Plantation Nation (9781621352877) Read Online Free Page B

revenge, Emma knew.
    "Either way," she said, giving up on her bed,
"I'll be glad to see him go."
    Emma had never mentioned her encounters with
George to Sylvia or anyone else. She had considered telling her
grandfather when he had found them in the barn, but resisted. She
believed she could handle the likes of George on her own. But after
last night, doubts crept in.
    "Do you think I should wear this tonight?"
Sylvia twirled in front of a mirror and tried to catch her
reflection from different angles, even though the dress was too
long and too big to fit her slender frame properly.
    Emma glanced at her sister in the gown. "It
suits you more than me."
    Despite the compliment and Emma's warm smile,
Sylvia sat on the cushioned bench seat and slumped her
shoulders.
    "Momma says I can't go to the party tonight.
It's only for the adults."
    "Trust me, Sylvie, I'd trade places with you
if I could." Emma splashed her face with water from the basin.
    "It's not fair. I can get married in a few
years, but I can't go to some party."
    Stunned, Emma let the water trickle down her
face and onto her nightgown.
    "Who said anything about you getting
married?"
    Sylvia shrugged a shoulder. "I'll be old
enough, and I want to be like you and Stella."
    Oldest of the Cartwright girls, Stella had
made her mother proud last summer when she wed Dawson Larrimore,
owner of the largest cotton plantation in the neighboring county,
and their second cousin. An antique wedding dress that had been
worn by generations of Cartwrights, relatives from far and wide,
and week-long festivities had all set the pace Emma knew she was
required to repeat — or out-do.
The thought hurt her head.
    "I'm not like Stella." Sorrow tinged Emma's
voice. From time to time, tormenting thoughts bombarded Emma,
thoughts that reminded her how different she was from both Stella
and her younger sister Annabelle, and how far she drifted from her
mother's expectations of what a lady should be. "I don't want to
own slaves and play lady of the estate." I don't want to be like
mother , she thought — and
wondered if there was truth to her mother's concern about poisoning
Sylvia against her.
    There were moments when Emma had difficulty
separating marriage from slavery. If being married meant she had to
live a set, structured life of someone else's rules and standards,
Emma decided it would be best for her to avoid any union. But such
a notion clashed with the legacy left by nearly every female in her
family tree. She had no alternatives, no other plans she wanted to
pursue, but the possibility — or
probability — that she had little
say or control over her predicament disturbed her.
    Emma checked her face in the mirror and went
pale. Her long, dark hair lacked its sheen, and her nourished build
looked scrawny and defeated. Her busted lip and bruised chin were
still healing, but Emma was convinced no amount of ruffles or rouge
would save her appearance that night.
    "At least Stuart will be there tonight,"
Sylvia said.
    Yes, Emma thought. Knowing her favorite
cousin would be there for support, and mischief, gave Emma a sense
of relief. Of course, she would have to tell Stuart about Basil and
all that had happened, if word hadn't reached him yet. Stuart had
warned her months ago about her endeavor to teach Basil to read,
but she knew Stuart would understand her grief.
    "Emma," Sylvia hesitated, "why don't you like
Vaughn?"
    Before she answered, Emma gave it careful
thought. She refused to burden her twelve-year-old sister with the
truth. Wealthy and handsome, Vaughn was also shallow and
self-serving. He only showed interest in Emma because she wanted
nothing to do with him. Marrying Vaughn would take Emma off
Olivia's hands, liberating her from a disagreeable daughter. But
how did one skip the dramatics and veil her distaste for Vaughn
Jackson?
    "His nose it too big," Emma remarked, causing
her and Sylvia to laugh. "And I don't care for the way he eats his
food. It's almost like watching a