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  THE PLANTER’S DAUGHTER BY MICHELLE SHOCKLEE

  Published by Smitten Historical Romance

  an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-946016-09-6

  Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Shocklee

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by Karthick Srinivasan

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: lpcbooks.com

  For more information on this book and the author, visit: www.MichelleShocklee.com

  All rights reserved. Noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “The Planter’s Daughter by Michelle Shocklee published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James Version (KJV).

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas: Eddie Jones, Kathryn Davis, Shonda Savage, Payton Lechner, Brian Cross, Lucie Winborne.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Shocklee, Michelle

  The Planter’s Daughter / Michelle Shocklee 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PRAISE FOR THE PLANTER’S DAUGHTER

  Shocklee’s novel carried me to a past time and a unique culture, and held me captive. Its realistic setting, believable characters, and gripping storyline—told honestly yet never wallowing in ugliness—came together in a beautiful tale about following one’s conscience regardless of the cost. Kudos to Michelle on a lovely, heart-stirring debut.

  ~ Kim Vogel Sawyer, Award-winning Author

  My Heart Remembers

  Set on an antebellum Texas plantation, The Planter’s Daughter is an inspiring story of love and courage. Readers will revel in the historical detail as they follow Seth and Adella Rose on an eventful journey toward their own happily ever after.

  ~ Dorothy Love, Author

  Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Gray

  The Planter’s Daughter captivated me from chapter one. I didn’t just read this story, the author put me in the middle of the setting and I watched the story unfold around me. Michelle Shocklee has done a masterful job of allowing her three-dimensional characters to perform the story on a sensory-rich stage. One of the best books I’ve read this year. BRAVO!

  ~ Connie Stevens, Author

  Brides of Georgia and Hope’s Dwelling Place

  “The Planter’s Daughter will move you. The romance is there, and it’s wonderful, but Michelle Shocklee’s debut novel is so much more than a romance. It’s a real and redemptive look at slavery on a Texas plantation. Brave and honest, sweet and true, this pre-Civil War love story will stir your heart and your conscience. Above all, you will find yourself rooting for freedom, not just for the slaves of Rose Hill, but for Adella and Seth, two people struggling to escape their own bonds of enslavement and accept love and redemption from each other and their heavenly Father.”

  ~ Paula Scott, Author

  Until the Day Breaks

  Dedication

  To my beloved Brian.

  Forever and ever. Amen.

  Go down Moses

  Way down in Egypt land.

  Tell ole Pharaoh

  To let my people go.

  When Israel was in Egypt land.

  Let my people go.

  Oppressed so hard they could not stand.

  Let my people go.

  “Thus spoke the Lord,” bold Moses said.

  “If not, I’ll smite your first born dead.”

  Let my people go.

  No more in bondage shall they toil.

  Let my people go.

  Let them come out with Egypt’s spoil.

  Let my people go.

  ~Slave Song, 1800s

  Contents

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A Gift for You

  Thank you for investing in this book. As a thank you, LPC Books would love to offer you advance review Kindle copies of our forthcoming books. These Kindle ebooks will be delivered to your Kindle reader. We release around 40 books a year. You pick which ones you wish to receive. Visit the link below to sign up for our FREE Kindle ebook subscriber list:

  https://lpcbooks.com/free-ebook/

  CHAPTER ONE

  Williamson County, Texas

  May 1859

  Adella cringed at the sound of shattering glass.

  What now?

  Exasperation pushed her taut nerves to the edge. Two vases and a china teacup had already met their demise as house servants feverishly prepared for Natalie Langford’s arrival on the morrow. That her brother’s fiancée sparked such anxiety did not bode well, considering the wedding was still two weeks away. Would things only worsen after the blonde beauty became mistress of Rose Hill Manor—a role Adella herself had filled since Mama took ill three summers ago?

  A small shadow appeared in the open doorway to her bedroom. Adella Rose Ellis waited from her perch on the window seat, her bare feet tucked beneath a wide bell skirt, for the guilty servant to emerge. A warm afternoon breeze teased her loose hair. A moment later, Carolina’s fuzzy braids poked around, followed by wide, fearful eyes.

  “Missy Ellis?” The little girl’s timid voice squeaked. Perspiration glistened on her dark skin, and her bottom lip trembled when she stepped around the corner. “I sorry, Missy. I didn’t mean to break it. It just tumbled outta my hand.” A tear slid down an ebony cheek before she tucked her chin into the too-large homespun dress, which hung off of thin shoulders.

  “Come in, Carolina.” Adella softened her voice the way Mama always had when dealing with the servants. “Tell me what happened.”

  Carolina moved into the room, head down. A shuddering breath shook her small frame. “Aunt Lu sent me to fetch the lamp from Miss Natalie’s bedroom so’s she cou
ld fill it with kerosene.” Eyes shiny with tears peered up at Adella. “I real careful to hold it with both hands like she tol’ me, but”—her voice quivered—“my toe done caught the carpet in the hall.”

  Adella closed her eyes. She knew which lamp Carolina meant. It had been a favorite of Mama’s made of white glass, with painted roses on its chimney. At Papa’s request, Adella had begrudgingly placed it in Natalie’s room, just down the hall from her own. Although everything in the house would ultimately belong to Natalie after she and George married, Adella harbored a strong desire to protect the things Mama once treasured.

  But she couldn’t be angry with Carolina—not when the girl should have been playing with cornhusk dolls instead of working twelve-hour days in the big house, as the slaves called the manor.

  “It was an accident.” Adella offered a sympathetic smile, hoping to ease the girl’s worry. Mr. Haley, their former overseer, had whipped slaves for lesser offenses, so Carolina’s fear was not unfounded. Mercifully, that horrid man was no longer an issue. He’d passed in his sleep a fortnight ago, and Papa wouldn’t hire a replacement until he returned from purchasing new field workers in Galveston. “Help Aunt Lu clean up the mess, and we will keep this to ourselves.”

  Carolina’s brow shot up. “You ain’t gonna tell Massa Ellis?”

  “There is no need to tell Papa. He is in charge of the plantation, but I am in charge of the house.” At least for two more weeks. “Go on, now. Tell Aunt Lu we need another lamp for Miss Natalie’s room—and be very careful if she asks you to carry it upstairs.”

  “Yes’m, Missy.” Carolina disappeared down the hall, but not before she glanced back to Adella with a look of pure relief on her round face.

  With a cat-like stretch, Adella unfolded her legs and wiggled her toes, which were blessedly free of the pinching slippers that matched her pale blue gown. Even at twenty years of age, she still preferred to go shoeless, much to Aunt Lu’s dismay. The head house servant scolded and grumbled whenever she caught Adella barefoot. “Young women soon ta be betrothed don’t gallivant ’round without shoes.”

  Moving to her dressing table, Adella ran a brush sprinkled with fragrant rose water through her hair. The headache that drove her to her room had thankfully abated, but the thought of bundling her thick, dark tresses back into the velvet hairnet with a much-too-tight silk headband did not appeal. Perhaps she would have Hulda simply tie it with a ribbon since Papa was not due back from Galveston until noon tomorrow, and it would only be George and herself at supper.

  Thinking of George naturally led back to thoughts of Natalie and her impending visit. As a wedding gift, Papa gave Natalie permission to redecorate the parlor as well as order new furnishings for the suite of rooms she and George would occupy. Adella was to help with the undertaking. Natalie had declared it their first sisterly endeavor, but Adella found it far more difficult than anyone knew. Watching Mama’s house being prepared for another woman served as a stark reminder that her beloved mother was gone forever. Taken from earth a little more than a year past, the loneliness still felt fresh and raw in Adella’s heart. Yet Papa and George carried on as though the void Mama left was easily filled with plantation busyness and wedding plans.

  Not so for Adella. She studied her blue gown in the reflection of the mirror, noting the delicate lace on the collar and cloth-covered buttons running down the bodice, and was reminded of the plain black gowns wrapped in paper and folded neatly away in a trunk in the attic. Her year of mourning had come to an end in March, but she would have continued wearing black if Papa had not protested. It was no secret he hoped to secure a marriage proposal for her soon. She was long past the age when most girls married, but her priority the last few years had been seeing to Mama’s needs. Suitors that dared seek courtship were turned away, much to Papa’s consternation. Now, with Mama gone and Adella’s time of grieving over, Papa had wasted no time announcing his plans for her to marry within the year.

  Finished with her toilette, she padded across thick, warm carpet to the canopy-covered bed. The boards holding the goose-down mattress protested when she sat on the edge, drowning out her own discouraged sigh. If only Papa would listen when she tried to discuss her future. While marrying one day did interest her, her real desire was to stay on as Rose Hill’s mistress. It didn’t seem quite fair that George should inherit the plantation when he stood to gain the Langford property as well. As an only child, Natalie was heir to the large cotton plantation that bordered Rose Hill. Surely she and George could just as easily live with the Langfords and leave the Ellis manor in Adella’s care. Perhaps she should broach her idea with George at supper tonight and—

  A disturbance in the yard interrupted her plotting. Excited voices drifted upward, and by the time she peeked out her window, a number of slaves had gathered below. They faced south, toward the long, poplar-lined drive that led to the main house. Vast cotton fields stretched on either side, reminding her of an emerald ocean, with gentle waves carrying knee-high plants down one rolling hill, only to reappear on the next rise. Moving shapes speckled the neat rows, where dozens of workers took hoes to ever-present weeds or inspected plants for worms and other crawling things that could devastate a crop in a matter of days.

  “They’s comin’! They’s here!” Aunt Lu’s rich voice echoed from the foyer. The plump woman appeared in the bedroom doorway a few moments later, out of breath from her sprint up the stairs. “Missy Ellis, your pappy done come home a day early!”

  With a gasp, Adella turned again to the scene outside. Two riders and a wagon emerged from the shadows of the trees and headed toward the house. Indeed, she recognized Papa’s white gelding as he nudged his mount on ahead of the others. She couldn’t make out the second rider, who was still some distance away, though he sat taller in the saddle than her father. Old Joseph drove the plantation wagon, which had departed empty the week before but was now crowded with a number of dark-skinned men and at least one woman.

  “It is Papa. What a happy surprise!” She hurried across the room and into the hall.

  Aunt Lu harrumphed. “Missy, your hair be undone.”

  “Papa won’t mind,” Adella said over her shoulder as she practically flew down the stairs, the hem of her full skirt held high so as not to trip her in her haste. “I’ll miss welcoming him home if I wait for you to put it up.”

  Bare feet slapped against the cool marble floor of the foyer as Adella swept through the airy space to the open front door. The travelers were just dismounting when she reached the porch.

  “Papa! We didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.”

  Papa glanced up after handing the reins to one of the servants. “Adella Rose, you are a sight for these tired eyes of mine.” With a groan, he lumbered forward as Adella descended the dozen whitewashed steps to the ground. “I am too old for these long journeys anymore.”

  Adella stood on tiptoe to kiss Papa’s cheek, her lips grazing his whiskered jaw before she slid her arm into the crook of his elbow. “You should have sent word of your arrival. I fear the house is in an upheaval preparing for Natalie’s visit.”

  “Stop your fretting, daughter.” Papa patted her arm as they mounted the steps. “A bath and my own bed are my only concerns. I could not bear another night on one of those flea-infested straw ticks innkeepers call mattresses. We were up before the sun so we would make home today.” Gaining the shade of the porch, Papa’s gaze skimmed over the servants who’d lined up to welcome him home. “Where is George?”

  Aunt Lu, who had arrived on the porch a bit breathless, possessed the uncanny ability of knowing everyone’s whereabouts on the plantation. But she stared straight ahead as though she hadn’t heard Papa’s question.

  “I haven’t seen him since the noon meal,” Adella said, just now noticing her brother’s absence.

  “Never mind.” Impatience brought a frown to his face. “Brantley, come meet my daughter. Then you can see to the stock.”

  Adella had been so surprised by Papa’
s unexpected return that she had completely forgotten the other man. She now noted that he walked with a distinct limp, favoring his left leg. Perhaps he was saddle-weary, like Papa, but her instincts told her the limp frequently plagued him. Though his face remained shadowed by the brim of his dusty hat, she noted his physique was that of a strong, youthful man, quite in contrast to his hitching gait.

  “Adella Rose, this is Seth Brantley, son of my good friend Daniel Brantley.”

  At Papa’s introduction, the stranger mounted the porch and lifted his face. Removing his hat revealed dark hair plastered against his head, and he gave a polite nod. “Miss Ellis, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance … again.”

  She gaped at the stranger. Ruggedly handsome, with hazel eyes and generous lips that twitched with humor, Adella was certain she’d never seen the man before.

  “Mr. Brantley.” Her back stiffened at his improper insinuation. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting prior to today.”

  “No need for a fuss, my dear,” Papa said. “He is referring to when you met as children. When was that, Brantley? Eighteen forty-two? Forty-three?”

  “I believe it was forty-two, sir. I was eleven years old.” An easy smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Pa was called to Austin, even though he was no longer a congressman. Wasn’t that when Sam Houston feared a Mexican invasion and had the government documents moved from the capitol?”

  Papa laughed. “Ol’ Sam wanted to move them all right, but the folks down in Austin wouldn’t have it. They worried he would declare Houston the capitol if the archives reached that city, so they put up a resistance and eventually won. I tried to stay out of the whole affair, but your father wanted the Austin folks to know he stood with them.”

  “I had tagged along to keep him company. We stopped for the night at Rose Hill.” Seth turned his smile to Adella, warming her to her bare toes. “So you see, Miss Ellis, we have indeed had the pleasure of meeting prior to today.” His eyes boldly roamed her face. “I must say, though, you have certainly changed since that long-ago day.”