The Governor had gathered at the Jamestown docks alongside his wife, his niece, the town councillors and Master Massinger. They had gathered to witness the arrival of another ship that had arrived from England, bringing more men to serve the town and women to wed off. Jeanne stood behind her aunt and uncle yet beside Secretary Farlow. The group mainly stood in silence as they watched the men and women back their way down the gangplank, many looking weak and thin to the point where Massinger was making comments loud enough for those passing by to hear.
"Look what they send us…a paltry few measly, weak men. No more than boys, most of them." Massinger spat. There was a massive scowl on his already terrifying face that was already enough to scare most men. "What we need is strong hands to toil. Plantation's nothing but dirt till it's worked. Labour is where riches are made." He stated firmly.
"I thought it was made in backrooms with shady dealings." Jeanne leaned in close to Farlow, whispering in his ear. He smirked at the woman's retort but quickly shushed her, letting the Scottish woman know she was correct in her statement. Having seen enough, Massinger scoffed and began to walk away, passing Farlow, who did his best to keep a straight face, still enjoying Jeanne's teases at the Plantation owner's expense. Yet Jeanne's eyes were on her uncle and aunt, who had stepped forward to greet the galleon's captain, introducing the man to his wife and even pointing out his niece. Jeanne gave a short wave back and smiled falsely, her eyes locked onto the stack of letters in the Captain's hand, fully aware that one of them could contain the written downfall of young Mistress Jocelyn Castell.
"There's a gleam in your eye," Farlow whispered, his moustache twitching as he shared in the redhead's giddy emotions that were wafting off of her. "Care to indulge me?"
"The letters," Jeanne whispered back, gesturing to the stack that Yeardley had passed onto his wife to hold. Temperance was already looking through the pile at the names to whom they were addressed. "We might finally see an end to the middling on a certain boisterous blonde." The answer got Farlow's eyes to flash, an eagerness matching Jeanne's as the pair stared at the letters, almost salivating as Temperance slowly shuffled them. Their eyes continued to follow the governor's wife as she walked back to town, having to hold in their laughter when Temperance glanced at Jocelyn. The blonde looked away, shame evident on her face.
"Very exciting." Farlow chuckled, eyes trained on Jocelyn's retreating form.
"Indeed," Jeanne smiled. "If anyone can put an end to the girl's troublesome aspirations, it will be my aunt." Farlow laughed again, agreeing with the Scottish lass, commenting that there is no one more terrifying than those who fear only God and not the actions of others, as there is no limit to what they can do. Jeanne went to make a retort to the statement, but Farlow and Redwick had been beckoned over to the Governor, who was in the process of reading a letter. Extending out his arm to her, they walked over to the man, who smiled at the sight of them, yet there was an uneasiness in his eyes, not truly enjoying the sight of his niece on the secretary's arm.
"A General Assembly of representatives from all of Virginia, for the purpose of passing laws. Planters will be selected. Each man will be named a Burgess of his parish to speak on behalf of the commonage." George Yeardley explained the letter in his hands to his council before holding out his arm for his niece to take. With Farlow and Jeanne sharing a nod, the young woman was guided to her uncle by her friend.
"Burgesses? Elected? Why give power away so cheaply?" Redwick spat, earning a hard look from his governor. Sharply facing the Marshall, George spoke firmly, stating that it was a Company wish and a firm instruction. Sensing the rising tension, Farlow pushed himself between the two men.
"Rankling does not suit you, sir," Farlow spoke, glancing between his friend and Governor as he addressed George Yeardley. "Perhaps you might explain the benefits to us, Governor, of inviting men of the soil to put their grub hands on the governance."
Yeardley sighed, his eyes downcast as he tried to control his anger. He was fed up with the Marshall and Secretary second-guessing every decision he made, some that had been ordered from those above, even his station. "Sir, Edwin Sands has convinced the Company the surest way to attract new investors is to assure them their stake will not be embezzled." He explained in a calm manner. "Accountability seems to be the word on everyone's lips."
Farlow nodded. "An understandable and admirable sentiment, but what is to become of us if we are to answer to hedgeborn planters?" He enquired, a bite to his question as he feared being ruled over by the commoners and peasants of Jamestown. Yeardley smiled, commenting back that it was something they'd discover. Jeanne bit her lip, trying to hold back the snort as her uncle let the two of them back to town, feeling the heated gazes of Farlow and Redwick following their backs.
Jeanne tutted her uncle. "One could consider that rude of you, uncle." She advised, a small smile on her lips expressing that she had enjoyed the man's mocking of his councillors, even as she teased him for his action.
George Yeardley shrugged. There was a playful smile on his lips as he looked ahead, not acknowledging his niece's stare. "I was merely providing guidance and clarity to my council." He stated with an air of laze, making Jeanne snort and shake her head. While he could indeed say such a thing as the excuse for his words, Redwick and Farlow would not. The two men and Master Massinger had spent too much time and money cultivating their small tobacco empire to have it threatened by anyone, even a new law being passed. Jeanne knew that the loss of any sum, great or small, would come as a major disappointment to them. When they returned to their home, they found Temperance sitting at her husband's desk, letters to be handed out, sorted through and sitting on the desk. In her hands was the letter back from her cousin, a letter that would determine the fate of Jocelyn Castell and her husband.
"Haven't read it yet?" Jeanne asked, her eyes focused solely on the sealed letter.
George Yeardley's eyes darted between the two women he loved, curious as to what the unspoken glances were about. "Read what?" His question caused both women to glance at him briefly before sharing a look. Another unspoken conversation. "Fine," George sighed, his hands raised in defence, stepping away from his niece. "Keep your secrets. I just hope nothing foul will come of it." He turned, stepping back outside and leaving them alone.
Temperance frowned, her eyes flicking from the now-closed front door and to her niece. The silence between them lingered for several minutes. "I…" Temperance sighed, placing the letter down firmly, its contents mocking her. "I don't know if I can…" She admitted. Standing, Temperance began to pace, moving around the living quarters of her home. "Would God disapprove? Are my actions selfish?" She spoke, her questions more directed at herself to answer. Temperance was a faithful Christian woman, and while she had a duty to serve her husband and Jamestown, she also had to act within the values God expected of her.
Jeanne shook her head, her loose curls swaying gently. "You are serving your husband, as God has asked all wives to do. This letter," She reached out, picked up the letter and dangled it between her fingers. "Is how you serve your husband, by keeping an unfaithful and conniving woman acting outside her means to knock our Governor from his place and instil her husband in a place of power." Jeanne's statement had flabbergasted her aunt. Temperance looked at her young niece, a woman of nineteen who stood before her poised and dignified, the very image of a noble lady.
"You've grown up far too quickly…" Temperance spoke, her bottom lip quivering. Before Jeanne could even react, the older woman was upon her, pulling her into a tight embrace that left Jeanne gasping for breath. Jeanne stood there, arms by her sides and still holding the letter the entire length of the one-sided hug, unsure how to act. When Temperance finally pulled away, she cupped Jeanne's face, making the two women's eyes meet. "Had to believe that it felt like yesterday when a redheaded girl came into my house, and now you're a woman."
Jeanne snorted. "By the laws of society, I became a woman not long after I ended your home." She retorted. The response caused her aunt to drop her hands and roll her eyes, a lecture leaving Temperance's lips about how such a topic shouldn't be discussed so openly. Yes, a girl could become a woman at thirteen the moment she bleeds between her legs, yet it was a shameful subject to be discussed. "Read it," Jeanne spoke, holding out the letter. "Get your answers and protect your husband and Jamestown." Her words were firm and commanding enough to get Temperance to take the letter, the older woman fiddling with the paper. She nodded, moving into her bedchambers to read the letter in private. Jeanne took a deep breath, her eyes moving to the letters stacked on her uncle's desk. "I'll hand out the letters!" She yelled out, not waiting for a reply as she picked them up, looking at the names. She spotted a few others addressed to her aunt, and after looking them over, Jeanne noticed the seals on the back. Nobles. Jeanne glanced at Temperance's closed bedroom door, brows furrowed. Temperance wouldn't directly contact the English Nobility unless she was after something, and Jeanne knew there was only one thing Temperance did want from them: a husband for her niece.
Jeanne frowned but didn't dare touch the letters, choosing to leave the family home and begin to trek around Jamestown, handing out the letters to the recipients. With each letter she handed out, the receiver thanked her graciously. All except Redwick. She'd found the Marshall outside the jailhouse, barking off orders with enough muster that it made Jeanne concerned that the man would cough out a lung one of these days if he weren't careful. "What do you want, woman?" Redwick snapped, not even looking at her while he addressed her. Without responding to his bait, Jeanne simply held the letter out to him, which he snapped from her hands with a grumble. Her eyes narrowed when he inspected it, peeking at her as he did so as if he suspected her of having read his private converse.
"I have one for Farlow," Jeanne said rather boredly. It was the last letter she had to deliver. "Where is he?" She asked, glancing around, half expecting to see the two men together as they normally were.
Redwick shrugged. "Haven't seen him since this morning." He spoke gruffly. The man was barely paying attention to her, her concerns having nothing to do with him. Redwick's mind was focused on overseeing his soldiers and the safety of Jamestown. Jeanne just stared at him for a moment longer, a single brow raised in annoyance. When he still hadn't acknowledged her further, Jeanne released an overly dramatic, making Redwick glare. But Jeanne didn't care. She just wanted to make her disappointment in him obvious. Stomping away from the Marshall, Jeanne decided to hear straight to Farlow's house. If the man weren't with Redwick or walking about town, he would be at his home, enjoying the solace. In a typical fashion that both had come used to, Jeanne entered his home without knocking, having spent many times just entering without announcing herself, and Farlow never questioned it or complained. She found the man sitting at his dinner table, a cup filled with wine in his hand and the decanter sitting on the table.
"What happened?" Jeanne asked, knowing straight away that something was seriously wrong if the decanter was in front of the man. Farlow didn't speak; they just took a large swig of wine. "Okay…" Jeanne rushed over, grabbing onto the rim of the cup and pulling it away from Farlow. "Enough of that." She put the cup down, far enough away that he couldn't reach for it. He looked hard at her, clearly not pleased with the woman's action. But he wouldn't dare drink from the decanter. That was just too uncivilised. "You going to tell me what's wrong?" She asked him, sitting down at the chair beside him. Farlow looked away from her, his hands curling on the top table. His reaction to her question had Jeanne worried. She had never seen him so silent on a matter that upset him, Farlow always finding a way to express his emotion in eloquent manners. "Nicholas…" She spoke his name softly while leaning forward, one of her hands slowly wrapping around one of his.
"Mistress Castell…" Farlow started, his eyes still downcast, shame and fear stopping him from looking at her. "She is aware of one of my secrets…and threatened me with it…" As he spoke, Jeanne held his hand tighter, but she didn't press the issue further. Jeanne didn't want to upset him or make him think her interest in him was selfish. "Jeanne…" Farlow swallowed, finally looking up to meet her gaze, his eyes studying her expression for any sign of offence or disgust for what he was about to admit to her. "I prefer…the company…of men…" Jeanne blinked, not saying anything as she dwelled on his words. She knew well why Farlow had the fear of this information being shared amongst the public, even if it was just a rumour. The act of two men fornicating, sodomites, carried the punishment of death if caught. "Jeanne…?" Farlow muttered her name, the awkward silencing causing his nerves to heighten.
"I wish you didn't have to hide it," Jeanne spoke quietly, her fingers caressing his hand. Farlow closed his eyes, tears threatening to spill at her words. "That you could marry the person you love, regardless of gender, race or religion." His eyes opened, staring at her sour face. For her to be so emotional to make such a statement of her own, he knew something had happened to her, too. Jeanne sighed, seeing his expression. "My aunt has received letters from the English court. I think she has gone behind my uncle's back to find me a suitor."
Farlow frowned. "Looks like we both will be unhappy with our love lives." He muttered sombrely. A light chuckle left the redhead's lips. She agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Thank you, Jeanne, for not holding my preferences against me. But there was more to that statement, wasn't there?" He eyed her suspiciously, yet there was a small smile on his lips, teasing her. Jeanne's eyes narrowed in response, but she didn't answer. She had regretted telling Farlow about her interactions with Chacrow.
"No…" Jeanne hissed, using her free hand to point at him accusingly.
Farlow smirked. "Yes…" He hissed back, leaning forward. Jeanne scoffed. She retracted her hand and crossed her arms over her chest, turning her head away as she felt the heat on her cheeks. Farlow went to open his mouth, another witty remark on the tip of his tongue, but the sounds of the beckoning town bell made the pair look to his front door. "Emergency meeting," Farlow stated, his brows furrowed. "Seems your uncle plans to announce his General Assembly." Farlow stood, extending a hand to Jeanne to help her rise. They wasted no time heading to the town hall, Jeanne hanging off the Secretary's arm, only stepping away from one another as Farlow ascended the stage to take his seat, where the rest of the council was already waiting. Farlow shared a look with Redwick as he passed his friend, both clearly unpleased about what was coming.
Jeanne stood off the side, leaning against a side door as she listened to her uncle, the Governor, standing in front of the councillor's table, pacing back and forth as he announced his plan for the General Assembly to the townsfolk, explaining that two men from each plantation will form a house to pass shared laws that each plantation would be expected to follow. This caused an outcry of support from the lower class, many of whom were working their farms by themselves and having to compete with Massinger, who had an army of men working in indebted servitude to him. Jeanne was happy for them that this General Assembly would give them all a chance to make their fortunes in a new world.
It had been late when Jeanne heard the faint knock at the front door, causing her to rise from her bed and leave the book she'd been ready by candlelight on her side table. Tiptoeing over to her door, Jeanne leaned against the wood, but with not too much force to make the object creak and give away her eavesdropping. She heard the voice of Samuel Castell greeting her aunt and uncle. For the recorder to be here so late, it must be on her uncle's orders. Listening closer, she heard the sound of a heavy book hitting her uncle's desk and the flicking of papers as it was opened.
"Master Massinger insists that land is worthless without labour," Castell whispered, voice low in case someone was listening from outside the home. The Governor complimented him on his findings as the man went on to explain further what he had uncovered. "Sir, a good many men who were sent here intended to work on Company land were signed over to Massinger by Redwick and Farlow."
"It's outright malversation." Yeardley chuckled. Castell had officially uncovered the corrupt behaviours of the two councilmen. "Well done, Samuel." Yeardley thanked him. "I must consider how best to move against the secretary and the Marshal for their part in the thieving of Company property."
"I presumed they would be charged?" Castell asked, eager to see the three men suffer for their actions.
"You must rest, dear Samuel. You leave this to me." Yeardley advised.
"Good night, Lady Yeardley." Castell spoke, his voice being followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing as Temperance saw him out. Jeanne's brows furrowed when she heard the rip, the Governor taking a page from the record book that had been left behind. Jeanne stepped back from her bedroom door, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes fall close as her heartbeat returned to normal.
"Jeanne." Her uncle's voice calling out for her made her freeze, and her blood run cold. "Come here." Slowly, Jeanne opened her bedroom door and stepped out in only her thin nightgown. Her uncle was standing off to the side, his head down as he read through Castell's findings once more. "It is not wise to listen to private conversations," Yeardley spoke, not looking up at her. When his wife went to scold his niece, he barked at her to hold his tongue, making Temperance shrink back. Yeardley's eyes flickered to his niece, the young woman meeting his stare.
Jeanne's mouth gaped when she saw the emotion in his eyes. Distrust. "You think I'll betray you…" She hissed, stepping forward, meeting him chest to chest. "Regardless of what relationship I have with Nicholas Farlow, I would never betray your trust." Jeanne's gaze was heated. The redhead was offended that her uncle was beginning to lose faith in her, thinking that she would so carelessly toss her only living kin aside. "It is not I who you should be worried about betraying you…" Jeanne looked to Temperance, the woman's eyes darting between the niece and uncle as she watched the warring spat by the front door. Yeardley followed his niece's gaze, landing on his wife. "Have you told him about the letter yet?" Jeanne asked her aunt, seeing the woman stiffen at the question.
"Letters?" Yeardley hissed. "What letters?"
Jeanne smiled smugly, looking back at her uncle. "The letters that came today from different nobles of the English court. Seems dear Temperance decided to ignore your words and went behind your back to arrange a husband for me." George's hands clenched, creasing the torn parchment that was still in his hands. His blood was aflame, anger rippling through his body as he stared at his wife, the woman just glancing away guiltily. He stepped forward, towering over Temperance, who continued to avoid looking at him.
"I told you not to do that." Yeardley barked. Temperance opened her mouth, commenting that Jeanne was getting older and needed a good match, but the remark only angered her husband more. "She is not your blood! She is mine! And I shall have the final say on these matters! Jeanne is not marrying because it is something you desire; it will because it's what she desires." George Yeardley felt like he was sitting in his sister's place, remembering when she'd been yelling at their father, begging the man not to marry her off to some wealthy Lord. The action that had lost him his sister. "Go. We will not discuss this again." Yeardley gestured for his wife to retire to their chambers, the woman not hesitating to scuttle off. George stood there, back to his niece, as he tried to calm his breathing. Slowly, he unfurled his fists, trying to smooth out the page. Walking over to his desk, he placed down the document and rubbed at his brows, feeling a headache forming.
Jeanne moved over to the liquor cabinet, pouring a glass of rich French red wine and bringing it to her uncle, the man drinking it back greedily. "Regardless of the friendship that has formed between Nicolas and I, he is a good man to me, and you must understand there are no romantic feelings between us." She stated firmly, taking the empty cup away when he was finished with it.
Yeardley braced himself on his desk. "My concern is that the man was using you to get to me."
Jeanne sighed, shaking her head. "He offered to marry me if you died so that I could stay here. Does that sound like a man out to use me to get to you?" Yeardley looked at her in bewilderment, having not expected those words about Secretary Farlow to leave her mouth. Jeanne crossed her arms, meeting Yeardley's gaze. "He enjoys finds it rather entertaining when I drive the Marshall mad." The pair laughed, the air of tension beginning to dissipate between them. "Good night, uncle. I love you." Jeanne leaned over, planting a soft kiss on her uncle's rough cheek. He offered her a farewell back as she retreated to her cramped quarters, shutting the door behind her and crawling back into bed. Jeanne looked at the novel, still sitting on her bedside table, but instead, she chose to blow out the candle and curl up under the sheets, letting sleep take her.
When the morning came, Jeanne was busy helping her aunt with the morning chores, cleaning and tidying up the Yeardley home that Alice had come to visit, wishing to speak with Temperance. The brunette woman had come on behalf of Jocelyn Castell, as the aspiring Mistress had spent the entire night in the tavern, drinking away her sorrows as she was convinced that she would hang due to the letter Temperance received from her cousin. Alice's curiosity about the letter had upset Temperance, believing it wasn't the younger woman's place to ask about it. Alice had shared with Temperance what Jeanne already knew. Jocelyn had killed a man. A man who had tricked her with love to get between her legs, a sight he put on display for his friends to make a mockery of Jocelyn's virtue and womanhood. Jocelyn had poisoned him in revenge and then fled not to get caught, allowing herself to marry a man who would whisk her away across the seas where her crime would never be discovered. Alice had pleaded with Temperance's heart, begging her as a woman to understand Jocelyn's actions.
Temperance glanced at her niece, observing Jeanne as she leaned against the Governor's desk, arms crossed over her chest and frown on her pale face. Temperance knew that Jeanne didn't approve of Alice supporting the blonde woman after all the stunts Jocelyn had pulled to further her ambitions. Yet Temperance knew what had to be done. Temperance faced Alice, revealing to the younger woman what the letter entailed, that young Jocelyn had had her heart broken by a rogue and left town to escape the heartbreak, nothing more. The only proof that Temperance had of Jocelyn's crimes could be considered hearsay, as the blonde would never admit aloud what she'd done at a trail. No one wanted to be their own executioner. Alice smiled, grateful that, in some way, Jocelyn was safe.
"Alice," Temperance spoke, making the younger woman's smile drop, and her fear heighten. "Jocelyn has made her intentions here in Jamestown clear. I may only have word of mouth in regards to what she has done, but I will not tolerate her stealing the Governor position for her husband." She stood, towering over Alice. "Have I made myself clear?" Alice nodded, mumbling a meek 'yes' before scurrying out of the Yeardley residence, leaving the two women alone. Jeanne didn't look at her aunt. While she took pride in the older woman's actions in protecting her husband, Jeanne knew that threats wouldn't stop Jocelyn, as none have yet so far; only the threat of being caught for murder seemed to scare the blonde.
Jeanne had spent the day preparing the house with her aunt, tidying up the residence to host guests, as per her uncle's request, and she and her aunt even prepared a grand meal and dress for the occasion. Jeanne was dressed in one of her finer gowns, elaborately embellished with glass beads and pearls, and her hair styled in a refined manner. When it was Secretary Farlow and Marshal Redwick who had walked through the front door, everything slipped into place. Her uncle planned to use the guise of a fancy dinner to expose the two men for the crimes they had committed against the Company, yet what actions Yeardley would take from there were unknown. Yeardley sat at the head of the table, Farlow to his right and Redwick to his left. Jeanne sat beside Farlow, the two speaking quietly as the dinner progressed. The Secretary complimented Jeanne and Temperance on the meal they had prepared while Redwick kept his mouth shut, just eating and drinking throughout the evening. But the mood changed quickly when Yeardley pulled out the sheet of paper he'd taken from Castell's accounting book, causing Farlow and Redwick to exchange looks, aware they'd been caught.
"Master Massinger's labourers. You provided him with men intended for Company land. Now, I do hope we're not going to haggle over evidence. I have no armed men outside." Yeardley whispered harshly, his eyes darting between the two men, but at the admittance of no guards outside to take them away in shackles, they released a breath.
"May I ask you, sir…" Farlow was the first to speak, thinking carefully about his choice of words. "What do you want from us?"
Yeardley stared Farlow down. "Massinger's bought himself some slaves. How many?" Jeanne's eyes widened at the news of slaves, yet she was also shocked her uncle hadn't conveyed such information to her. Her eyes moved to Temperance, the woman sitting beside Redwick and looking just as alarmed about the news.
"Twenty and odd." Redwick answered roughly, eyes narrowing at the Governor.
"And why was I not offered any of them?" Yeardley asked, glancing at the Marshall next.
"Uncle?!" Jeanne gasped, offended that her blood would be interested in such a barbaric action.
"Shush, girl." He was quick to scold her, his eyes meeting hers as they exchanged heated glances. They ignored Temperance as she stood, the older woman fiddling with things off to the side so as not to display her displeasure over the choice of conversation, even as part of her was proud of Jeanne for speaking up when she did not.
Underneath the table and away from the gaze of Redwick and Yeardley, Farlow placed a gentle hand on Jeanne's thigh, trying to calm the woman's bubbling aggression. "We had expected, sir, that it might not suit your taste," Farlow stated, trying to excuse himself and Redwick for having not told the man.
Yeardley glanced at his wife, looking at her as she turned around as he began to reference the bible. "Jesus never spoke against one man owning another. Abraham took slaves." Temperance forced a smile, doing her duty as his wife not to speak her opinion on such matters of the bible or slavery. "We have fields to plant and harvest. I want half of them."
Jeanne scoffed. "Jesus did say, 'Do unto others as you would have others do unto you', but I'm guessing it doesn't count if that person is in chains?" Her statement once again earned her a sharp look from her uncle, yet before he could scold her again, Jeanne stood abruptly, pushing her back harshly on the wooden floors. "Apologies, it appears this dinner topic doesn't sit well with me. Goodnight, gentlemen." Jeanne turned, seeking solace in her bedroom and slamming the door behind her hard enough to disturb her uncle and his guests. She was pacing the small room, feeling herself ready to scream and throw objects. Jeanne couldn't believe that her uncle would resort to slavery, all so he could line his pockets with a few extra coins. After practically ripping herself free of her gown and tossing the material to the floor with little care, Jeanne sat on her bed, wondering if her uncle would dare to barge in once Farlow and Redwick were gone, to yell at her about knowing her place and acting out of line. Since arriving here three months prior, her uncle had begun to change small little things as he got a taste for power. Where Yeardley had wanted her help and relied on her opinions, he now seems to scorn it all.
Jeanne had left early the next morning, taking a roll and apple from the pantry and leaving before her aunt or uncle could awaken. After the previous night's dinner party, Jeanne didn't want to deal with them and thought of leaving, choosing to go to the tavern or on Sharrow's farm to get away from them. She could also take Nicolas Farlow up on his proposal and marry him, which would be a solid escape that would give her uncle no more power over her. It was all becoming too much for the nineteen-year-old.
She stayed in the shadows, watching the men gather outside the town hall; only those who were acting representatives for the Burgess were allowed inside to start the discussions and votes. Everyone remained outside, waiting patiently on the verdict, and when the selected left, announcing the fixed prices of tobacco, it caused a roar of cheers as, for the lower class, it meant being on par with the Massinger Plantation. Yet Jeanne was aware of what was coming, the storm that would change Jamestown when Massinger marched his slaves through the settlement. A shortcut for him to no longer pay a working man's wage and dismiss those already under his thumb. Those men would have to find new jobs within the colony or be sent back to England.
Leaving Jamestown, Jeanne went to the Sharrow's farm, choosing to spend the day assisting Alice and the Sharrows, along with some other townsfolk, with the harvesting of their tobacco, with an added four to eight weeks to fully dry out before it could be shipped out to be sold. Once all the plants had been cut and hung from the drying racks, it was late in the day, and with the end of the tobacco season, those who assisted at the Sharrow farm celebrated with music and dance, festivities that were enhanced when Alice shared the joyful news with her friends. She was with child. Jeanne and Verity had been overjoyed for her, knowing that the brunette woman would make a strong mother. Yet the troubling concern was that Alice was shy of three months, meaning the babe growing in her womb could have been fathered by either Henry or Silas. Alice refused to believe that Henry could be the father, mainly from the fear of him being responsible for her baby's creation and the power it could give him over the child once born, and for that, Verity and Jeanne would not voice their concerns on such matters, for they didn't wish to hurt Alice.
The three women were pulled from their celebrations when the music and singing died around them, their gazes turning to the distance, where just over the height of the tall grass, a row of dark-skinned men in chains were pulled along, guided by Massinger upon his mount. They were followed by Redwick and Farlow, who didn't dare cast a look towards the gathered townsfolk, yet it had been James Read pushing an empty cart to be the only one to pause, the look of shame on his face from having been caught partaking in the barbaric slave trade. The blacksmith had made the chains that now hung around the necks and wrists under the orders of Marshall Redwick, yet the man didn't agree with it. James found it horrendous to put a man in chains, but after almost facing the gallows for offending the Governor, he wasn't willing to risk his life again over disagreements.
Jeanne clutched tightly at her friend's hands, the three women standing close as they watched the slaves vanish into the distance, James reluctantly following behind, seeking to return to Jamestown and put everything behind him.
"It's horrible…" Verity muttered, her eyes wide at the sight. "Greedy bastards…" Alice murmured in agreement, equally in shock.
"Things won't be the same now." Jeanne sighed. Alice slipped from her hands and fled to Silas' arms, holding him close in comfort. Verity did the same to her man, Rutter, leaving Jeanne to stand alone. She watched her friends, eyes darting between the two women as they held tightly onto the men they loved. Releasing another sigh, Jeanne turned, beginning the long trek back to Jamestown by herself. Her mind was dwelling on everything. The relationship with her aunt and uncle, the slaves, and most importantly, how alone she felt. A loneliness she hadn't felt since her mother's passing when she felt like everyone she loved had been taken from her. "Oh, girl…what are you doing to yourself…" Jeanne mumbled, stopping on the dirt road. She ran her hands over her face and through her hair, trying to keep her emotions in check. But she felt like she was breaking, the urge to hitch up her skirts and bolt into the wilds, to vanish and never be seen again overwhelming her.