The thought of my daughter, my first baby, hiding in the dirt from her husband made me wish that I’d let Tom kill him. As she helped me to my feet, Sally’s long-ago words about the importance of the man a woman winds up with had never rung more true—because Ann was trapped with a cruel drunkard, and there wasn’t a thing that we could do.
Sally was my father’s mistress, not the mistress of the plantation, and yet it felt right to have her at my side. The drunken brute’s shouts echoed from the house, and Sally and I took the stairs two at a time in the vain hope of getting to him before he got to my father.
Meanwhile, Jeff’s horse came galloping up the road, in a cloud of dust. “What the devil is going on?”
We didn’t stop to answer but burst into the house where the madman screamed, “Show yourself, Ann.”
Jeff was on our heels, gripping his horsewhip. One look at his frothing, bloodied brother-in-law, and no one had to tell him what had happened. And my son went white to the tip of his nose.
“Did you do something to my sister, you rabid dog?” Jeff asked, advancing on Bankhead. “Someone ought to put you down. I think that someone is gonna be me.”
Those were words that started duels. Words that demanded satisfaction. But Bankhead was so drunk I’m not sure he heard. Instead, he was transfixed by the sight of my father, who emerged from his rooms in stern disapproval.
“Enough,” Papa said, very quietly, very severely. “We value domestic tranquility, here. Charles, I must ask you to reside under your father’s roof for a time, not mine.”
At my father’s quiet show of thoroughly presidential authority, Bankhead seemed to suddenly shake free of his madness, and he sank to his knees and wept. Bankhead was being banished, and he knew it. He begged my father a thousand pardons, sobbing that he’d tried to stop drinking but never was able to. That it was something in him, like a demon.
I didn’t care. I fetched Ann, took her upstairs, bandaged her ribs, and cleaned up her mouth and jaw, which were bruised and swollen. Then I put her in my bed, dosing her with some laudanum so she could rest. Bolting the door, I leaned back upon it like a guard.
That’s when Jeff came up the narrow stairway with murder in his eyes. “You keep away from Bankhead,” I said, keeping my voice low in case children might be eavesdropping from the nearby nursery or their bedrooms on the third floor. “And when your father returns, don’t tell him what happened here today.”
“Why not? Cracking that monster’s skull is the finest thing my father ever did—too bad he botched the job, like always.”
“Stop saying things like that, Jeff. Disrespect from a boy is one thing, but you’re a man now.”
He nodded grimly and leaned back on the door next to me. “Then you won’t object to my taking Jane for a wife?”
“I’d think you’d rather marry someone who’ll bring no more strife into this family.”
“Jane isn’t her mother,” Jeff said, reasonably, staring at his feet. “I’m set on Jane. She’s the prudent choice.”
I stared, remembering my own seemingly prudent choice. “Oh, Jeff, be careful.”
“I know what I’m about. My future prospects from my father I consider as blank. From my grandfather, not very cheering.”
That my husband’s fortunes were negligible, I knew. But since Papa retired from the presidency, Monticello had never seemed more fruitful or alive. “Why would you say that?”
Jeff crossed his freckled arms. “I’ve seen grandfather’s books. Monticello is large but unprofitable and, unless judiciously managed, will probably consume itself.”
My father was a sunny optimist, and I was neither entitled nor desirous to know the extent of his debts. But my son was pragmatic and clear-headed. And I believed him. “Even so, marrying a woman you don’t love—”
“You won’t tell my sisters to marry for love. You want to, but you won’t. You don’t want them to end up at the mercy of a penniless drunk like Bankhead. It’ll be a miracle if they find husbands with their promised thirty cents per annum. Though, with Ellen’s caustic tongue, no amount would be enough.”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” I said, reaching for his hand.
Our shoulders touched in the doorway.
“My brothers are still boys,” he said. “I’m going to have to provide for all of them. My sisters and brothers. So I can’t marry anybody but a rich woman, and Jane’s sweet. If I can make myself love her, you can do the same.”
I glanced up at him, shamed that he should have such burdens. But I’d raised a man who could be relied upon, and that filled me with pride. So I never uttered another word against Jane, not realizing that she’d cost us everything.
THE NEXT MORNING, I rocked my grand-baby in his cradle as Ann continued to sleep fitfully in the nearby bed. The movement of the rocking was a comfort when so little else was. Everything seemed in a turmoil.
Ann awoke on a gasp. “Where is Charles? I have to go to him,” she said, her words slurred because of the swelling around her mouth.
“He must’ve kicked the senses out of you if you’re even considering going with him,” I said, my heart hurting that this was the reality of my daughter’s life.