He and Mallie were supposed to be true to one another—like Melville wrote—heart to heart. No matter what trials they faced in this life. They were never supposed to separate.
Anger ripped through him, like it always did when he thought about Mallie. The portrait shook in his hands.
Where had she gone? And after he had loved her so deeply, why had she abandoned him? Since he was fifteen, he’d known that she was supposed to be his—and then she left him. The loss tore him up on the inside.
He’d searched everywhere for her that spring and then summer, traveling to the slave markets and even up to Boston and Philadelphia after Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Act. It was illegal now for the Yankees to harbor runaways, and he’d hoped that he might find her hiding among the freed slaves. With this law, she would have had no choice but to return to Virginia with him. He didn’t care a whit what Eliza thought.
His search had availed him nothing, though. It seemed the woman he’d loved more than anything had disappeared.
One day, Mallie would return to him. He’d find her—and she would pay for leaving him—but she’d change her mind. One day, she would love him as he loved her.
Closing his eyes, he savored the thought of reclaiming her as his slave. Once he found her, she would never leave him again.
He wrapped the portrait back up in the silk and secured it in his leather portfolio, along with his art supplies and the important documents he carried with him wherever he went.
Isaac hadn’t left him as Mallie had done. Nor would he ever leave this house again without Victor at his side.
After Isaac’s birth, Victor had swept in and personally found a colored nursemaid to care for him without Eliza’s interference—at first for collateral and then because he grew fond of the boy. As long as the boy treated him with respect, he would have a comfortable home here. John Payne would have to find another slave to help in the fields.
When the clock struck the six o’clock hour, he rose from his bed and dressed quickly. He’d planned to go alone to Scott’s Grove, but Eliza was waiting for him downstairs. She climbed into the carriage behind him without a word and didn’t budge.
Instead of protesting, he decided that it was exactly as it should be—she could explain to her father why she gave him Isaac: because she was obsessively, insufferably jealous of a nine-year-old slave boy.
John would understand why Victor wanted him back. He was equally protective of the slaves in his care.
They arrived at Scott’s Grove before noon and found Nora Payne in the drawing room by herself, beside the unlit pine tree. When she turned and saw Eliza, her stoic lips turned upward into a sad smile.
“My dear,” Nora said, hurrying toward her daughter. “Why are you here?”
Eliza didn’t return her smile. “Victor insisted that we visit.”
Then Nora squeezed his neck much too hard. “You are a good son,” she said, soaking the shoulder of his waistcoat with an enormous amount of tears.
When she released him, he searched the room for Isaac, as if the boy might be hiding behind a high-backed sofa or the long drapery around the windows.
“John’s in Charlottesville,” Nora said. “He should return soon.”
“Do you know where Isaac is?” Victor asked, stepping away from her before her tears ruined his clothing.
Nora looked over at him, confused. “Who is Isaac?”
Eliza snorted. “His personal page.”
“Why would your servant be here?”
Victor motioned toward his wife, but didn’t look her way. “Eliza sent him with Alden.”
Nora pressed her eyes closed for a moment, then reopened them. “There was a boy who arrived with Alden, but I don’t know where he went. Alden left us yesterday while we were in church.”
Tears began to pour again.
“Yes, yes,” Victor replied with a wave of his hand. “Thomas said he took Alden to Alexandria.”
“He was supposed to celebrate Christmas with his family.”
Victor stared at the woman, perplexed. Is that why she was crying? Because her son left early? Women were absurd. Alden was a grown man, yet Nora treated him like he were a child. His brother-in-law was a radical. An idealist. Victor wished he would stay up in Cambridge permanently instead of returning to Scott’s Grove.
He moved back to the door. “Perhaps Isaac is with the other house slaves.”
