Chapter 1

It must have been the hottest day ever. Not that it meant anything, as this was my first visit to Mississippi, and I was only ever used to the Pennsylvania weather that I had been born and raised in. Still, the air was boiling and sticky and the oven of a carriage that I was stuck in did nothing to cool me down.

"Stop fidgeting, Kathryn! You're only making it worse," my mother scolded me.

I couldn't help but let out a small sigh. Even while on the way to marry me off to some stranger, my mother was still scolding me like I was a baby. Nonetheless, I tried to stay as still as possible.

But who could really blame me for fidgeting? Everything about my current situation was unbearable and nervewracking. There I was, trapped in a hot carriage, squeezed into an uncomfortable corset, on my way to meet the man my parents had arranged for me to marry.

Calvin Candie. Owner of one of the largest plantations in Mississippi. Which meant incredibly wealthy, and a dream of a son-in-law for my parents. That was all I knew of him. And already I didn't like him.

"Kathryn, honestly!"

I felt a hand smack mine, and looked down to realize that I had been picking at a cuticle. Looking up to find my mother frowning and shaking her head, I smiled weakly. "Sorry."

My father piped up, "Kathryn, we know you're nervous but please try to make a good impression. First impressions are important, and Calvin is a very particular man. He likes to have the best of the best."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you would know. At least you've met him before."

He was about to respond before my mother cut in, "You'll meet him soon enough, and you'll see what an excellent husband he will be."

"Mother, how can you say that? He owns a slave plantation!"

"Yes, among many other things."

I looked at her incredulously. "How could you be so okay with this? He enslaves people!"

"Honey, this is how things are done in the south. It's what's normal here. We should be more understanding of their culture and way of life. They probably find the thought of not having slaves strange."

"Yeah, because not enslaving people is really out there!"

"Kathryn-"

"Oh look we're here!" My father's announcement of our arrival put an end to the argument, and in fact made me forget all about it.

I looked out the window and saw the plantation looming ahead. Past the gates there was a beautiful, big, white house. A mansion, actually. It looked like something from a fairy tale. It was breathtaking. And it made me feel sick. It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how final this was. I was meeting my husband, a stranger whom I knew very little of, and the little that I did know was not indicative of a positive character. I didn't know whether to scream, vomit, or jump out of the carriage and run in the other direction. I had just decided that the occasion called for all three actions, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my father smiling, his eyes reassuring.

"Don't be nervous. He'd be a fool not to take a liking to you," he told me.

"Of course, because I want to live on a slave plantation," I whispered under my breath.

But my parents did not hear, or maybe just didn't care to respond. Instead, my mother said, "He better do more than that. We did not make this second trip all the way down from Pennsylvania for nothing."

They continued talking, but I tuned out. I couldn't help but feel hopeless. I was going to get married, at nineteen years old, to a man who was, well I didn't exactly know just how old this Calvin Candie was. The lack of knowledge of this kind of information about my husband-to-be struck me as odd, so I turned to ask my parents.

But just then, the carriage came to a stop, and I heard someone yelling, although, looking out the window, I couldn't be sure who the owner of the voice was. I saw a few black women lined up near the carriage, as well as two white men just stepping out onto the porch. Finally I saw an older black man exit the house after the others, and the yells became louder and sharper.

"Monsieur Calvin! Monsieur Calvin! They've come!"

My father was the first down from the carriage. He gave a hand to help my mother down, and finally, I came down too, with reluctance, as in that moment of fear, I childishly refused to take my father's hand, and probably never would have, had it not been for my mother's deadly glare.

My feet had just touched the ground when I heard a calmer voice, and looked up to see a brown-haired man, with matching brown mustache and short beard, walk out and say, "Stephen, Stephen, I heard you before. And I said I'd be down in a minute." He looked over at me, and I was immediately rooted to the spot, but this definitely wasn't a moment of love at first sight. He looked at me in such a strange way, that I couldn't immediately place his emotion. It was like he was pleased with what he saw, but he was looking at me like I something to be taken, owned. Something that he could simply just, have. But the moment quickly ended, and he turned his attention to my parents. "Ah, my guests!" he exclaimed.

He walked over to my father, and shook his hand. "Welcome, welcome, Mr. Smith. Wonderful to see you again! I do apologize for Stephen's ruckus. He can be a bit over enthusiastic at times when it comes to doing what he's told," he said, gesturing to the older black man with his free hand.

He turned to my mother. "Ah, the lovely Mrs. Smith! Always a pleasure to see you!" he said, bending down to kiss her hand. He was very charming, I almost forgot that look he gave me a moment ago, and the fact that he owned slaves. Almost.

"Oh, Mr. Candie, the pleasure is ours," my mother said, clearly falling under his charm.

Calvin's eyes again fell on me, but this time, the look he gave me was polite, gentlemanly. "And, who is this beautiful creature standing before me?" he drawled.

"Mr. Candie," my father answered, "This is our daughter, Ms. Kathryn Smith."

"What a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Kathryn Smith," he said as he took my hand in his and brought it up to his lips, never looking away from my eyes. His mustache tickled.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Candie," I replied, plastering on a smile, which I hoped was passable.

"Your parents told me so much about you, but I of course never expected such a beauty!" He continued to hold my hand.

"Oh you are too kind, Mr. Candie," I said, gently tugging my hand from his grasp.

He looked at me for a moment, seemingly irritated at my action. But then he snapped out of whatever thought he had, and smiled. "Where are my manners?" He gestured to the house. "Please come in!"

We all turned and headed to the house, with my father and Calvin leading us. I could just make out something about bets or a fight, but I didn't know what to make of it. Regardless, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever I was getting into, wasn't going to be good.

This is my first fanfic, so I'm learning as I go along. If you can, please take the time to review and let me know what you like or don't like. I'd really appreciate it! :)