Free Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

demanded after Mr. Leeds departed.
    “Why? It’s not Sunday.”
    “Collette, take Miss Arrington to her room
and see to it that she studies. I have to see to a matter, and then
I am going into Savannah to do some shopping with the girls.”
    Daddy had been gone for two weeks, and in
that time Eugenia had taken her daughters into Savannah every day
after school to shop for the most fashionable dresses, hats, shoes,
and gloves. They came home loaded with boxes piled so high,
Hamilton could barely see over them to deliver them up to their
rooms. Once he even dropped a hat box, and Eugenia was livid.
    “You clumsy fool, pick that up!” she
bellowed. Her voice boomed throughout the giant mansion, causing
everyone around to stop what they were doing and stare.
    I rushed over to Hamilton and handed him the
box, only to have it snatched away by Eugenia.
    “Take your hands off my things!”
    “I was only trying to help.”
    Hamilton eased the box from Eugenia and gave
me a wide-eyed look of warning. If he could speak, I’m certain he
would have said, Don’t get yourself into trouble; get along
before she lets you have it.
    In the short time that Daddy was gone,
Eugenia managed to sell a dozen of our loyal slaves, including
Grover, Daddy’s slave driver. He was replaced with a tall, lean,
white overseer named Curtis P. Boyd. He had the meanest natural
scowl I had ever seen on a man, and his temperament matched his
hateful expression.
    I heard that many of the slaves had been
whipped, and the thought terrified me. I often heard him out in the
fields belting out orders, commanding them to work harder and
faster.
    All the slaves were in a dither. A few,
Hattie told me, had run away. While some protested and suffered
harsh consequences, others, like Mammy and her sisters and their
husbands, remained obedient and silent, though behind their eyes I
could see the burning resentment toward Eugenia. Our formerly
smooth-running, quiet plantation had become disordered and full of
turmoil.
     
    Mlle. Duval escorted up to my room, talking
to me as if I could understand.
    “I have a piano lesson in a half hour,” I
said as she sat me down at my writing desk and instructed me with a
sharp, pointed finger to begin reading. “Mr. Lang is on his way,” I
attempted to explain.
    She adamantly shook her head no.
    “Yes, yes he is. Daddy has arranged for my
lessons every Friday afternoon.”
    “ Non ,” she said, with a thick
accent.
    “What do you mean, non ?”
    Mlle. Duval grabbed my hands, turned them
face up, dropped the book down so hard it stung my palms, and
rambled on again about something I couldn’t understand, and then
she flew out of the room.
    If it wasn’t the Holy Bible that was slammed
into my hands, I would have flung the book across the room,
straight at the closed door. I knew better, however, and
reluctantly I opened the Bible and began to read.
    I occasionally looked up at the clock, and my
heart sank when four o’clock came and went without Mr. Lang
arriving for my piano lesson. It was what I looked forward to most.
I loved the piano and learned so quickly that Mr. Lang had to
continually bring new, more advanced lesson books. I loved to play
Beethoven and Chopin and would always remember how pleased Mr. Lang
was at how quickly I mastered the pieces.
    “You are a gifted student. It is my pleasure
to be your teacher,” he said after every lesson.
    By five in the afternoon it became dark
outside, and the clouds were threatening. The wind kicked up and
whipped through the leaves of the magnolia and live oak trees that
surrounded the lawns of Sutton Hall. Soon the thunder rolled over
the plantation and boomed overhead, shaking the mansion. With no
more natural light to read by, I closed the windows to my room, lit
the lamp, and sat on my bed waiting for Mlle. Duval to take me down
to supper.
    In years past, supper had been served
whenever Daddy saw fit. Sometimes we ate early, and other times he
and I sat down late