Her secret is revealed

Dear Diary, (evening of May 20th)

My previous writing was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Naylor who upon hearing of my recovery wanted to finish with the matter once and for all. I got the distinct impression that this elder statesman was eager to be gone at the earliest opportunity and that I would never see or hear from the solicitor again.

There was paperwork to be attended to, documents to sign and counter sign and the like, and with the last dotting of the 'i' in DiFlorentini, Mr. Naylor took his leave. Apparently, finding out that they had been disinherited had a unifying effect on my cousins as they left Havenhall in the same carriage before I even awoke.

After lunch, I was obligated to accompany Mr. Kyleson on a review of the plantation. The Irishman was as taciturn as ever, but I kept my calm, as he gave me the grand tour. In any event, it is only now after eating dinner that I have the peace and time to finish recording the events of the morning.

“He said I was his daughter?” I asked Mr. Thornton as we sat in the empty library. Still grappling with the implications of this new information. Mr. Thornton nodded somberly.

“Your father, in ****, found the courage to do what he could not do in life.” The young lawyer confirmed what I thought I heard just before fainting. “You are a wealthy woman, Miss DiFlorentini, but do not expect that your life will be easy. I'm afraid that in this part of the country you are going to be shunned by almost everyone.”

“Even you, Mr. Thornton?” The young man shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. It wasn't a promise of fealty but compared to Mr. Naylor and the Manton's response it was no small sacrifice on his part.

“Mr. Heyward had copies of your mother's manumission papers, and the certificate from their secret marriage in a Quaker meeting hall in Wilmington, Delaware.” Mr. Thornton rested his hand briefly on mine, “Both of these documents were witnessed and notarized by upstanding members of the community.” The warmth of his hand on mine threatened to bring tears to my eyes and I closed them as I tried to come to terms with this flood of information. I cannot know this for sure, but I think for a moment Mr. Thornton might have misinterpreted this weakness because I felt his face lowering towards mine.

Waiting for a kiss?

Is that what I looked like to Mr. Thornton? If I were a man and saw a young woman looking like that, I'd certainly kiss her! It is just as well that we were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Mr. Naylor as described above. Under normal circumstances back home in Philadelphia, I would not have given much thought to a bookish young lawyer like Mr. Thornton, but over the past few days he has proven to be my only friend in this entire state.

It is, I think for the best that we were interrupted by Mr. Naylor before anything untoward happened in that empty library, but soon I will have to deal with all that has happened. Maybe a fling with the earnest young man is exactly what I need to clear my troubles away ... I wonder, would he be as deferential in bed as he is by my side? I am trying to picture the proper Mr. Thornton forcefully throwing me onto my bed like Mr. Kyleson might, and frankly I doubt he has it in him.

What was my father thinking when he revealed my true heritage? Within Havenhall perhaps, I may be able to live the life of a plantation owner, but everywhere else I will be shunned as the tainted daughter of a ****?