Page 38 of The Unforgiven
“Thank you, Dina. The tour has been very informative,” Quinn said.
“Oh, it was my absolute pleasure. So few people are truly interested. They just rush through the rooms and head straight to the restaurant, which is what we are known for. I’m glad you enjoyed it, and hopefully, you have a clearer picture of your family history.”
Quinn would have liked more time to linger in the main house, but they had to follow Dina’s pace and had spent no more than a few minutes in each room. The house looked much as it had in Quinn’s visions, but she felt nothing of Madeline in its echoing silence. It was beautifully restored and decorated almost exactly asit had been during its heyday, but it felt devoid of personality. The rooms had been vacant for far too long, lacking the human habitation that gave a house its character.
Quinn and Brett took their leave and walked toward the slave quarters.
“I’ll have to look up the Battle of Gettysburg,” Quinn said apologetically. “American history is not my strong suit, I’m afraid.”
“I can tell you about it, if you’d like,” Brett replied. He looked a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm, but Quinn could see he was eager to talk about it.
“Did you learn about it at school?”
“Yes, of course, but I also researched it on my own. I told you, I like reading about famous battles. Anyway, it was the bloodiest battle of the Civil War, with as many as fifty-one thousand casualties from both sides. It was the turning point, really. Huge victory for the North and crushing defeat for the Confederates. I didn’t know that George Besson died there.”
“Did your father never mention it?”
Brett shrugged. “Believe it or not, we’ve never really spoken about family history. It took your unexpected appearance to rake all this stuff up. I don’t mind though,” he added. “It’s actually pretty cool. I felt a connection when we walked through the house. That lady was knowledgeable, but honestly, I would have preferred to just wander around on our own for a while. You know, feel the place.”
“You should have said so. We could have taken the tour later, after we’d had a chance to explore.”
“We can still go back. The tickets are good for the whole day. Personally, I’d like to explore the restaurant after we check out the slave quarters. That étouffée sounds good. What do you say?” Brett asked.
“Isay, I like the way you think,” Quinn replied. “I’ve never tried étouffée, but it sounds lovely.”
As they continued toward the slave quarters, Brett talked of the war and the Reconstruction in great detail. Quinn was interested, since she knew very little of that chapter of American history and was embarrassed by her ignorance, especially about the Reconstruction.
“It was the period after the war when the Union Army came to the South to regulate the transition,” Brett explained. “It was difficult for everyone. The plantation owners were struggling to hold on to their land and way of life, but it was difficult for the freed slaves as well. People often assume that freeing the slaves was much like liberating prisoners from German concentration camps, but it wasn’t really like that at all. Most of the slaves knew nothing but life in captivity. They were worked hard and were often treated badly, but they didn’t have to worry about earning a living. They were fed, clothed, and had a roof over their heads regardless of whether it was a good or a bad year, and they were not turned out once they got old. All that changed overnight.”
Quinn found him knowledgeable and animated, something she hadn’t expected from a teenage boy who made it a point to look bored and poke fun at those around him. She also noticed the hint of resentment when Brett mentioned the North, and the Northern do-gooders, referred to ascarpetbaggers, who came to the South after the war as teachers, doctors, administrators, and clergy.
“They were nothing more than vultures picking over the bones of the Confederacy,” Brett stated with great aplomb.
“You seem to know a lot about the period,” Quinn said.
“The Civil War period is not a favorite of mine, but I’ve read a lot about it and seen tons of movies. It’s always interesting to see what your ancestors went through.”
“So, what’s your favorite time period then?” Quinn asked, genuinely curious. “I know you mentioned an interest in the Roman Empire and the lost legion.”
“Yeah, I’ll read and see anything about that period. Ever seenGladiator? Awesome movie. I love stuff about the Vikings and Saxons. I’ve read all of Bernard Cornwell’s books. Did you ever read those?”
“I have,” Quinn replied, thrilled to have found something else they had in common. “I think they might be making the books into a television series.”
“No shit? I hope we get that here. I love Uhtred.” Brett made a sword-swinging motion and lunged forward. “My favorite character from the novels.”
“I’m a fan of Uhtred myself,” Quinn replied. “I read theWarrior Chronicleswhen I was a teenager.”
“Neat. Have you ever excavated any Saxon burial mounds? I’d love to see the grave goods they buried with their dead.”
“Sure. I have some photos of the artefacts we found, if you’d like to see them.”
“Sweet. Show me over lunch.”
The tour of the slave quarters didn’t take long. There were several empty cabins clustered around an open space. Brett proclaimed that it wasn’t much to look at and turned toward the Kitchen House Restaurant they’d passed on the way. Quinn peeked into every cabin but found little of value—no furniture, tools, or anything of historical interest. Just bare boards. All traces of the people who’d inhabited the cabins had been obliterated. Quinn wondered what had happened to Mammy’s descendants, but of course, there was no one to ask and she didn’t know their surname, if they’d even had one at the time.
“Do you watchGame of Thrones?” Brett asked as he tucked into his étouffée.
“No.”
