Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [15]
“You go on in the house now,” Eli said. “Before your hair and clothes be smelling like smoke and Tessie chews me out.”
“But—”
“Go on! Get!” It was the only time in my life that Eli had ever spoken harshly to me. He turned his back and moved away, raking in the opposite direction as if his life depended on it.
Chapter Three
July 1854
By the time I grew accustomed to going to the Richmond Female Institute every day, the school year ended for the summer. I’d celebrated my thirteenth birthday by then, and I was sometimes allowed to eat dinner in the formal dining room with Daddy and his guests—and with Mother when she was well enough to join us. The three of us were seated at the dinner table one warm July evening when we heard an urgent pounding on our front door. Gilbert stopped serving and sailed out to answer it, returning a few minutes later to speak to my father.
“Excuse me, sir. Young gentleman at the door say he your nephew, Jonathan Fletcher. He don’t have a calling card.”
“Jonathan?” Daddy’s face registered surprise. “Show him in, Gilbert.”
He wasn’t a “young gentleman” at all but a boy not much older than me, looking hot and tired and dusty, as if he’d traveled a long distance. But even in his disheveled state, the resemblance between him and my father was uncanny. They had the same handsome square face and aristocratic nose, the same wavy brown hair and dark eyes. A pale shadow on Jonathan’s upper lip foretold a mustache just like Daddy’s in a year or so.
“Good evening, Uncle George . . . Aunt Mary.” He bowed politely in greeting.
Daddy didn’t rise from his chair. “Jonathan. What brings you to Richmond at this hour?”
The words rushed from Jonathan’s mouth as if he’d been holding them back for a long time. “Father says you’d better come to Hilltop right away, sir. Grandfather is ill.”
Daddy resumed eating, cutting his meat without looking up. “Is he dying?”
I watched Jonathan’s face twist with emotion. He gazed up at the ceiling, as if to keep the tears that had sprung to his eyes from overflowing. “I . . . um . . . I believe so, sir.” He cleared his throat but his voice still sounded hoarse. “He had a dizzy spell, and now he . . . he can’t move . . . or speak.”
Daddy’s eyes met my mother’s. She shook her head slightly, then looked away. “You know how I hate it out in the country, George. The smell, the flies, all those Negroes . . .” She seemed oblivious to the fact that three Negroes, Tessie, Gilbert, and Ruby, were in the room serving us dinner.
“Would you like something to eat, Jonathan?” Daddy asked.
“Yes, thank you, sir. But I’d like to wash up first, if I may.”
Daddy returned to his meal while Gilbert showed Jonathan where to freshen up. Ruby hurried to set a place for him at the table. When Jonathan returned I saw that he had won the battle with his emotions.
“Sit down, son,” Daddy said, motioning to the empty chair across the table from me. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “Caroline Ruth, this is your cousin Jonathan.”
“How do you do,” I said. Jonathan looked up at me in surprise.
“Very well, thank you.” His words sounded stiff and formal. I wondered if he was making fun of me. But then he flashed a friendly grin, and I saw a glint of humor and mischief in his eye. He reminded me so much of Grady it astonished me. I usually wasn’t comfortable around strangers, but I liked Jonathan from that very first night. He bowed his head in prayer for a moment, then began to eat, displaying the finest of table manners.
“We’ll leave for Hilltop first thing in the morning,” Daddy said after a moment. “I have a few things to take care of downtown first.”
Jonathan appeared surprised. “But . . . Father said you should . . . I mean, he thought that you might want to come right away . . . tonight.”
“You may return home tonight if you wish,” Daddy said, “although I would recommend you spend the night and rest yourself and your horses. Either way, I’ll follow you in my own carriage tomorrow. That way I won’t be dependent on anyone to drive me back to Richmond . . . afterward.”
Mother