| Author: | Emily Dickinson | ISBN: | 9781311881632 |
| Publisher: | Emily Dickinson | Publication: | May 28, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Emily Dickinson |
| ISBN: | 9781311881632 |
| Publisher: | Emily Dickinson |
| Publication: | May 28, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
With a sigh of relief, Augusta Hartley ladled the last of the preserves into an already-boiled Mason jar and added a lid, screwing it down tight and biting the back the urge to curse as the hot metal almost blistered her fingers. It was hot as the hinges of Hades in the kitchen at Willow Run Plantation, and even a year ago, Augusta would not have been caught dead in the kitchen, or for that matter, been caught dead in the orchard gathering the peaches needed to make these preserves. For the first seventeen years of her life, Augusta had simply been the eldest daughter of Colonel John Hartley and his wife Elizabeth. Her papa owned Willow Run, a thriving sugar plantation and the best racehorse-breeding farm in the state as well. Thanks to these endeavors, Colonel Hartley was very wealthy, and his daughter Augusta, who had inherited her mama’s blonde prettiness, was the belle of six counties.
At the age of seventeen, Augusta had married her most favored swain, Beauregard Pettigrew, son and heir to the Pettigrew fortune and the plantation known as Winding Rivers. It was more than two hundred miles away, in Alabama, but Augusta had left her family home as a bride in love and with high hopes of a long and happy life with her adoring husband.
But then the war had happened. The Southern States had withdrawn from the Union and that ape Abe Lincoln had sent Yankee troops to bring the South to its knees. Augusta’s papa, her husband, and her father-in-law had all enlisted in the Confederate Army. Augusta’s mother-in-law had traveled to Texas to live with her second son and his wife, and Winding Rivers had been sold, the house, the land, the slaves, everything, so the money could be put into Confederate bonds to help win the war. Of course, nothing Augusta could say influenced Beauregard or his father in the least. Damn all stupid, prideful men!
“Don’t pout, darlin’,” Beau said, kissing her good-bye as he put her on the train towards Louisiana. “The war will be over by Christmas, and we’ll take those bonds and build ourselves a palace in this new country!”
With a sigh of relief, Augusta Hartley ladled the last of the preserves into an already-boiled Mason jar and added a lid, screwing it down tight and biting the back the urge to curse as the hot metal almost blistered her fingers. It was hot as the hinges of Hades in the kitchen at Willow Run Plantation, and even a year ago, Augusta would not have been caught dead in the kitchen, or for that matter, been caught dead in the orchard gathering the peaches needed to make these preserves. For the first seventeen years of her life, Augusta had simply been the eldest daughter of Colonel John Hartley and his wife Elizabeth. Her papa owned Willow Run, a thriving sugar plantation and the best racehorse-breeding farm in the state as well. Thanks to these endeavors, Colonel Hartley was very wealthy, and his daughter Augusta, who had inherited her mama’s blonde prettiness, was the belle of six counties.
At the age of seventeen, Augusta had married her most favored swain, Beauregard Pettigrew, son and heir to the Pettigrew fortune and the plantation known as Winding Rivers. It was more than two hundred miles away, in Alabama, but Augusta had left her family home as a bride in love and with high hopes of a long and happy life with her adoring husband.
But then the war had happened. The Southern States had withdrawn from the Union and that ape Abe Lincoln had sent Yankee troops to bring the South to its knees. Augusta’s papa, her husband, and her father-in-law had all enlisted in the Confederate Army. Augusta’s mother-in-law had traveled to Texas to live with her second son and his wife, and Winding Rivers had been sold, the house, the land, the slaves, everything, so the money could be put into Confederate bonds to help win the war. Of course, nothing Augusta could say influenced Beauregard or his father in the least. Damn all stupid, prideful men!
“Don’t pout, darlin’,” Beau said, kissing her good-bye as he put her on the train towards Louisiana. “The war will be over by Christmas, and we’ll take those bonds and build ourselves a palace in this new country!”
