Chapter Twenty – Two

Nate gave Maggie the address of the hotel in which he was staying in town. He felt it only polite and respectful to keep his distance while Isaac was ill. Maggie would go to him when it was appropriate, though she was exceptionally grateful to have a piece of home with her in Georgia.

The next day, Isaac took a turn for the worst. The pneumonia had made his breathing very wheezy. Breathing was already an exhausting feat for him so Maggie knew that he most likely had mere hours.

She sat in the wicker chair beside his bed and held his hand. She did not want to leave him alone. He watched her intensely, his pale green eyes were wide and frightened.

“It’s alright,” she said soothingly, squeezing his hand. “I am very glad that you found me, you know,” she informed him softly. “Regardless of what happened in the past with Momma, or what your intentions were for me with Mr Kincaid, I am still very glad that you found me.”

His eyes glassed over, as if what she was saying was making him emotional.

“I would have always wondered about you. It was very humbling to hear the stories of you from the workers here. I know you are a good man, Mr Lavelle.” Maggie paused and changed her mind on his title. “Father,” she corrected herself. Nate would always be ‘Daddy’, but in his final hours, Isaac could be ‘Father’.

It was a strenuous action, but Isaac smiled appreciatively.

“You would have been a wonderful father to me. I have no doubt of that. Please rest. Know that there is no resentment and there is no need for forgiveness.”

There was not anything else that she could say. She did not want him thinking that there needed to be apologies or anything. She understood why he had made the decisions he chose. He had been a boy afraid of his father when he’d known Maggie’s mother. And had he chosen to ignore his father’s rules then what would have happened to the slaves that worked on the Lavelle Plantation? Everything had happened for a reason and she had no regrets.

Joanna opened the bedroom door and brought in some cool towels and a clean bowl. Joanna was not dressed as finely as she usually was. Her blonde hair was tied back in a neat bun and she wore a cotton day dress without any petticoats and a practical, sturdy apron.

Though Maggie did not like Joanna at all, the care and devotion she had shown Isaac had won Maggie’s respect.

“Excuse me,” murmured Joanna quietly as she went around to the other side of the bed. She set the bowl down on the bedside table and began to dab his face, forehead and neck with the cool towels. “How are you sweetheart, alright?” she asked, concerned.

Isaac’s eyes travelled to his wife and he looked at her affectionately. At the end of the day, they were a couple who loved each other. Just like her own parents. And as soon as Isaac died, Joanna would be a grieving widow. Maggie could not be resentful in such a time. She would be courteous when the will was read and the deed was turned over to her.

“Lunch is downstairs on the table if you’re at all hungry, Miss Maggie,” Joanna murmured.

“Thank you,” replied Maggie politely. She rose from the wicker chair and leant over to kiss Isaac’s forehead. “I’ll leave you both alone.”

There was a small lunch in the dining room but the house was truly too sombre to run as usual. Max was sitting in one of the chair casually, sketching in his book. When Maggie passed him, she saw that he was drawing the wine glass in front of him. He’d truly captured the shine and shimmer of the light reflecting off of the glass. It was not the usual type of subject that Max would concentrate on. Maggie knew he was simply occupying his mind and hands while something dreadful occurred.

“How is he?” Max asked when he noticed her enter the dining room. He immediately rose from his seat and pulled out her chair for her.

Maggie slumped in her chair in a totally unladylike fashion. “Not at all good,” she answered. “It shan’t be long now.”

Max abandoned his drawing on the table and captured her hands in his. “It truly is a horrible way to die. I am so sorry.”

She sighed sadly. “Joanna truly loves him.”

“Her lone admirable quality,” Max muttered under his breath.

“Not now,” she scolded.

“My apologises,” he said instantly. “That was thoughtless.”

“He is going to die soon,” Maggie said in utter disbelief. This illness had completely debilitated him over a few months. She had never witnessed anything like it before.

Max squeezed her hands. “He was a good husband and master, he experienced success and he got to meet you. I do think that is a very full life, not matter how short it was.”  

Isaac died at twenty minutes past twelve that night with both Joanna and Maggie by his side. He simply stopped breathing. He wheezed one last breath and then his chest ceased to move. His chest practically caved in. It was the most harrowing experience of her life. It was as if the life had evaporated from his chest.

Joanna broke down in violent sobs while Maggie shed several tears. Even though they had not known each other long, the man was still her father and his death was devastating to her.

Maggie could not be in the room with him for long. She needed some time to cry alone and she felt that Joanna deserved her own time to grieve.

Maggie locked herself in her bedroom and crawled into the centre of the bed. She cuddled her knees to her chest and buried her head underneath her masses of hair.

She cried for what felt like hours. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. She cried to the point of exhaustion. Her eyes felt very swollen and she felt very tired. Again, even though she hadn’t known the man for very long, she still felt as though she had lost a very important person in her life.

Maggie went to her writing desk where she’d left the letter that her father had brought to America from her mother. On the bottom of the page her mother had stained her lips red and had kissed the paper. Maggie kissed the page in the same spot and laid down on her pillow.

How exhausted and empty she felt.

Maggie heard her window open from the balcony and her bed subsequently sunk as another person joined her.

“I heard the crying,” Max whispered. “Are you alright? Would you like me to send for your fath –” Max stopped himself. “– for my Uncle Nate?”

Maggie appreciated the effort. “No. I will call on Daddy tomorrow and tell him what happened. For now, will you just hold me?”

His arms tightened around her and she buried her face into the safety of his chest. “Of course,” he said tenderly.  

By breakfast time the next morning, Joanna had composed herself. She had tried to disguise her swollen eyes with powder but it was still obvious that she had been crying. She had dressed in head to toe black. She wore a black bonnet and veil and a fine black gown with matching gloves and shoes. She sent for the doctor to take possession of Isaac’s body and she began to organise the funeral with the town preacher who had already prepared a grave for Isaac upon Joanna’s request. She didn’t want her husband waiting weeks for a headstone to be made. It was a morbid preparation, but a thoughtful one.

Joanna had also sent for Isaac’s lawyer, the man who was in possession of his will.

Maggie did not have mourning clothing, nor did she know the appropriate way to mourn him. Nora provided her with a black armband, the kind that all of the slaves at the Lavelle Plantation were expected to wear for the time being. Maggie gladly wrapped the armband around her upper arm.

She and Max took a carriage in to town to the hotel where Nate was staying. He was very apologetic when he heard the news and he offered Maggie sincere condolences. He hugged her for nearly fifteen minutes while she enjoyed his comforting embrace.

“Do you want me to be there with you when the will is read?” he asked after a while of silence. “I have some experience in dealing with attorneys.”

“I would be grateful for that,” Maggie agreed. She did not want to misunderstand any of the jargon.

Before they left the hotel, Maggie and Max, together, informed Nate that they were to court upon their return to England. Maggie knew it was not exactly an appropriate time but he needed to know.

Nate feigned shock and anger for a mere moment before congratulating the two of them. He was glad that Max no longer had to pine. It was true, after all. Her whole family knew of Max’s feelings.  

The funeral was set for two days’ time, to allow those who needed to travel the time to reach the church punctually.

The will was read the day after Isaac’s death. It was the thirtieth of March, Max’s nineteenth birthday. It was not a happy occasion but he assured Maggie that they would properly celebrate when they returned home.

Isaac’s lawyer, Reginald Craft, arrived with a brown leather suit case and an important looking document tucked under his arm. He looked like an attorney. He wore a neat brown suit that was a little tight around the middle. His greying auburn hair was curly and a little unkempt and he wore round spectacles on the end of his nose.

They gathered in the sitting room, Mr Craft and Joanna in armchairs while Maggie, Nate and Max sat on the settee.

“First of all,” began Mr Craft, “I would like to extend my sincerest condolences to you, Mrs Lavelle,” he said sincerely. His small, blue eyes travelled to Maggie. “And to you, Miss Maggie. We haven’t met but your father was very anxious and eager to find you.”

“Thank you,” murmured Joanna. “Please begin reading the will.”

Mr Craft produced the will and cleared his throat. “Now, Mr Isaac Lavelle named me the executor of his estate. This means that it is my responsibility to collect the estate of the deceased, to discharge in liabilities of the estate and to distribute the remainder of the estate to the beneficiaries as listed in this will.” He spoke very professionally.

Maggie understood this part as a formality.    

Mr Craft adjusted his spectacles and began to read the will. “I, Isaac William Lavelle, of the Lavelle Cotton Plantation revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will.” Mr Craft looked up and showed the document to all present. “This declaration has been signed by the deceased.”

There, below the declaration, was Isaac’s neat signature.

“Now, the beneficiaries,” he continued. “Mr Isaac Lavelle has three specific beneficiaries listed in this final will. The first, his wife, Mrs Joanna Hill Lavelle.” Mr Craft looked down to the will and continued to read. “To my beloved wife, Joanna Hill Lavelle, I leave a yearly allowance that is to be extracted from the annual income of the Lavelle Cotton Plantation. Joanna Hill Lavelle is to receive five thousand dollars per annum.”

Maggie was glad that Joanna was to legally receive something. That way she would not have to negotiate with her. Joanna deserved her share as the grieving widow.

“The next beneficiary is Mr Zachary John Kincaid, who is not present today.”

Maggie tried not to tense but the mention of his name sent a chill down her spine. She did not want to give anything away to her father. She did not want him asking questions about the man that she had sent away.

“I bequeath my nephew by marriage the sum of one thousand dollars per annum to be extracted from the annual income of the Lavelle Cotton Plantation. Should a marriage take place between Zachary John Kincaid and my daughter, I also bequeath my nephew by marriage a master’s salary from the plantation.”

“A marriage?” Nate raised his eyebrows. “Margaret, are you engaged?” He only used her full name when he was displeased.

Maggie was not at all pleased that Zachary was to receive an allowance from the plantation but there was not much she could do. “No, Daddy,” she promised quietly. Clearly Isaac had not revised his will in several months. “It was Mr Lavelle’s hope but it did not come about. Please, continue Mr Craft.”

Mr Craft cleared his throat again. “And finally, the third beneficiary is Miss Margaret Anne Wheeler Swift Lavelle.”

This time Maggie did tense. She was worried that her father would react negatively to the mention of Isaac’s name being attached to hers. Of course, she would always be known as Maggie Swift until her marriage, but for the sake of the legality of the estate, she would accept Isaac’s name.  

“To my daughter, and only child, Margaret, I leave my entire estate and fortune. The total worth being forty-five thousand dollars. The contents of his bank vaults in Atlanta and New York are also yours. The sum total of these accounts are five thousand dollars’ worth of bills and jewels.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. She was not sure what that was in equivalent to the British pound, but she knew it was an incredible amount of money.

“My daughter will also inherit the contents of the plantation house and lands. The animals, carriages and the one hundred and twelve insured working slaves are all bequeathed to you.”

It was a sickening feeling to suddenly be the owner of one hundred and twelve people. It was also sickening that the slaves were listed as her property after the animals and the carriages.

“Mr Lavelle has signed a testimonium clause. I will read it to you.” Mr Craft flipped over the page. “In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hands this twelfth day of January, eighteen hundred and forty-one.” Mr Craft folded the will and set it aside. “My colleague and I were both witnesses to the signing of this will and we signed the attestation clause. This will is legally binding and I will be present to help with any transferring of assets.”

Maggie was suddenly a very rich woman.

“I will return in the next few days as to give you time to mourn. But before I take my leave, were there any questions regarding the division of assets?”

Maggie had one very important question. “I do want to ask you something, Mr Craft.”

He turned to Maggie to politely listen. “Yes, Miss Margaret?”

“According to my late father’s will, I have total ownership of one hundred and twelve insured working slaves,” she began, recalling the information that was just read.

“Yes, that is correct.” He nodded.

“And it is my right to do with them what I wish?” she asked.

“Margaret, what are you saying?” her father whispered to her in a worried tone. Did Nate seriously believe she had a malicious plan for the poor people who were now under her protection?

Mr Craft looked very curious indeed. “Yes,” he confirmed. “You have complete and total ownership. I shall help you to transfer the insurance documents into your name but all you will need to do is to sign a few documents.”

Maggie had no interest in dealing with companies who thought it moral to insure live humans. “Then I would like for you to draft one hundred and twelve sets of freedom papers,” she instructed firmly.

Joanna sucked in a breath so quickly that it caused her to cough and splutter. Mr Craft looked simply shocked. “I beg your pardon, Miss Maggie?”

“I would like for you to draft one hundred and twelve sets of freedom papers,” she repeated, her tone just as serious.

“You cannot be serious!” exclaimed Joanna. “You will force us all into destitution if we have no workers!”

“They are not workers, Mrs Lavelle, for they receive no wage. Mr Craft, here, has just assured me that the one hundred and twelve slaves here are mine to do with what I wish. I wish to free them. I wish to give them the opportunity to stay and work at the plantation for a fair wage, or, if they choose to leave, they shall take with them a severance wage which will allow them to travel to wherever they might want to go.” She spoke with such determination, a tone that told both Joanna and Mr Craft that she was not to be argued with.

“Well said, my darling,” Nate said proudly.

“You encourage this?” Joanna asked of Nate accusingly. “You have no idea of how a plantation is run! If there are no slaves then there is no cotton. If there is no cotton then there is no income!”

Nate pursed his lips and arched a brow. “Madam, I pay everyone in my household a fair wage and I have never had a cross word from any one of my servants. I do encourage this behaviour from my daughter and I am very much proud of her in this moment.” Nate pressed his lips to Maggie’s forehead. “And did she not just say that she would offer them wages? Perhaps if they are fairly paid then the production might be that much more efficient.”  

Joanna huffed. “You will not do this, Reginald,” Joanna ordered.

Mr Craft looked quite torn. “Mrs Lavelle, unfortunately I am in the employ of the master, or in this case mistress, of the Lavelle Plantation. Miss Margaret is the mistress of this estate and the slaves belong to her. If she wishes me to draft one hundred and twelve sets of freedom papers then I shall do so.”

Maggie felt triumphant. In such a terrible time, she was able to achieve so much good. “I want them as soon as possible,” Maggie instructed.

Mr Craft nodded. “I will personally deliver them to you within a fortnight, Miss Margaret. Meanwhile, I must go to Atlanta to deliver Mr Kincaid the news of his inheritance. I will leave you to your funeral arrangements. Again, my sincerest condolences.” He rose from the armchair and bowed his head respectfully. “Good day.”

After Mr Craft had left the plantation house, Joanna said spitefully, “You will ruin us! One hundred years of prosperity will be ruined by a silly, naïve teenager!”

“If you are so concerned with destitution, Mrs Lavelle, then how about you pick up a hoe and aid the planting season?” Maggie snapped.

Max muffled a chuckle.

“That is quite enough,” Nate said firmly. “Now, I assume there is much to be done before tomorrow. Mrs Lavelle, how about you see to any business you have. Maggie, I would like to meet this Nora.” Maggie had told Nate all about Nora and her sons. She would hate to part with Nora when it came time to return to England. She had been such a friend and maternal figure to her.

Joanna hastily left the room, muttering something under her breath.

“That was a very good thing that you just did, Maggie,” commended Max.

Maggie smiled. “I am happy to be able to do it. I have been blessed in life in regards to my colour. It is time that they are, too.”

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Hope you liked it!! 

My little brother had his valedictory dinner tonight so he was all dressed up in his suit and tie looking very dapper :) It's such a cool feeling when they call you out on stage to give you your VCE which is your Victorian Certificate of Education, like a high school diploma. I had to pick him and mum up from the dinner and we did a Maccas run on the way home like we did at my valedictory :P Ah, they grow up so fast!! 

Anyways, vote and comment!! Last exam tomorrow and then I'm freeeeeeeeeee :D