The Women of Magnolia Read online

  The Women of

  Magnolia

  Marlene Mitchell

  Davis Studio Publishing

  Louisville, Kentucky

  THE WOMEN OF MAGNOLIA

  Copyright ©2015 by Marlene Mitchell

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form. Written permission must be secured from the publisher to use or reproduce any part of this book, except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles.

  The characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Davis Studio Publishing

  P.O. Box 4714

  Louisville, KY 40204

  Printed in the United States of America.

  ISBN: 978-1505879063

  LCCN: 2010938671

  Cover art by Marlene Mitchell

  Second edition: October 2010

  Third edition: October 2012

  Fourth edition: January 2014

  Fifth edition: January 2015

  To my pal, Lydia Fisher Anderson.

  I have known ‘Fish’ for almost forty years. We have shared the best of times and the worst of times together. She makes me laugh and she has always been there for me. She has encouraged my passion for writing even when I doubted myself. I can never thank her enough for just being ‘My friend.’

  Evan and Mary Elizabeth:

  The Beginning

  Life is hard. No matter you be rich or poor, life can be hard. Some days it ain’t worth gettin’ out of da bed, but ya jest get yourself up and put one foot in front of da other.

  Nona

  Evan Vine sat astride his sorrel stallion and surveyed the workers in the nearby field. Their heads, covered in straw hats and bandanas, popped up and down like bobbers in a river of green. Running between rows of flourishing cotton plants, barefoot children kicked up dust, turning their skin to mocha. The elders chided the little ones and then once again bent low, picking the cotton tufts from the foliage.

  Evan’s horse raised his back leg and shied in an attempt to repel the insects buzzing around his tail. Evan clicked his teeth and the sorrel turned and carefully stepped between the ruts in the narrow corridors leading toward the road. Once on the packed mud, the horse knew his way home. Evan heard the voices of the Negroes rising in unison as they sang a spiritual hymn. It helped to pass their time as they performed their backbreaking work from dawn until dusk.

  As the field disappeared from view, Evan relaxed and enjoyed the remainder of the ride. It was his duty to visit the fields at least once a day; a duty that he did not relish.

  Chapter 1

  Evan Vine was heir to the plantation known as Vine Manor. When his parents wed, their combined wealth created a dynasty unequal to any other in Mississippi. Evan had every luxury a man of opulence could ever want, except the desire to own a plantation. After graduating college, Evan’s family was shocked and disappointed that Evan would forfeit his future and choose to live in Europe rather than follow in the family tradition.

  He had no interest in rice or cotton or any other aspect of plantation life. He cared little for the social graces that were befitting a young man of his station in life. His outward appearance of arrogance kept people at bay. Evan was a self-imposed loner—a cover for the fact that he was painfully shy. As a small boy he had been afflicted with stuttering. It was difficult for him to make conversation and at times his father’s booming voice would tell him, “Speak up boy!” This caused him to be even more withdrawn. Long after the affliction disappeared, his soft voice still prompted his father to admonish him by telling him to speak up. As an adult he worried that someday he may open his mouth and be unable to pronounce even the simplest of words. The relationship between Evan and his father was, at best, strained.

  When still in school, Evan was forced to spend summers at Vine Manor. Being in the company of his father’s friends was quite boring to him. Evan had never been interested in small talk and cared little for the constant debate of political and slave issues that always seemed to be the topics of discussion among the plantation owners. He despised his family’s ceremonial dinners that lasted for hours. Rather than dress in formal attire and eat cold food, he preferred to eat alone in his bedroom suite on the second floor, with a good book as his companion. He was also uncomfortable around women, finding most of them to be flighty, boring and only interested in their status in society. Evan realized that he would never be comfortable living at Vine Manor.

  After graduation, his dislike for plantation life made his decision to live abroad much easier. Evan settled in France. Living away made his life much simpler. Evan could walk down the cobbled streets of France, a book under his arm, and become anonymous in the crowd, something that was impossible to do in Mississippi. The Vine family, under constant scrutiny, was a favorite subject of gossip. Evan now had the freedom to pursue the three things he enjoyed most in life: reading, hunting, and procuring formulas for making fine wines and cordials.

  In the winters, Evan stayed in Paris. He would visit the museums and peruse the shelves in the vast libraries. He found volumes of reading material, and devoured them each evening in his small apartment.

  With the first hint of spring he was off to a small village called Marlenheim in the Alsace region of France. Joining a few men who had become his acquaintances, he would spend his mornings hunting game and his afternoons stomping across the vast vineyards where a variety of grapes were grown. Evan enjoyed five peaceful years away from home.

  Sitting in the dining room in the lodge, Evan conversed with his fellow hunters while they waited for the cooks to dish up the grouse hens the men shot that day. Still wearing his hunting boots, he enjoyed a meal of game hen lathered with butter, roasted over an open pit, and served with soft bread and a bottle of Pinot Noir. It was during his meal that a courier was ushered into the room. The courier excused himself for the interruption and handed Evan a leather pouch sealed with a familiar wax stamp.

  As Evan read the letter, a frown covered his face. He folded the paper and stuck it into his pocket.

  “Bad news?” someone at his table asked.

  “Yes, I must return to America. My father has passed away.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” echoed across the table.

  “No sorrier than I,” Evan replied.

  Paul Dunn, the bearer of bad news was not only the business manager for Evan’s father, but was also his father’s good friend. Paul had lived at Vine Manor since Evan was a small boy. Evan was also close to Paul. Paul had more patience than Evan’s father and had helped him with his studies when Evan was home during the summer.

  Paul informed Evan in his letter that Evan’s father had died suddenly and that his mother’s health was also failing. She had become slightly irrational and he could no longer depend on her to make any kind of business decisions. The burden of running Vine Manor alone was too much for Paul to handle.

  Evan was thrown into an impossible situation. He did not want to leave France, but he also knew that as the only son it was his duty to tend to his mother. He was unprepared and irritable at the thought of being the master of Vine Manor. He knew that any suggestion to his mother to sell the property would be met with shrieks of despair. There was nothing he could do. It was time for him to assume his duties.

  Chapter 2

  On the day Evan returned to Vine Manor he was met with smiles and bows from the house staff. They were glad to see him. Evan knew from Paul’s letters that his mother, Rebecca, with her fragile bones, was now confined to her bed or a rolling chair, which made her even more disagreeable. She still insisted on presiding over the house staff. Rebecca carried a carved hickory stick in he
r chair and wielded it with little mercy. A piece of china out of place or a dinner fork with even a tinge of oxidation would bring the wrath of the stick.

  Evan walked up the long winding staircase to his mother’s room. He opened the door and slowly peered inside. His mother sat in her bed reading. She looked up from her book, her glasses falling into her lap. “Well, it’s about time you came home. Come closer to me.”

  Evan grinned. “Are you going to whack me with your stick?” he asked.

  “Of course not. I want you to kiss my cheek. I cannot believe you have finally decided to give up that nonsense of staying in Europe.” As he bent down to kiss her, he noticed her gnarled fingers were now devoid of all jewelry.

  “How are you, Mother? You look as beautiful as ever.” He knew this remark would go to the core of her vanity.

  “Oh, posh, don’t lie. The five years you have been gone have not been kind to me. This damnable bone condition has left me a cripple and now I find that my only son prefers some foreign land to being home where he belongs.”

  “I didn’t come all this way to listen to you complain, Mother. I came home to take care of you. I am so very sorry about father. If I had known he was ill, I would have come home immediately.”

  Her face broke into a smile. “That’s wonderful. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you have come back to stay. Now, carry me downstairs and put me in my chair. We have so much to talk about. Your hair is thinning. You need to rub some chamomile on it before bed.”

  Evan gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs. Her arms wrapped around his neck, she whispered into his ear, “Your father was not ill. He had been away for the night. When he came home, he was quite intoxicated. While he was trying to remove his trousers, he fell and hit his head on the bedpost. Paul helped me put him in bed. He died from his head wounds. I surely couldn’t write that in a letter. Who knows who reads our posts.”

  Almost immediately after Evan’s arrival at Vine Manor, he began to receive invitations to dinners and social gatherings. He politely refused them all under the guise of the overwhelming burden of tasks he needed to accomplish. Most landowners would like nothing better than for their daughters to marry into a family that possessed such wealth. Evan decided he would turn most of the mail over to Paul. He was better suited to make such decisions.

  Evan was grateful for Paul’s assistance since he knew every aspect of the complex daily life at Vine Manor. Paul was a stern man who ran the estate with a firm hand and was swift to deal with those who did not follow his orders.

  A few weeks after Evan’s arrival at Vine Manor, Paul made the suggestion to him that it was time to acquire several slaves to attend to his personal needs. “We all have our personal Negroes to attend to our needs. I have Mott and Evilly, and Ceria has been at your mother’s beck and call for years. You must train them well and they can be a valuable asset to you,” Paul said. “You should have a few slaves that will be loyal and trustworthy.” These two words were not usually used to describe the Negroes.

  Slaves were something that Evan had always taken for granted. He knew that the Negroes were a commodity used by all of the plantation owners for all manual labor. He paid little attention to them.

  “Fine. Select a couple that you think would be suitable to my needs and have them report to me,” Evan said as he looked over the stack of papers on his desk.

  “No, it doesn’t work that way, Evan. I cannot pick anyone that is already in our possession. They are quite loyal to each other and nothing said by you would be sacred. We will go into town tomorrow and you can choose several that you feel would be compatible to your taste.”

  Evan insisted he would trust Paul’s judgment, but Paul refused. To actually pick out particular slaves made Evan feel uneasy. He had been away from the whole slave institution for over five years. Even before he left for Europe, Evan had never been involved in selecting slaves. That was his father’s forte.

  Paul repeated to Evan that loyal slaves could provide a wealth of information as to what was going on in the plantation. They could help quell uprisings and also let their masters know when a flight for freedom was planned. He also suggested that Evan pick a man and a woman. The woman would attend to his clothing, food and the cleaning of his private chambers; the man would act as his valet and personal driver. He was also to make sure that Evan’s horses were kept in the best condition. Except for his parents and Paul, Evan’s personal slaves would know more about him than anyone else and must be reminded to keep their mouths quiet.

  Sitting on front-row chairs at the slave auction, Evan and Paul watched the parade of Negroes led from the long narrow buildings to the block where they were sold. It was almost a circus event, which was quite distasteful to Evan. Prospective buyers milled around in groups, talking and laughing while venders hawked their wares off carts that lined the street.

  Evan felt he must make a decision before he died of heat stroke from baking in the hot sun or die of asphyxiation from the putrid smell emanating from the holding cages.

  A young woman being led to the block drew his attention. She was small, with a straight back and a body that appeared to be void of seeping sores. She did not hang her head, but looked straight ahead as the auctioneer started the bidding. The roster of sales stated that her name was Nona. She was approximately twenty-five years of age, a good worker, with no apparent health problems. Paul seemed surprised at Evan’s pick. The woman was younger than most personal servants and seemed to have a bit of arrogance about her. Evan nodded, putting in a handsome bid for the woman. As she exited the sale block, the next slave was put on the block. He was small in stature, but his eyes were clear. Nona let out a low moan when she saw him. Evan watched her as she turned to look at the man and he put his fingers to his lips. Evan knew they were somehow connected. Yes, the roster stated that he was indeed Nona’s husband. When Evan opted to buy this man, Paul was once again surprised, saying that the man looked rather frail, yet Evan proceeded with the sale. Nona and Jasper knew better than to touch each other as they stood on the sidelines, but the joy in their eyes was enough to know that they belonged together. They were put in the wagon with the other slaves purchased that day and headed toward Vine Manor.

  Later that evening, Evan summoned Nona and Jasper to his quarters. They stood in front of his desk and waited for him to speak.

  “I’ve purchased the two of you for a special reason. I am in need of assistance in my personal business. I am uncomfortable with people coming and going in my private living quarters.” Pointing at Nona, he asked, not really expecting an answer, “Have you ever stolen anything?”

  “Yes, suh, I have. I stole some beet tops dat be thrown out for da pigs.”

  Evan was surprised at her candid answer. “And you, Jasper, do you have any experience with horses?”

  Jasper grinned, showing gaps in between his teeth. “Yes, suh, I be real good with horses. I kin take real good care of dem. And I be handy too; I kin fix anything.”

  Evan sat on the edge of the desk reading from the paper Paul Dunn had given him as suggestions for training and keeping personal servants. “As my personal assistants, you will live in the quarters behind the kitchen. You will be available to me whenever I need you. I expect my clothing to be kept clean and in order and my food should always be warm—not hot, not cold. I also want you to remain quiet unless you are spoken to.” Pointing to Jasper, he continued, “My horses are to be kept in top-notch condition and my hunting dogs free of ticks and mange. Is that clear?”

  Almost in a state of shock, they both slowly nodded. “I also would like to be apprised of anything going on with the other slaves.”

  Before he could continue, Nona took a small step forward. “Ya jest might as well send me and Jasper to da field to work. We don’t tell on nobody. It ain’t our business.” Jasper’s eyes widened, knowing that Nona’s tongue would surely bring them punishment.

  Evan frowned. “I’ll accept that for the time bei
ng. Now go downstairs and have the cook find you some proper clothing… and please, go outside and bathe as soon as possible.” For a moment they stood motionless. Evan waved his hand. “Go. That is all for now.” Evan gave a sigh of relief. He had made it through the first session of his new position with some sense of authority.

  The idea that they were still together was all that mattered to Nona and Jasper. Many couples were split up when a buyer only wanted one of them. Nona had heard of women who had killed themselves rather than be alone, and of men who had run off trying to find their wives, only to end up dead.

  To Nona, Evan Vine seemed like a nice enough man. He did not appear to have a violent temper like some of her past masters. She would keep everything clean and neat at all times, yet she wouldn’t touch his desk. Nona would see that his clothes were kept free of lint and hair from the horses. She would also deliver his meals in a timely manner and never disturb Master Evan when he was reading or eating. She would learn to walk on cat paws.

  After a few days, Nona found herself with more free time than she ever had in her life. When her duties for Master Evan were finished, she would go outside to the kitchen to see if she could help with the cooking. Preparing meals was one duty she always enjoyed. The women would immediately stop talking. It was the same all over the house. She was not welcome into the inner circle of the house slaves. She knew that they were jealous of her position and also afraid that anything they might say would be repeated to Master Evan. Her constant assurance to them did no good. She was pushed, tripped, doused with flour, and spattered with red sauce.

  “We be needin’ ta go talk to him together,” Nona said to Jasper as they sat at the same wooden table in their room. “I be gettin’ real tired of da others snubbin’ me and doing bad things to me.”