The Pattern of Her Heart (6 page)

J
ASMINE
HEARD
the sounds of an approaching horse and buggy from her upstairs room and quickly walked to the window overlooking the small circular driveway that fronted their home. Jarrod Forbes stepped down from the carriage, and she watched as he slowly surveyed his surroundings. Mr. Forbes had aged since she’d last seen him and now wore spectacles and carried a silver-tipped walking cane. His hair appeared more gray than black, and there was a surprising stoop to his shoulders. The lawyer had always held his head high and his shoulders squared. At least that’s what her father had said about him. Jasmine had long thought Jarrod Forbes aloof and proud, though she didn’t get that impression at the current time.

She heard the front door open and then Nolan’s and McKinley’s voices as they greeted their guest. Mr. Forbes had sent word of his arrival at the Merrimack House yesterday and asked to meet with them this morning. She knew McKinley would prefer the early morning meeting—he disliked being pulled away from his work at the Corporation during business hours.

Bracing herself for what she was convinced would be bad news, Jasmine took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and slowly exhaled before descending the staircase. “Mr. Forbes,” she greeted as she joined the gentlemen in Nolan’s library. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”

She feared the lawyer’s inability to meet her eyes didn’t bode well for the discussion that would later ensue.

“My voyage was uneventful, thank you.”

“Has my husband offered you refreshments?” she inquired.

Nolan nodded. “Yes. Martha will bring a tray shortly.”

“Then I suppose we should all be seated,” she said, suddenly feeling ill at ease standing in front of Nolan’s oversized mahogany desk.

Mr. Forbes tugged on the hem of his vest and sat down opposite McKinley, his focus upon the wool carpet. He cleared his throat several times and repositioned his cane in varying stances until Jasmine finally jumped to her feet and removed it from his hand.

“I’ll place this in the umbrella stand so you won’t have to worry with it,” she said without giving him opportunity to protest. “Now, why don’t you tell us what brings you to Massachusetts.”

Apparently her tone bore enough impatience to prod the man into action, since he immediately reached into his small leather case and withdrew a sheaf of papers.

“Perhaps I should sit near the desk so that I may arrange these documents,” he said, finally looking at Jasmine.

“Of course. Let me assist you,” she offered graciously.

Once the official-looking paper work was spread out on Nolan’s desk, Forbes pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his perspiring forehead. “Your father entrusted me with the task of personally coming to meet with you. Unfortunately, I must begin by advising you that your father and my beloved friend went to be with the Lord on the sixteenth of June.”

A loud roar filled Jasmine’s ears, and she heard a scream. Was it her voice or had someone else shrieked? The room swirled. Nolan’s face was above her, fading in and out, his voice calling her name. She willed her lips to move, yet they failed her.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she could feel the dampness of a cool compress upon her forehead. She forced herself to focus upon Nolan’s face.

“My dear! You gave me a fright,” Nolan said as he continued to dab her forehead with the moist cloth.

“I do apologize, Mrs. Houston,” Mr. Forbes said. “Forgive me for my lack of sensitivity. I should have better prepared you for the news.”

The lawyer’s words brought his earlier announcement rushing back to mind. Her father, dead for more than two months—and she hadn’t even known. All that time she had overlooked his lack of communication by thinking him busy with the plantation.

Nolan assisted her as she struggled to sit up on the floor and then move slowly to a chair.

“What happened to my father?” she asked.

The lawyer looked at Nolan, obviously seeking affirmation that he should speak. “You must tell her,” Nolan said.

“Yellow fever.”

Jasmine gripped the chair arm. “Did he suffer terribly?”

“No more than the others,” Forbes hedged.

“
Others?
Then there’s been an epidemic?”

Nolan furrowed his brow and took her hand in his own. “There’s no need to hear all the details at once, my dear. You’re already in a weakened state of mind.”

“I’m not in a weakened state of mind, Nolan. I’m sad and frightened, and I need to know what has happened at The Willows.”

“My wife has returned to her full capacity, Mr. Forbes. You may speak freely.”

“Are you certain?” he inquired in a quivering voice.

“Yes!” Jasmine sat up straight to emphasize her forceful reply.

“The illness struck with a vengeance. It wasn’t widespread, but where it did hit, the misery was tragic. Unfortunately, the area around your home was struck particularly hard.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened with sudden realization. “Our brother David and his wife?”

The old lawyer slowly moved his head back and forth. “Gone. Your brother Samuel as well.”

“No!” she screamed. “Not our entire family.”

Distress lined Mr. Forbes’s face as he retrieved his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began to once again daub his forehead. “I fear the news only gets more dreadful.”

“I shall do my utmost to remain calm,” Jasmine said.

“Your uncles and cousins . . . there are few remaining and—”

She motioned for him to halt while she grappled for the fan she’d placed on a nearby table. Snapping open the hand-painted object, she began to wave it back and forth with a fervor that stirred the air for all of them. “Continue,” she said, as though her behavior were quite normal.

“None of them survived, except for your distant cousin Levi Wainwright,” he said in a nearly inaudible voice. “Oh yes, and Lydia, Franklin’s daughter.”

“That few? How could that be?” This time it was McKinley who interrupted.

“The plague hit hard in the area. How a small number can endure while others perish is a mystery to all of us— always is. I believe a few others survived—relatives by marriage. Lydia’s husband, Rupert, and one or two others. Rupert advised me Lydia is traveling abroad and not yet expected home. Of course, your distant cousin Levi always was a strange individual—never did live on the plantation with his family. Had aspirations of becoming an artist and still travels a great deal—usually only comes back south during the winter months. As I said, the area was hit particularly hard, and with most of the family congregated on adjoining plantations . . .” His voice trailed off as though he’d lost the energy to continue.

Jasmine laid the fan on a marble-topped table and turned her full attention upon the lawyer. “I don’t mean to appear unappreciative, especially since you’ve traveled all this distance, but why didn’t you immediately send word back when we could have been of assistance to our father?”

“I was following his direction, Mrs. Houston. He forbade me from notifying either you or your brother. He feared you would contract the fever if you came to The Willows. He watched both Samuel and David die and said he wouldn’t lose another child.

“He required me to give my word that I would not notify you until the outbreak had ended. In any event, you could not have come, for the entire area was under quarantine. I set sail as soon as I was notified that the quarantine would be lifted. Your father wanted me to personally deliver these papers and go over the details with you and McKinley.”

McKinley pulled his chair closer to the desk. He seemed unnaturally calm. “What are these papers?”

“Your father’s last will and testament and handwritten letters to each of you. Obviously, you must make decisions regarding the plantation and your slaves.”

“
Our
slaves? Neither of us believes in slavery, Mr. Forbes. You may turn the survivors free as far as I’m concerned,” Jasmine said.

“Don’t speak so hastily, Mrs. Houston. There are many considerations that must be addressed before you determine exactly what is to be done with them.”

“Go on, Mr. Forbes,” McKinley said. “We’re listening.”

“There’s a cotton crop that must be harvested. Someone needs to go to The Willows and take charge—get the crop in first and then decide if you’ll move back and take over the plantation.” His final words were a near whisper.

McKinley appeared more stunned by Mr. Forbes’s announcement about the crops than the death of their family members. “You want one of us to return and oversee the harvest? Why, that’s preposterous! I can’t leave Lowell or my position with the Corporation. My wife is due to have a child in a few months, and we’re in the process of building a new home. Besides, I know nothing of harvesting a crop. Can’t the overseer tend to the cotton?”

Mr. Forbes leaned back in his chair, the import of his task obviously weighing heavily upon him. He rubbed his temples and gazed at McKinley as though he were a child with an inadequate ability to understand the profundity of their circumstance.

“The overseer?” Jasmine inquired. But Mr. Forbes didn’t need to answer. His expression revealed the answer.

“The overseer and two-thirds of the slaves are dead. I hired a man to act as overseer, but he can’t possibly handle this situation. The plantation requires immediate attention by someone with more authority than a newly hired overseer. Under normal circumstances, that would be you, McKinley. However, your father drew his will giving his property to you and Jasmine in equal shares. He states in article three of his will that the two of you must come to an agreement as to how the plantation will be managed.”

McKinley reached for the document. “Does he prohibit the sale?”

“No, there’s no such prohibition. Upon the deaths of David and Samuel, your father rewrote his will. He knew neither of you would have any desire to operate the plantation, nor did he wish to force you into such a situation. However, in his letter he does ask that the crop be harvested if at all possible. Surely you must admit that permitting the crop to sit in the fields and rot would be improvident. Your father would abhor such inaction. On his behalf, I would plead for one of you to come back to The Willows and attend to matters immediately. The cotton will not wait indefinitely.”

Nolan brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and shook his head. “There is no easy answer to this dilemma. Even if Jasmine or McKinley agreed to go and oversee the harvest, how could it be accomplished with so few workers?”

Jasmine gave him a tender smile.
Workers
. He couldn’t even bring himself to say they’d be using slaves if they brought in the crop.

“Unaffected plantations in Louisiana are willing to hire out some of their slaves, and several plantations are planning to take advantage of the offer. The plantations nearby that suffered a large number of deaths have discussed the possibility of sharing their slaves. They would work one week at one plantation and the next week at another. Of course, you have to hope you don’t get the week when it rains,” he said with a halfhearted smile.

Jasmine fidgeted with her hands, overwhelmed by all she’d been told. It was impossible to imagine that most of her family had perished. But it was equally hard to make a choice about what should be done. “It’s obvious we can’t come to an immediate decision, Mr. Forbes. We need time to discuss the matter more fully before coming to a conclusion.”

“Of course, of course. I didn’t expect you to give me your answer today. I know there is much to digest, but you must remember the crop will be ready for harvest by the time you make the journey. You dare not tarry for too long.”

“I presume arrangements were made . . . properly made . . . for my family,” Jasmine said, suddenly changing the subject.

“Of course. Your father saw to those who went before him and left instructions with me for the remaining deaths, including his.”

“That sounds very much like Father.” Jasmine knew her father would have thought of everyone else, even if it took his last ounce of strength.

I’ll leave these papers with you to peruse, and if you have questions, you know where to reach me. Otherwise, I’ll await your decision.” Mr. Forbes used the arms of the chair to steady himself as he began to stand.

“A moment, Mr. Forbes,” McKinley said, waving for the man to remain seated. “Has any of this information been reported to the Boston Associates? Undoubtedly they need to know the state of affairs among those men with whom they have contracts. The mills are dependent upon receiving the anticipated cotton shipments.”

Forbes nodded in agreement. “I understand. I talked with no one prior to coming here. My first obligation was to your father and the promise I made him. However, I am prepared to speak with the Associates prior to my departure, or you may report on my behalf if you desire.”

“I believe they would appreciate hearing from you directly,” McKinley replied. “I’ll talk with Matthew Cheever, and we’ll arrange a meeting as quickly as possible.”

“Since I plan to depart for Boston once you’ve made a decision regarding The Willows, could we possibly meet in Boston? My ship sails for Mississippi in ten days and I had planned to spend the remainder of my time in the city. I promised to bring my wife some finery, and it may take me a few days to complete my shopping,” he added with an exhausted smile.

“I’m confident we can accommodate you. We can send a telegraph, and once we receive word regarding the time and date, I’ll notify you.”

“Good enough,” Mr. Forbes said, once again struggling to stand.

“Let me retrieve your cane, Mr. Forbes, and I’ll see you to the door,” Jasmine offered.

“No. You remain seated, Mrs. Houston. You’ve had more to contend with this day than I.”

“Indeed, my dear. You remain seated,” Nolan said as he took the older man by one arm. “I’ll accompany Mr. Forbes.”

Mr. Forbes leaned heavily upon his cane as Nolan escorted him across the thick wool carpet. Jasmine waited until she heard the tapping of his cane upon the wooden floor in the hallway before turning her attention to McKinley.