Escaping the infamous Barton rice plantation had not been an easy task. The first week Louis slept during daylight while wandering from dusk to dawn. He whistled as he walked on the dirt road, carelessly kicking at gravel with his rundown boots. He had not been able to walk as far as he had hoped; he estimated that he was still in South Carolina.
Louis bold escape from his planter Middleton meant he was not a liberated slave - which in turn meant he was unable to take his planter's surname. This way, his escape might not be noticed since he was unable to present himself as Louis Middleton.
Now he was seemingly out of breath. The oak trees and the river birches provided some cool shade as he passed through the Carolina state he was able to feed his hunger by the occasional honey locust, black cherry, and red mulberry that he passed along the way.
He refused to stay and pretend to be content with life; he knew it was dangerous to try to defy what seemed to be his destiny. Yet he wanted more out of life, his mother once told him that he was a restless soul and that she worried for his future.
I know I may end up losing my life if Sir John Middleton discovers this, but I refuse to accept my chores.
Louis was anxious, hoping his escape wouldn't be discovered for another week or so, at least not until he had managed to get himself to the Province of North Carolina. It had only been a few hours into the second week of his escape and with so many workers and slaves there, it was likely his absence wouldn't be discovered knew his dear mama fortunately hadn't experienced slavery when she was alive. So why would he have to accept lifelong slavery or servitude? He was a proud young man, maybe too proud for his own good. He also happened to have a short temper, and he had attempted to run away from his cruel owner Middleton many times.
Even though it looked like he finally had succeeded in his task, he knew he had to be careful. He should never tell anyone his real name or his previous whereabouts. He was walking; once in a while he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Fearing someone would catch up to him. As he walked, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. He feared someone was already in pursuit of him in order to capture him and bring him back to Sir John.
All Louis wanted was to start anew. He dreamed of a life as a free man or at least with a master that was not as cruel as Sir John.
He got a familiar premonition that his escape would come to an abrupt end as he imagined the uncanny sound of galloping horses. Moments later, the all too familiar sound of Barton's owner's voice was heard. Now he realized his first escape attempt had been discovered. He didn't dare to face his planter, turning his eyes down towards his feet.
Sir John must have discovered he was missing and set out to find him it Barton's owner must have come from his Barton Plantation in the north part of South Carolina.
"Louis! I demand to know what you think you are doing! Sir John's voice was harsh and loud, perhaps a bit too loud. "Have I not treated you well at Barton? Of course, I know I never have encouraged a male slave to take advantage of one of my female slaves. But I have never condoned it, have I?"
He had thought he had been too cautious and strict towards his workers, and he always feared that one of his workers would be brave enough to try to run away. John would have expected that from any other worker, but certainly not Louis. Over the years Louis had earned his trust. Unless you got a glance at Sir John's eyes, nothing told that he was feeling hurt.
Louis felt his cheeks burn— he was discovered. "No, sir, you haven't."
Sir John looked straight at his disobedient worker, without turning away or as much as blinking. "I thought you liked working for me and living at Barton. I have been deceived and betrayed by you. I have suspected many of my slaves to try to run away, but never you Louis, never you."
Louis closed his eyes, swallowed hard. "I understand, sir", he whispered…
Sir John shook his head in disbelief, looking straight down at Louis from his horse. This leaves me with two choices: either take you back, or try to sell you on to someone else. You have served me well for fifteen years."
Sir John was much displeased with Louis; he decided it was better for him if he found Louis a new owner. That's how Louis became a slave in the Jennings household.
"Louis, I have never owned a more obnoxious slave before you, hopefully I never will again. I am relieved that I managed to capture you, but I will not tolerate any misdemeanor. Louis, meet Mr. Jennings. He has agreed to buy you and take you off my hands. Once I leave Louis, your future lies in the hand of Mr. Jennings. "
The silent older man, who had only observed the situation from his horse, began speaking as Sir John motioned in his direction. "Louis, I hear that your previous owner had some trouble with you. I want you to know that I will not tolerate any disobedience on your part. I much rather sell you than have to discipline and punish you."
Up until now Louis thought the worst that could happen was that he would be taken back to Barton. Instead, it seemed as if his future now lay in the hands of Mr Jennings. He now feared his future would be worse, but he did not regret his bold escape attempt, at least not yet. The Jennings used to only keep indentured workers on their corn farm while also getting temporary help from rented workers from nearby farms. The exception would be Middleton's slave. Their workforce was a total of seventy-five. As Louis' future now would be at the Jennings, Charlotte homestead Mrs. Dashwood struggled with the abrupt farewell from Mr. Dashwood. At the family plantation back in Pennsylvania Philadelphia...
Mr. Dashwood had been gone from Norland for some time now, yet Mrs. Dashwood didn't like that she was left without her husband or any male protection. Of course Norland still had their male servants and slaves, but they were of little comfort to her. She was vulnerable not only because she was left without her husband, but also because of her three daughters: Elinor, Marianne and Margaret.
Elinor sighed and began to smooth her mother's back. "Mama, if it is any consolation we will continue having father with us for many years to come. Or at least until Marianne has married and Margaret had her first cotillion. It would be much unfortunate if father was called now…"
She knew some people already considered her a spinster, Sir John's guest Mr. Brandon had given her renewed hope. Of course she thought he was a little rough and appeared to have no manners. What can you really expect from a man whose been living as a bachelor for ten years!? If Mr. Dashwood hoped that Mr. Brandon would fancy out of his two daughters' enough to marry her ,she hoped Mr. Brandon would ask her and not Marianne.
"I do think it is rather romantic—don't you think so, Elinor? Of course, I don't like the fact that Father must leave us. Mama, why must Father leave us? Can't the Massachusetts militia defend themselves without Father?" the second daughter exclaimed. She drew a deep sigh.
"I think the conflict is exciting, I wish I was able to join father in this fight. I wish I could join the Massachusetts militia or at least the Continental Army." Patiently, the youngest waited for her turn to speak.
"Would you not much rather marry a soldier instead, dear?" Marianne made no attempts to conceal the big surprise her younger sister's words had caused.
"Margaret dear, do not talk such nonsense, you know very well that only men are able to pick up arms. Marianne, please do not continue to support our sister's ideas with your romantic fantasies." Exchanging a displeasing look, the eldest daughter sighed.
Mrs. Dashwood put on a brave front in front of the servants, although she was a mother, and as such she now was honestly concerned for the future of her three young daughters. Conversely, she understood her husband, and as his wife, she supported his decision.
"Now, my dears let us not talk about the nearing war in front of Margaret!" The mother said in a slightly higher tone of voice.
Mrs. Dashwood also worried greatly about what would happen to her husband's estate as well the servants and slaves. She hoped her husband's older son would be able to take over the plantation without altering too much of what she knew. She worried that her husband gave his son the benefit of the doubt, and she wished she could do the same. Yet her stepson's wife had been a constant worry for Annie. Somehow she sensed that John's opinions and motivations had changed with his marriage.
She knew that Mr. Dashwood had written in his will that Nancy and Lucy should be liberated if he passed away. Now the problem was that Nancy had been bought into the Dashwood's as one of the Ferrars' first slaves, while Lucy had joined the workforce as a gift from Sir John Middleton to his first cousin Ellen. Therefore, it would only be possible to try to liberate Nancy. It was a shame, since Nancy and Lucy were sisters and shared the same mother. Laughter was pouring out from an open window in the parlor where Mrs. Dashwood had been sitting with her daughters. The sisters were unable to hear exactly what had been said as they sat outside on the stone porch hearing laughter from an open window. The two sisters took the expected departure by their planter very hard. It was fortunate for them that planter's wife and daughters treated all their workers the same. They were allowed to take breaks whenever they wanted. The two sisters had struggled with their assigned chores under the heat from gazing sun, now they were sitting on the Norland porch.
A gust of air made all the branches with their leaves nearby— black birches, beeches, oak and ashes rustle slightly.
"At least we are together, Lucy." Nancy looked down towards her sister and reached for her hand. "Be grateful for the time we got to spend with the Dashwood's."
"At least you stand a chance at liberation, Nancy." Attempting to conceal her jealousy, Lucy, the younger woman, sighed.
Yes and that's of little comfort to me when I know you never will." While smiling, Nancy, the older sister began to stroke her sister's hand resting a top her dirty and wrinkled petticoat..."
"Don't you worry 'bout me, I'll be just fine as long as I get to stay here at Norland and the Dashwood's." The younger of the two closed her eyes to try to blink her tears away.
The older woman knew her younger sister relied on her; she too was worried for their future. Yet she had promised their mother to always protect her younger sister, which she had been doing ever since they realized they had been assigned to the same family. Nancy didn't want to worry her sister so she decided to try taking her mind off their uncertain future. She began thinking about their mutual friend Eliza Williams. Unlike the two sisters' Eliza had been spared a life of slavery and servitude.
With a sigh the younger sister whispered. "I certainly don't envy Eliza." Of course, both of them knew it was a lie. Just as their mother they wanted a life as a liberated Black woman. Even if their life wouldn't improve, they would at least be able to marry without asking for their planter's consent.
"Planter has a legitimate son in John from his first marriage. He is destined to take over since he is the only male heir." Reassuringly, the younger sister did her best; she had at least not forgotten that planter had an older son.
As long as nothing happens to him, I think we can be safe." She knew the words he said were words she didn't believe in, yet they seemed appropriate. The older sister nodded in silent agreement.
The younger sister always managed to be around for gossip and rumors. "I wouldn't be so certain if I were you. Mrs. Dashwood often says that after John's marriage, he has become a changed man." Somehow, she managed to remember every one of them, while she failed miserably at trying to remember the simplest task or instruction.
The older sister knew that Planter's second wife trusted that her stepson would share his father's opinions as well as future plans for the plantation. Nancy trusted planter's current wife, therefore she was not worried. "Perhaps, but John is still planter's son and planter has always been good to us." Both the sisters' prayed their planter would return back to his beloved Norland at almost eight hundred miles distance from the British troops...She got up and carefully brushed of the dairt from her dirty but unwrinkled petticoat.
On 18th of April 1775 ,some members of the Sons of Liberty has gathered to assess the current situation.
Witnessing British troop movements, Joseph Warren asks Paul Revere to bring the news to Samuel Adams and John Hancock in Lexington. Paul Revere crosses through the Mystic River on his way to Menotomy. They have been told they need to report back to Mr Dashwood who happened that arrived to offer his aid.
Meanwhile, at a safe distance of nearly one thousand miles a middle-aged man spent most of his days reminiscing about his youth, even though the man appeared too oblivious of the fact that the situation between the British and the Colonists had escalated ever since the Dumping of Tea. He had his reasons for concern, just as he had his reasons for concealing them... He was ashamed that he was able to live fairly comfortably in the New Hampshire Grants, knowing all too well he had chosen to flee instead of fight.
The door to the tavern sprang open, by an unfamiliar man. Without hesitation, the New England youth approached the owner while struggling to catch his breath. "Sir, please give me some work. I've just come from Boston, Massachusetts. I'm glad I managed to get away when I did."
Preoccupied with pouring the stranger a beer, the bartender mumbled, "Oh, really, is it that bad?"
Looking carefully around the tavern at the people nearest him, the stranger burst out, "Haven't you heard, sir? The British and the colonists both want to claim the town." Looking carefully around the tavern at the people nearest him, the stranger burst out.
"I suppose you don't know if there has been any bloodshed?" The bartender put down the tankard of beer in front of the stranger.
"Well, not besides the Boston massacre." The younger man took a large sip of beer and wiped the foam from his mouth with his sleeve.
William, now forty years old, thought back to that dreadful day ten years ago. Since he was the oldest, he was arranged to marry for money. To a woman that he never loved. He was a loyal son and had agreed to the marriage, even though he knew his brother was devastated to see his first love married to someone else, that was a betrayal hard enough to take. To see the woman that he loved, married to his older brother. That had caused a rift between the brothers and they hadn't spoken or seen each other since.
The wedding day was horrible. Beth cried and wept, so much so that William had decided he couldn't continue on with the charade. Perhaps he could have loved her, if she hadn't given her heart to someone else.
William hesitated at the thought of actually trying to return to Boston...
Mr. Brandon's older prodigal brother decides that he must go to Boston, Massachusetts and aid his younger brother. Once again, Mr. William Brandon found himself in a tavern trying to bury the sorrow of losing his wife, five years ago now.
Beth had died from falling down the staircase, from an altercation with her husband.
William eventually confessed to never having loved Beth Williams, but to him she was the only woman that he ever felt was worthy enough to be his bride. At the time of his marriage, William seemed oblivious to the fact that the seventeen-year-old Beth seemed to have formed an attachment with his younger brother, John Brandon.
The marriage between William and Beth was a happy occasion and he was elated to have found himself a wife. Yet the marriage between William and Beth soon caused a grudge John was jealous of his brother for marrying the woman that he loved while William soon had realized that Beth may be his wife, but her heart belonged to John.
It was most unfortunate that Beth had died on their first wedding day, the loss and wound of his young wife made William desert his home. He took up gambling and drinking, but he had refused to see his younger brother John. Last time the two brother's spoke was on the day of William's wedding day.
Maybe it was time for William to make amends with his younger brother? He admitted that he worried about his brother, but he still didn't feel like he was ready to return. Even if the person that they both desired no longer was alive. That was before Beth was taken and William became a remorseful, mourning widower a year later.
"Tell me good sir, how is the situation up in Massachusetts, Boston?" William tended to be as reserved as his younger brother yet he knew this might be his only chance to learn what the situation was like in Boston. That would help him to decide if he would have a valid reason to return.
"Excuse me, but for what reason do you want to know?" The New England native turned in the direction of the voice, as he did he raised an eyebrow.
"I happen to have family up there." William sighed and shook his shoulders as he gave a remorseful smile.
"Well, I think it may develop into something soon, but nothing has happened just yet." The New England resident locked eyes with William as he took another sip of beer.
Unbeknownst to the men at the tavern in New Hampshire Grants, the existing tension between the British and the colonists, would soon escalate. The battle of Lexington had just begun at a distance of fifty five miles. Ever since the Intolerable Acts in Boston the situation between the British and the Colonists had been manageable, but on the night of the 18th of April the situation would soon intensify.
Outside hiding in the forest —full of birch, maple, aspen, oak, pine, spruce, and ash was none other than Sir John Middleton— who had been given secret orders to capture and destroy rebel military supplies reportedly stored by the Massachusetts' militia at Concord. Meanwhile, Mr. Jennings and supporters of the colonists had already learned of the British troops orders and of a certain Mr. Dashwood. The first shot at Lexington was fired at early dusk and neither side claimed responsibility for the bullet that left Mr. Dashwood with severe injuries-that might prove lethal. Suddenly the militia men were outnumbered and forced into retreat, as the regular men with Mr. Pratt was convinced to turn to Concord. The first casualty was found on the Colonists side and it would give the Loyalists a significant advantage since it would seem as if the Loyalists had won that battle, yet it was not certain they would manage to come out as victors.
As the first encounter between the British and the Massachusetts men had nearly just begun, a British man had set an clandestine meeting with a woman. Even though both sides had passed through the Boston tavern neither of them was concerned about the near surrounding... The sound of the Connecticut River was almost not noticed...
Impatiently, Willoughby stood outside the inn, waiting for Eliza to appear. He began to grow more irritated as he begun to fear that the sweet Eliza would not keep her promise. She finally arrived, seemingly out of breath. He smiled when he saw her.
"You came; I was worried that you were elsewhere engaged or maybe that you turned me down."
He walked toward her, his steps rushed. He feared someone might discover them; an English gentleman and a Mulatto girl. Even though he was far away from New Hampshire, he was still concerned someone would recognize him from the Intolerable Acts. Taking her arm in his, he led her into the Boston docks. The woman appeared to grow nervous.
"Oh, no sir, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing to you," she said and looked down, kicking some gravel with her foot and hiding her hands behind her back.
He knew she was a very handsome young woman, but until now he had not been able to take a good look at her. Now he noticed that her silhouette was tall and slim, her waist tiny and her bosom big. His heartbeat became faster more rapid and he felt a desire awake in his chest. He knew he simply had to have her for himself. He sighed for a second and licked his lips. In the light of the dawn she was even more attractive to him. The dark hair even more shiny and her eyes more glimmering and dark.
Now, Willoughby could tell just how handsome she really was, if he had been the marrying type, she would already have been his wife even if she was a Mulatto.
"And you are absolutely certain that you were not followed on the way here?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone could have followed the young woman.
"No, sir, I don't think so," she said with hesitation.
"Well, I am satisfied with that answer," he said and smiled.
She became aware of how morally improper their behavior was. At first she tried to pull away and turned her head so that his lips would miss her lips. What would have been their first kiss became a disappointment to the man, while it was a relief for the young woman.
He took another last look and quickly placed his lips over hers. She had told herself she wouldn't allow herself to respond to his kiss. But alas, she found herself helpless, unable to resist him. Once his lips were pressed against hers she knew it just as well as him. He had succeeded in winning her over. Without thinking, she answered the man's kiss.
She closed her eyes as their lips met; as soon as the man sighed, she immediately opened her eyes and tried to pull away. But the young woman was helpless and unable to resist the man's advances. She didn't initiate the kiss that would have been wrong. Instead she unconsciously opened her mouth slightly and answered the first kiss.
"But sir, I wasn't expecting that. Not when I still don't know your name," she said and moaned as she leaned back against one of the ships.
"Forgive me my manner's, the name is Willoughby," he said and smiled as he bowed and lifted off his hat.
"I really shouldn't have agreed to see you." She bit her lip, looking around the dock.
He moved closer towards the young woman, he was so close now that he could feel her anxious heartbeat. He gently, began to stroke the woman's hair.
"Your words hurt me, Eliza; I love you! You trust me now, don't you?" He asked, surprised, and stopped stroking the young woman's hair.
The young woman bit her lip again before she answered.
"I suppose," she whispered.
"Eliza, my love, if you don't believe my words allow me to show you just how much I love you. I promise, I'll be gentle."
"But what if someone happens to walk by..."
He had waited long enough now; he pressed his lips against the young woman's to silence her voice. He leaned over her, one hand placed on the wall to keep his balance. Their torsos were pressed against each other. He had eagerness and wanting in his eyes. She sighed and looked up straight into the man's green eyes and nodded slightly. The man began thumbing on her buttons. Even though he knew he had managed to conquer her, his hands were shaky.
Eliza sighed into the kiss, responding to Willoughby's advances and burying her hands in his hair.
It was like a fairy-tale, she thought as his hands fumbled with her petticoat, and she was the fairy princess who had finally found a prince to love. '
Eliza could no longer feel the man's strong hands fumbling with her skirts instead the man's advances and attention was preoccupied with the buttons of her shirt. She looked into his eyes hoping that he wouldn't notice how nervous she was—or for that matter, her loud heartbeat. As two secret lovers were currently preoccupied two other lovers would soon see each other... She had almost forgot Brandon's words of warning since Willoughby seemed to be a man that she could trust. Had he not chosen her, before all other women ...? She knew she wasn't like any of the other women—Nancy and Lucy may have been her friends, but they were not born to a previously freed women like knew she was born free, she had never experienced corporal punishment nor physical abuse. She had no planter and she was not owned by anyone. Above all she was born with a surname—a surname that her mother chose for her. She had always carried herself proud—even had the habit of sticking her nose up in the air.
