Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy
Roxane Tepfer Sanford
smashwords edition
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Sacred Intentions
is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead
is entirely coincidental.
~ ~ ~
The Arrington Series
The Girl in the Lighthouse
All That is Beautiful
Sacred Intentions
~ ~ ~
To my children, as always. You’re the best
kids a mother could ever dream of!
Deborah Dawson, my editor. It’s been a
pleasure working with you.
Caroline Billard, president of my fan club.
You’re awesome!
I’ve been fortunate to have some great people
who helped me along the way, including reading over my manuscripts
and/or the novels, and sharing quality feedback. Thank you to,
Ashley Mitchell, Steve Buffalin, Zach Walters, Sheri Wilkinson,
Carolyn Rolfe, Caroline Pip Sharp, Natasha Snell & fellow
author, Brenda Lochinger.
And a special thank you to all my readers and
fans!
~ ~ ~
ourselves, and the truth is not in us.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
One
~
My daddy would often tell me, from the time I
was no higher than his knee and hardly taller than a wildflower
that I was the most beautiful little girl he had ever laid eyes on
and that I was going to grow up to be even more breathtaking than
my own mummy.
Mummy, whose name was Charlotte, died hours
after my birth, though she struggled to live for the sake of me,
her beloved new baby, and Daddy, the man she was born to love. God,
however, had other plans for Mummy; her destiny was fulfilled, and
he called her to stand by him up in heaven.
Not long after Mummy’s passing, Daddy moved
us from London, England, to the only home I would ever know as a
child: Savannah, Georgia, in America. There Daddy acquired a great
deal of land, more than two thousand acres, and had a grand mansion
built by his many slaves. He named it Sutton Hall. Sutton was his
ancestral name, a surname that was derived from his mother’s side.
My paternal grandmother’s name was Sarah Sutton Arrington, and like
my mummy, she died in childbirth.
So, as it happened, when Daddy’s own wife, my
mummy, passed through the gates of heaven, he vowed never to reside
in England again. But he kept his beloved Charlotte close in his
heart always.
Through the years that Sutton Hall was being
built, Daddy and I lived in one wing of the mansion at a time until
its completion, four years later, in 1849. It was the most majestic
mansion among the large plantations of Savannah. There were others
that lined the river, but none came close or could even begin to
compare to Sutton Hall, which stood nearly three stories high, made
of white stuccoed brick, with eight colossal columns that sustained
the massive doublewide front galleries. The attic extended the
entire length of the mansion and boasted six dormered windows.
Surrounding the enormous mansion and its lush gardens were about
two dozen modest buildings that served as slave quarters, along
with stables, a spinning-house, and an icehouse. Not too far away
were the smokehouse, a blacksmith’s shop, and a dairy. Daddy had
grand fields of cotton by the river, and closer to the mansion were
large dirt fields in which to grow corn and various other
vegetables.
While Daddy spent long days overseeing the
huge plantation, I was left early on in the care of my mammy. Her
real name was Abigail. I was told that she was purchased when I
turned one year old. Mammy had been married once, but her husband
had been sold long before to another plantation somewhere in
Mississippi. She had a little girl near to my own age, who was like
a sister to me.
Hattie was as pretty as Mammy. Her hair was a
rich black, and her skin was a smooth, warm, honey brown. I knew
Hattie would grow up to look just like her mother, and I envied
both her beauty and the love she and her mother felt for one
another. A part of me always remained lost and empty without a
mother of my own, though having Mammy was the very next best
thing.
Mammy treated me just as well as she did her
own daughter and loved me unconditionally. She always had room on
her lap for me and often said to us, “God gave me two knees. One
for each girl.” And on her lap we sat and nuzzled up close against
her bosom while she sang lullabies to us, every night before
bed.
Hattie and I often shared my room, though she
did have one of her own, for the mansion was certainly large
enough. We were inseparable, and Daddy allowed Mammy and Hattie to
live under our roof and not with the slaves in the rough shanty
dwellings in the rear of the plantation.
If Daddy ever felt lonesome, I was never
aware of it. As much as I knew he had loved Mummy, his eyes weren’t
filled with sadness, but were always bright and contented, and his
gaze would most often fall upon Mammy. At the time, when I was
very, very young, I thought he was fond of Mammy only because she
took care of me and lovingly tended to my every need. As the years
passed, however, I soon began to realize that Mammy was no ordinary
servant, but a woman for whom Daddy held a love that I suspected
was almost as deep as the love he had once felt for my real
mummy.
Mammy was enamored with Daddy; in fact, most
women who crossed his path were. Daddy stood tall and proud, had a
firm jaw, and towered over most men. His thick golden hair had
turned gray by the time I was four; so I was told, but he carried
himself the way any young, distinguished man would. His deep voice
was low and melodious and laced with a marked English accent.
Daddy’s eyes were sky blue, and every time I looked up at the clear
sunny sky, I instantly thought of him.
He could have had any woman in the state of
Georgia, I was sure of that, and one day, I asked him why he didn’t
want to have a wife, the way all the other men had.
“Perhaps someday, Amelia, I will take on a
wife. But for now, I am more than content with my beautiful
daughter,” he said, and then he placed a gentle kiss on the top of
my head. His eyes gazed past me to where Mammy stood, waiting to
take me up to bed. Mammy smiled, and then bashfully lowered her
eyes to the ground.
“Now go on with your mammy. Have a good
sleep.”
After placing a quick kiss on Daddy’s cheek,
I hurried over to Mammy. Hattie was in bed already, sick with a
fever. Helen, Mammy’s sister, had been tending to Hattie while
Mammy took care of all of my needs. Daddy seemed aware of Mammy’s
worries, and as I headed up the grand staircase to my room, he
pulled her aside and told me to go on.
“I’ll be right there,” Mammy said. I went on,
then I stopped and went quietly back. I peeked around the corner
and watched as Daddy embraced Mammy and caressed her back. They
whispered things to one another that I couldn’t hear. I believed
that was the way Daddy must have loved my mummy.
Shortly, Mammy came to help me change for
bed. Hattie was in another room and I was to sleep alone.
“I need to see Hattie. Give Mammy a kiss,”
she insisted, after I was in my bed clothes. She opened her arms
for a hug.
“Will she be better tomorrow and come to
school with me?” I asked, as Mammy closed the heavy velvet drapes
for the night.
“Not sure, Miss Amelia. But hope so.” Mammy
turned to leave, and as she did, I reached for her hand.
“Someday, I hope Daddy marries you.” More
than anything, I wanted a real mother.
Mammy came close, sighed heavily, and looked
at me with eyes filled with heartrending pain. She placed her soft
hand onto mine and wistfully said, “My sweet girl, that just can’t
never be.”
“Is it because you have a husband
somewhere?”
“You ain’t old enough to understand just yet,
Miss Amelia.”
She was correct in one aspect, although I
understood more than she, or Daddy, could ever imagine.
Life at Sutton Hall was similar to that at
other plantations around Savannah. It was a hard working farm, with
daily chores that lasted from sunup until sundown. Slaves filled
the fields and worked the grounds. Though Daddy was a fairly new
plantation owner, unlike the others in the area, who were mostly
second generation owners, he was well received and quickly admired.
It was the way he handled business and the manner in which he kept
his servants loyal that left most of them envious. When Daddy did
manage to have some free time, he would always take me into
Savannah to shop for dresses and expensive dolls for my growing
collection. If he had any extra business in the city to attend to,
he would bring Mammy along to watch over me. On those occasions,
Mammy would dress in her Sunday best, instead of the simple work
dresses she wore around Sutton Hall.
Those days were always special. And when
Mammy joined us, we were like a real family. Though Hattie usually
couldn’t come because she was too sickly, I was the happiest
ever.
“Amelia, you are a gift from heaven; you were
created in the likeness of angels,” Daddy had told me. “No one,
never, could I love more than you.”
