Plantation Children

By Kim Pierce

Tennessee, 1862. Fifteen-year-old Elizabeth Edwards hates her personal slave, Anna. Elizabeth has never given much thought to the plight of the slaves on her father's plantation; instead she focuses on pretty dresses and horses, and dreams of the young man she wants to marry. But Elizabeth's world collapses when she is told she must marry her cousin to keep the plantation in the family. Elizabeth takes out her anger on Anna, who finally snaps and reveals that Elizabeth and she have the same father. Anna is brutally whipped the next day, and Elizabeth is horrified. When she tries to confide in her mother, she finds her secretly kissing Elizabeth's tutor.

Elizabeth now feels she has nothing and nobody. She changes her attitude about Anna, and asks her to run away with her. They are overheard by two stable hands, Fred and Sam, who have heard of a safe house on the Underground Railroad. The four of them set off, planning to reach Canada. Will they all make it to Canada alive? Does Anna truly forgive Elizabeth or is she just using her? Is it possible to find love on the run?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005434083

Book preview

Plantation Children

By Kim Pierce

Copyright 2020 Kim Pierce

ISBN 9781005434083

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Cover Design: Kim Pierce

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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For James: Never give up.

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Plantation Children

By Kim Pierce

Chapter One

Tuesday November 30, 1852

My sixth birthday is special just because Mama is happy, and Papa is with us instead of out on the plantation or locked in his study. I sit in the parlor holding a new dress and a beautiful doll, wishing the day would never end. Everything is perfect.

And then Papa says, I still have one more gift for you, Elizabeth. This is Anna.

A girl who has been standing at the edge of the room all afternoon steps forward. Even though she is a slave, she has lighter skin than most of the others I’ve seen around our plantation.

I crinkle my dress in my hands, wondering where Anna is hiding my present. I don’t want to say anything, though, in case it makes Papa mad.

Anna will do things for you just like Hannah does, Papa says. She will do anything that you want to take care of you.

But Hannah is an adult. Anna is just a girl like me.

Mama is giving me one of her looks, so I smile.

Thank you very much, Papa, I say.

After dinner I am sent upstairs to bed, doll and dress in hand. I make it all the way up the wooden spiral staircase, marveling as always when I rise above the crystal chandelier, before I realize that Anna is right behind me.

What are you doing? I ask.

I’m supposed to help you get ready for bed, Miss, Anna says, looking at the floor.

Hannah always helps me do that, I say.

Now I am supposed to help you, Miss, Anna says.

I enter my little rooms and lay my new dress on the mattress of my four-poster bed. The dress is white muslin with a pink satin ribbon. Then I look at the dress I am wearing: bright yellow linen, with ruffles everywhere. My shoes are black leather. Anna wears a thick brown cloth that barely reaches her knees and is barefoot.

Why are you wearing that old thing? I ask.

Anna ducks her head. If I do a good job, I’ll get better clothes, Miss.

I set my doll down next. Anna takes a nightgown from the wardrobe. I don’t ask her how she already knows where my clothes are. I look at her pathetic dress again.

Why don’t you try my new dress on? I ask.

Anna shakes her head. I have to get you ready for bed, Miss.

Don’t say no to me. I’m your mistress now.

Anna’s mouth hangs open. I decide she must not be very smart.

My Papa said you would do whatever I wanted, and I don’t want to go to bed. Try on that dress.

Anna steps back, her eyes wide. Oh, no, Miss. I can’t.

I put my hands on my hips and try to imitate the voice Mama uses when she speaks to our people, when she bothers talking at all. If you don’t do what I say, you won’t get a new dress of your own. Then we’ll see if you step about so smart.

Anna sighs, and takes off her horrible shift. I help her put the new dress on. She is the exact same size as me, and the dress fits her perfectly.

How old are you? I ask.

Six.

The same age I am! What’s your whole name? Mine is Elizabeth Marie Edwards.

Anna Edwards.

Same last name as mine. I grab a white ribbon from my dressing table and thread it through Anna’s hair. Her hair isn’t the same as mine. It’s dark brown, shoulder-length and curly.

And now we are going to play with dolls, I say. I never have anyone to play with except my cousin Henry, and he’s only four and likes to eat bugs.

I hand Anna my doll; it has an identical white and pink dress like my new one, and blue eyes and long blonde hair that look like my own.

I’ve never seen such a pretty doll, Anna says.

Then you can play with her and I’ll play with my Christmas doll. I retrieve another doll from a shelf and we sit on the floor.

Anna’s mouth doesn’t hang open anymore and she seems just as smart as I am now. Soon we are giggling. But then a dark whirlwind rushes through the door and jerks Anna to her feet.

It’s Hannah, a tall, beautiful slave several shades darker than Anna, wearing a long gray dress and a blue scarf over her hair. She shakes Anna and smacks her across the face. Hannah jerks my new dress off Anna, and I hear it rip.

I told her to play with me! I say, jumping to my feet.

Get into your room, Hannah says, thrusting Anna’s own pitiful dress into her arms. Anna runs from the room, naked and sobbing. I’ll fix this for you, Miss Elizabeth.

Hannah, I told her—

Anna needs to learn her place. She’ll know how to act tomorrow. Now, let me help you get dressed for bed.

***

In the morning, Anna shows up carrying my dress, stitched up just as if it had never been torn.

Good morning, Miss, she says. She won’t look at me.

Anna, I didn’t—

Let me help you get ready for breakfast, Miss, Anna says.

Did you get in bad trouble?

I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.

But you’re supposed to do whatever I say, and—

Mammy says I’m not supposed to play with you, I’m supposed to serve you.

Who’s your mama? I mean, mammy?

Anna looks up at me with clouded eyes. Hannah.

I gasp. But she’s taken care of me since I was a baby. Every day. She’s been spending all her time with me, and you’re never with her.

Anna blinks. I know. Miss.

But who’s been taking care of you?

Anna reaches to help me take off my nightgown. Let me get you dressed for breakfast, Miss.

I want to wear my new dress!

Yes, Miss.

That white dress is the prettiest, and my favorite. Anna seems to hate that dress. But I’m not sure. Because now she doesn’t say anything she isn’t supposed to say, or do anything she isn’t supposed to do. She is like a shadow, following me everywhere.

I hate her.

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Chapter Two

Sunday May 15, 1853

I tell Papa almost every day that Anna is not doing a good job as my servant and that I don’t want her anymore, but he doesn’t listen. Within a week of her becoming my personal attendant, Anna’s long shirt was replaced by a gray dress and white apron, identical to Hannah’s. She also got a pair of brown leather shoes, but not near as fine as mine.

It really is true that Anna is supposed to do whatever I say. Papa said she could even play dolls with me if I wanted, and that Hannah should have let her, but I don’t want Anna to play with me anymore.

In every room of the house there are bells. Some of the bells sit on little tables, and some rooms have a bell right on the wall and we only need to pull a rope to make it sound. Any time we ring a bell, one of our people appears in whatever room we are in right away. I have my own special bells, smaller and higher-pitched than the others. Hannah used to answer my bell, but now Anna is supposed to. Sometimes I ring my bell in the middle of the night just to see if maybe Hannah would come visit me. But the only person who answers is Anna. I hardly ever see Hannah anymore, and I miss her.

At dinner, I think our family looks very silly when we don’t have any guests. We have a grand dining room, with a large chandelier lit with hundreds of candles. Our table is long, dark, and shiny. Twenty people can sit there if they want. But today there is only Mama, Papa, and me. Papa sits at one end of the table, and Mama at the other. I am in the middle, alone in a wooden island. Most days my new tutor Mr. Williams sits across from me, but he left to visit his family up North. Our meals can be very tiresome, so I have found a way to amuse myself.

Papa and Mama both seem to be in high spirits. The planting is done, and this always makes them happy. They are both drinking wine, and I sip lemonade.

We’ll have the best cotton crop yet, this year, Papa says. The new hands made the work go twice as fast.

Papa says a prayer, and then our slave butler and cook walk into the dining room with bowls of soup and quietly leave again. The soup has ham and beans in it, definitely not one of my favorites. I stir my spoon around in the bowl for a moment. Then I pick up my cloth napkin, throw it to the floor, and ring my little bell.

Anna walks into the room, still chewing. I know she is eating her own supper in the nearby kitchen, which is a separate building connected to our house by a little walkway. She probably knows better than to go all the way inside the kitchen house to eat by now.

Pick up my napkin, I say.

Anna obeys without a word and disappears.

Mama and Papa are talking about cotton prices between sips of soup. I force a spoonful down my throat and swing my legs back and forth. I can see a fiery sunset out the window, and long to be outside. I set my spoon on the table and knock it to the floor with my elbow, and ring my bell again.

Anna appears again, a silent figure who somehow seems to be both here and not here at the same time.

I dropped my spoon and I need a clean one, I say.

Anna picks up the spoon and turns to leave.

When Elizabeth speaks to you, you must answer her with ‘Yes, Miss,’ Papa says unexpectedly.

Yes, Master, Anna says, her voice barely audible. I’ll get a new spoon for you right away, Miss Elizabeth.

By the end of the meal I’ve dropped my fork, spilt my lemonade, and requested a new plate because the one I had was chipped. Papa and Mama never say anything when I ring my bell, but one time I think I hear Papa chuckle.

After dinner I’m dismissed and race outside; the sun is almost gone. Anna is behind me as usual. I just want to ride Old Clara. I run past the garden until I get to the stables and fenced-in paddocks where our horses graze. Our stable hands, Fred and Sam, are bringing the horses into the stable for the evening. There are rumors that Fred and Sam engage in abominations together, and are bound for hell. But they don’t seem altogether different from the rest of our people, so I regard their relationship as rather queer, but otherwise harmless. Both seem old to me, at least eighteen. They are very dark, especially compared to Anna. Fred is extremely tall and confident; an expert on horses. He has a thin beard and mustache, and hardly ever wears a shirt. Sam is medium-height and stocky. He always wears a black coachman hat. He’s much quieter than Fred, but always acts properly.

Saddle Old Clara, I say to them both. I forgot to put on my riding dress, but it’s too late for that now.

Yes, Miss, says Sam in a low voice. Fred is busy putting another horse in the stable. Sam puts a saddle and bridle on Old Clara, a brown mare whose back is curved the wrong way. Old Clara is the only horse I’m allowed to ride by myself, but Papa says I will get a horse of my own on my next birthday.

The horrible birthday present I got last year sits on a wooden fence rail as Sam helps me climb on Old Clara. I trot around the pasture as he walks away to collect another horse. I can hear the field slaves chanting and singing in the distance, walking to their quarters—a group of tiny huts past the stables and orchard—now that their work is done. I ride Old Clara until all the other horses are in the stable and the sun is so far down that I can’t see anymore.

Put Old Clara in her stall and make sure you brush her very well, I say when I ride her up to the stable door.

Yes, Miss. Let me walk you to the big house first. Fred ties Old Clara to a hitching post and picks up an oil lantern. He leads me home, the place all our slaves call the big house, with Anna at our heels.

I walk inside the large hall without another word to Fred, and he disappears. There is no one in the parlor. I sigh. Mama is probably upstairs in her sitting room and Papa in his study. I’m not allowed to bother them when they’re in their private rooms. There is nothing else to do but go upstairs to my little apartment, which has my very own sitting room and bedroom. I have no one to talk to or play with, though, so the rooms can be very lonely. The night is warm, so my fireplace does not need to be lit, but Anna has brought a candle with her and lights the candles on my dressing table and turns on my oil lamp.

Get my nightgown, I say.

Yes, Miss, Anna says. She picks one for me from the wardrobe and helps me out of my dress. Once my gown is on, I sit at my dressing table expectantly. Now