Mistress of Greenbrier: The Greenbrier Trilogy, Book Two

Chapter Seven-1

Chapter Seven

The morning sun could not have risen more splendidly. Spring was at its peak and the gentle breeze that drifted up from the Deep South filled the air with the warm fertile smell of earth and living things. Tulips and daffodils waved in that warm wind. Lilac blossoms exploded on heavily laden branches. Into all this Lucretia stepped, still clad in her black mourning veil. The dark blue gown was now draped with a single, sheer layer of black netting. On her hands were black lace gloves and she carried a bouquet of the same spring flowers that decorated the yard and gardens of Greenbrier Plantation.

As her feet moved her closer and closer to where Beau stood waiting, a wave of dread and terror flooded her so completely she froze in her tracks. Black. Everyone was dressed in black. Death. Lucy turned to look behind her, to Cassy who had helped her all morning, Cassy who stood now by the back gate, smiling and clad in her white Voodoo dress. Gunshots rang out. The fragile bouquet jerked from Lucy’s hands and before she could turn back around to see what had happened, Beau was on his knees, his eyes wide, expression blank but for the O formed by his lips. A black-red stain spread over his white shirt. “NO!!!” Lucy shot awake, screaming.

It was raining. “That’s supposed to be good luck.” Cassy coiled the long, slender braid tightly into a bun at the nape of Lucy’s neck. Lucretia stared into the looking-glass. “It will stop soon and by noon everything will be dry and perfect.” In between the plaits, Cassy tucked violet blossoms and lilies-of-the-valley. She looked at Lucy’s face in the mirror. “It was only a dream.”

The bride’s eyes flickered, sight returning to them. She turned her head just enough to look towards the window spattered with tiny droplets. “I reckon you’re right. You are the one who knows about these things, aren’t you?”

“You and Massa Beau are going to have a long and happy life together.”

Resigned to whatever fate awaited her, Lucy finally looked in the mirror. Cassy had done a splendid job with her hair. Despite the lingering terror of the dream, Lucy smiled. “If Beau were to have his way, my hair would be all about my face, loose, like some feral jungle woman. And, I’d be naked.”

Cassy grinned. “Well, Massa Beau is not going to have his way today, is he? What do you think of the dress?”

Lucretia rose and went to where the dark gown hung. Dinah had done a splendid job of adding the black mourning crepe and ribbons. It looked as if the dress had always meant to have them. “I think I like it better this way. I can hardly wait to put it on.” The sadness was beginning to lift from her eyes. “If only there was a way that you could be my maid of honor, Cassy. I love Vivianne, but you and I have spent so much more time together. You know me better than she does.”

Cassy blushed, “As long as I’m a slave that can never happen. Besides, where would I go? I haven’t any skills that anyone would hire me for, even up North. I’m better off with you and Massa Beau. You’re my family and Greenbrier is my home.”

Lucy stepped into her first layer of underskirts. “I’d never thought of it like that.” Cassy went to work lacing the light, morning corset into place. “Do you think it was wrong that my mother sold all the slaves instead of freeing them? I mean, she did need the money.”

“I’d rather not say how I feel about that, Miss.” Cassy held the hoop skirts down for her Mistress to step into then pulled it up and tied it at the waist.

“Oh, do tell me what you think about it though, Cass. Was it wrong? We made sure to keep the families together and the places they were sold to were good places. Beau would not let them be sold to someone cruel.” she wiggled her way into the first overskirt followed shortly by the skirt itself. “And Mother needed the money.”

“In my opinion, it was wrong. Owning other people is wrong no matter how well they are treated if they don’t want to be owned.” The Creole slid Lucy’s blouse into place and began to button up the back. “We are still people, not animals, not furniture, not things.” Cassy stepped back, “There, you are all set for your breakfast, Miss.” Lucy turned and looked approvingly in the full-length mirror.

“Lovely, just lovely.” Her smile was real now, “You will join us, yes? And sit at the table with Mother and Vivianne and me? Say you will? I don’t care if you are a slave or not, I want you there and this is my day and you shall be there as my guest. Can we do that?”

Cassy nodded. “We can do that if you say we can, Miss Lucy.”

“Come along then,” she scooped up Cassandra’s hand.

The breakfast room was flooded with the first rays of sunlight to break through the morning rain. Clad in her widow’s weeds, Mrs. Borgia was the first to look up. “Oh, how pretty you are!” Vivianne agreed, chiming in her approval before ordering breakfast to be served now that the guest of honor had arrived.

“Where are Beau and Max?” Lucy found her seat at the table and pulled out a chair, insisting silently that Cassandra sit as well.

“Oh, dearest, you can’t see Beauregard yet!” Vivianne protested. “It’s terrible luck. The two of them ran off at the crack of dawn for one last romp on the horses. We really don’t need their company now. Let them have their fun and we’ll have ours,” she giggled. “Pass the cream, would you, Cass. Thank you so much.”

Much to her surprise, Lucy successfully pushed away the lingering images of her nightmare while Vivianne chatted endlessly about the beauty of Paris and the Chateau the couple planned to honeymoon at. The sun grew brighter and brighter outside the window and all seemed right and wonderful with the world. The sounds of an approaching horse drew no attention.

Dinah stepped into the room minutes later, “Miss Lucy, there’s a soldier to see Master Beau.”

Lucy followed Dinah back to the foyer. Looking slightly nervous, a young man in a light bluish-gray uniform waited. He looked uncomfortable with the buttons of his high-necked jacket done up and his kepi tucked under one arm. Lines of gold piping ran across his tight dress jacket in rows, capped on the outer reaches of his chest with a gold button bearing the state crest of Virginia. In one hand he held what appeared to be a letter. “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but I’ve an urgent letter for the doctor. Are you Mrs. Addams?”

“No, not just yet. I am his fiancée. We are to be married this afternoon. The doctor has gone out riding with a friend, but I am more than capable of delivering the message for you.”

“I have orders to deliver this only into the hands of the doctor, ma’am.” He showed her the envelope but did not extend it far enough out for her to take or read the writing.

“As I’ve said, he’s not at home right now. Who, may I ask, is it from?”

The boy considered the question before answering, “President Davis, ma’am.”

“Jefferson Davis?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh. Well, if it is that important perhaps you had better wait. It may be some while before they return though.”

“I can wait as long as needed.”

Her curiosity raged as Lucy directed the soldier to the gentleman’s parlor. Offering him a drink and opening Beau’s humidor set him a little more at ease. With the promise of notifying the doctor of the messenger’s errand as soon as he returned, Lucy left the soldier alone and returned to the breakfast room where a curious Vivianne anxiously awaited.

“Who was it?” Vivianne asked.

Lucy lowered herself back into her chair, “A letter from the President.”

“Lincoln?” Mrs. Borgia asked.

“No, our President, Mr. Davis.”

“Oh.” Vivianne frowned and sat back in her seat so unnaturally silent that Lucy could not help but notice. “Well, who knows what it could be then.”

“Do you know something about this?” Lucy eyed Vivianne warily.

“Oh, Heaven’s no. I’m as curious as you, darling.” The clock in the hallway made a soft whirring noise then slowly began to strike the hour. “Dear me, is it that late already? We should get you ready.” Vivianne set aside her napkin, rose and took Lucy by the hand, practically pulling the bride from her seat. “Besides, Beauregard may return any moment and he really mustn’t see you until the big moment arrives.” Lucy permitted herself to be led away from the table and back to her suite.

The boy startled to his feet when the parlor door opened and the doctor entered. Though ignorant of the contents of the letter he bore, he knew its importance based solely on the urgency and privacy associated with its delivery. Covered with dust from the morning ride and with a severe expression on his face, the private knew this must be the Master of Greenbrier. “You have a letter for me?”

The soldier handed the envelope over, “I am to wait for a reply, sir.”

Ripping the seal open Beau nodded before directing his full attention to the document. His face grew darker and jaw more firmly clenched as he read. With a hopeless shake of his head he looked back at the boy. “Not the news I was hoping for,” he confided. “Please reply simply that I have received the letter and will do as is expected.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the solitude of the parlor, Beau touched flame to paper, destroying the envelope and its contents. With a heavy heart he mounted the stairs and went to prepare for his wedding. He was not looking forward to the next twenty-four hours and even less did he want to think about the aftermath of what would happen beyond that.

With her coronet in place, Lucy turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The dark blue gown had been dutifully trimmed in black lace with the collar and cuffs changed from white to black. Her white veil and gloves had also been changed to reflect her state of mourning. And yet, the gown was still probably the most beautiful she had ever seen or owned. Blue and black ribbons streamed from her bright bouquet.

“Beauregard will be breathless at the sight of you. Oh, darling, don’t cry yet. Not yet.” Vivianne took both of Lucy’s hands in her own. “He loves you so.”

“I love him, too.” Butterflies erupted in her belly.

“We should get down to the garden. It’s nearly eleven o’clock. Here’s your handkerchief.” She handed Lucy a white hanky bordered with wide black lace, “Come, let’s get the two of you married.”

Outside Beau waited. Only a couple dozen chairs had been set up, most of them filled with Beau’s former students and their Masters or husbands, all well respected members of Winchester society. The servants stood off to one side, dressed in their very best for the occasion. A table laden with cakes and sweets waited in the shade of the garden wall with cool drinks and brewing coffee. Beau stood still as stone, swallowing hard and clenching his fists open and closed randomly. This was something he had foresworn doing ever again after Christine had left and yet, here he was.

There was no music, just the sound of the birds and the gentle rustle of the wind as it passed through the trees overhead. She clung to Max’s arm. Vivianne walked ahead of them, yielding her flamboyant feathers and fabrics so that Lucy could take center stage. Beau was breathless as soon as he saw his young bride step into the sunlight. Even in mourning, she glowed. Her glances were fleeting and timid.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and before of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony,” Reverend Reed began. “…I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it.”

Lucy’s fingers tightened on his arm, fear erupting in her eyes. Beau returned to her grasp a reassuring squeeze and smiled.

“Beauregard Addams, wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, protect, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.”

“Lucretia Borgia, wilt thou have this Man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, obey, honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will.” The flowers quivered in her hands.

“Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?”

Lucy’s mother stood briefly, “I, her mother does.”

Reverend Reed gave her an acknowledging nod then taking Lucy’s hand, lay it in Beau’s and each in turn, Beau then Lucy, spoke their vows to each other. Neither faltered and when the time came to kiss his bride, Beau lifted the black veil with surety. Her eyes were full of tears when they kissed for the first time as husband and wife. Vivianne wiped her eyes and hoped the love they knew this day would be enough.

He spread his bride out on the bed, parting her legs wide in bondage. Now she truly was his in every way. Sliding the tiny key into the lock of the belt made her squirm and made him harden for her touch. They had both been forced to wait. The wire mesh cup that covered her s*x was removed and the belt discarded to the floor. Lucy arched her back, shuddering. Beau kissed her breast and slid his fingers into the growing heat between her legs. “It has been too long,” he whispered to her. “I have gone nearly mad wanting to be inside you, cara mia.”

Lucy opened her eyes and smiled at him, wishing she could stroke his face and run her fingers through his hair. The leather straps held her in place and she could do neither, making her desire all the more evident as she struggled weakly against them. “I have been yours since that first day, Beau. That first time I looked up into your eyes, I knew.”

His lips traveled down her belly, lingering around her freed s*x. “And I you,” his breath warmed her delicate bud. His organ was huge and throbbing. He would take her first; take her hard and fast then play with her the rest of the evening until she begged him to stop. Beau climbed onto the bed and lowered himself into her, slowly at first, teasing her desire as well as his own. “You have promised to obey me, Lucy.”

“Yes, I promise. I will obey you, Master.”

“In all things.” He pushed deeper into her, to the hilt, submerging himself and pushing a groan from his own aching body. “You must do as I tell you to do.” Her hips tipped to take him deeper until she groaned in pleasure that bordered on pain. He drew back slowly then plunged in hard and fast, forcing a gasp from her throat. Hands took hold of each of her jutting breasts, squeezing them harder and harder as his thrusts grew more urgent. “You will obey.” A breathless yes was all she could manage as he took her and pounded her s*x harder and harder. The deeper he went, the more she cried out, the greater his desire until there was no holding back and his c**k grew to the point of ejecting that pleasure. Her struggles egged him on as did the twitching and clenching of her own orgasm that quickly followed his.