So, here she stood ready to take a man who was not Drew as her husband. A good and kind man who had seen her through one of the most difficult times of her life, but still not the one she might have chosen in other circumstances.
You must not think of Drew today … today belongs to William.
She opened her eyes and sighed, angry with herself over such traitorous thoughts. William deserved more than a woman who could never love him as much as he seemed to love her.
Arabella’s thoughts were disrupted as she was turned toward the mirror to confront her reflection, the two slave women standing back with hands folded before them. Another bride might have grinned at such a pretty picture—the way the soft pink dress complemented her honey-gold skin, or the enhancement of rouge staining her cheeks and lips, or the accompaniment of pure white pearls clasped around her throat and on her earlobes. But Arabella could only take stock of the differences between herself and the women standing behind her—both in the clean, starched uniform of house slaves, with only a small difference in their skin hues separating her from them. That, and the fact she’d been conceived by the man who owned this house and the acres upon acres of cane fields beyond her windows.
Beyond the immaculate house grounds, hundreds of slaves toiled, their backs broken out in a sweat, their feet weary and aching, their fingers raw.
The identity of her father was what made Arabella free while these others remained bound in captivity. Such a seemingly small thing, but it created a wide gulf between herself and them. That did not make her any closer or more acceptable to her half-siblings, who never let her forget that she was merely tolerated because of Archibald Abbot’s benevolence. Were he to die today, they would cast her out without a second thought, leaving her to find her own way in the world.
Is this what my life is to be now; wed to Will for fear I may not be safe otherwise?
Despite having been a slave herself, Arabella’s mother had commanded quite a bit of influence over her father. Their dynamic never ceased to baffle her. Archibald was lord and master of everyone and everything within the acreage of Greenhill, including the woman he’d taken as a mistress. Yet, with some combination of the wiles of her body and the cunning of her mind, Leonora had managed to make the lives of those around her a bit easier.
No, she could not strike the chains of bondage off them. But she could advocate for the slaves of Greenhill—keeping children from being sold away from their mothers and staying the hands of cruel overseers. She had ensured Arabella would never want for anything. Arabella been granted her freedom, as well as a small inheritance upon Leonora’s death, which included the gown and the pearls she wore for a wedding ensemble. Throughout girlhood, Arabella had been tutored and molded into a lady just like her half-sister, sheltered from much of the cruelty of the world.
Arabella did not know how to feel about such circumstances. Should she be grateful that her mother had worked until her dying breath to ensure she would never want for anything? Or should she resent her place when others would never have such chances?
She had few choices in life, despite her freedom and education. A mulatto woman was little better than a black one in the eyes of those inhabiting the island. If not for the fact that William wanted to marry her, she’d face dire prospects, such as becoming some man’s mistress. She might find work, but being unprotected in the world would put her at risk for all manner of horrible fates.
Better she marry Will, her dear friend since childhood. His plantation bordered Greenhill. As mistress of such a place, she would be in a position to do more than even her mother had done. As the lady of a fine house, she would command influence and because William loved her, he would heed her suggestions. She would be the wife of a planter, not the possession of one. It wasn’t the life she had wanted, but it was the best she could have now that Drew was gone.
“Thank you. Tell Papa I’ll be down in a moment.”
The women made a silent retreat, leaving Arabella alone with the coming onslaught of tears. She had told herself not to think of Drew, but that was difficult given she was marrying his brother today. To the outside world, it appeared as if she had finally recovered from the loss of the boy she once loved.
After a year of shunning close contact with anyone but Will, Arabella had begun trying to find some semblance of a normal life. She took walks and read books; she painted and visited what few friends she had on the island. She attended church with her father and half-siblings every Sunday, and went along for dinners at other fine homes, her father taking up various invitations as an excuse to talk island politics over grand meals.
William had been instrumental in helping her move on, first serving as a faithful friend upon whose shoulder she could cry, then evolving into a doting suitor. Arabella wasn’t certain when it had happened, but one day his attentions began to lean toward the romantic. He visited her with flowers and gifts, and went out of his way to show her affection. She had resisted at first, her heart still broken and her nerves entirely too raw to abide the touch of someone else.
It had taken three years of persistence on Will’s part, but he had been so patient with her, so understanding.
“I love you, Bella. I have for a long time, but … well, I suppose you will think me terrible for being jealous of Drew. The three of us grew up together, and as we grew older, I noticed just as he did how beautiful you had become. I couldn’t blame you for choosing him; the two of you were well suited. But I could be good to you. I would treat you well and take care of you. It might feel too soon now, but when you are ready to consider your future I hope you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
He cupped her cheek to lean in for a kiss, and she allowed it. Arabella had been so lonely, and life without Drew was a dim and dismal hell. She missed passion and laughter. She missed feeling treasured and having someone to call her own. She missed Drew, but the sea had taken him and he was never coming back. Would she die alone mourning a dead man, or would she be brave enough to consider what William was offering?
The kiss began sweetly, with soft touches of Will’s lips and the gentle caress of his fingers along her cheeks. However, it swiftly become too much for her to bear, Will snatching her against him with a desperate groan and dipping his tongue into her mouth, consuming her. There wasn’t anything wrong with the kiss, and she certainly wasn’t some shrinking violet. But it only reminded her how much she missed Drew’s touch and the way he had kissed her, like some marauding conqueror taking what he wanted. She had always reveled in how those kisses made her feel—weak and utterly possessed.
Arabella pulled away from Will with a gasp. “I’m sorry. It isn’t you, I just …”
Will’s chest heaved, his mouth reddened and his cheeks flushed with ardor. “It’s all right, Bella. I understand. I only … Christ, I’ve wanted you for so long. I have been just as lonely as you without Drew, and I … please forgive me.”
“It’s all right. I think if you are willing to be patient with me, I could come to return your feelings. You are so dear to me.”
He kissed her once more, but slowly this time, and with such gentleness that Arabella nearly wept. “I will give you all the time you need.”
And so he had. For years Will had waited, even making it clear he did not care about the intimacies she had allowed Drew. She was coming into her marriage a virgin, but by no means chaste. She and Drew had crept off to be together more times than she could count, and he had taught her a woman’s pleasure.