False Southern Gentility
Tragedy
"Oh Auntie....the house is beginning to look so--wonderful." Christine said as she looked around at the faded beauty of the old house, fighting back tears of bitter pain. "How are you feeling, you--you look just--just radiant." she said with a smile as she sat down on the small sofa in the parlor.
"I could say the same for you, the plantation must be doing very well, you look....amazing, so delicate and...just wonderful." her Aunt said with a bright smile as she lifted a small cracked teacup to her lips and sipped the now tan-colored tea that sat within.
Christine nodded and smiled, "We haven't had a more prosperous year than this, the cotton has just shot up, last weak one of my old beau even found mother's silver up North while he was selling some things up there." Christine lied.
If she was going to take care of their plantation, no one would be able to know that they were struggling, she could catch a husband, she had seen women do it in smaller amounts of time than she had, and she could do it without half as much of the struggle that they had put up.
"Well then, you know, there have been a few of those old beau that you used to know, they have been asking about you. Oh there is...what was his name, well he's a bit older, with those...gray patches here and there," she said as she gestured towards her chin. "he's been calling on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis." her Aunt said with a smile as she smoothed her hand over a small silver curl that had come loose.
Christine cleared her throat quietly, "The older one you say? Oh, you must be talking about James Henry. That is who you're talking about, isn't it?" she asked with a smile. There, she thought, if he's that infatuated that he calls at least once a week, especially if it's once a day, then he'll be easy to handle.
Her Aunt smiled, "That must be it, then of course there are the younger boys, the ones still working on making their way in the world. But Mr.Henry, goodness, he has worked his way up in the world a very good bit, he doesn't have much money now, but he has much more than some of the planters and farmers on the outskirts here and there."
Christine's smile dropped, 'he hasn't much money'. Well, then he was off limits there. He wouldn't be much help if he hadn't much money. The taxes were rising and there wasn't much help in having a man without any money.
What would Pa do? There would have to be something, some money?He had money...some... wasn't some money better than none?
Suddenly, the door swung open
Andrew Threlkeld stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with knowledge and realization of time...how long it had been since he had known what 'time' actually was.
Christine swallowed hard, understanding that something wasn't right, "Hello Pa, Mar...Marcus hadn't told me that you would be coming up to Atlanta, when did you leave home?" she asked as she looked down, running her fingers over the faded lace of her dress.
Andrew wrinkled his nose at his daughter, "Where have I been? You don't have the right to ask me if a slave mentioned that I was coming. I'll come when I get good and damned-well ready to." Andrew turned on Meredith with a flame in his eyes, "And you, my wife's own sister, taking in my daughter, dressing her like some--some--common whore!" he exclaimed as he lifted the edge of the small table and threw it across the room.
Tragedy had come for a visit, and he planned to stay for a while.
"I could say the same for you, the plantation must be doing very well, you look....amazing, so delicate and...just wonderful." her Aunt said with a bright smile as she lifted a small cracked teacup to her lips and sipped the now tan-colored tea that sat within.
Christine nodded and smiled, "We haven't had a more prosperous year than this, the cotton has just shot up, last weak one of my old beau even found mother's silver up North while he was selling some things up there." Christine lied.
If she was going to take care of their plantation, no one would be able to know that they were struggling, she could catch a husband, she had seen women do it in smaller amounts of time than she had, and she could do it without half as much of the struggle that they had put up.
"Well then, you know, there have been a few of those old beau that you used to know, they have been asking about you. Oh there is...what was his name, well he's a bit older, with those...gray patches here and there," she said as she gestured towards her chin. "he's been calling on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis." her Aunt said with a smile as she smoothed her hand over a small silver curl that had come loose.
Christine cleared her throat quietly, "The older one you say? Oh, you must be talking about James Henry. That is who you're talking about, isn't it?" she asked with a smile. There, she thought, if he's that infatuated that he calls at least once a week, especially if it's once a day, then he'll be easy to handle.
Her Aunt smiled, "That must be it, then of course there are the younger boys, the ones still working on making their way in the world. But Mr.Henry, goodness, he has worked his way up in the world a very good bit, he doesn't have much money now, but he has much more than some of the planters and farmers on the outskirts here and there."
Christine's smile dropped, 'he hasn't much money'. Well, then he was off limits there. He wouldn't be much help if he hadn't much money. The taxes were rising and there wasn't much help in having a man without any money.
What would Pa do? There would have to be something, some money?He had money...some... wasn't some money better than none?
Suddenly, the door swung open
Andrew Threlkeld stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with knowledge and realization of time...how long it had been since he had known what 'time' actually was.
Christine swallowed hard, understanding that something wasn't right, "Hello Pa, Mar...Marcus hadn't told me that you would be coming up to Atlanta, when did you leave home?" she asked as she looked down, running her fingers over the faded lace of her dress.
Andrew wrinkled his nose at his daughter, "Where have I been? You don't have the right to ask me if a slave mentioned that I was coming. I'll come when I get good and damned-well ready to." Andrew turned on Meredith with a flame in his eyes, "And you, my wife's own sister, taking in my daughter, dressing her like some--some--common whore!" he exclaimed as he lifted the edge of the small table and threw it across the room.
Tragedy had come for a visit, and he planned to stay for a while.