Reach out to the reenactors

In a way, it is easier to reach out to a complete stranger than one of my girlfriends. I send a short email to the contact information on the Furguson's Artillery corps recruitment page with a very edited version of the truth. I hit send before I could change my mind and then turned my attention back to Bianca's narrow escape.

The irony of my distant relative's predicament is overwhelming. On one hand, Bianca is wealthy young heiress but she's living in a time and place where her mixed blood makes her an outcast. Unlike other eligible Charleston debutants, Bianca was unlikely to have eligible gentlemen seeking her out for political and financial gain, or even from rakes eager to get under her skirts.

I reread the two entries in the journal describing Bianca's **** by her cousin and how in the last minute her surly plantation overseer saved her. The entry in Bianca's diary was surprisingly calm considering the way she had been attacked. I doubt that back in Philadelphia her dealings with men involved being stripped and bent over like a whore. For a sheltered young woman like Bianca to be overpowered, treated like a piece of meat ... by a white bastard like Miles. I expected more anxiety.

I had planned to do more work tracking down possible locations for either Havenhall or the museum that decided that this journal was too hot to handle, instead I found myself opening the leatherbound notebook yet again with one hand down between my legs as I started to read again.

Dear Diary, (Still morning of May 22nd)

It seems that some small kindness is smiling on me still. Mr. Thornton, who had withdrawn from me when my secret was revealed, is by my side again. Apparently, upon learning of my encounter with Stanton, the young gentleman found a clarifying strength and resolve.

I was sitting at the writing table finishing the last entry on the previous page when Mr. Thornton knocked softly on my door. The normally impeccably dressed lawyer was unshaven and wasn't wearing either his jacket or tie, just a waistcoat over his wrinkled shirt.

“Mr. Thornton?” I asked, alarmed by the grim look on his face. “Is everything alright?”

“No, Miss DiFlorentini, nothing is right.” Mr. Thornton's tenor had an extra tremble to it, and I was further surprised when he fell to his knees by my chair and took my hand in his. “I heard what happened. Are you unharmed?” Frankly, I was as shaky as Mr. Thornton appeared to be, but nothing in my schooling covered what you say after being molested by a brute. Instead of putting my feelings into words I asked a question that had been troubling me since my cousin's visit.

“Mr. Manton seemed to believe he could do as he wished, even here in my house.” I explained as calmly as I could. “You're a lawyer, Mr. Thornton: does a colored woman really have no recourse under the law in South Carolina?” I do not think the earnest young man was expecting such a direct question. He stammered uncomfortably, searching for something he could say under the circumstances.

“You are not a ****, Miss DiFlorentini.” I was getting used to Mr. Thornton starting by stating the obvious, “as such, you are in theory protected by the law ....” His tone indicated that there was more to his answer. “However, here in the South as in Philidelphia, a man is tried by a jury of his peers. I am not sure you'd find thirteen white men in Charleston who would all agree that what Mr. Manton did was enough to convict him.”

“Is that what you think too, Mr. Thornton?” Mr. Thornton lowered his eyes, perhaps embarrassed by his reaction when he learned my true heritage. “Do you think I deserved to be **** by my cousin?”

“No, of course not.” His face hardened and he lowered his eyes. “I'm so sorry I was not there for you to stop him, Miss DiFlorentini.” I smiled sadly and squeezed his fingers firmly.

“Don't be, Mr. Thornton.” I stood and lifted him to his feet. “That fact that you are still here in Havenhall under the circumstances is a tribute to your character.” There was every chance, that in spite of my best efforts to control the situation that Mr. Thornton would find it prudent to distance himself from me, yet he was still here by my side “And I am so very grateful that you are here with me.”

“Yes, Miss DiFlo-” I stopped him with a finger on his soft lips. Less than an hour ago, the weakness of my sex proved to be a liability, but now my femininity could work to my advantage. I could feel his face flush with desire, and I admit, my lips were tingling too.

“I think, under the circumstances, that you might call me by my Christian name.”

“I would like that, Bianca.” His dark eyes met mine unflinchingly, “I will do my best to help in whatever way I can.” The kiss that followed was both sweet and thorough and by the time Mr. Thornton lifted his lips from mine we were both panting heavily.