Chapter 8

The weight of the coarse iron cuffs on Elizabeth’s tiny wrists was excruciating. Rough edges cut into her skin, staining the pale pink linen frock the surly captain rescued from her trunk in anticipation of the auction with tiny crimson droplets. The remainders of her belongings were distributed amongst the men to use as gifts for their lady friends.

She struggled to keep up with the long legged slaves who shared the shackled line of human stock. The only white skin amidst a sea of darkness, her presence caused quite a stir.

After Elizabeth threatened to inform the crowd of her vile injustice just as soon as she was able, the captain took precautions and ordered her drugged with a dose of laudanum. She was given just enough to fog her mind and subdue her manner without the crowd recognizing her drug induced state. Barely able to utter her name, Elizabeth was helpless to announce her truth to the seemingly endless crowd she was tugged and pulled through so unceremoniously.

Eager to display her rich raven waves, her captors denied her a bonnet. Her scalp burned under the searing sun as she stood in line and awaited her turn to be pushed onto the block and bargained over like an animal.

Since slavery was abolished in England, Elizabeth had never witnessed such a sale. Even if slavery was still legal, she would never have been allowed to attend such an event. It was unseemly for a lady to be exposed to such. Even in her state of murky twilight, she was acutely aware of how horridly humiliating it was for the captives who preceded her.

More of the laudanum the ship’s doctor provided for the captain to force down her throat was brought along for good measure. Its effects kept her emotionless while she watched men and women being stripped of their clothing and their naked bodies poked, pawed, and at times caressed in their most intimate places.

The bidders discussed each slave’s usefulness for labor, breeding, and his own personal pleasure as the auction dragged on. No one escaped this degradation. Men, women, and children alike were marched onto the auction block and subjected to variations of this humiliation before being sold to the highest bidder. Tears and wailing pierced the air as babies were forcibly wrested from their mothers, wives from their husbands, and siblings from each other.

Elizabeth watched as the last of her shackled companions was led up onto the auction block. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with skin the color of rich ebony. Moist from the sun’s burning rays, his rich black skin glistened and reflected the sunlight like the fine gem she commissioned her jeweler to place in a setting for a necklace she greatly favored. She had worn it so often its gold was worn precariously thin so she tucked it away in a box she kept her precious things in for safe keeping until she was able to take it to the jeweler for repair. That box was now long gone, as was the necklace.

The chained man’s face was expressionless as his eyes met hers. The auctioneers unceremoniously removed his threadbare breaches to display his generous anatomy to the potential buyers. What his facial expression hid, his eyes did not. Elizabeth cringed at this poor man’s shame.

Her expression stirred him in some way and his back straightened and chin raised a notch. They were not exaggerated gestures and probably went unnoticed by the bidders who were absorbed in their scrutinizing of his various body parts. The fact that she noticed seemed to please him.

Elizabeth realized her mind was hazy, but she doubted it was so hazy as to misconstrue that look. He though she was a darky slave. The thought was almost overwhelming.

She looked quickly away, doing her best to pull herself together. She was to be the last one sold and her time was coming soon. She needed to clear the fog from her head, regain the composure a lady of noble birth and breeding was expected to have at all times, and tell this crowd the wrong done to her. Surely, once the truth about her situation was discovered, the crowd would hang that captain for his vile ways. Although she was anxious to return to England, apologize to her husband for her foolishness, and become the faithful and doting wife she knew she could be, she would not mind sticking around long enough to watch that disgusting ship’s captain hang. In fact, she was certain she would enjoy it.

The moment Elizabeth both longed for and dreaded arrived. She straightened her back as best she could under the weight of the chains and cuffs and stumbled up the wooden steps to the platform.  She shook her head and cleared her throat in preparation for the plea she was prepared to shout out just as soon as her feet touched the platform. To her horror and dismay, the ship’s doctor greeted her in the center of the stairs and forced one more dose of laudanum down her throat for good measure. He explained to the auctioneers that she was a high spirited mulatto from special circumstances and it would be much easier to get top dollar if they kept her sedated until the auction was over. Although not a common practice, the auctioneers experienced situations of the like before and, since it was their duty to get the highest bid they could, they simply nodded their heads in agreement and proceeded with the auction.

Elizabeth’s heart sank as her head swirled from the effects of the newly ingested laudanum. She would never find her voice now. She could barely focus three feet before her. The world was a blur.

The thick, wooden stairs were worn smooth in the center by excessive use, but the sides still threatened an uncovered foot with filthy slivers of various thicknesses and lengths. Although they gave her one of her gowns to wear, she was not provided with a pair of shoes. When her tender bare foot stumbled off the smooth center, her soft flesh was immediately assaulted by a three-inch sliver of decaying wood.

A loud scream escaped her lips as she jumped from shock mixed with pain. Her captors stumbled to and fro while the crowd rolled with laughter.

Angered and embarrassed, one of the burly men pulled his fist back and sent it flying right into the middle of her back. Although its force pushed most of the air out of her lungs, she used what little remained to wail with painful indignation before falling to her knees and doing her best to replenish her air supply.

Pulling her to her feet, the disgruntled man half dragged, half carried her petite frame to the top of the steps and dropped her, unceremoniously, onto the platform. Without thinking about the fact that she was on public display, Elizabeth pulled up her skirt; exposing a bit of ankle while she inspected her wounded appendage through blurring eyes. Murmurs spread through the crowd while they watched her intently work at getting the sliver out of her foot, seemingly ignoring their presence.

Paulette leaned into her brother and whispered, “The chit acts like she has not one care in the world. Buy her for me, will you dearest?”

Arthur bowed to his regal looking half-sister and made his way to the front of the crowd where the bidders waited for the sale to begin. When he reached the edge of the platform, his eyes locked with the deepest violet pools of enchantment he had ever encountered. He was so taken by surprise that he almost forgot his reason for being there.

The snap of the auctioneer’s whip across Elizabeth’s back sent him into a tail spin. He roared his indignation so loud his fellow bidders joined in. It was clear this woman was a gem amid a pile of rocks and they did not appreciate one flaw being place on her body by a bully such as he.

The crowd’s outrage only added to the auctioneer’s angst and embarrassment. He stepped away, but not before his boot found the softness of poor Elizabeth’s backside in a swift, hard kick and his hand grabbed the back of her bodice. With a vice-like grip, he held firm to the fine fabric while the weight of her tiny body plummeting forward created the resistance needed for the material to tear all the way down the back to her waist. The auctioneer pulled aggressively until he was satisfied that her corset-less body was exposed for all eyes to see before he released it and stepped back, glowering with disdain.

The crowd got a good solid view of her wares before Elizabeth, who was still dulled by the laudanum, realized what happened. It was even longer before she gathered enough wits about her to scoop up her bodice and hold it firmly to her breasts.

The forlorn aristocrat looked at the pool of blood forming around her foot on the platform and sighed. She was not sure which needed her hands more, her bodice or her foot.

Painfully aware of the auctioneer’s prompting for her to stand, she saw no way out. For now, there was nothing to do but obey.

Since she was unable to remove the entire sliver from her tender flesh, Elizabeth’s foot was not only swelling, but the pain was intensifying.   Her wound throbbed to the beat of her heart. She received an injury similar to this a few years ago and Madeleine had placed a healing salve on it. She wished she possessed such a salve now, along with a needle and thread.

Her mind felt weak and her body was tired. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until this nightmare was over.

Noticing her condition, Arthur guessed she was drugged. He scowled his disapproval, but said nothing.

As the bidding began, Elizabeth tried to speak out to tell the crowd who she was and how she had come to be placed in such a position. She strained against the effects of the drug to summon up the right words.  She barely uttered a syllable before one of her captors approached her quickly and, jabbing a miniature dagger into the small of her back, whispered a threat to her life. If she did one thing to upset the sale he would kill her on the spot and no one would care because, when all was said and done, she was nothing more than a darky. It was a threat she was certain he would follow through with should she disobeyed him.

The bidding went higher and higher as, little by little, the number of bidders dwindled. When it was left to just Arthur and an older man on Arthur’s right, Arthur’s opponent insisted on seeing more of the merchandise he was bidding on.

The thought of the young beauty baring more of her goddess-like body before ogling eyes, not to mention her tender private parts being pawed by strangers, made Arthur’s skin crawl. He just could not allow it to occur.  In an ordinary slave auction, this would have been considered completely normal, but this was not an ordinary slave auction and the chit before him was not an ordinary slave woman. Besides, she already inadvertently displayed her small, well-formed breasts to the crowd.

Arthur was a rich man. In fact, he was one of the richest men in the newly emancipated United States. Now, like no other, was a time when he was extremely grateful for this fact.

“I intend to buy this mulatto, sir, and I do not wish to have any more of her wares displayed for all to see. So, kindly step back and admit your defeat,” he said boldly.

“Do you not know my identity, good sir?” the man replied indignantly.

“By name, no,” Arthur stated flatly, “but I do know you are not the man who will be walking away from this block with that mulatto.”

“We shall just have to see about that.” the man huffed.  His face flushed with anger as he poked his walking stick toward the auctioneer. “You there! Kindly tell this young man my name,” he demanded.

The auctioneer displayed rotting teeth as he sneered, looked down at Arthur as he bellowed, “This be Sir Martin Simone of Charles Town.”

Although he had never been introduced to Sir Simone, Arthur was more than familiar with his social and financial status. He was a man of wealth that was surpassed by only a few. Fortunately, Arthur was amongst those few. Arthur also knew that Sir Simone met with his father on more than one occasion for business purposes and was obliged to his family as a result of some favors his father called in from his colleagues on the man’s behalf.

Turning to the indignant old gentleman, he bowed low, “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Sir Simone of Charles Town. Please, allow me to introduce myself,” he drawled smugly, “I am Arthur Moore of Savannah. I believe you knew my father, James Moore. God rest his soul.”

It may have sounded like a simple introduction to those nearby, but the exchange between the two men went far deeper than that. Sir Simone immediately understood he would not be the victor in the competition to buy the breath taking mulatto. Even if he could muster up the means to outbid this young man, he was beholding to the family and therefore had no choice than to gracefully back away.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, sir,” the old man stated grudgingly as he bowed low. “I had no idea I was bidding opposite such a distinguished gentleman. I will rescind my bid and allow you the spoils of the day.”

Although livid about being referred to as a mulatto and the spoils of the day, Elizabeth was more than a little relieved to hear that she would not have to remove her clothing like the other unfortunates who went before her. At least she was spared that indignation.

She was almost able to focus clearly enough on the man who purchased her to realize his striking good looks, when he startled her out of focus again by barking orders to his man.

“Take her to the wagon,” he said flatly as he strolled past her to pay the cashier.

Arthur moved past Elizabeth without a second glance. The auction was over and his interest with her apparently finished with it.

A tall black man, dressed in white cotton that could rival the best London had to offer, pulled her to her feet and gently escorted her by her elbow to a large side-less wagon. As he urged her into the rolling wooden structure with the other unfortunates of the day, she opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it. Perhaps once they reached their destination and the laudanum was out of her system she would be able to speak with the strikingly handsome gentleman who just paid a ridiculous amount of money for her. Surely he would see the deception played. She was not a mulatto. She just needed a chance to prove it.