He does, and Bianca has a plan.

Dear Diary, (May 22nd, late at night)

I have resolved to proceed with a plan that will make Havenhall superbly profitable and at the same time make clear to the great families of Charleston that although I come from Pennsylvania, that I intend to run this plantation in a way that aligns with their Southern values.

As far as I can tell from comparing last year's ledger to ones from prior years it seems that the income from the rice and tobacco cash crops is only a third of what it once was. The only 'crop' that has regularly exceeded the prior year's revenues comes from the sale of slaves bred on the property.

After lunch I sent for Mr. Kyleson and had him brought into where I was working in my father's library. I had an idea in my head and some columns of numbers roughed out, but I needed Mr. Kyleson to confirm what the ledgers suggested and to answer a few questions about some of the oddities I noticed.

"It seems that the income from rice and tobacco was only $6,170." I start, making it clear to my overseer that I had done my homework.

"Yes, ma'am." Kyleson spit into the brass pot by the desk as much as a way to express his feeling on the matter as to clear his mouth. "Once the Alabama and Louisiana plantations got up and running, they glutted the market especially for rice."

"How many field slaves does it take to grow those crops?"

"We have eighteen bucks, ma'am." Kyleson knew these numbers like the back of his hand, "eight breeders, four old nannies and a couple grey-bearded goats, plus the little ones once they're old enough to carry a load." I hadn't considered the fact that negro children were also an important part of the farm labor, that will definitely help the numbers. "Come planting and harvest I use every set of hands we have; the rest of the year we could get by with four or five bucks and some pregnant sows for the hoeing." I remember seeing the 'sow pen' on my first tour of the plantation. The four women in the pen were all withing weeks of dropping their babies all the other pregnant breeders were out in the field or doing other chores.

"OK." This all sounded about right. "And the eight breeding slaves, they have, on average, eight babes each year, right?" Again, Kyleson nods his head. "We get about $300 dollars of cash income per head for the male fieldslaves and-" I pause to double check the numbers and about $400 for each **** we sell when they come of age. The way I see it, the breeding females are producing more for Havenhall than their male counterparts. Am I missing something?" We talked a little about details but for the most part Kyleson had to agreed with my assessment.

"Next," I point to a particular sale in the books where a **** sold for almost $700. "Why did this Cordelia sell for so much more than the other slaves?" This time Mr. Kyleson was a lot less forthcoming but eventually I got out of him that this Cordelia was a light-skinned **** that was bought by a specialty house that dealt only in fancy girls.

"She was a pretty one," the overseer shook his head with a grin on his face. "When they get that bitch trained-up she'll probably be sold for over a thousand dollars." After he left, I revised the numbers for my plan and over dinner I explained it all to Robert.

"So, you want to turn Havenhall into a breeding farm." Robert was familiar with other plantations that had gone this route when the repeated plantings had stripped the richness from the Carolina soil.

"Yes Robert," I placed my hand on his, "but I want to specialize in female mulatto slaves, we'll keep some bucks to tend the gardens and barns, but for the most part I want to be the premier breeder of fancy girls in the South." We sipped our port in silence for a minute before I added the latest part of my plan. "I don't just want to sell them off when they first blossom, Robert. I want to keep them for a few more years, I want to train them here and sell them directly to Charleston's gentlemen in private auctions."

"Wow, that's ambitious. Who would you get to do the training?" My first thought was that my Mr. Thornton wanted to get his hands on all those light-skinned slaves, but I decided that he was more interested in how I was going to find someone with the unique skills those slaves would require.

"I think I know someone who has the skills, Robert." I hope he didn't think I was being coy, but I'm not sure if my mother would be willing to come back to Havenhall, or if she would consider training girls in her specialized skills.

My next task is to write to my mother and tell her my plan for Havenhall, but I'm expecting Robert to visit soon, and I want to be ready for him.