Dr. Harold Peyton died three months ago. Healthy until he wasn't. His nephew inherited and immediately sold everything. Couldn't get away fast enough. He paused.
Peyton's death wouldn't have raised eyebrows by itself, but it was what came before and what came before. His overseer, a man named Kelly, dead from brain fever after two weeks of raving. Before that, Peyton's driver, Marcus, found dead in the stables with a broken neck. They said kicked by a horse, but Marcus knew horses better than anyone. And before that, Peyton's physician, Dr. Simon Vance, dead from apparent influenza complications.
Thomas absorbed this. You're suggesting these deaths are connected. Four men associated with the Peyton household died within two months. And the only common thread was that woman. She prepared medicines, tonics, teas, had access to the main house, the kitchen, the sick rooms.
Crenshaw leaned forward. And she had reason. What reason? About six months ago, Celia's daughter took ill. Pneumonia, they thought.
Dr. Vance attended her. The girl died three days later. Celia claimed the doctor was drunk, gave wrong treatment, killed her daughter through negligence. She made loud accusations. Peyton had her whipped and confined.
Crenshaw finished his bourbon. two weeks later, Dr. Vance was dead, then Marcus, then Kelly, then Peyton. That could be coincidence. Could be, but that woman has knowledge of herbs and plants that goes deeper than most. She knows what cures and what kills, and she's got nothing left to lose. He stood to leave.
I came as a courtesy, Mr. Peete. What you do with the information is your business. But if I were you, I would sell that woman quickly or put her in the fields where she can't access anyone's food or drink.
That evening, Thomas visited the overseer's cabin where Celia had been housed. She sat on the rough bed, hands unbound, posture straight despite the day's ordeal. She stood when she saw him, but her eyes met his directly. "You're Celia?" Thomas said. "Yes, master.
I'm told you have skills as a midwife and herbalist. Where did you learn?" "My mother was midwife before me. She learned from her mother. I learned from watching, then doing, and I can read, so I studied books when I could find them."
Her candor surprised him. "I'm also told you came from the Peyton estate.
There were several deaths there." "People die, master. That's the one certain thing in this world." "Indeed. But the timing caused some talk."
"White folks always talk, especially when they don't understand something." "And what didn't they understand?" Celia said nothing for a long moment. "Then they didn't understand that debts come due one way or another. Everything balances in the end."
The statement could have been philosophical or threatening.
Thomas decided to be direct. "Did you kill them?" She smiled slightly without warmth. "Can't kill a man with words, master, or with prayers, or with hoping real hard that justice finds them. If they died, it was divine providence or their own sins catching up. I'm just a slave.
Don't have the power to do anything but what I'm told." "You'll work as midwife here. Tend to the sick, deliver babies, prepare medicines as needed under old Patience's supervision." "Yes, master." "And Celia, whatever happened at Peyton's place, it stays there.
Here at Waverly, we start fresh. Understood. Yes, master.
Understood perfectly. That night, Thomas lay in bed thinking about Celia's daughter, dead at 17 from pneumonia or a doctor's negligence. He thought about a mother's grief and what it might drive someone to do. He thought about herbs and plants, how the same knowledge that eased pain could cause it. Most of all, he thought about four dead men and one woman with nothing left to lose.
The harvest began in late September. Dark clouds had been building over the Atlantic for days. A late-season hurricane was coming. If the cotton wasn't picked before the storm hit, an entire year's profit could be destroyed. Thomas drove his workers hard, as all planters did during harvest.
They rose before dawn and worked until darkness made it impossible to continue. Celia was not in the fields. Thomas had assigned her to work alongside old Patience. Within a week, even Hutchkins reported they had reached an understanding. Old Patience says the new woman knows her business, knows plants and remedies Patience never heard of.
Asked if she could start a proper herb garden, Thomas approved it, reasoning Celia would be under Patience's supervision. The garden began as a small plot behind the quarters. Comfrey for wounds, feverfew for headaches, willow bark for pain, chamomile for stomach ailments. Each plant was labeled with neat handwriting, and Celia kept a journal documenting everything.
October brought the hurricane everyone expected. It struck on the 12th, massive winds that bent trees nearly horizontal and rain so thick visibility was impossible. The storm lasted 18 hours. When it passed, about 20% of the cotton had been destroyed and part of the quarters roof torn away. Within two days of the hurricane, people began falling ill.
It started with children. Fever, chills, violent coughing. Then it spread to adults. Within a week, 23 people were sick, including three house servants and Hutchkins' wife. Thomas sent to Savannah for a doctor.
The young physician who arrived looked overwhelmed immediately. He prescribed rest, fluids, and regular doses of calomel. "Keep them warm and dry. The fever should break in a week or so." After the doctor left, Thomas found Celia in the quarters moving from patient to patient with patients trailing behind. She had organized them efficiently, checking temperatures, listening to breathing, examining with practiced assessment.
The doctor prescribed calomel. Thomas told her. Celia didn't look up. "Calomel makes it worse. Weakens them more than the fever does."
"It's what doctors use." "Doctors kill more people than they save." "You want these people to live so they can keep working.
Let me treat them my way." He should have been offended by her tone. Instead, he asked, "What would you do differently?" "No calomel. Willow bark tea for fever, honey and garlic for cough, elderberry to strengthen them.