Full summary:
After the sudden death of her parents in 1851, Isabella Swan is forced to move to her cousin's plantation down South. A place where hate, slavery, and heartlessness seem to thrive. She gets lost in a foreign society that she is forced to join by her cousin and his wife. She soon finds out just how unfortunate everyone is on Whitlock Plantation. Isabella's stubborn nature and strong beliefs get her lost in a whirlwind of mistakes. In a world of secrets and despair, she finds an unexpected relationship with a slave named Edward. All leading to an illegal, unethical, and forbidden romance that they'll have to fight for until their last days.
This is a historical fan fiction and by no means is meant to offend anyone. A big thank you to the betas over at project team beta for the help.
Reviews would be awesome.
Preface
Isabella was lost, bound to a world she couldn't stand. Her eyes held her pain; the bruises on her body spoke volumes. She hated where she was and what she was to become on the plantation. She felt almost like the slaves around her, held captive with no escape. She never imagined herself having so little freedom.
There was little joy in her days as of late, except for the few minutes she stumbled upon with Edward. She relished in their time together and their soft spoken words. It was the only time she felt alive anymore, the only time she felt even a bit happy.
It was silly of her to even dream of it, to even think of it, to wonder as she did in the darkness of night, in the safety of her small room of being with him. To dream of endless days spent in his company, to long for him as she did.
It was illegal, unethical, and forbidden as could be, but she couldn't deny her feelings.
The blush that rose on her cheeks whenever he was near and the rush she got when he simply smiled. All of her feelings were so foreign but she knew they were real. She knew enough to know what her feelings for him were growing into something more, and she wasn't even sure if he cared for her in the slightest.
No matter how she felt, no matter what she did, it would always end in darkness. The differences in their skin color spoke more to the world then any words ever could.
They could never be.
October 3, 1851
It was a cold, grave autumn day in the small town of Millersburg, Pennsylvania. The sky was an ominous gray; not one speck of blue could be seen behind the thick clouds. Colorful autumn leaves littered the ground, the bare trees they had fallen from surrounded a small cemetery. Miles and miles of slate-gray grave stones covered the hilly ground; the soft green grass blowing slightly in the bitter air.
A harsh gust of wind blew, scattering leaves down the slopes and towards the level ground of the graveyard's entrance. There, surrounding two open plots, stood a congregation dressed all in black. The clergyman stood in front of the group, clutching onto his bible tightly as he began to recite a prayer. Not a whisper or murmur intervened with his words, only shallow breathing and quiet sobs.
Isabella Swan stood at the forefront of the group, silent tears pouring down her face behind her black veil. Though she was there standing amongst the sorrowful group, she felt if just her body was present. Her soul, ridden deep with sorrow and little faith, seemed to be in another place entirely. She felt completely numb, her mind no longer connected with her sobbing body. She only knew she was breathing because of the fog it made in the chilled air. She only knew her heart was beating because of the wild thumping inside her chest.
The voice of the clergyman was only a faint echo to her; the hand of comfort on her back, nothing but a dull pressure. Nothing anyone said or did could take away the pain deep in her chest.
Her sore eyes never left the two coffins in front of her, the two most precious people in the world within them. The accident that had taken her parents was so sudden and unexpected that she wasn't sure if she had grasped what was happening. She felt like she was in a dream and any moment she would wake to a happier world.
Isabella watched in an endless sea of fog, as the clergyman's final prayers were said and the caskets were lowered deep down into the ground. She felt the people around her begin to leave as dirt began to be piled above her parents, but she didn't move. No matter how hard anyone tried to get her to move, she wouldn't budge. Her focus was completely on the two caskets.
As she watched the last mound of dirt be shoveled on top of her parents, sobs racked her body. She couldn't comprehend what was happening; she just couldn't accept the fact that she would never see her parents again. She would never again hear their laughter, share their smiles, or feel their loving comfort. She would never speak to them again, never share another moment on this earth in their company. Living in a world where they didn't exist was impossible for her to imagine.
Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, her consciousness seeming to dim even more. Suddenly, she felt a warm hand press against her back and rub against it lightly. Behind her black veil she could just make out the gentle face of her estate's caretaker. She fell into the old woman's embrace, holding onto her as tightly as she could; her tears falling faster.
Mrs. Bessie Walker helped the poor girl walk away from the cemetery, her own eyes tearing up as the girl clutched onto her for dear life. She felt incommensurable sorrow for the poor young woman who had to face such an unfortunate fate.
The elderly caretaker tried to soothe the girl as the carriage drove down the cobble stone roads to Swan Manor; but at no avail could she calm her. When they reached the estate, it was already filled with people ready to mourn the passing of the couple. As Mrs. Walker took another look at the distraught girl, she told the coach man to go around to the back of the house.
She managed to get Isabella out of the carriage and into the house unseen, quickly helping her to her bedchamber. Once inside, Mrs. Walker helped her into one of the fine wood crafted chair's that set by the fireplace and began removing the veil that covered Isabella's face.
Her soft brown red ringed eyes appeared from behind the veil, small tears still pooling out of them. "What about the w-wake?" She asked weakly.
Mrs. Walker gave her a stern look, before turning to close all the curtains in the room. "It will get on well without you." she told Isabella firmly.
"But-"
"No buts, missus!" She ordered, closing the last of the curtains with a snap. "What you need is a good bit of rest, and I won't hear otherwise."
Isabella didn't have the strength within her argue with the woman, nor did she really want to go downstairs. Propriety be damned; she couldn't bear to face another crowd of unfamiliar faces and hear endless stories of her beloved parents.
Isabella soon found herself in a comfortable night dress, deep under the covers of her warm bed.
"There you go," Mrs. Walker sighed, smoothing down the duvet. "I shall take care of everything at the moment; you just rest."
Isabella nodded, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.
The old woman smiled fondly at her once more before turning to walk out the door.
As Mrs. Walker strode down the empty hallway, she couldn't help but worry about what the future would hold for her poor mistress.
Isabella groaned as she woke, her head aching badly. She felt warm and uncomfortable being wrapped up tightly in her pale purple duvet. The room was dark and eerily quiet, the silence causing shivers to run down her spine.
She didn't remember much from the past few days. They all seemed to have blurred together in a haze she couldn't break free of.
She sat up slowly, wiping her tired, sore eyes. She had cried so much over the past week that she couldn't understand how her eyes hadn't run dry. Even Mrs. Walker hadn't been able to comfort her much. The old woman was more like a grandmother or a dear aunt than a caretaker, but she might as well have been a stranger. The comfort Isabella craved could only be given by the two people that were no longer of this earth.
Her legs felt weak as she swung them over her bedside and began to walk. Days without use had had its effect on her body. She made it to the bay window, leaning against the wall for support as she pulled the curtain back a bit. Her eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the bright light after days spent in darkness.
She inhaled deeply as she took in the familiar grounds, lit with the bright morning sun. The green grass was covered in a light frost, and leaves of brown, red, and orange were scattered about the lawn. The colorful trees stood tall all around the house, the trunks thick and the branches almost naked. She watched as the branches swayed in the chilly morning air, taking with it a few more dead leaves.
Her heart fell as she looked upon her mothers garden, now empty of all its life. Just as she feared hers would be forever. Renee had loved flowers for their colors, sweet scents, and the poetry they inspired. She could recall being a young child playing among the tall beauties as her mother cared for them one by one. Isabella had spent many days dreaming of fairy tales in the garden, and once she got older, helped care for the flowers herself.
Isabella felt the corners of her lips turn up for the first time in almost a week. Her memories were all she had left to remember her parents by, although she feared that one day she wouldn't remember anything at all. Everything in the house was marked by their ghosts. Every inch of the estate was haunted by their memory.
She closed her eyes as another ray of sunlight streamed in through the curtains, momentarily blinding her.
"Oh my, you're up!"
Isabella turned as she slowly regained her vision. Mrs. Walker appeared in the room, her face filled with excitement.
"Good morning," Isabella replied softly, letting the gray curtain fall back into place.
"You look much better," the old woman commented as she busied herself with fixing the fire.
"I feel well," Isabella replied, her voice cracking a bit from disuse.
She slowly made her way to the wooden chair, stumbling a bit as she went.
"My dear, you're so weak!" Mrs. Walker exclaimed, rushing over to Isabella's side to assist her. "I feared your body would be affected your mourning."
Isabella sighed as she grasped onto the chair for support as she sat down. "I assure you I am fine; my body is just recovering." The old woman scoffed, reaching for a throw on the chair next to Isabella.
"Ah, that's what all you young folks say!" She cried, fussing over the girl as she wrapped her up tightly. "Take it from us old folks: an ailment can hit you right quick in times like these," she said giving Isabella a stern look before checking her forehead for a fever. "I am determined to see to it that no more harm comes to you."
As Mrs. Walker began to fuss with the throw again, Isabella grasped her hands pulling them away.
"Trust me," she pleaded, conveying her sincerity through her brown eyes. "What will do me some good is to get out of this room and to get some fresh air."
Mrs. Walker's eyes grew wide, her expression horrified, looking at the girl as if she had grown two heads.
"But miss-"
"But nothing!" Isabella said firmly, cutting the woman off. "I need to live again; I can't stay holed up here forever." She said, her tone wistful as she looked about the room. "In fact, I want to eat my breakfast in the dining room today."
It took Mrs. Walker a moment to recover, her thoughts running wild. She didn't understand why the girl had to be so stubborn; the old woman was sure she knew best. But perhaps, she thought, this was young Isabella's way of coping. It was after all, the first time she had gotten out of bed in days.
The old woman mustered the best smile she could, standing tall. "I shall ready the cook then."
As Isabella watched her walk away, a feeling of relief flooded through her. She knew she would be out of her mourning room soon enough.
There was an air of excitement throughout Swan Manor when news spread that Isabella was up for the first time since the funeral. Mrs. Walker made quick work of rounding up a few maids to get on the house immediately, and instructed the cook to make a hearty breakfast.
After a week of dull depressing days the servants were excited to have something to do. They worked effortlessly under Mrs. Walker's guidance, all of them greeting Isabella with sympathetic looks as they passed her.
Isabella herself had taken her time to dress and eat her first decent meal in a week. While Mrs. Walker was busy ordering the staff, Isabella took the opportunity to wander alone. She walked the halls of the old house feeling empty, avoiding focusing on any object for a lengthy amount of time. She ended up in the sitting room after a while, resting her tired body in a small green chair.
Her mother was in every inch of the room; from the furniture, to the paintings, even to the untouched grand piano in the corner. Isabella could remember every detail of every fight they had over the stupid thing. To Isabella's displeasure, her mother had forced her to learn from an awful teacher who yelled at her after every misplayed note. Needless to say, Isabella fought tooth and nail until finally her mother gave in, accepting that her daughter would never be an accomplished pianist.
Isabella's stomach turned as the silence in the room lingered and her memories continued. For the first time, she began to realize how alone she really was. She would never spend another idle moment with her mother in the room again. Her father would never sit by amused by their antics, and comment smartly every so often again. She would never have her family back.
The house was no longer a home without them, it was just a place filled with foggy memories.
Soft tears began to fall from her eyes, her heart sinking deeper and deeper into her chest. All she wanted was to feel their love again, to be happy and carefree. But sadly, happiness didn't seem to be her fate.
People often said God had a plan, and Isabella was lost as to what his plan, was for her. She had everything, loving parents and a promising future, and it was all taken away so quickly.
Her faith it, seemed, was dimming.
Orange flames flickered in the darkness, their angry red peaks licking the side of the old fireplace. Isabella stared deep into the fiery embers, her body seeming eerily still in the small light. She had just woken up after dreaming of the accident that killed her parents.
The dream itself was so vibrant and real, that it had felt like she was sitting inside the carriage on that dark, stormy night. She could hear every drop of rain pelting the roof like hail. She heard every boom of thunder, witnessed every strike of lightening, and felt every gust of wind.
She could hear their screams as the carriage overturned onto the rough road and the horses' cries as they ran into the forest. She could see the horror on their faces as they took their last breathes. She could feel the impact of the overturned carriage as it hit the tree with great force. She woke up instantly on impact, screaming for them in her dark bedchambers.
It was the first nightmare she had had since their death, and it was terrifying.
She shivered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She couldn't think of it; she would not think of it again.
She stood, wiping a few tears that had managed to fall from her tired eyes, and readied herself for breakfast.
A while later she sat in the middle chair at the dining room table, picking apart a piece of bread covered in strawberry jam. She took a sip of tea, her mood still affected from her horrible dream.
The door to the room opened, Mrs. Walker walking inside it and stopping in the doorway.
"Good morning," Isabella greeted politely, trying to get rid of her sullen expression.
"Morning dear," Mrs. Walker replied politely, twisting her hands nervously. "Your father's lawyer has called upon you this morning. He's in the sitting room."
The color drained from Isabella's face instantly, her tea cup shaking in her hand as she sat it down. She knew this had been coming for weeks; in fact she spent many of her afternoons anxiously waiting for his call.
"Let's not waste more of his time than," Isabella replied in a firm tone, standing from her chair.
She smoothed her black dress as she made her way to the sitting room, her heart beating rapidly as Mrs. Walker opened the door for her. Her father's familiar gray haired, portly friend stood in the center of the room, waiting to greet her.
"Good morning sir," she greeted softly, trying to keep her tone even. "It's so kind of you to call on me personally."
The old man smiled, shaking his head. "It's no trouble at all, Ms Isabella."
Mr. Smith was a well-respected lawyer in the town of Millersburg, Pennsylvania. He was a nice old man, with laugh lines and sweet blue eyes that shined from a happy life. She knew him from dinner parties and the occasional visits he made to Swan Manner, though she had never really had a genuine conversation with him.
"Would you like any tea or coffee, sir?" she asked as she sat, trying to look pleased by his visit instead of terrified.
"No thank you," he replied politely as he took a seat across from her.
They sat in a lingering silence for a few moments, the floor seeming to have caught Isabella's full interest.
Mr. Smith cleared his throat, gaining Isabella's full attention. "As you know miss, I normally don't make house calls such as these." he told her in a business-like tone. "But because the situation requires it, I have to oblige you as if you were a male client of mine."
She nodded solemnly, grasping her hands together tightly in her lap. "I understand, sir."
He gave her a small smile, squaring his shoulders as he spoke again. "As you are well aware your father left his will in my care. Now because you're the only living child, naturally everything goes to the eldest, eligible male in the family. "He explained. "You have a cousin, a few years older than yourself on your mother's side who has inherited everything. The estate, the servants, the money, and you, yourself, have all been left in his care."
He gave her a moment to process everything before continuing. "Now a small amount of money has been set aside for you, which you will receive once you marry."
She took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "And what shall I do until I marry?"
"Well," he sighed, giving her a grave look. "Seeing as you are just shy of eighteen, if your cousin chooses to take you in, you will be one very lucky young lady."
She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to rid the tears forming in them.
"What happens if he doesn't?" she asked quietly after a moment.
"I'll be honest here, miss," he said firmly, "You have very few optionsou would either have to find a husband in a matter of a few weeks, or find a way to make a living."
Her stomach lurched at his words.
"I understand." She breathed. "How will I get in contact with my cousin?"
"I wrote the young fellow almost as soon as I heard the news of your parents passing. He not only responded to me, but wrote you a letter as well."
He reached into his coat, pulling out slightly creased envelope and handing it to her. "He runs a thriving plantation in South Carolina, with a wife and two young children. He seems like a nice enough fellow, but southern hospitality can be deceiving."
She looked down at the slightly creased letter, studying the masculine writing on the back.
"Well, I must be going," Mr. Smith announced, getting to his feet. "Please don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything at all."
"I won't, thank you so much for everything." Isabella replied as she stood, giving him a grateful smile. "I don't know how to repay you for your kindness."
"I promised your father that if something were to happen to him, I would make sure you were taken care of," he told her simply, giving her a sympathetic look.
Isabella stood in the same spot after Mr. Smith left, fiddling with the letter in her hands. How was one supposed to act in these situations, she wondered. When your future depended on one tiny envelope, how was one supposed to cope with that anxiety?
She took a deep breath, flipping the letter over and ripping it open.
Dear Cousin,
My wife and I give our condolences to you in this trying time. The loss of one parent, let alone both at once, is unimaginable.
It came to my knowledge a few days ago that upon your fathers passing, he left all his worldly possessions and you, yourself, in my care.
Both my wife and I are in no need of a house, let alone one up North; and I have no desire to feed and pay another staff to keep up a house I never plan to visit. That being said, I'm hoping to sell it to the highest bidder at my earliest convenience.
As for you, I offer you a place to live on Whitlock Plantation.
I hope to hear from you soon,
Master Jasper Whitlock.
Isabella stood with her mouth agape, her hand resting delicately on her chest. She couldn't control the anger she felt in that moment.
That was it, her future was written off as if he had just told her the weather. There was something about his short tone that put her off and worried her slightly. Men in the south weren't known for their kindness, and she began to fear the worst.
It was the only time in her life where she hated being a woman because of the limitations she was under.
Isabella looked up when the door to the sitting room opened, Mrs. Walker appearing.
"How did it go?" She asked anxiously.
"Well," Isabella said in a harsh tone. "my cousin has gotten everything and wishes to sell my home as soon as possible." She crumpled the letter up in her hand. "Everything here, everything I own, is his now. I have nothing!" Isabella let out a strangled sob. "I have no choice but to live on his plantation or be destitute."
Mrs. Walker made it to her in a few short strides, shushing her as she held her tightly. "You knew this was coming, dear."
She shook her head, removing herself from the woman's arms. "I know, but it's real now in writing I own nothing, I have nothing anymore. My life has been handed to a man I barely know!"
"My goodness, he hasn't bought you," Mrs. Walker exclaimed. "You are not his slave."
"I know, I'm sorry, " She whispered as her cheeks flushed from embarrassment. "I'm aware that I am acting like a child. It's just I've lost so much already, and now this-" She shook her head, trying to hold in her tears. "It's just too much. I assumed whoever my father's assets went to would live here and I could stay."
The old woman didn't hesitate to pull her into her arms again, doing her best to comfort her.
"You have to have faith in God, Isabella," She murmured. "He will not steer you wrong."
Isabella didn't have the heart to tell her that her faith in God was wearing thin.
She simply nodded, trying her best to convey in her expression that she understood before leaving the room.
When she made it to her bedchamber, she shut the door behind her with a dull thud. She looked around the empty room for a few minutes, her thoughts running wild before she threw herself down into the red chair, placing her hands over her face.
As hard as it was, she was desperately trying to accept that her old life was gone. She was trying every day to grasp it, to move on, but it took time. And now it seemed that time was running out.
Her home, the only place she had ever known was to be sold. Every memory of her parents, every day, every hour spent in their company was within the house. She could barely think of leaving- to imagine riding off in a carriage away from the only home she had ever known.
She let out a sob into her hands, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
At seventeen, she had few options if she didn't go. She would be destitute and forced to work in some awful factory. She wasn't raised to work for a living; this wasn't supposed to be her life. She was supposed to find a man to make her happy, get married, and have a family. She was supposed to live comfortably and happily, but it seemed that life, that girl, was gone now.
It was scary enough to have your life handed over to someone else, to have no idea how they would treat you. But to be forced to move to the South of all places! Even though America was united, the differences between the North and the South were vast. Isabella heard many stories about the South's cruel ways and strange customs for years. Most people down South thought the 'Yankees' up North were uptight and greedy. She didn't know how anyone down there would react to her, or how she would keep up with their society. The horror stories of what they did to their slaves was enough to make her stomach turn in an instant.
She closed her eyes and let her tears fall freely, feeling all the sorrow she held. She cried for the life that was no longer hers, and the new one she was afraid to face.
She knew somehow, some way, she would have to find the strength to move on.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement was intended.