Madra looked out the window into the cotton fields that sprawled as far as the eye could see. She knew that many girls envied her. Her parents were the richest in the county and they had the biggest plantation in the state. But Madra didn’t care about the money. All she wanted was to find happiness. She wanted to find someone to love that loved her in return. But in the South, that wasn’t important. What was important was a good family name and good “bloodlines.” Her mother and father reminded her everyday that she was getting older and that she was prime marrying age. Madra knew that at 16 she was getting close to spinster hood. She needed to find a husband and fast. And it wasn’t for lack of trying, or lack of opportunity for that matter. She had plenty of the county boys to choose from. Men had even come from Atlanta and Savannah to ask for her hand in marriage. Her father, though a little unorthodox in his method, had seen fit to ask her each time it had happened. Madra had turned them all down. They were handsome, rich, and perfect Southern gentlemen. But they didn’t make her blood run hot when she saw them. She didn’t tingle inside when they said her name. Her knees didn’t go weak when they got close. Those things were important to her. But she knew her father wouldn’t wait much longer. If she continued to refuse every suitor that came along, he would make the choice for her.
“Madra!” She heard her father bellow up the stairs. Sighing, she went out into the hallway and stood by the big wooden banister.
“Yes Father?” She replied dutifully.
“Get your rear down here girl. It’s near time for lunch and your Mother wants you and your sisters to practice your prayers.” He commanded.
“Okay Daddy. I’ll be right down.” Madra conceded. She knew better than to argue with her father. More so, she knew that if she did, she’d have to answer to her mother. And that was something that she definitely didn’t want to face. Resigned to the fact, she went back into her room for a minute to check her appearance in the mirror. Satisfied that she looked like a well tuned Southern lady, she went down to the dining room. Her parents and her sisters were already present in the room, waiting on her.
With Madra’s arrival, all members of the family knelt and began reciting their ritual Catholic prayers. “Holy Mary, Mother of God…..”
After the 30 minutes that it took to get through them, the family sat at the huge oak dining table and waited for the food to be brought out by the house servants. Lunch passed nearly silently, as usual. Madra’s father made small political talk with her mother. Her mother would listen to his opinions and comments about what was going on in Atlanta and nod like she was interested. Her parents’ behavior was the main reason that Madra wanted to find a different kind of relationship. She knew that her mother and father didn’t love each other. At least not the way that she wanted to love her future husband. She wanted a marriage full of passion and understanding. She wanted to wake up every morning happy to be in her mate’s arms. And she wanted him to come home every night to her alone. She knew that in the South it was customary and accepted for men to have mistresses. She also knew that it wasn’t unusual for the men of the house to use the female slaves as concubines. No one ever spoke about these practices though. It was a forbidden topic.
After lunch, Madra and her sisters, Marianne and Elizabeth, went upstairs to their rooms to dress for the barbeque that night. It was at a neighboring plantation. In the middle of summer, there were 2 or 3 barbeques each week to attend. They were the social events of the county. All the girls and young men within a ten mile radius attended the huge parties, hoping to find a match. It made Madra sick to think how much of a meat market it was. She didn’t care about the matchmaking tactics of the older people though. She went for the dancing. Madra loved to dance. She spent every minute possible spinning around the floor when she went to the social events. And she was a very good dancer too. Her father had been one of the best in his day and he’d taught her everything that he knew.
Once they arrived at the barbeque, boys and men flocked around Madra, hoping to secure a dance with her. Everyone knew that she was eligible for marriage and they wanted a chance to be considered. She was whisked around the floor by a new man every dance. After the first round, Madra decided that she needed some air and stepped out onto the balcony. There was a nice summer breeze blowing through the trees and she leaned on the railing and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air.
“… Madra …”
She jerked her head up at the sound of her name. “Who’s there?” She asked timidly. The sound that she’d heard had barely been audible enough to call a whisper and she wasn’t altogether sure that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. When no one answered, she dismissed it as her overactive imagination and closed her eyes again.
“… Madra …”
This time she knew that she’d heard something. Twice was one too many times to call it imagination. She knew that it hadn’t come from inside because the doors to the balcony were closed and she didn’t think that anyone had seen her come outside. It had to be coming from somewhere on the grounds. She peered into the darkness and tried to read the shadows. Their own servants at home could be mischievous, but none of the servants here knew her name. She wondered if it was some randy young boy trying to entice her into the darkness so that he could get a few thrills. Again she decided to ignore it. After five more minutes of listening, she decided that whoever it was had given up their ploy and she started to go back inside.
“… Madra …”
The faint whisper came again. This time she couldn’t deny it. She peered into the night again, futilely hoping for a glimpse of something. She thought that she saw a figure out by one of the outbuildings. “Hello?” She called, trying to make her voice project that far. She waited feverishly, seeing if the person would answer.
“… Madra …” was all that she got in return.
Stomping her foot in frustration, she decided to get to the bottom of what she was sure was some sort of prank. She went back in and went around the edges of the room, hoping that no one would notice her. She’d nearly made it to the door, when one of the old spinsters stopped her.
“Hello Madra dear. How is your mother these days?”
“Mother is doing fine, Mrs. Peters. Thank you for asking. I’ll make sure and tell her.” Madra replied hurriedly and continued on her way. She made it outside without further incident and trekked towards the building she’d seen the figure standing by. As she got closer, she thought that she could make out someone standing far into the shadows. “Is someone there?” She questioned and sucked in her breath when the person looked up. She couldn’t see their face, only a pair of almost unnaturally green eyes.
Chapter 2