Page 5 of The Roses I Left Behind (The Bellevue Trilogy)

I was very happy to see your letter and wanted to respond as quickly as possible, but work and other plantation duties delayed me. It seems I have little time even to sleep these days! There is hardly a break, even during Christmas. Please forgive me, dear cousin, I am still adjusting to the Southern way of life despite having grown up here. In your letter, you spoke of understanding, and I beg for moreoas I continue to navigate these tense waters and find meaning to everything around me, including your presence in my life. It is most comforting to be able to correspond with you, and it makes me wish you were here so that I could say to you in person what is in my heart. You spoke of many things in your last letter, including the past and all the circumstances which led to this moment. I will not dwell in the years that came before, but concentrate on what is before me today. I think of you often and am blessed for our friendship. Is there room in our hearts for more? To wit, there is nothing hindering us from exploring the future and moving towards a sweeter place. To many, we are a perfect match. Yet, I must say, I’m no longer that boy who left Bellevue, but rather, a man, one who has experienced his share of rough seas, and yes, even heartache. I am also a ‘Yankee’ despite having been born and raised here which makes me, in many respects, an outsider. My Northern sensibilities truly have no place here, and I struggle with this reality every day as I work to maintain and manage Bellevue. I say all of this because I must. I would be irresponsible otherwise. Are we truly right for each other? Only time will tell.

Your faithful servant,

Thomas

Chapter Ten

It was the spring of 1848 when Elizabeth fell deeply in love with Nathan Clairborne, a teacher at a private school in New Orleans. His auntisHiran a finishing school and tutored the daughters of many well-known families, including Elizabeth. He had been visiting his widowed aunt when he met her. Although college-educated, twenty-five-year-old Nathan was far from rich. His parents died when he was very young, leaving him a small inheritance, but nearly enough to support a woman like Elizabeth.

Despite his status, the strong-willed Nathan had no doubt as to whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But my Aunt Rachel, Elizabeth’s mother, was dead set against any formal union and made no secret about it. She ordered Elizabeth to distance herself from Nathan with as much grace and discretion as she could, but Elizabeth was defiant and stated she would marry Nathan with or without the family’s blessing. Rachel, not to be outdone, secretly summoned Nathan to the estate to dissuade him, even offering him money if he went away. Nathan refused the invitation and continued to secretly write letters to Elizabeth as often as he could. During that time, their bond strengthened and weeks later, Elizabeth and Nathan eloped. Aunt Rachel was livid but had no choice but to succumb to Elizabeth’s wishes.

For months, nothing but bliss followed. Nathan was making a name for himself as a progressive educator and was often called upon for advice by various schools. One school in Terrebonne Parish had requested his services and Nathan set off, eager to help where he could despite the remote location. While traveling through the countryside, Nathan was thrown from his horse and killed instantly. It was an unexpected accident, one that defied explanation as Nathan was an expert horseman. When Elizabeth heard the news she was overcome with grief. She barely ate or spoke to anyone, including her mother. She mourned and by all accounts, was still in mourning when I met her. It has been five years since his passing and my return to Louisiana, according to Rachel, could not have come at a better time. I was the answer to all her prayers and the perfect remedy to what she perceived to be her daughter’s ill-directed grief.

During my courtship with Elizabeth, there were no signs of Nathan’s ghost. We continued on and wrote letters to each other daily when we were unable to see one another. We spoke of marriage, children and dreamed of a contented life together. For many months, the light shined in our eyes. Elizabeth was kind, loving and attentive, and often expressed how blessed she was to have found a man who was ready to give his heart to her. I, in turn, responded to her excitement and welcomed her every word. On the surface, we were the perfect match.

Chapter Eleven

It was February following the sugar season, and Elizabeth and I were sitting in the sitting room at the Cunningham estate talking about our dreams for a possible spring or summer union. Although there was no official engagement, she and I both knew we wanted to get married. It was only a matter of time before formal announcements would be made. Yet, somewhere in our discussion, an unmistakable shift occurred.

“Were you ever in love her?”

The question was direct and unflinching, and for a minute, I was taken completely aback. Elizabeth’s eyes begged for an answer as we sat in her private sitting room. The worried look on her face was unsettling.

“With whom?”

“The nigra.”

I closed my eyes upon hearing her describe Jeyne in that way but I suppressed my emotions. “That was a different time,” I said as evenly as I could.

Elizabeth remained silent for some time. Without looking up she said, “So, you were in love with her.”

“Does it really matter? I’m in love with you.”

“Is she still alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if she was?”

“I don’t like to speak hypothetically.”

“I need to know these things if we are to be married,” she insisted. “If you knew she was alive what would you do?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

She grabbed hold of her slim waist as if she were ill. “You’re making me quite nervous, Thomas.”

“Why? Jeyne...Nathan, they’re ghosts. Today is what we have.”

“But how is that even possible?” she asked in disbelief, tears forming in her eyes. “You loving her as if she were equal to you—”

“This isn’t what we should be discussing now,” I said. “We were talking about the future. Our future.”

“But you were in love with anigra,” she said through blazing eyes.

“Elizabeth, I can’t tell you how to feel about my past. But I will say this. You can either accept me as I am - the man who stands before you today - or you can let me go. Those are the options you have.”

Elizabeth shook her head in refusal and ran out of the room in tears, unable to form words.

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