Her foot still hurt. Almost two weeks after she fell off the horse it still hurt when she tried to walk. She knew she should probably be grateful “ after all, things could have been a lot worse. She could have been seriously injured rather than suffer a light concussion, a sprained ankle and a fever that lasted for a couple of days. She probably would have been dangerously hurt, if Charles hadn’t acted as quickly as he had, although she’d rather forget that acting quickly had entailed him getting her undressed. Not since she was a child had anyone “ not even her father “ seen her in her undergarments, and Charles had not only seen her, but been the one to undress her. There mere thought was mortifying. Still, she couldn’t deny that he’d been the perfect gentleman about it, allowing her to pretend it had never happened in the first place and purposely staying away from her room while she was still bedridden. She was quite sure she wouldn’t have been able to handle facing him so soon after she found out, especially not while dressed in only her nightgown. Besides, such a visit would not have been proper, and Charles had been very proper around her since she’d been confined to his house.
She was relieved, however, when the fever lifted and she could, with Charles help, move downstairs into the library. She’d been highly embarrassed when he first had entered her room to carry her downstairs, but grateful nonetheless. And she had to admit, her housedress did feel a lot more comfortable when the corset wasn’t tied as tight and when the heavy petticoats wasn’t there to fill it up. It was terribly long without the petticoats, but then again, it wasn’t as if she could walk around so that didn’t really matter. Charles taste in books had proven excellent, and he had been ever so kind to read them aloud to her when her concussion was still bad enough for her to have problems reading them herself. He still read aloud to her when he had the time, even if she had been able to read for herself for several days now.
He had a wonderful voice, she’d noticed, listening to him read. Deep and rich and he never rushed the text like so many did, but took his time. On times like that she could almost forget her worries, almost allow herself to push her doubts to the back of her mind and pretend she already knew they weren’t true. That was the worst part of it, though, she didn’t know if they were or weren’t. It wasn’t that she thought they were true; she was almost convinced that they weren’t. After all, there were so many signs of the contrary. The way he allowed Eve to make mistake after mistake without even raising his voice at her, the way his servants called him not Mr Weasley, or even Mr Charles, but Mr Charlie “ the same nickname used by his family and friends, or the way Hetta had such a big influence over him. None of that fitted with the image of a cruel slave owner. Besides Charles had seemed so honest when he talked about his views on slavery, and he had said already the second time they met that he sometimes pretended to agree with his neighbours. Still, pretending to agree wasn’t the same as convincing them he had slaves of his own, and Mr Malfoy had said he’d seen him be horrible to slaves. And Mr Snape had thought he’d kill a man merely for escaping. How could anyone fool people into thinking things like that? And how could people see things that weren’t there.
Hermione sighed and let the book she was holding fall to her lap. There was no real need to pretend to read when she was the only one in the room, after all. Sometimes she did just to avoid talking to Charles, when she sensed he wanted to come back to that important thing he had tried to talk to her about before, on the ball and on the hill overlooking the sea. She couldn’t allow him to bring it up again. Not yet, anyway. There were too many things she didn’t know, that she needed to know before she could trust him enough to listen. So she pretended to be completely caught up in her books. Either that or she feigned headache, which would always have the desired effect. Charles would grow worried about her, apologising for not leaving her alone when he really should have, and call in Hetta just to make sure she was alright. She knew it was probably wrong, but she just couldn’t have whatever conversation it was he wanted to have right now. Not because she wasn’t curious about what he wanted to talk to her about, on the contrary, she was, but she was also scared. Actually, scared was an understatement, terrified was far more accurate.
After all, there really couldn’t be all that many things he wanted to talk to her about in that manner, and she had thought about any and all possibilities more times than she cared to admit. They way she saw it, it was most likely one of two things he wanted to talk to her about “ and neither was something she could face at the moment.
One fear was that he was trying to confess to lying to her. As much as she hated to think about the possibility, there was too much riding on this for her not to. She had seen the expression in his face on the balcony and on the hill, just as she’d seen it when he closed in on the subject here in the library. It was tense, nervous and worried “ as if he was afraid of her reaction. If he were, as was a possibility, trying to confess to having slaves, then such an expression would be suitable indeed. And if a confession was the case, she knew that she could never live with it. It didn’t matter if he needed to keep appearances up or was forced for some other reason “ if living in the South meant you had to have slaves to survive, then any righteous person would move. It wasn’t as if Charles didn’t have a choice as to where to live. He had chosen Charleston, and if that choice entailed him having slaves, then at least she could not live with it. Still she could not believe that he could have, or would have slaves. She was a smart woman, she would have noticed if he’d lied to her. Then again, she couldn’t be absolutely sure, and that alone was why her other option, if possible, scared her even more.
What if he wanted to propose? It wasn’t such an unreasonable assumption, was it? Ginny seemed to be convinced that he would, and so did Charles’s brother and sister-in-law. Mr Weasley had himself pointed out his wife’s choice of colour of the ball dress, Ginny had done the same, and in truth even Mr Malfoy had commented on it. And she couldn’t deny that she’d thought about the possibility herself. That she’d carried the hope that he might “ or the fear, since she’d heard Mr Malfoy and Mr Snape talking.
Fact was that she couldn’t accept a marriage proposal at the moment. She needed to know the truth first. If Mr Malfoy and Mr Snape were correct, then there wasn’t any way she could ever marry Charles. And yet if they were wrong and she had said no “ or even just expressed her doubts “ everything could be lost. She could only imagine what it would feel like if Charles told her he doubted everything she’d told him about herself. No! She couldn’t talk to him about it, and until she knew the truth for sure, she couldn’t allow him to tell her, or ask her, whatever it was he had on his mind. She needed to know first. If she did, then she could make an informed decision. If it was “ as she was almost convinced of “ a complete fabrication or delusion on Mr Malfoy and Mr Snape’s part, then she would have no problems with whatever Charlie wanted to tell her “ or ask her. She hoped it was ask her. Truth be told she couldn’t dream of meeting anyone she wanted to be asked by more than she wanted to be asked by Charles Weasley. But she needed to know first, before anything went further she needed to know if Charles was everything he said he was. And she needed to know fast “ before Charles decided to ignore her reading or her headaches and go ahead with telling her or asking her what he wanted anyway.
The solution appeared to her when she cast a look through the window, as she had so many times during the last few days, watching the busy pace outside. She didn’t know why she came up with the idea, but suddenly she knew what she had to do. She needed to know the truth, and while she was still limping and having trouble walking, there was nothing to stop her from getting around on a horse. As long as she was careful, she was sure she’d be alright. She had been before that squirrel scared her horse after all, and this time she didn’t plan on going near any trees.
Listening carefully for signs that Charles or Ginny was close, Hermione slowly got up, biting her lower lip hard to keep herself from crying out in pain as she put weight on her foot. The pain wasn’t impossible to live with, however, and once she had got used to it, Hermione slowly made her way to the door, peering out to make sure no one was around to see her.
Once out of the house, Hermione straightened up and made sure she didn’t show the pain every step caused. The limp couldn’t be helped, but Hermione still tried to look as unaffected as she could. She scanned the courtyard and quickly located the big black man that tended to Charles’s horses, and with as large strides as she could afford herself without yielding to the pain, Hermione walked over to him.
“It’s Kingsley, am I right?” she asked.
He looked surprised when he turned around, but he still nodded as he answered. “Yes Miss, it is,” he said in a voice that was deep and seemed fitting for a man like himself.
“Well Kingsley, I was hoping that you could help me,” Hermione said with a smile. “I have been confined to the house for far too long, and I need to move about a bit, yet my leg is still not well enough for me to walk on, so I thought I’d take a ride instead. Will you get a horse ready for me?” she asked.
Kingsley frowned for a moment. “No, Miss, I won’t,” he then said, surprising her immensely. Truth be told Hermione wasn’t all that used to being told no.
“And why not?” she asked, trying not to sound desperate.
“Because Mr Charlie wouldn’t want me to, Miss,” Kingsley said earnestly. “You fell of a horse, Miss, I can’t give you another to go out on without company. Mr Charlie would be very angry with me if something happened to you,” he said.
“It was only an accident. I didn’t just fall of the horse you know, I was thrown!” Hermione insisted heatedly.
“I’m sorry, Miss, I can’t and I won’t,” he insisted just as firmly.
“Then send someone with me,” Hermione said.
“What?”
“If you’re worried about me riding out alone, then send someone with me, that way I couldn’t get hurt,” she said.
“You’re assuming that I can spare a person, Miss, I can’t,” Kingsley said calmly. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t without Mr Charlie’s permission. Besides, why don’t you ask Mr Charlie to go with you, Miss?” he asked.
With a sigh, Hermione had to admit defeat. She couldn’t tell him she was sneaking out, because then he’d never get her the horse. “Maybe I’ll do that, Kingsley,” she said with a forced smile, watching as he smiled, nodded politely at her and walked away.
Inwardly using words that her parents wouldn’t approver of her even knowing, Hermione wondered what on earth she should do now. It was clear as day that Kingsley was a dead end. He didn’t seem the type of person that broke orders “ loyal and efficient. She should have been impressed, but right now she couldn’t get passed feeling annoyed and disappointed.
“Excuse me, Miss, can I help you in any way?”
The question surprised her, and in truth she hadn’t heard anyone coming from behind her. As she turned around and saw the face of a young black man, holing a horse by the halter-strap, she couldn’t help but to smile.
“Actually yes you could,” she said softly.
“Anything, Miss,” the boy said happily, apparently eager to please.
Hermione smiled wider as she reached up and stroked the horse the boy was holding. “Well I was talking to Kingsley about taking a little ride, but apparently he didn’t have the time to fix a horse for me, so he said I had to wait. You wouldn’t be able to get a horse ready for me?” she asked, trying not to think about the fact that she wasn’t just stretching the truth at the moment, but flat out lying.
The boy, however, only gave her a wide white smile. “Of course I can do that for you, Miss,” he said, growing a bit in height at being asked. “Just stay here and you’ll have your horse as fast as I can master, Miss,” he said, being rewarded with another smile from Hermione.
The boy took off even before she had time to thank him, and Hermione certainly didn’t have to wait long for him to return with a horse ready to ride. Nervously glancing around her for any sign of Kingsley or Charles, Hermione smiled at the boy as he reached her.
“Thank you ever so much,” she said happily, making the boy, if possible, smile even wider. It was obvious he wasn’t very used to having such a prestigious task, and Hermione was rather sure this was possibly the first time he’d ever got a horse ready for anyone.
Pushing the nervousness of that thought behind her, Hermione let the young man help her up in her saddle, something that hurt her foot far more than she had imagined it would. Fact was, she was quite relieved when she was finally seated and her poor ankle could rest again. Gathering up the reins, Hermione thanked the boy once more before urging the horse forward. She had no desire to stay in the courtyard any longer than possible and she knew exactly what she wanted to see. Trouble only was where to find it.
She started along the same path that Charles had led them on almost two weeks ago. It could be completely wrong, of course, but for some reason she thought he’d at least started out in the right direction. Question only was when he had deviated from the right path to take them to the hill. Her pace slow as her nervousness about being on a horse again grew stronger; she still went on, determined to find out the truth once and for all. She wanted things between her and Charles to be the way they had, but they never could be as long as she still had doubts “ no matter how faint they were.
She ignored the crossroad where Charles had turned when she reached it, and continued straight ahead, thinking that surely this had been the place where he’d changed his mind. Then again, deviating from the path she had been on before, also meant she didn’t have a clue what to expect. She could very well get lost, or enter someone else’s grounds or… No, she mustn’t think like that. This was for both their sake and she needed to find out the truth “ whatever the risk could be.
The forest had been clearly visible from the path during her entire ride, but as she continued down the path she had chosen, the forest became ever more distant, a fact she decided must be a good sign. There were still a lot of bushes and trees, close to the path, but the dense forest could only be seen at the horizon by now.
She heard their singing before she actually could see the field, hidden as it was from her view by a large bush-like tree she didn’t know the name of. When she rode up past the tree and turned the horse around, all she could see was miles of brownish shrubs covered with white balls of cotton. They were arranged in straight lines, and in the paths that the lines formed were those responsible for the song “ men, women and children, all black, all carrying large baskets to contain the cotton they picked “ most of them were women; some of the women were pregnant. For a moment Hermione wondered if the pregnant women were allowed to marry their children’s fathers. She distinctly remembered reading somewhere that slaves weren’t allowed to marry. Then again, if what she heard about slave conditions were right, chances were that these women didn’t even know who the father of their child was.
With tears blurring her vision, Hermione rode on, no longer knowing or caring where she rode. The songs from the slaves wrapped around her like a cloud, and in the back of her mind she remembered hearing about these songs “ songs about a place far away from here, about rivers and places of freedom. The women sang, and in a way they seemed happy to sing. But how could they possibly be happy if they didn’t have their freedom?
Deep in her heart she tried to rationalize what she saw. Maybe they weren’t slaves? Maybe they were just workers, being paid fair wages for their efforts? But then she looked at the scene playing out in front of her, on the children and the women and the two men walking about in the field inspecting the work, and she knew that they weren’t free, they couldn’t possibly be, could they? Still, how could she know? Maybe, just maybe…
She didn’t notice that her horse left the field, that it followed a new path, not until she heard voices being spoken and saw the sheds behind some trees. They were rough and not painted, and lined up on a dirt path that led through what could only be described as a sort of village. Only in a village the houses would be houses and not sheds. In a village the road wouldn’t be just where people walked. Most importantly, in a village there wouldn’t be a high fence that separated it from everything around it save for the path that led to the fields. This wasn’t a village “ this was a confinement for slaves, with open gates perhaps, but a confinement nonetheless.
“Miss? Are you alright, miss?” a small child with bare feet and chest asked her, tilting his head to the side. “Miss looks a bit pale,” he added.
It was like being woken from a dream, hearing the child’s voice. A horrible nightmare that left you sweating and panting until you realised that it was just a dream. Only this wasn’t just a dream “ this was fact. As clear and tangible as any she could have ever asked for. She had found out the truth “ and the truth was hideous.
Nauseous and heartbroken and with tears running down her face, Hermione turned her horse around, urging it on as fast as she dared, letting it find its own way home as she wasn’t sure of the way herself. She knew there was no room for pretending anymore “ Charles had lied to her. Every single word he’d spoken against slavery had been a complete fabrication. He wasn’t a man who respected and shared her views. He was a man that had lied and deceived her to get his way, that didn’t hesitate to tell her he hated slavery while keeping slaves himself. How could he possibly claim to be better than the Notts and the Malfoys if he behaved the same way they did?
With every step of the horse, she felt her anger rise. It wasn’t fair “ Charles had had no right to fool her like he had. He had made her fall in love with him, with an image of him that wasn’t at all true. He was a horrible man and if she ever laid eyes on him again it would be too soon. Of one thing she was absolutely sure, no matter how much her foot hurt when she got back on the ground again, she was going to leave this place today! There was not a chance in the world that she would stay long enough for Charles Weasley to work his way into her heart with his lies ever again. She may have been fooled once, but she was not about to let it happen twice!
The horse was trotting along quickly now, and the house was growing clearer in her view with every step it took. From the path she could see the courtyard, filled with people and with a couple of horses standing by. His red hair looked like a flame in the afternoon sun, and when her horse approached the courtyard, he left the side of the horse he had stood next to and ran in her direction. Hermione could feel herself growing tenser in the saddle; she hadn’t expected to be forced to face him so soon. But then again, the sooner she had told him exactly what was on her mind, the sooner she could have her things packed and be on her way, making sure she’d never have to look at Charles Weasley again!