Part 2: In the Garden

The next two days were a whirlwind. I had to adjust to life at Blackwood and I wasn’t really prepared for all the changes. I was expected, as were all the proper ladies of the house, to change clothes for daily events – lunch, tea, dinner, riding, and anything else that seemed to come up. Considering I had to wear a chemise, a corset, drawers, stockings, a couple petticoats, a cage crinoline, and the damn dress itself ... this was, frankly, a pain in the ass. When the volume of fancy clothes we wore was coupled with the rising Mississippi heat ... Ugh.

In addition, there was almost nothing to do. We spent our days in leisure, sipping tea, ordering servants around, playing croquet, and occasionally riding. The riding was fun; I lived in a city and open riding was not something I got to do much of. We did some other things that were quite enjoyable as well: one day Uncle Wyatt took Ella Rose and I out rowing in what they called the Pond (it was really the sluggish branch of a river).

I got to know Ella Rose again and I did enjoy her company. We were the same age and shared many early memories. We were strolling behind the house and I spotted a disheveled garden and patio space that had a wall around it and I began to form a plan in my mind. That night I privately made use of a small item I had secreted in my luggage and was ready for the morning.

When I got up the next day, I skipped breakfast. I donned the lightest white linen dress I had over a chemise and my favorite corset, paired it with some boots, earrings, a choker, and a lacy parasol. I tied a shawl around my waist and made sure to grab an ornate fan. Then I deliberately sought out my Aunt Margareet.

I found her off to one side of the house, supervising a handful of field hands digging what would be the barbecue pits this weekend.

“Aunt Margareet-”

“Oh Polly, my dear. I do believe that Ella Rose is taking a stroll down along the south fences. We missed you at the table this morning.”

“I had a slight headache and decided to sleep in. I’m quite better now.”

“Well that is good to hear my dear.”

“You know, Aunt Margareet, I’m used to doing things at home to help out. I know you have a big party coming up and Ella has told me about some of the local bachelors. Is there anything I can do to help prepare?”

“Polly, come now – you’re on holiday. I don’t expect you to work.”

“Of course, but until Ella returns...”

“Well, there are a few odds and ends-”

“I noticed that walled garden out back. I’m sure that would be very useful for your party but I noticed its kind of disordered.”

Margareet smiled. “Oh yes. I just haven’t gotten the time to get a few men over there-”

“Well, I have been told I have an eye for gardens up in Philadelphia. I would be happy to help,” I said.

“Oh Polly, I don’t expect you to weed planters and move tables and chairs,” said Margareet.

I hated using one word in my next statement. “Just fetch a big strong black and I can tell him what to do. I remember there was a big one in the fields when I arrived.”

“Oh you must mean Samson. He is a big boy! He can be a handful though. I’ll have Duncan fetch him and send him over to the garden in a bit.”

“Very good Aunt Margareet. Thanks for letting me help.” I rambled over to the garden, even swinging my parasol around playfully when nobody could see. This was going to be deliciously fun.

Duncan arrived with Samson in tow a few minutes later. I was sitting quietly in the cluttered garden, quite content with myself. “Hello, Miss Polly,” began Duncan dutifully.

“Nice to see you Duncan,” I replied. “And you’ve brought me...?”

“This here is Samson, he’s a big strong boy. He’ll be able to clean this place up for ya’.”

“Samson is it? Okay then,” I said.

“Now you listen Samson. Miss Polly is gonna tell you how she wants this place set up. You do as you’re told boy!”

“Yes sir, Mr. Duncan sir,” replied Samson.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on you Miss Polly.”

“Thank you Duncan,” I said.

Duncan turned to leave and I followed him, closing the swinging garden gate behind him and wedging the latch down hard to prevent any surprises; the darn old thing must be prone to getting stuck.

I had been right about Samson. He was at least a foot taller than me and really well built. His biceps were probably the size of my thighs and muscles rippled under his ebony skin. I could only guess what was in his trousers. I know that he recognized me. I could tell that he was nervous but with a wall around us and a jammed gate he had no reason to be.

“Its very nice to finally meet you Samson,” I purred. I tossed the shawl away and demurely crossed my legs for him, stretching and displaying my curvaceous form. His brown eyes scanned me.