"And you did accept it, didn't you? For 13 years, you accepted it. You remained in the marriage. You continued to benefit from the plantation's income. You attended social functions with your husband. To the outside world, you maintained the fiction that everything was fine."
"I had no choice."
"You had choices Eliza did not have," Whitfield said quietly. "You could have left. She couldn't. You chose to stay because the benefits outweighed the humiliation. Eliza stayed because she was property."
"Objection." Thomas was on his feet. "Counsel is badgering the witness."
"Sustained. Mr. Whitfield, move on."
But the point had been made. Margaret had stayed in a marriage she knew was broken because divorce would have destroyed her socially and financially. She had chosen respectability over dignity. That didn't make her the villain. It made her a victim of the same system that enslaved Eliza.
But it also meant her moral high ground was shakier than she wanted to admit.
The next several days of testimony were brutal. The Thorntons called servant after servant, asking them to describe Eliza's position in the household. What emerged was a picture of a woman who'd held unusual power for someone enslaved, managing accounts, making decisions, having private conversations with Robert that excluded even his wife. But Whitfield's cross-examinations revealed something else. Respect.
Almost every servant, when pressed, admitted that Eliza had been fair, kind, even that she'd helped people, protected them from worse overseers, used her influence with Robert to prevent families from being separated. One woman, an elderly cook named Aunt Ruth, gave testimony that stopped the courtroom cold. She'd worked at Belmont for 30 years and had known everyone involved. Thomas Thornton asked her, "Did you observe the relationship between Miss Eliza and Mr. Robert?"
"I saw what there was to see."
"Did it seem to you that she had manipulated him, controlled him?" Aunt Ruth looked at Thomas Thornton with eyes that had seen too much of life to be intimidated by a White lawyer.
"Mr. Thomas, you asking me if a woman who was property manipulated the man who owned her? That don't even make sense. How's someone with no power supposed to manipulate someone with all the power? She bore his children because he came to her room and she couldn't freely refuse."
"That ain't manipulation. That's what happens when one person owns another person. Your brother wasn't manipulated. He just finally admitted what he'd been doing."
Thomas tried to recover. "But she must have used those children to extract sympathy, too."
"Those children looked just like your brother, Mr. Thomas. Everyone could see it."
Everyone knew. The only person pretending not to know was Miss Margaret. And even she knew. She just couldn't say it out loud because saying it would mean admitting her husband preferred someone else. The problem wasn't that Miss Eliza manipulated anyone.
The problem is that Mr. Robert told the truth about something everyone wanted kept secret. It was the most honest testimony the court had heard. And Thomas Thornton quickly dismissed the witness, realizing she was doing more harm than good to his case.
But the Thorntons had one more weapon, and it was the most devastating one of all. They called Dr. Samuel Morrison, the physician who treated Robert in his final months. Morrison was elderly, distinguished, and highly respected in Natchez. His testimony was crucial because it addressed Robert's mental state.
"Dr. Morrison," Thomas began, "you treated my brother during his final illness."
What was his condition? Mr. Thornton suffered from consumption of the lungs. The disease had progressed significantly by early 1854. He experienced fever, night sweats, severe coughing, and increasing weakness. Did this illness affect his mental capacity?
Morrison hesitated. Consumption can affect the mind, particularly in its advanced stages. Fever can cause delirium. The physical suffering can lead to despair, irrationality. "In your professional opinion, was my brother capable of sound judgment in the weeks before his death?"
And here Morrison looked genuinely troubled. I believe he was physically suffering so much that his judgment may have been impaired. Yes. Whitfield's cross-examination was critical. Dr. Morrison, you say, may have been impaired.
Were you present when Mr. Thornton dictated his will to Mr. Whitfield? No. Did you examine him that specific day?
No. Did he ever, in your presence, say anything that suggested he was confused about his affairs, unable to recognize people, or otherwise mentally incompetent?