"I'm not sure about him," Orry told Madeline that night. In a week, he formed more positive opinions. Despite Meek's age, he was physically strong and brooked no nonsense from those who worked for him. Andy didn't appear to like Meek but got along with him. So Orry packed his trunks and the Solingen sword, ready at last.
The day before his train left, he and Madeline went walking. It was a dying November afternoon around four o'clock. The sun was slightly above the treetops, ringed by spikes of light. In the west the sky was a smoky white, shading away to deep blue in the east. Somewhere in the far squares of the rice acreage, a slave with a fine baritone sang in Gullah: spontaneous music of a kind seldom heard at Mont Royal any more.
"You're anxious to go, aren't you?" Madeline said as they retraced their route from the great house.
Orry squinted against the cruciform light around the sun. "I'm not anxious to leave you, though I feel better about it now that Meek's here."
"That doesn't answer my question, sir." "Yes, I am anxious. You'll never guess the reason. It's my old friend Tom Jackson. In six months, he's become a national hero." "You surprise me. I never thought you had that kind of ambition."
"Oh, no. Not since Mexico, anyway. The point about Jackson is, we were classmates. He rushed to do his duty, while I've taken half a year to answer the call. Not without good reason — but I still feel guilty."
She wrapped both arms around his and hugged it between her breasts. "Don't. Your waiting's over. And in a few weeks, when Meek has settled in, I'll be on my way to Richmond for the duration."
"Good." Peace and a sense of events moving properly for a change settled on him as they drew near the house, long shadows stretching out behind them. Orry fingered his chin. "I saw a lithograph of Tom last week. He has a fine bushy beard. All the officers seem to have them. Would you like it if I grew one?"
"I can't answer until I know how badly it scratches when we —"
She stopped. The houseman, Aristotle, was waving from a side entrance in a way that conveyed urgency. They hurried toward him. Orry was the first to see the rickety wagon and despondent mule standing at the head of the lane.
"Got two visitors, Mr. Orry. Uppity pair of niggers. Won't state their business to nobody but you and Miss Madeline. I packed 'em off to the kitchen to wait."
Orry asked, "Are they men from another plantation?"
The irritated slave grumbled, "It's two females."
Puzzled, Orry and Madeline turned toward the kitchen building, the center of a cloud of savory barbecue smells. Nearing it, they recognized the elderly Negress seated in an old rocker near the door. Her right leg, crudely splinted and bound with sticks and rags, rested on an empty nail box.
"Aunt Belle," Madeline exclaimed, while Orry speculated about the identity of the octoroon's companion, just coming outside. She wore field buck's shoes; the right side of one upper had been pulled away from the sole. Her dress had been washed so often, all color had been lost. She was an astonishingly attractive young girl, nubile and dark as mahogany.
Madeline hugged the frail old woman, exclaiming all in a rush, "How are you? What happened to your leg? Is it broken?" Aunt Belle Nin had practiced midwifery in the district for a generation, living alone and free back in the marshes. She and Madeline had met at Resolute, where Aunt Belle came occasionally to assist with a difficult birth. It was to Aunt Belle that Madeline had taken Ashton when Orry's sister got herself in a fix and begged Madeline's help.
"That's a lot of questions," Aunt Belle said, grimacing uncomfortably. "Yes, it's broke in two or three places. When you're my age that's no blessing. I fell trying to climb into our wagon last night." Bright eyes deep-set in flesh of mottled yellow studied Orry as if he were a museum exhibit. "See you got yourself a different husband."
"Yes. Aunt Belle, this is Orry Main."
"I know who he is. He's a sight better than the one you had before. This pretty thing is my niece, Jane. She used to belong to the Widow Milsom, up on the Combahee, but the old lady perished of pneumonia last winter. Her will gave Jane her freedom. She's been living with me since."
"Pleased to meet you," Jane said, with no curtsy or other demonstration of deference. Orry wondered if he could believe Aunt Belle. The girl might be a fugitive, gambling that no one would check her story in these disordered times.
In the ensuing silence, someone dropped a pot in the kitchen. One girl spoke sharply to another. A third intervened; soft laughter signaled restored harmony. Jane realized the white people were awaiting an explanation.
"Aunt Belle's health has not been good lately. But she wouldn't give up the marsh house till I convinced her there was a better place."
"You don't mean here?" Orry asked, still not certain what they wanted.
"No, Mr. Main. Virginia. Then the North."
"That's a long, dangerous journey, especially for women in war-time." He nearly said black women.
"What's waiting is worth the risk. We were just ready to start when Aunt Belle broke her leg. She needs doctoring and a safe place to rest and heal."
To the midwife, Orry said, "Your house isn't safe any longer?"
Jane answered; her presumption rather annoyed him. "A week ago Friday, two strangers tried to break in. Colored men. There are a lot of them wandering the back roads. I drove them off with Aunt Belle's old hunting musket, but it was scary. Yesterday, when she had the accident, I decided we should find another place."
Aunt Belle said to Madeline, "I told Jane you were a good Christian person. I told her I thought you'd take us in for a while. We have all our goods in the wagon, but they don't amount to much. Neither of my husbands left me with anything but good and bad memories."
Orry and his wife questioned one another with their eyes; each knew the problems the appeal presented. Since Orry was leaving, Madeline decided she must be the one to resolve them. "We'll surely help you all we can. Darling, would you find Andy, so he can take them to the cabins?" Orry seemed to understand that she had another purpose in asking; he nodded and walked off, leaving her free to speak.
"Aunt Belle, my husband is going to Richmond in the morning.
He's going into the army. I'll be in charge here until I join him. I'm only too glad to give you refuge, with one reservation. Right or wrong, the people at Mont Royal aren't free to go north, as you plan to do. They might resent you or cause trouble for me."
"Ma'am?" Jane said, to get her attention. Madeline turned. "There is no right in slavery, only wrong."
Madeline's reply had sharpness. "Even if I agree with you, the practical solution is another matter."
Jane reflected on that with a visible defiance Madeline admired yet couldn't tolerate. At last Jane uttered a small sigh. "I don't think we can stay, Aunt Belle."
"Think once more. This lady is decent. You be the same. Don't butt in like a billy goat. Bend."
Jane hesitated. Aunt Belle glared. The younger girl said, "Would an arrangement like this be agreeable, Mrs. Main? I'll work for you to earn our keep. I won't tell any of your people where we're going or do anything to stir them up. As soon as Aunt Belle can travel, we'll pack and go."
"That's fair," Madeline said.
"Jane keeps her word," Aunt Belle said.
"Yes, she impresses me that way." Eyes on the girl, Madeline nodded as she spoke. Neither woman smiled, but in that moment, liking began. "Our new overseer may not care for the arrangement, but I believe he'll accept —"
Voices in the dusk interrupted her. Orry and the head driver stepped into the orange halo of the lantern beside the kitchen door. "I've explained matters to Andy," Orry said. "There's an empty cabin available. That is —" The pause asked a question.