Bound by Blood

By Robert C. Novarro

Maj. Ambrose Rawling, the master of Rosemont Plantation in South Carolina, might be the last person one would expect to fall in love with and marry Sybilla, a gypsy girl.

But he's not the only one bewitched by her charms; Matthew Sedwick, the overseer of the slaves at Rosemont, pursues the mistress of the plantation, and their love affair results in a family curse that will last generations.

Through the generations, the Rawlings-some of them with good intentions and selfish motives-chase their dreams. Family members include: Monroe Rawling, the son of a slave girl who passes himself off as white and who will do anything to keep his background a secret; Madeline Rawling, who struggles to help the family survive at home while a war rages outside; and Theodore Rawling, whose eagerness to fight with the Confederates leaves him a broken man.

Follow the Rawlings in Bound by Blood as they try to undo the sins of the past in a family saga that begins in the years after the American Revolution and spans beyond World War II.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 29, 2008
• ISBN: 9780595908394

Robert C. Novarro

Robert C. Novarro taught middle school history for 29 years and won the Distinguished Educators Award in 2000. In addition to writing, he is an avid orchid grower. Robert is the author of Scarred, Bound by Blood, Il Castrato and My Love Possessed. Robert lives in Bayside, New York and Naples, Florida with his wife Angela.

Book preview

Chapter 1

What are you doing back here at Rosemont? I know you could not possibly be finished with your studies, George Rawling asked of his son, Ambrose.

Father, my life at Cambridge has become intolerable. I realize that my coming home is totally unexpected but you must understand how unhappy I have been there.

You have shared these same feelings with me in practically every correspondence you have sent home. I have written back to you on these occasions that you were to remain at Cambridge University until your education was completed but I can see that you stand before me in defiance of my directions. Why have you disobeyed me?

News reached the school of the dumping of English tea into Boston Harbor.

And what does this have to do with the reason you have returned home?

As a South Carolinian I could not stand to hear the insults those rich, English louts flung at me and others who have come from the colonies.

You think to appease me with such an explanation. You are not a South Carolinian but an Englishman as I am and my father before me. Our ancestral roots are firmly planted in fertile, English soil and though we live here in the backwaters of the empire, we will always be English. For you to stand here before me and associate yourself with the common trash and turncoats living in the Massachusetts colony is not only an insult to me but also to our family name.

But it is not only those living in Boston that had spoken out against unjust English laws but voices can now be heard throughout the colonies. Why even here in South Carolina, people in the taverns in Charleston speak of nothing else. I have even heard that British troops have fired on unarmed citizens holding a peaceful demonstration. They are calling it the Boston Massacre.

Those who were fired upon and killed were nothing more than traitors. So shall it be for others who hold treacherous intents against his majesty. I sense by your statements that you might support these rebels. If this is so, dismiss them from your mind immediately for no son of mine will ever support such rebellion.

It would have been of no use for Ambrose to continue to argue since once his father had made up his mind, there was no changing it. As time went on his father became even more entrenched in his beliefs and like others of the same opinion were to be labeled as Tories.

Then came the day Ambrose knew would some day arrive. After the first shots of the War of Independence were fired, George Rawling soon realized his continued presence in South Carolina was no longer feasible. Packing up as much of his belongings as he could and selling what was left of the furnishings and slaves, he prepared himself for their overland trip to Charleston Harbor and then across the Atlantic Ocean to London.

As the time drew closer to the inevitable departure, Ambrose knew he could not join his father on this journey. The year he had already spent in England had been long enough for him. Unlike his father, Ambrose felt no kinship to a country he hardly knew and he was contented to remain in the lowlands and marshes of what he knew as his home. Besides, his political viewpoint and sympathies lay with those of the rebels and not with the Tories. He had convinced his father to postpone sending him back to Cambridge on the pretense of helping his father close his affairs in South Carolina. He dared not show any of his pro-revolutionary feelings to his father before this but now his time had run out and Ambrose knew he could not avoid the confrontation any longer.

Father, I would like to speak privately with you if I may. George motioned his son to the nearly, empty study and closed the doors.

What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?

I have thought long and hard about moving back to England and have decided to remain behind in the only real home I have ever known. I am asking for your blessing, father.

"To remain here would be the height of foolishness. We are surrounded by traitors. They would as soon shoot us as look at us. It would be unsafe for you to stay here.

Father, I support those who wish to turn these colonies into an independent country that will be, once and for all, separated from the tyranny of King George. The silence between them was deafening and Ambrose almost wished his father would raise his voice at him. His wish was soon granted.

No son of mine will be called a traitor! he screamed, his voice rising to a crescendo.

It is too late. I’ve already joined the Continental Army under General George Washington. I leave today. His father walked to him in a determined gait. Ambrose braced himself for what he thought would happen next. As George drew near, he raised his arm and struck Ambrose across his left cheek.

I no longer have a son. His father’s eyes welled up with tears but he fought to keep his composure. And if you think you will ever claim this house as your own while I’m gone, I will make sure that will never happen because I intend to put it to the torch before I leave. You will come back to ashes. Now get out! I never want to lay my eyes on you again!

Ambrose left that day and true to his father’s words, he never saw his father again. As Ambrose distinguished himself as a soldier and a leader of men, first in the Battle of Trenton through the hard times at Valley Forge and then at the Battle of Saratoga, he was promoted from lieutenant to captain. It was after the Battle of Yorktown that Ambrose was promoted to major for his valor in battle. In the meantime, the ship his father sailed to England on was lost at sea.

After the war had been successfully concluded, Major Ambrose Rawling sat upon his horse on a low ridge that overlooked what was left of Rosemont Plantation. As his father had promised, the house had been set ablaze and only a couple of outside walls remained intact, however his father died before his intention to disinherit his son. Only a few pieces of furniture and the family bible were salvaged by some of the slaves who had been freed by Sir George before he departed. Debris, that once was the interior of the house, lay in blackened rubble within the confines of the two remaining walls. Ambrose had hired one of the most prominent architects to rebuild the plantation house as it once stood and used the money left to him in his father’s will to accomplish it.

Now, as he looked out on the workmen who busied themselves to rebuild Rosemont, he swore that the house would be a place of harmony and peace once more.

Chapter 2

The years seemed golden and serene to Ambrose as he reflected over his life as a gentleman farmer. Almost fifteen years after he had had his family estate restored, Ambrose sat back and took stock of his life as a respected member and pillar of the community. He had been an elected member of the South Carolina State Senate for ten years before he had retired and was still an active parishioner in his Episcopal church.

Ambrose had settled down on Rosemont only after he had retired as senator. For years after, he had returned to his family estate, prominent South Carolinian families proposed a union between him and their eligible daughters. Though he agreed to attend social teas and dances thrown by these families to introduce their daughters to him, he was polite and gentlemanly but made no commitments. He really didn’t know why he resisted marriage since most of the girls he had been introduced to were beautiful enough. Perhaps his father’s voice still rang in his mind telling him that he was too good for any of the provincial girls that one could find in the South Carolina backwater. Yet, he also had no interest in returning to England to find himself a wife and so he remained a bachelor who oversaw the working of his cotton plantation.

He occasionally made the trip to Charleston for business and to frequent his favorite tavern, The Wounded Stag, to raise a tankard of ale and socialize with his senatorial friends. It was on one of these visits that he caught sight of the most divine creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. She had tiptoed her way into the tavern as soon as the proprietor had left the premises and began tapping out a beat on her tambourine with the delicate fingers of her hand. As she played she danced seductively, her colorful skirt swirling around her body like a whirlpool, drawing in his heart. Her lilting voice rose in a song, sung in French that was unknown to him. She went from table to table begging for coins after she was through. Most patrons ignored her pleas as she held out her tambourine for them to drop their coins onto. Some threw a coin or two at her and she bent down to quickly gather the coins into her dirty hands. As she approached his table, Ambrose fumbled around his money pouch until he held a gold coin between his fingers.

Je danse pou vous, the alluring seductress asked.

Are y’all here again? The proprietor’s voice froze her in her tracks. I’ve told you before to stay out of here and to stop bothering my customers! As he came from behind the bar, she quickly darted for the door almost knocking over a gentleman as he was entering. Ambrose followed, still clutching the coin in the palm of his hand as he made his way to the street. Standing outside the tavern on the cobble-stoned street, he tried to look passed the crowds in both directions but she had disappeared into the throng and could no longer be seen. He stood there for a moment stunned at his own reaction to this young woman but still the feeling he had to see her again was foremost in his mind if for nothing else but to give her the gold coin he had been ready to place into her hand.Ambrose returned to The Wounded Stag the next evening in the hope that she would come back but although he participated in conversation, his eyes darted back to the door every time it opened but each time it did, she was not the one entering the tavern. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, one evening he said his goodbyes and walked out into the sultry, June evening. Most Charleston residents had already taken to their beds hours before except for the drunks who were stumbling down the street. As he walked to his hotel room, he noticed that the moon was reflected in the puddles of water that had formed after the evening thunderstorm. Ladies of the evening plied their wares along the thoroughfare and one or two had approached Ambrose who quickly waved them off. They, of course, glared back at his rejection with vehement retorts about how he thought he was too good for them. He simply ignored their insults and kept on going.

Over the sound of his boots on a deserted street, Ambrose thought he heard the gypsy’s voice singing the same sweet song he had the day before. It seemed to come from an alley near him and he turned the corner following the voice. He caught sight of her at the back of the alley dancing as she had yesterday and now entertaining two young men who stood before her snickering. He pressed himself against the wall and watched as the scene unveiled itself. As soon as she had finished, she held out her tambourine but one of the men seized her and kissed her on her lips. Instead of resisting, she let her hand caress the back of his head, her fingers entangled in his hair. Ambrose attempted to back away quietly but his foot inadvertently splashed into one of the rain puddles. The men never turned around, their minds only focused on their forthcoming sexual escapade but she looked up, her eyes locking onto his. Ambrose stopped in his tracks, her gaze still upon him as her customer slipped down the dress from her shoulders. He turned around and walked away wondering if she had recognized him from the night before. Somehow he doubted it, under the circumstances. Returning to his room with the anticipation that he would get a goodnight’s sleep, he decided to leave for home as the sun rose in the morning. Instead, Ambrose’s sleep was fitful the entire evening for he could not erase the images of her in the alley from his mind and yet he felt a strong desire to be with her and possess her as she now possessed his heart and soul. He did not know her name or where she came from but he did not care. She had ensnared his heart and he knew he could not return home without her.

Ambrose rose from his bed early the following morning, exhausted and yet exhilarated at the thought of locating the gypsy girl. He walked along the same street he had walked along the night before and hoped he would find her near the same alley. When he checked the alley, he found her sprawled out on the ground. His sudden delight changed to terror as he thought that the men last night might have done her bodily harm, maybe even killed her. He moved cautiously toward her and felt a sense of relief as he saw her move in her sleep. Ambrose stood over her silently as he observed her in slumber. Her long, ebony tresses almost reached her slender waist and her dress, which had moved up her limbs, exposed milky, white calves that tapered to shapely ankles. Her feet were small but filthy for the fact that she seemed not to own a pair of shoes. His eyes roved above her waist to take in her bosom. From what he could tell beneath her dress, she had breasts that he could easily caress in his hands. The thought made him suddenly feel warm all over and he felt some movement in his groin. Suddenly, he became aware that her eyes were open and this shock helped his genitalia to become withered once more. She sat up swiftly, her green eyes flashing with a combination of shock and anger. Her face, although streaked with dirt, displayed high cheekbones and a sweet little mouth that now curled into a sneer.

Quels etes-vous faisant se tenir au-dessus de moi tandis que je dormais? she asked tersely as she pulled her dress back down to her ankles and gathered her blouse closer to her chest. Ambrose cleared his throat hoping he was clearing any anxiety from his voice.

I’m sorry, I don’t understand French.

What is it y’all want? she demanded of him with annoyance.

Do you remember me? You were going to dance for me while I was drinking at The Wounded Stag." He paused hoping she would say she recalled him.

So… I dance for many men, she replied with a slight French accent, shrugging her shoulders as she lifted herself back on her feet. Ambrose was crushed.

I was about to give you a gold coin when the proprietor chased you out. He dug another back out of his pouch and held it out to her.

I remember y’all now. Weren’t y’all the one watching me last night in this same alley? He had prayed that she had not recalled the incident last night but knew it would be useless to lie.

Yes, that was me. He still held out the gold coin to her but she hesitated taking it thinking that this might be some sort of trick. Her greed soon got the best of her judgment and she snatched it from his open hand. Examining the coin she bit into it and was satisfied she was not being cheated. Ambrose stood watching as she removed a pouch from between her breasts that hung by a cord around her neck and deposited the coin before returning the pouch to its secluded, hiding place.

Lucky pouch! he whispered to himself.

What did y’all say? her face seemed puzzled.

I asked what your name was. She looked at him suspiciously as if she questioned his truthfulness. Flipping her hair back over her shoulders she responded coldly

Sybilla… my name is Sybilla Hawkins.

What a beautiful name! Ambrose was smitten with her, now more than ever. He wanted to take her into his arms and feel her warm body against his but he restrained himself, not knowing whether she would understand his true intentions of love.

My name is Ambrose Rawling. They both stood facing each other, neither one of them saying another word. Finally, exasperated by the silence, she bent down to pick up her tambourine.

Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way. His hand reached to touch her shoulder as she walked by him but Sybilla did not pull away.

When is the last time you had a proper meal? Sybilla cast her eyes toward the wall where she had been laying. Ambrose turned his head to where she was looking. There, on the filthy ground, were the remains of half eaten, wormy apples.

How would you like it if a bought you breakfast? I know you must be hungry.

I would like that very much if y’all are paying. Her voice was soft and seductive as she placed her free hand on his cheek. He took her hand and removed it from his face even though he enjoyed the sensation he was feeling.

You will not have to repay me in any way. Do you understand me? She shook her head compliantly.

We’ll go back to the inn where I am staying and I’ll order both of us something to eat.

No! she gasped, pulling away from him. They will look down on me and throw me out! Her tone was almost childlike. I cannot go there!

You need not worry, I will protect you. They will not dare to deny me what I want. With some reluctance, Sybilla allowed herself to be led by Ambrose to the small inn he had stayed at for the last couple of days. He felt her pull away again as they approached the front steps of the inn. He turned to her once more. Don’t be afraid. You can trust me when I tell you I will not let anything happen to you. Ambrose opened the front door and with Sybilla in tow, stepped into the lobby. It was much more crowded than when he had left, earlier that morning. People stopped to stare and whisper about the ragged girl that now stood before them. Their eyes grew wide with indignation and their noses crinkled up as if they had suddenly caught a whiff of something distasteful. Ambrose and Sybilla both walked up to the desk however, his companion stepped behind Ambrose looking out from behind him in fear. Ambrose tapped on the desk in order to get the innkeeper’s attention.

Good morning Mr. Rawling. I see that you were an early riser today. The man behind the counter paused as he caught sight of the girl cowering behind Ambrose.

I want to order a breakfast of eggs and ham for two to be served in my room, immediately. Also, bring up some of those delicious sweet rolls you serve with a pot of tea. The innkeeper did not reply. Have you heard what I said?

Sir, my establishment is no place for… He stalled trying to think of the right term. …this type of woman.

This young lady is my guest and I have invited her here to dine with me. I want our breakfasts to be brought up to my room. I want a bathtub in my room and a bath drawn. Will that be a problem? At this point, the innkeeper wanted nothing more than to have both of them leave the lobby as quickly as possible.

No sir, there is no problem. The innkeeper finished his statement with a nervous smile.

Very well, then. Ambrose turned on his heel and began to climb up the staircase to his room leading her behind him. Sybilla could not help but look back at the social calamity that they were leaving behind in their wake.

Ambrose took out his key and unlocked the door to room twelve. He closed it behind them and glanced around the room. It was exactly as he had left it earlier in the morning. The bed had not been made yet nor was the room cleaned. Bringing her over to a small, round table, he pulled out the chair so she could be seated. She still did not seem to be relaxed and so he sat himself down at the other end of the table and decided to strike up a conversation in order to hopefully, get her to become more comfortable with the new surroundings.

How old are you, Sybilla? Ambrose hoped she didn’t feel as if he were trying to pry too deeply into her life.

I’m not really sure but I think I’m about seventeen. My father was French and my mother was a Creole. Referring to her parents in the past tense Ambrose discerned that they were both dead and she was probably on her own. My father’s family are wealthy but they disowned him once he married my mother against their wishes. My parents moved away from New Orleans because his family and friends had turned their backs on them. His parents decided to give him a pittance of his inheritance to start a new life somewhere else. Ambrose no longer worried that he was prying. She was like a champagne bottle that had be shaken and then uncorked, spewing forth her entire life story. They booked passage on a ship headed for the Carolinas and I was born along the way. After we arrived in Charleston, my father bought land from a broker who promised that the property would be waiting for them, once they arrived. My father was even given a deed to prove his ownership. With the rest of the money, my father purchased a team of oxen, a wagon, bags of seed, tools and enough cured ham and flour to get us through the first couple of weeks. Once they arrived, they hoped to trade some of what they owned for a few hens and a cow but when they got there they discovered that the land they bought was marshland. They returned to Charleston thinking that there was some mistake but they found out that the broker was no longer in the city. A tapping on the door stopped her story. Ambrose spoke up.

What is it?

It’s the maid, sir. I’ve come with your breakfast. Ambrose strode toward the door and opened it.

Leave the food on the table, he said never moving from the door.

Very well, sir. After depositing the plates of food, teapot and cups, the maid curtsied and left. Ambrose closed the door and turned toward Sybilla to find that she had not waited for him to join her but was already gorging herself on the meal. Ambrose walked over and poured her a hot cup of tea with cream. Taking a sweet roll, he split it apart and spread strawberry preserves upon it and offered it to her. Sybilla gobbled it up. He realized that her story was over for the moment until she had eaten her fill. After a while, she pushed herself away from the table because she couldn’t eat another morsel. Ambrose finished his meal and sipped at his tea as she continued.

As I was saying, once my parents realized they had lost their money, they sold the wagon, oxen and the rest and with that, they rented a room. I grew up with a father who could not stop drinking gin and a mother who had to return to the streets to make enough money for us to get by on. Soon my father died and he was buried in a pauper’s grave. After that, my mother took me into the streets with her. She would play the tambourine as I danced and sang. While she was with men, I waited outside on the street until they were finished. Even though many showered me with their attention, my mother never allowed them to have me. Eventually, she died of consumption and I took her place on the streets to make my way in this life the best way that I could. There was another knock on the door.

I’ve brought the bathtub, sir. Ambrose ushered in the men who placed the tub near the fireplace. Before they had finished, a number of chambermaids brought buckets of steaming, hot water and poured them into the tub. After they had gone, he turned toward Sybilla.

Go into the closet and take off your clothing. Throw your clothes out onto the floor. Once you hear the door close, come out and enjoy your warm bath. I will return after a while. Sybilla said nothing but did as she was instructed. Ambrose gathered up her worn and dirty garments and left the room. Part of him wanted to stay so that he could see her naked body but he drove that thought out of his head. As he passed along the hallway and down the staircase, disapproving eyes followed him. When he reached the lobby, he approached the innkeeper and placed the disheveled clothing on the countertop.

Make sure you burn it all, immediately. Ambrose turned and walked outside leaving the innkeeper with his mouth agape.

Ambrose returned a few hours later carrying a number of boxes from an exclusive woman’s apparel shop. Again he was met with shocked stares from both customers and sales women who were not used to dealing with men purchasing women’s clothing and undergarments.

Knocking on the door, Ambrose had identified himself and Sybilla told him to come in. He looked about the room to see the used breakfast dishes still on the table where they had left them and the tub of soapy water now empty. As he went to place the boxes onto the bed, he saw that she had slipped under the sheets and was waiting for him.

I told you that you didn’t have to repay me.

This one will be free, Cherie. She held her hand out to him. He could resist her no longer and succumbed to her charms. Stripping himself of his clothes, he climbed in next to her. The touch of her silky skin and the warmth of her embrace brought him alive to what he had been missing all of his life. After they were spent, he held her in his arms and caught the scent of her perfumed hair.

I have something to ask you, he said in a quiet voice.

What is it Ambrose? The thrill of hearing her say his name for the first time, coursed through his body.

I’m asking you to come back home with me and become my wife.

If that is what y’all truly desire, then I will gladly be your bride. He was filled with the joy that each man senses when the woman he has fallen in love with consents to his proposal. What are in the boxes y’all have brought in?

Open them up and see for yourself. They’re all for you. She ripped off the sheet and run to the foot of the bed, her body still flushed from their lovemaking. Tearing away the bows, she took off the lids to reveal a forest green, woman’s riding outfit with a matching hat that was adorned with a white feather. There were riding shoes as well as assorted undergarments. She slipped on the shoes and hat without bothering to put on anything more.

How do y’all like the way I look now? she purred, jumping on his lap.

You look like the fine lady of a fine gentleman. He smiled at her and both fell into each other’s arms.

Chapter 3

Abraham grew increasingly more nervous as each day passed without his master’s return. With the beginning of each new day, he sent ten-year old Caleb down the road to watch for Master Ambrose’s horse to appear along the dusty road. Each evening, Caleb returned without catching sight of the familiar figure riding erectly on his horse. The sound of Caleb’s sprinting bare feet were heard as he approached the front door.

Well, have y’all seen him? Abraham’s voice was full of hope.

No sir! I ain’t seen hide or hair of him. Caleb paused to catch his breath. There ain’t been nobody that come down this here road.

Go home now. Your mother is sure enough wait’n on y’all. Caleb took off around the plantation house toward the slave quarters that were set in the back of the estate. Dusk began to shroud the grounds but still there was enough light for Abraham to notice the boy avoid the grave sight of the master’s mother. He had no time to think about the foolishness of the plantation slaves who routinely whispered that her spirit could be seen and heard around the grounds. His mind was fixed on where Master Ambrose could be. It was no secret that at times highwaymen waylaid lone travelers, lifting their purses as their victim stared into a pistol barrel. Usually, no one was hurt if there was no attempt at resistance. Abraham knew that Master Ambrose could handle himself in a fight and would not purposely put himself in danger. Still, Abraham could not help but feel uneasy that something was definitely wrong. He decided to light a torch and walk down the road aways to see if he could locate his master for himself. Darkness closed around him with only the torchlight to keep him company. The moonlight eerily lit the road in front of him as he made his way forward. Abraham stopped suddenly as he thought he sighted a vague figure in the distance. As he struggled to make out who it was, a voice called out.

Abraham! Abraham! Can’t you see me man?

"Is that y’all, massah?

Of course it is. As Ambrose approached, Abraham caught sight of a woman riding with her arms around him. Seeing the woman startled Abraham but he made sure it was not reflected in his expression.

We all were sure enough worried about y’all, massah, he finally found his voice.

I know I am late in arriving but there was no reason for anyone to be worried. Abraham, run ahead and assembled the house servants in the foyer. I have an announcement to make." Abraham had no doubt as to what that announcement would be. He turned and ran back to the house to do what his master bid. Ambrose kicked the horse and it moved forward in a quicker gait.

And what announcement do y’all plan on making to the house slaves? Sybilla asked coquettishly.

Why, I believe you probably know that answer for yourself. I’m going to announce that you will be my wife and the future mistress of Rosemont.

Y’all know very little about me.

I know all I need to know about you and that is that. I fell in love the first time I set my eyes on you. Ambrose reined the horse through the gates and into the lane that led to his home.

Your friends are sure to turn away from y’all when y’all marry me.

They will learn to love and accept you as I have. Ambrose halted his horse before the front door and gave the reins over to Levi, one of the young stable boys who waited for him to arrive. After he had dismounted, the starry-eyed lothario turned to Sybilla and placing his hands around her slender waist, he lifted her from the animal and rested her gently on the ground. As Levi led the horse away, Ambrose took hold of her trembling hand and led Sybilla inside.

Everything will be fine, he whispered to her as they crossed the threshold. She hoped he was right.

The house slaves stood in a line waiting for their master’s announcement as they had been told. Ambrose turned to them with Sybilla at his side.

This is Miss Hawkins, he told them as he grinned from ear to ear. She is a guest in my house but very soon she will become my wife and your mistress."

Welcome to Rosemont, Miss Hawkins, Abraham spoke for the rest house servants. The female slaves curtsied while the men bowed. Ambrose turned his attention to Sarah, the house cook.

What delicious dinner have you cooked for this evening, Sarah?

Massah, I didn’t know when y’all was coming back but I do have some cold mutton, candied yams and greens if it’s to ya likin’.

It sounds wonderful. We’ll be in the dining room waiting to sample your culinary magic.

Oh massah, how y’all do go on. Sarah a rather robust woman laughed heartily, holding her apron over her mouth. Ambrose addressed one of the men servants.

Please show Miss Sybilla up to the guest room so she can freshen up, Abraham. Rachel, accompany your new mistress and help her get dressed for dinner. Ambrose turned to Abraham as Sybilla was led up the grand stairway to the second floor.

Have the clothes I purchased arrived already?

Yes massah. Some packages arrived a few days ago.

That’s fine, he said with some satisfaction. Come up to my room to draw me a bath and to lay out my evening clothes. Abraham dutifully did as he was instructed.

Ambrose sat at the head of the rosewood, dining table that was covered with the best white, linen tablecloth. Silver candleholders held lit tapers and a glass flower vase overflowed with freshly cut white camellias and pink roses. He lifted a glass goblet to his lips and sipped the fine claret from it. The buffet table was filled with covered trays of Sarah’s mouthwatering delicacies. On either side of the sideboard silently stood two well-dressed, male servants who were waiting to serve the meal. Now, the only thing missing was the love of his life who would occupy the chair on the opposite side of the table. Ambrose was not disappointed when she appeared at the doorway. He now knew what it would have been like to be the mortal who had first witnessed the goddess Venus, as she rose from the frothy waves of the sea. She stood there for a moment so that Ambrose could let his eyes drink in all of her loveliness. She was dressed in a pale, pink gown that fell in folds from her empire waist to her pink, slippered feet. Rachel had coiffed her mistress’s jet black tresses into loosely hanging curls that framed her beautiful face. A perfect pair of pink roses was pinned to the side of her head. He couldn’t remember rising to his feet when he caught sight of her but soon he found himself standing by her side and leading her by the hand to her place at the table. One of the servants, who stood by the buffet table, walked to the table and pulled out a chair for her to be seated. Sybilla slipped into the chair as Ambrose resumed his place at the head of the table. She seemed bewildered by the number of silverware around her plate and Ambrose noting this, got her attention saying,

Just watch what I do and follow my lead. The servants eyeballed each other as they soon realized she might just be a piece of white trash that their master had set his cap to marry. It was inevitable that this bit of news would travel throughout the plantation. Sybilla watched and carefully tried to imitate every move Ambrose made as he ate his dinner. He attempted to keep a light conversation going but he watched Sybilla’s frustration grow as she tried to manipulate a fork and knife with little success. Ambrose walked over and began to cut the mutton on the plate for her. She smiled at him for coming to her rescue.

I thought I might have to starve tonight.

As long as you’re with me, I shall see that you never starve again.

I am beginning to realize just how lucky I am to have y’all, Sybilla remarked and drank deeply from the goblet of wine draining it as if it had been a glass of water. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and raised the glass toward one of the servants.

No more wine for now sweetheart, finish eating. She seemed crushed by the aspect that more wine would not be forthcoming. She clumsily picked up her silverware and once again began to eat from the meal on her china plate. When dinner had finally been consumed and the plates and glasses cleared away from the table, Ambrose led her to the library across the foyer floor. They came to a divan, next to a marble fireplace. The two of them sat in awkward silence that neither one of them knew how to break. Ambrose fidgeted in his seat and cleared his throat as if to say something but instead settled back into silence. Finally he spoke up.

We will have our wedding nuptials announced at the church as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I will tutor you in all you will need to know to become a part of South Carolinian society. By the way, have you seen the clothing I purchased for you while I was in Charleston? I hope you approve of my choices.

They are all so beautiful, Ambrose. I don’t how I can ever thank y’all. She looked down at her hands that were clasped in her lap. When she had met him in Charleston and even as they traveled through the woods to get back to his home, Sybilla had felt comfortable being with him but here at his grand, ancestral estate, she felt uneasy and very much intimidated by her current surroundings. Placing himself so he could look directly into her eyes, he took one of her hands and held it in his.

You shall have a wedding that will be envied by every woman. Sybilla looked into his eyes. I have never before loved the way I love you, he uttered. She leaned toward him in the only manner in which she knew how to thank a man for his generosity and brushed her lips against his, seductively. He felt her warm breadth on his cheek and moved a wisp of hair from her face. He gathered her into his embrace and kissed her passionately. Time and place took no precedence over that one divine moment of rapture.

"Excuse me, massah. Is there anythin’ else y’all be needin’? Abraham’s voice shattered the world in which only the two of them existed. They jumped apart as if they were misbehaving children who had been caught doing something horrid.

No Abraham. You may blow out the candles and tell the others they may retire for the evening. Ambrose’s face reflected his embarrassment but Sybilla’s was composed as if Abraham had seen nothing at all. Rachel is waiting in your bedroom to help you get ready for bed, my dear, Ambrose related to Sybilla.

My bedroom, does that mean we will not be sleeping together tonight? Abraham pretended as if he were not listening to their conversation as he blew out the last of the lit candles in the candelabra.

Lower your voice when we are in the presence of the servants! he gently scolded her. To even give the appearance that we are sharing the same bed before our formal, marriage vows would be unseemly. It is something we must avoid until we become husband and wife.

It would seem to me that the servants would not be too shocked if we slept in one bed. After all, y’all did not seem to mind sleeping with me in Charleston.

That was entirely different. I had no intention of sleeping with you in Charleston. It just… happened. Now everything has changed, he said, barely above a whisper. Abraham, will you please escort Miss Sybilla to her bed and afterwards you can come to my bedroom and assist me.

Yes massah. Come this way, miss. Sybilla stood for a moment not exactly happy at the new circumstances she found herself in.

That’s it? We can’t be together until we are married?

Go ahead now with Abraham and I’ll see you in the morning. He gave her a peck on her forehead as a father gives to his young child.

Not in front of Abraham! she mocked him, sarcastically.

She followed Abraham unhappily to her bedroom where he bid her a good night. Sybilla opened the door to find Rachel resting her head on a vanity table fast asleep. Shutting the door with a bang, loud enough to wake the dead, a startled Rachel got to her feet.

I’s so sorry I fell asleep Miss Sybilla. It won’t happen again.

Quiet down and help me out of this dress, she replied, impatiently. After she helped her mistress climb out of her dress and drape it over the vanity chair, Rachel proceeded to unfasten her corset. As her fingers nimbly undid the cords, a soft whimpering was heard outside the bedroom window.

Do y’all hear that cryin’?

Yes miss, I hears it.

Well who is it? asked Sybilla, impatient for an answer.

That’s the Weeping Woman, she answered in a hushed voice.

What is she doing outside, crying? Why doesn’t someone find out what the problem is?

No one wants to find her. She be massah’s mama and she be dead. Sybilla remembered stories her mother told her about the restless spirits of the dead who had died unhappy and wandered about the bayou because they could not find any peace.

That’s just a tall tale mothers tell their disobedient children.

No miss. It sure enough ain’t no tall tale. She is for real. I wears this here juju pouch around my neck to keep dem spirits away and to protects me. She pulled the pouch from beneath her blouse as if to somehow prove the seriousness of what she said. I don’t go no where less I wears this, especially after da sun goes down. Rachel helped Sybilla into her nightgown and when she pulled the covers over her mistress said, Good night, miss. She picked up the lit candle and left the room closing the door behind her. Sybilla closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. Once again she heard the soft crying come through her open window. She threw off the sheets and walked cautiously to her window. Looking out in both directions she could not see anything or anybody stirring.

Ridiculous! she told herself closing the window with a slam. Returning to her bed, she got in. The room began to grow warm and she threw back the covers but she refused to get up and reopen the window. Ridiculous! Sybilla repeated to herself.

Chapter 4

Don’t ever let me hear y’all talk about it again. It is superstitious nonsense and I don’t want you repeating it.

Are y’all telling me that I didn’t hear what I know I heard?

I really don’t want to fight. I love you but I can’t have anyone going around repeating some wild stories that you have gotten from the servants. It just is not done! By the way, who told you that story? Sybilla silently pushed her breakfast back and forth on the plate with her fork. That’s all right. You do not have to tell me. It was probably Rachel. I’ll have to make a point of speaking about this to all the household servants. Sybilla made no effort to look up or make eye contact with him. She was beginning to realize how stifling her life could be if she went ahead with the marriage.

Still, she thought to herself, to be the mistress of such a great house is something I have always wanted and I mean to have it. Sybilla felt the bile rise in her throat when she remembered the stories her mother told her about her father’s family. She had grown up not knowing her grandparents due to the fact that they had disowned her father because of his marriage. They knew her mother was pregnant but her grandparents, by their actions, never wanted to know her. They had deprived her of the privileged life she had been entitled to. Sybilla resolved that she would not let this opportunity slip between her fingers. Her eyes looked up from her hands and gazed lovingly at Ambrose. If it is your wish for me not to repeat such stories, then I will hold my tongue. He kissed her lovingly on the cheek.

I knew you would understand once I had explained it. I will be off in a little while to speak to Reverend Evans about scheduling our nuptials.

What shall I do while y’all are away?

Why not walk around and explore the house of which you will be mistress. I know Abraham would guide you through the rooms. Her face lit up at once.

That would be wonderful but I would not think of taking Abraham from his chores. I am sure I can find my way around on my own.

Abraham, tell Levi to bring my horse around to the front door. Abraham turned and left the room. Ambrose cautiously scanned his surroundings and finding that there was no one else around he bent down to kiss her. She threw her arms around his neck as she kissed him in return. Ambrose strode to the door and arrived just as Levi was bringing the horse around to the front of the house. He picked his booted foot up to the stirrup and with a thrust, easily mounted the animal. After adjusting his riding crop, Ambrose looked back to see Sybilla standing in the doorway.

Goodbye darling! I’ll probably be back some time this afternoon. He waved then kicked his heels, spurring the horse forward. She waved back and watched as he rode from the house to the main road.

Prenez votre temps! she said to herself. Take all the time in the world.

Walking along the corridors and into each of the rooms, Sybilla was taken aback by what she saw everywhere she glanced. Highly polished wooden floors, Federal style décor, Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers, fine Limoges cups and saucers and on and on it went.

Did I really dance for men in the alleyways of Charleston? she asked herself. Now I find myself in the home of a wealthy man who wishes me to marry him. La vie est merveilleuse! She came upon the master bedroom that Ambrose occupied and ran her hand along the mahogany wood highboy. She lay upon his already made bed and stared at the ceiling, watching the daylight stretch across it. The pillow she uncovered still had his scent upon it and she breathed in deeply. Rising from the bed, Sybilla made her way to the bureau and examined his toiletries that were neatly placed on it. Coming down the back stairs that led to the first floor, she continued down to the kitchen.

The room was heated from the food cooking on an open fire as slaves rushed around to prepare the afternoon meal in time for Master Ambrose’s return home. Sarah barked out orders as her minions rushed from table to open hearth and back, obediently following her directions. Straightening out her frock and throwing back her shoulders, Sybilla sauntered into the steamy madhouse of activity.

Good morning, Miss Sybilla, one of girls spoke as she caught sight of her coming into the kitchen. Sybilla never acknowledged her greeting as she walked past and stopped where Sarah was busy mixing an egg into a bowl of flour.

Good day miss, Sarah smiled politely. Sybilla haughtily asked,

And what are y’all preparing for our afternoon luncheon?

Well, we’s got a pheasant cookin’ on the spit o’er there, she pointed after she had wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Sybilla watched as the already dressed bird was being basted by one of the kitchen slaves. We’s cooking collard greens in the pot and now I’s be mixin’ up a batch of massah’s favorite cornbread. After examining the kitchen staff and their activities she simply walked out the door and into the herb garden without saying another word. Massah is sure enough goin’ to have his hands full with dat one, remarked Sarah. Some of the women shook their heads in agreement, while others laughed under their breaths. All right, get back to work, directed Sarah. The kitchen staff didn’t miss a beat but continued in their frenzied pace as if no one had come in to disturb their work.

Sybilla walked through the gardens of roses, camellia bushes and magnolia trees. As she walked, male slaves who were tilling the soil doffed their hats at her in respect. She gave no indication that she even saw them and just walked on. Growing tired of wearing her shoes as her feet began to ache, she slipped them off her feet until she stood barefoot in the soil. Leaving her shoes behind, she continued walking until she came to the part of the plantation where the slave quarters were kept. The shacks were deserted since sunrise when the slaves were marched to the cotton fields. Women with infants carried them on their backs while working the fields. Even young children were put to work hauling drinking water for the workers.

In the fields upon a horse, Matthew Sedwick, the overseer, watched the slaves toiling. His coiled whip was always in his hand even though Ambrose had forbidden him to use it on the slaves. Never one to take too kindly to orders, Matthew used the whip sparingly but got an intense sense of pleasure when he did. As he turned his horse to ride a little further down the field, he caught sight of someone near the slave shacks. Thinking a slave might be shirking his work, Matthew raised his hands over his eyes to cut back on the glare of the sun so he might see who would be having a taste of his whip.

Well, well who have we here? he said softly to himself. This is certainly no slave. He allowed his horse to move forward in order to get a better look at this young beauty who was so casually strolling in a place she didn’t seem to belong. I wonder if she could be Rawling’s fiancée, the one the slaves have been yammering about all morning. Well there’s no time like the present for an introduction, he thought to himself and spurred the horse on to where she was walking

Chapter 5

Excuse me, ma’am. Matthew could see she was walking barefoot and curiosity got the best of him. I do believe y’all have lost your shoes.

I ain’t lost my shoes! They’re back near the herb garden. Anyway, what business is it of yours?

I’m Matthew Sedwick, he stated removing his hat and wiping his brow with his forearm. I’m in charge of the slaves out in the fields round here. Say, have we met before?

I’ve never laid eyes on y’all! Sybilla fidgeted under his unending stare. He must know me from Charleston, she said to herself, panicking at the thought.

Hmm…you sure do look like someone I’ve met. He scratched his head in bewilderment. Sybilla decided that the best defense was a good offense.

Excuse me, sir! A gentleman does not address a lady with such familiarity! You best be goin’ back to supervisin’ those darkies in the field since it seems y’all have forgotten your place.

Please forgive me. He alit from the horse letting the reins drop as he reached for her hand so he could kiss it.

Just what do you think y’all are doin’? She jerked her hand out of his. Matthew laughed out loud unabashedly, his hands on his hips.

No need to worry, miss. I would never do y’all any harm. By the way, now that you know my name, maybe y’all would honor me with your name.

Never you mind about my name. I’ll be givin’ my fiancée an earful about your unwanted forwardness towards me. Matthew was amazed that for a woman who felt so put upon, she made no attempt to turn around and go back to the house.

So, y’all are Mr. Rawling’s fiancée. He let his eyes roam about her body. Suddenly there was the clatter of horse hooves making their way to the back of the house.

Mr. Rawling, Matthew greeted his employer with deference.

Sedwick, hadn’t you better get back to the job I pay you to do?

I will do it right away, sir, right away, he answered, remounting his horse. Ambrose looked down at his betrothed’s bare and dirty feet.

Sybilla, you should not be back here. As Matthew rode back, he overheard Ambrose speak her name.

Of course, it’s Sybilla! She’s that gypsy with the tambourine. I knew I recognized her face. Levi came running once he saw his master dismount. Taking the reins, the boy led the horse back to the stables.

You’re out here walking without your shoes? That’s not very lady-like. They both started back to the house. I have some wonderful news. I’ve spoken to Reverend Evans and our wedding ceremony is set for a month from Sunday.

Oh Ambrose, I’m so excited.

We have a lot of work ahead of us before we are married and soon we will have a family. Sybilla had never stopped to think that far ahead. She wondered whether at his age, he would even be able to have children anymore. Besides, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted children herself. Ambrose accompanied her to the house. From a distance, Sedwick let his eyes follow her until they were both out of sight. His thoughts went back to the time he had seen her dance when he was in Charleston. Recalling their lovemaking made him ache for her body all over again. He felt the eyes of the slaves on him as they stared at him.

What are y’all lookin’ at? he snarled, glaring in their direction. The slaves quickly diverted their eyes from him and got back to the cotton crop they were tending.

The weeks before the wedding passed in a blur of constant activity. A dressmaker was summoned from Charleston who worked from morning to evening in order to finish the wedding gown. Arrangements were made to bedeck the church in flowers as well as providing the bridal bouquet. Ambrose consulted with Sarah as to the menu she would be able to create for the wedding feast. The master of Rosemont concentrated on sending out invitations to his political cronies, elders of the church, as well as friends and neighbors. Ambrose tried to interest Sybilla in helping with the arrangements that needed to be done but except for dress fittings, she couldn’t seem to drum up any sort of enthusiasm. Sybilla spent her time before the wedding, having Rachel help her try on new clothes that Ambrose had bought her. She found endless fascination in re-exploring the multitude of rooms and the myriad of object d’art that Rosemont had within its walls. There were even times when she crept to the fields, when she thought no one was looking and watched as Sedwick rode around on his horse directing the slaves.

It didn’t take long before Ambrose came to the realization that he was being ostracized from the rest of the community. Reverend Evans, the man Ambrose had made arrangements with, was known to be a person who had the habitual habit of gossiping and it wasn’t too long before it was spread from one person to another. Soon, anybody who was anybody learned the truth about Ambrose’s intended wife. At first only a trickle of responses to the invitations came back saying that they were sorry but they would not be able to attend the wedding but as soon as the gossip had spread even those who had already accepted the invitation found all kinds of reasons why they were no longer available. Anger turned to resolve as Ambrose became determined that nothing would stop him from going ahead with his marriage. He went about paring down the amount of food already agreed upon but not mentioning any of what had come to pass to his intended bride.

No point in upsetting her, he surmised. The day of the wedding arrived and both bride and groom readied themselves. Ambrose rode ahead to the church and instructed a slave named Jacob to drive Sybilla in the carriage soon after he left. He rode down the dirt street that led to the church. The people in the town parted their curtains as they stared at the bridegroom who passed their homes. Ambrose was erect in his saddle, making sure the entire town saw his pride and dignity had not diminished. After about ten minutes, a horse drawn carriage arrived in the town.

Sybilla sat regally in the coach, her white gown spread around her as if she were surrounded by a voluminous white cloud. Her veil covered her face and she held a wedding bouquet of pink roses and white, lily-of-the-valley. Unlike the day she hid behind Ambrose when he took her to his hotel room, she now appeared confident and assured of herself. Again the curtains parted in buildings along the street but she stared straight ahead with her head held high. She was going to become Mrs. Ambrose Rawling in a little while and she no longer had to cower before those who thought they were her betters. The carriage stopped before the open church doors and Jacob jumped down to give his mistress a hand, getting down. Sybilla walked passed the church doors and through the vestibule until she could see Ambrose and the reverend waiting by the altar. As she moved down the main aisle her head swung back and forth to either side of the church. To her dismay the church was completely vacant of any guests.

Reverend Evans finished performing the wedding by saying,

You may now kiss the bride. Ambrose lifted Sybilla’s veil and drew her close to him. Her kiss showed very little emotion and she got it over by gently pushing away from Ambrose. They both walked back to the church doors with no fanfare or well wishes. It was only when they had walked into the daylight that one person waited to congratulate them.

Best wishes on your wedding! Jacob grinned, his face lighting up in genuine delight. He tipped his hat to the wedding couple. Ambrose smiled back.

Thank you, Jacob. Sybilla never replied. Jacob moved forward, opened the carriage door and helped her into her seat. After Ambrose had seated himself, Jacob