innocent . . . or was it? Oh, when
would this carriage ride be over?
Susanna couldn't relax even when Adam abruptly drew
back and settled against the seat once more. Nor did she look at him; she was
worried about how she might react if that same insufferably confident smile was
upon his face. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, and was more than a bit
relieved when the coach turned onto a wide, poplar-lined drive. As a
magnificent brick mansion came into view, flanked by outbuildings half-hidden
by flowering shrubs and trees, she was swept by nervous excitement, the
previous moment's incident temporarily forgotten. She could not believe she was
finally here.
Briarwood.
It was grander than she would ever have imagined, the
formal approach a beautifully landscaped prelude to the ivy-clad, two-story
house that lay beyond. This place was even finer than the Redmayne country
estate, which now held a solid second place in her estimation. Briarwood was
truly the loveliest spot on earth.
As the carriage pulled around a large circle edged in
boxwood that terminated the drive, Susanna saw the front door open, and a host
of black servants hurried down the broad stone steps to a wide walkway, where
they formed a well-ordered line. Several footmen dressed in splendid
blue-and-gold livery rushed forward to meet the coach. It seemed everything was
happening so fast, the door opening and Adam climbing down so that he might
assist her. Then she was walking with him toward the servants who, from their
warm, expectant smiles, seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
It was an unsettling moment. She, who had done the
waiting upon, was now the mistress of a large household, with servants to see
to her every need. What was she to say to them? How should she act? Would they
somehow sense that she was actually one of them?
"Your house servants," Adam explained in a
low voice, his hand firmly—and impertinently, she decided—upon her elbow as he
steered her toward them. "You probably know from your father that some of
them are slaves while others have earned their freedom, and have chosen to
remain here as paid help. The same can be said for the rest of the workers at
Briarwood. "
Actually, Susanna had heard of this unusual arrangement
from Camille, who had been proud of her father's lenient and fair-minded
attitude toward his slaves. She, however, didn't like the idea of anyone owning
another human being; it wasn't right. Yet when she had expressed her opinion,
Camille had said it was simply the way things were done in Virginia. Briarwood
would never have achieved its greatness without the several hundred slaves who
toiled in the tobacco fields. At least they were luckier than most to have
James Cary as their owner.
But now you are their owner, Susanna thought, the reality
of the situation not sitting well with her. Yet there didn't seem to be
anything she could do about it, except to continue on as James Cary had done,
allowing slaves to earn their freedom and then giving them the choice to stay
on at the plantation or to set out on their own.
As Adam continued speaking, Susanna noticed that his
voice had grown strangely harsh. Why, she couldn't imagine.
"There are also some indentured servants here from
Britain who are primarily craftsmen, but their numbers are few. Your father
ceased to buy indentures several years ago, at my urging." He said no more
upon the subject, but began to introduce her to the servants, the first a very
stout woman with an enormous bosom. "This is Prue. She's the head cook
here at Briarwood, and an excellent one, I might add."
"Hello," Susanna said softly, offering a
small smile.
"We're so glad you're here, Miss Camille,"
the woman said with obvious sincerity. "The house has been so empty since
your papa . . ." She couldn't finish, her large dark eyes misting.
"Well, will you look at me? A happy occasion and all."
Susanna's heart went out to her. It was clear James
Cary had been very well liked, and was
would this carriage ride be over?
Susanna couldn't relax even when Adam abruptly drew
back and settled against the seat once more. Nor did she look at him; she was
worried about how she might react if that same insufferably confident smile was
upon his face. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, and was more than a bit
relieved when the coach turned onto a wide, poplar-lined drive. As a
magnificent brick mansion came into view, flanked by outbuildings half-hidden
by flowering shrubs and trees, she was swept by nervous excitement, the
previous moment's incident temporarily forgotten. She could not believe she was
finally here.
Briarwood.
It was grander than she would ever have imagined, the
formal approach a beautifully landscaped prelude to the ivy-clad, two-story
house that lay beyond. This place was even finer than the Redmayne country
estate, which now held a solid second place in her estimation. Briarwood was
truly the loveliest spot on earth.
As the carriage pulled around a large circle edged in
boxwood that terminated the drive, Susanna saw the front door open, and a host
of black servants hurried down the broad stone steps to a wide walkway, where
they formed a well-ordered line. Several footmen dressed in splendid
blue-and-gold livery rushed forward to meet the coach. It seemed everything was
happening so fast, the door opening and Adam climbing down so that he might
assist her. Then she was walking with him toward the servants who, from their
warm, expectant smiles, seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
It was an unsettling moment. She, who had done the
waiting upon, was now the mistress of a large household, with servants to see
to her every need. What was she to say to them? How should she act? Would they
somehow sense that she was actually one of them?
"Your house servants," Adam explained in a
low voice, his hand firmly—and impertinently, she decided—upon her elbow as he
steered her toward them. "You probably know from your father that some of
them are slaves while others have earned their freedom, and have chosen to
remain here as paid help. The same can be said for the rest of the workers at
Briarwood. "
Actually, Susanna had heard of this unusual arrangement
from Camille, who had been proud of her father's lenient and fair-minded
attitude toward his slaves. She, however, didn't like the idea of anyone owning
another human being; it wasn't right. Yet when she had expressed her opinion,
Camille had said it was simply the way things were done in Virginia. Briarwood
would never have achieved its greatness without the several hundred slaves who
toiled in the tobacco fields. At least they were luckier than most to have
James Cary as their owner.
But now you are their owner, Susanna thought, the reality
of the situation not sitting well with her. Yet there didn't seem to be
anything she could do about it, except to continue on as James Cary had done,
allowing slaves to earn their freedom and then giving them the choice to stay
on at the plantation or to set out on their own.
As Adam continued speaking, Susanna noticed that his
voice had grown strangely harsh. Why, she couldn't imagine.
"There are also some indentured servants here from
Britain who are primarily craftsmen, but their numbers are few. Your father
ceased to buy indentures several years ago, at my urging." He said no more
upon the subject, but began to introduce her to the servants, the first a very
stout woman with an enormous bosom. "This is Prue. She's the head cook
here at Briarwood, and an excellent one, I might add."
"Hello," Susanna said softly, offering a
small smile.
"We're so glad you're here, Miss Camille,"
the woman said with obvious sincerity. "The house has been so empty since
your papa . . ." She couldn't finish, her large dark eyes misting.
"Well, will you look at me? A happy occasion and all."
Susanna's heart went out to her. It was clear James
Cary had been very well liked, and was
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