well enough for Miss Hazel to return home. Jo realized that Miss Hazel was not far away, but it dismayed her. She had taken comfort with having her mammy a constant in her life again.

  She had lost so much over the last few months and had become consumed with worry about Papa’s health. She fought against the wretchedness that was encompassing her, but it seemed endless. Miss Hazel had given her a semblance of normalcy with her presence.

  Jo had enjoyed sitting with Miss Hazel and reading Gillie’s letters. It gave them both joy to read of Gillie’s happiness with Heyward. Gillie wrote in detail of their lives. She had gotten a job at a local bakery within walking distance of her new home. Heyward this, Heyward that. Jo smiled looking over the letter. Every other word reflected what Heyward thought or had done. At least one of us is happy.

  Miss Hazel made regular visits to ensure Papa’s was not pushing himself too hard. She was the only one he seemed to listen to when it came to his well-being. She did not cower when his temper exploded but forced him to keep it in check.

  Papa remained a man possessed. His desire to see Jo settled had not lessened. Growing up, Jo had been used to living in the backdrop of society. His reappearance had pressed her into the glare of Charleston’s elite. She sensed their resentment yet at the same time the outward appearance of respect. She was under no illusion. Her every movement was under observation to maintain a proper reputation. She held no doubt if she made any misstep she would feel their wrath.

  For Jo, it had become a constant fear. She had never been good at concealing her emotions, but she wasn’t given a choice. She aspired to erect a wall around her wounded soul. It had not worked. She was consumed with an overwhelming melancholy when the memories assaulted her…painful ones that tortured her.

  Faces haunted her at night when she closed her eyes. She saw Papa pleading with her to fulfill his promise to her dying momma; Cullen saying nothing, but seeing the hurt in his eyes she had caused when he walked away and then there was Clarissa dying in her arms.

  How helpless she felt and powerless to give the desperate woman what she wanted the most—to live. She could still feel Clarissa’s hands clutching tightly to her as if Jo could stop her life from ebbing away. How fragile life was!

  Jo was caught in a whirlwind of sadness. Despite Grace Ann assuring her that her heart would mend, it had not. She had been the one to turn from him, but it was Cullen that was never far from her thoughts. She could not confess the truth to anyone.

  It was not all that disturbed her. The entire time she had been within Charleston, the talk of secession intensified with constant threats against the North. The people were intoxicated with enthusiasm to the point where it would have been impossible to ignore the restlessness of the South. Everywhere Joe went it was proclaimed over and over again. Upon the lips of every man, they talked of nothing else.

  No one was louder than old man Montgomery. “Damn Yankees! Need to mind their own affairs instead of sticking their nose into ours!”

  It shocked Jo that Clayton Montgomery was so open about his hatred toward the North. She had known he was an opinionated and outspoken man. He resented the audacity of the North dictating to him what to do on this own land and telling him the horrors of the practice that his ancestors had built their fortune. She wondered had he considered one of his grandsons was one of those painted devils.

  “We will take care of our own! ‘em Yanks need to leave us the hell alone, or they will awaken within us a fight that they will regret soundly!”

  Unlike most around Jo, the thought of secession confused her. Confidence exuded from every Southern man, woman and child that the South would not be bullied but would make a stand, even Papa. A deeply felt hatred strengthened each day against the North.

  Perhaps, though, it was the fact that the w
edding was upon her that depressed her. Once again, arrangements had been put into place. The ceremony would take place Christmas Eve, a private affair with only family in the drawing room.

  In the low country, Christmas was a time for celebration for everyone with all the slaves included. It was a time of goodwill and reflection. The perfect time to enjoy nuptials. Grace Ann and Mr. Whitney had shown respect for Papa and postponed their plans to return to his plantation in Camden to attend the ceremony.

  The only other person, Papa invited, had been Clyde Morgan. Papa had arranged for his attorney to attend to ensure that the contract was upheld before he released his hold on Magnolia Bluff. A reminder of her fate, but she needed no reminder. It was of the utmost important to Papa for her to become the lady he envisioned.

  Despair overwhelmed Jo. In a few short weeks, she would become the wife of a man she did not love, entrapped within the boundaries of loyalty and duty. But that was not today.

  Today she found refuge in riding, a pleasure she had not enjoyed for months. She looked over her shoulder and saw a figure riding towards her.

  Jo had been at Magnolia Bluff only a few days when Wade returned to his home from his uncle’s in Beaufort. It had been impossible to ignore each other, quite impossible.

  Before her, Wade reined in his horse and smiled. “I’m glad to see you decided to join me.”

  She nodded. Without another word, she nudged her horse forward into a gallop. Behind her, he followed.

  * * * *

  Undoubtedly inappropriate, her morning rides with Wade became a routine. Neither spoke of the impropriety of riding alone. Joe had no desire for it to end.

  Cutting through the undergrowth, Joe ducked under the Spanish moss and laughed when Wade caught up with her. Reining her horse to the right, she prepared to bolt, but he was too quick. He had hold of her rein.

  She screamed with a laugh, not realizing that in the shade of the woods she illuminated a beauty surrounding her with her eyes beaming, but the look on his face said it had not escaped his notice.

  “You should always smile.”

  “Oh, you say!” She tried to jerk her reins back. “If you give me but a minute…”

  “Don’t think so,” he laughed himself. Her eyes burst forth with a mischievous sparkle. He reached for her, and she took off again.

  For the first time in such a long time, Jo wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. Her only thought was riding and leaving everything else behind her.

  Jo realized Wade had his own demons. He had not spoken of Clarissa since the burial nor had he talked of Magnolia Bluff. The loss of what he thought would have been his had to weigh heavily upon him.

  He had done as she and lived in the moment. She wondered if he sensed the danger. She could never confess she enjoyed the thrill of the forbidden, not daring to consider the ramifications if they were caught.

  Once more, Wade caught up with her while she rounded a bend. This time he reached out for her and peeled her from her horse. Unbalanced, the two toppled down in a pillar of tall weeds.

  Jo scrambled to her feet. Her hands flew out in the direction of her horse.

  “Wade Montgomery!” she cried, watching her horse ride off without her. “Look at what you have done!”

  “I see well what I have done,” he said in a low tone, but clear, so clear to her ears.

  She turned back to him to find that he made his way to her side. He seemed not to have a care in the world…what if her horse arrived back at Magnolia Bluff without her?

  Wade stepped even closer to her. She didn’t move but stood mesmerized by his gaze. As if she had no will of her own, she fell into his arms. She had no recollection of how he molded her to him or when his mouth found hers…but for a moment the world around her disappeared.

  Trembling, her lips pulsed gently against his. A forbidden passion was unleashed, freed of its restraint. Something too strong to fight overwhelmed her. He kissed her long and passionately. Her mind inflamed with a growing desire, a need to feel desired and refused to hear a voice within her telling her she belonged to another.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she needed to stop him, but she didn’t. She kissed him back. Her body took over wanting what he had to offer. She uttered a faint helpless sound. He seemed not to notice. His lips descended down her neck.

  Her senses came alive with his touch. No, no, no! She couldn’t, but her body responded to his touch seemly unaware of how wrong this was. The voice became louder. I am pledged to his brother.

  “Wade,” she gasped and pushed back from him. Her hand covered her mouth, grasping for a breath. “Why did you do that?”

  Brazenly, he looked at her without a tinge of remorse. He said simply, “You had the look of one that needed to be kissed.”

  Shaken, she had no retort and thankfully he didn’t press her. Instead, he walked down the trail for a moment and returned with her errant horse.

  * * * *

  It had come. Christmas was upon Magnolia Bluff. Scent of evergreen and freshly baked gingerbread swirled throughout the house. The rooms were decorated beautifully with holly and bows.

  Most years, the holiday lent to visits of family and friends, including dancing and partying into the wee hours of the morning. Feasting, drinking, and carols sung would go on for days, climaxing with a show of fireworks on Christmas Night.

  Jo remembered the impatience as a child hanging up her stocking for St. Nicholas, waiting to discover what he had left her. It was a shame the Montgomery’s had no little ones this year to enjoy the practice, but the swell of excitement of the slave children gave Jo heart.

  The little ones seemed so happy with the smallest of things and eagerly awaited the day. At Magnolia Bluff, Jo learned that the slaves were given clothes for their gifts, shirts and pants for the men, dresses for the women and shoes for everyone. The young children, also, received candy in their stockings.

  This year the festivities had been curtailed with the family being in mourning. The Montgomery’s merriment would be contained to only close relatives, including guests to her wedding.

  Rebelliously, Jo had pushed the contemplation of her wedding from her mind. Now, anxiety riddled her. Over the last few weeks, she had given little thought to the fact that she had not received a letter from Andrew, knowing he was expected at the Magnolia Bluff within the next few days.

  She realized Andrew held his own reservations about their union. Had she not her own? Even now guilt weighed upon her for allowing Wade to kiss her. She had been foolish to believe she could share a friendship with him giving their unresolved feelings for each other.

  Reason returned to her. She had not ridden since that morning and tried her best to avoid Wade. It was impossible to avoid him completely, given they lived under the same roof. At times, she felt his eyes upon her. Looking back at him, he would have a small knowing grin on his face. It bothered her to no end.

  Wade had to understand she had quite made up her mind to marry Andrew. She had lived on the edge of scandal for so long. She refused to do so any longer. She would not shame Papa with her actions. Thankfully this morning, Charlotte had arrived at Magnolia Bluff.

  The last Jo had seen of the dear girl, the poor thing had been downhearted with Harry Lee’s betrayal. Upon notice of her friend’s arrival, Jo raced down the stairs in a new deep rose velvet gown that was only half-way tied up the back because of her exhilaration. She found Charlotte smiling up at her at the foot of the stairs, fidgeting so.

  Charlotte looked most fashionable with her brown tresses woven into swirled buns on both sides of her head. Her own gown looked festive, a royal blue dress with a button bodice and ruffled skirt. She wore a matching jacket trimmed in navy velvet. But it was her twinkling eyes that betrayed her excitement. To Jo’s delight, Charlotte had transformed into a dreamy trancelike state. Immediately Jo realized the girl was in love.

  Interlocking her arm through Jo’s, Charlotte strolled into the parlor with Jo and sat beside her o
n the settee. More than once, she hugged Jo tightly.

  “I do believe you will like him, Jo. He’s a planter outside of Columbia…of course…you must have guessed he would live there since I was visiting Aunt Vera.”

  Charlotte rambled on, incoherently. “He is a widower…and is an older gentleman, but not that much dreadfully older than I. The first time I met him he told me I looked like a daisy in the meadow. I was wearing that butter-yellow taffeta…did I say that already?”

  “Yes, darling,” Jo said. “He sounds wonderful, except you have not told me his name.”

  “I did not? Oh! I did not!” Charlotte exclaimed, blushing profusely. “Arthur Bowles. Aunt Vera says his family is well-respected…they moved down from Richmond. He told me he was going to speak with Papa. Oh, Jo, I think he is going ask Papa for my hand. Why else would he want to speak with Papa? He said he is coming down after the new year with Aunt Vera and his parents.”

  “I am so happy for…”

  Abruptly the serenity of the reunion was broken. A roar erupted upstairs. The distinct sound of Papa’s voice echoed throughout the house.

  “Hell’s Fire! This will never do! I will not be played!”

  Immediately, Jo bolted up the staircase leaving Charlotte in her wake. Papa! What had happened? Her heart raced. How selfish she had been! If anything has happened to him because he discovered my adventures with Wade, I will never be able to live with myself!

  “Does he take me for a damn idiot?” Brantley Wright burst from his bedroom with a letter in hand. The gaunt man strode angrily down the hall. Until that moment, she had not notice how his once tailor fitted clothes hung loose about him. He halted in front of her. “Have you seen this? Do you know?”

  Bewildered, Jo shook her head and took the letter Papa swung wildly in front of her. “Calm yourself, Papa. Your heart,” she pleaded.

  His cheeks reddened. Tenseness strained his face and the heaviness his chest breathed told of his difficulty inhaling. Fear gripped her that he would keel over in front of her.

  She gripped his hand. “Please, Papa. Let’s go back into your room and lie down.”