Finally, I posted ch 4. Sorry it's taking so long to update, I'm hoping to get more on schedule. Please keep reviewing, I love seeing what you think of my ideas. I also wanted to say, thanks to Saki Cup of Tea and babyb26 who offered me their condolences. It was really comforting to me to know that you two don't even know me, and you gave me support. Thanks again! Again, PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Ch 4- "To Know Mr. Wyatt"
Mr. Wyatt called for today after I got back from the orphanage. I don't know what he wants, but he acts as a complete gentleman. He never once mentioned the Lacklands again, thank God.
"How do you do, Miss Lackland? I just called to see how you were doing. That was quite a traumatic experience you had yesterday." He asked with genuine concern.
I said hello to him, and told him I was just fine. We went into the parlor and I introduced him to Jane. She is completely smitten with him, if a married woman can be smitten. I must confess, he is very good looking… better than Thad even.
He asked me to go walking with him, which I consented to, though, I must be frank, I am not interested in Mr. Wyatt. I don't know if it is because of Thad, but… it might be because he knows nothing about who I am… about my past.
Thad knows what I was and what I want to be, which is somewhat comforting.
Another thing made me somewhat frightened of him. As we were walking, nigra slaves were on the street. I commented absentmindedly that they should be better taken care of, as they were dressed in nothing but rags and I could even see whip marks showing through one of the men's shirts. I also said their master should be punished for treating them that way.
Mr. Wyatt is a bigoted man. He said something that made me cringe, though I don't think he would say it if he knows how I feel.
He said, right after I had made my comments, "They're slaves, what do you expect? You think they actually have feelings? All they care about is they're next meal."
I started straight ahead, knowing I could not retaliate. I could not show my true feelings on the subject, for I had to act as the docile white lady. But, inside I was screaming at the man.
I am trying not to hold his comment against him, for that is the way he was brought up… but… that remark hurts.
Well then I sped up, so infuriated with him, that I would not slow down when he called after me. He finally caught my arm and said, "Now what have I vexed you about?" as if it was nothing.
I looked down, not daring to meet his eyes. I knew my eyes would betray me if he saw them. "I just… my head is beginning to hurt, Mr. Wyatt. Would you mind us cutting the walk short?"
"Of course, Miss Lackland," he replied, once again the gentleman. I would like to box his ears for acting like a gentleman to me… for this is how he should be acting to every nigra everywhere.
I have been very lax in writing in this journal lately, which I am very upset about. I have not written in over two months and so much has happened, so that I must explain it all from the start.
Mr. Wyatt called for me repeatedly so that I came to expect him each day. He now always come to the orphanage as soon as I come out the door, and walks me home. I have come to enjoy his company exceedingly.
One thing that vexes me is that I asked Jane if I might invite him to have dinner with us, and she said no, that Mr. Wyatt is not welcome in her house. I begged her to know why, but she would not tell which is very irritating, for I would like to know for what reason he has made her upset. It must be something serious, as Jane is not likely to be upset over nothing.
Other than that, the days passed smoothly until Thad came home about a week ago. I have come to dread his company. The first time he saw Mr. Wyatt he asked me what I was doing with him. He told me to stop seeing him, but offered no explanation why.
Well, believe me I did not expect this. Not at all. First Jane, and then Thad. Well, I was so upset because he had been away for almost two months and had not bothered to write a single letter, and he seems to think I am his property. How dare he tell me what to do!
Whenever I see him, I turn the other way, hoping he has not seen me. His very presence in the room with me is infuriating. I would like to tell him to leave, but after all, it is Jane's house.
I catch Thad looking at me sometimes. Just staring, as if he is trying to understand something about me. I just want Thad to leave me alone once and for all.
Lordy, I just had a dreadful experience. I never thought Mr. Wyatt act like this. Or do this!
Mr. Wyatt has slaves. I went over to his home for dinner tonight and I could barely function as I tried to eat my food.
I was so excited when he asked me to dinner; I thought how lucky I was to finally see his house. I spent all the time from when I got home from the orphanage getting ready. I wore one of Mama's beautiful silk gowns she gave me. This one was blue, with black around the waist. My hair took hours to fix, for I am not accustomed to wearing a braid any longer.
I went in a carriage to Mr. Wyatt's, and, oh, did I feel like a lady. Once I knocked on the door however, my smile went away. A nigra opened the door for me and took my shawl. He directed me in to Mr. Wyatt, who introduced me to his younger sister, who lives with him. She seemed a bit uppity, but it was probably because she was raised rich.
I suppose it seems foolish, but at first I thought the nigras in his house were paid servants. It was not until I realized that the household was run like Mr. Jefferson's… though… it was with more hostility. The nigras did not eat with us; they served the food and stood in the corner, acting dumb. I wonder what they were thinking—if they thought ill of me because they thought I was white, or if they didn't care.
Mr. Wyatt told me about his work. "I have a plantation out in the country. Quite a big house actually. I have quite a lot of nigras working there…" he went on, and I smiled politely. I tried thinking what it would be like to be a white slave owner's wife… and owning slaves. I can't imagine how horrible it would feel to… to own someone.
I was so upset my body seemed to take over and I stood up and walked out of the dining hall. I could hear Mr. Wyatt run after me, but I could not reconcile myself to listen to his prattle about slavery.
"I'm sorry, Miss Lackland, as it appears I have said something to offend you. Pray, tell me what troubles you?" he asked, his face like a puppies. I could not help but let the hostility drain from my gaze.
"I am sorry Mr. Wyatt. I… I just… I am from the North… I have never been subjected to slavery. I don't… I don't believe in it," I said trying to think of an excuse for my erratic behavior. Only after I said it I realized I had a southern accent… I could not hide that… Surely he had to have noticed.
"Ah…" he said after a pause, and continued, "Would you mind telling me the truth Miss Lackland?"
Needless to say this frightened me. His face was set in a stone-like glare. The fire in his eyes, made him look dangerous, hateful even.
"What I meant to say, is that I was raised in the North my first ten years, when we moved to the south. We always lived in town though, and never kept any slaves," I was amazed at the amount of lies coming out of my mouth. Why did I have to lie only in front of Mr. Wyatt?
He seemed to be a little wary of this explanation but believed it. The rest of the evening was uneventful, for we only talked about neutral topics.
As I sit here now, my thoughts keep coming back to Mr. Wyatt. He is a slave owner, in fact he revels in the fact that he owns plantations filled with slaves. How can I possibly keep seeing a man like this? If not for the way he looks at me sometimes, his eyes gentle and loving… then I think I love him… but how can I a former slave, love a slave owner?