Page 23 of The Roses I Left Behind (The Bellevue Trilogy)

“I want their names,” Elizabeth said, her voice hard as stone. “Now.”

“Can’t do that.”

“You can if you want to avoid the whip.”

Lizzie looked Elizabeth straight on in the face, a defiant act for any slave.

“Like I said, Missus White, every man is owed his dignity.”

Elizabeth grabbed Lizzie fiercely by the arm, digging her nails deep into the skin. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? You might be, but you’re not smarter than me. And I’ll show you by having O’Reilly beat you for your insolence.”

Lizzie looked Elizabeth dead in the eye, even as her arm throbbed under Elizabeth’s strong grip. “And after he beats me, I’ll let Master Thomas know how folks be sneaking around in his study when he ain’t around.”

Elizabeth turned bright red. “You tell that and I’ll make sure you’re whipped.”

“You don’t want to do that, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth slapped Lizzie as hard as she could across the face. “You’d do best to remember your place. I run this house.”

Lizzie stumbled back and almost lost her balance. In visible pain, Lizzie held her face for what seemed like a long time. When she finally looked up, Lizzie’s eyes were dark with intense anger. The moment only lasted for seconds but it was long enough for Elizabeth to know she had made a grave and costly mistake.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“How dare you do that to her!”

It was the next day after my return from New Orleans and Elizabeth stood in the middle of the bedroom looking like a madwoman with her robe hanging limply around her body, her hair loose and unkempt. Despite the visible bruise that was on Lizzie’s face, she was a strong woman who could take care of herself. But knowing Elizabeth had hit her set off strong emotions within me.

“She was stealing food for the field nigras!”

“I don’t care what she was doing,” I snapped. “That’s not an excuse for what you did.”

“So, you condone her behavior?” she asked me in disbelief.

“Lizzie is not a thief. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“But you didn’t hear how she talked to me. She’s still a slave, Thomas. Or has the abolitionist in you forgotten that?”

“So, your solution is to hit her when you don’t get your way? Is that what theSouthernerin you does?”

“I do whatever I have to do to keep order in this house.” Elizabeth’s tone indignant and unapologetic.

“Do what you must. But you will not hit any of the slaves ever again, do you hear me? Especially Lizzie.”

Elizabeth looked at me in disbelief. “Are you taking a nigga’s side over mine?”

“This isn’t about sides,” I said to her trying to hold my anger in as best I could. “It’s about leniency. And Lizzie holds a special place here whether you like it or not.”

Elizabeth’s laughed was sardonic. “Of course, how could I forget? She’s your nigra wenches’ mother.”

My heart began to race. “Lizzie helps run this house,” I said, holding my voice steady. “And you will treat her with respect.”

I made my way to the bedroom door. I had no interest in sharing a bed with Elizabeth tonight. Before I knew it, she was upon me, crying.

“Where are you going?”

“To the guestroom. I’m done talking about this.”

She grabbed my arm in desperation, her eyes begging me to stay. “There’s nothing more cruel than to marry a woman you don’t love,” she said, her voice quivering.

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