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A real room with a bed, a dresser, and a window overlooking the garden. “You’ll sleep here,” Elizabeth announced. “We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.” That night Samuel lay awake for hours, not understanding what was happening to him.
He grew up in an overcrowded hut, where he slept on straw with six other children. This room, modest even by the standards of the upper classes, seemed to him a palace. Early in the morning Elizabeth invited him into the library. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with books. Samuel had never seen so many books. The old lady lifted one from the bottom shelf.
“We’ll start with the alphabet,” he said, opening the book. “But before we do, you need to understand something. What we’re doing here is illegal. If anyone discovers that I’m teaching you to read, they’ll sell you and put you on trial. You must remain completely silent. No one can find out.” “Why are you doing this, ma’am?” Samuel asked, his voice trembling.
Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment before answering. “Because my husband built his fortune on the backs of people like you. Because I’ve been closed off for forty years. Because it’s time to undo some of the damage we’ve done.” She paused for a moment, her fingers running over the cover of the book. “My husband died without an heir.”
We could never have children. Your cousins are impatiently awaiting my death so they can inherit this fortune and all the slaves who still work our land. But I will not let my death enrich these vultures. I have other plans.” Samuel listened, both impressed and terrified.
“I will train you, teach you, prepare you, and when the time comes, you will inherit everything.” “Madam, I don’t understand… how a slave can…” “You can’t remain a slave all your life, Samuel. I have already consulted a Northern lawyer, a man who shares my beliefs.
“The laws are complicated, but there are ways—legal ways—to release me and appoint me as my heir. It will take time, maybe years, but I am determined.” Samuel’s education began that day. Every morning, before sunrise, he went to the library with Elizabeth.
He worked for two hours before the servants woke up. The boy learned quickly and devoured his lessons with a thirst for knowledge that impressed his benefactor. Within a few months, Samuel could read fluently. Elizabeth also taught him writing, arithmetic, history, and geography. He drew from her late husband’s vast library—works that Jacques Beaumont had never actually read, but had collected out of vanity. Officially, Samuel was the widow’s personal servant.
She accompanied him to the city, carried his luggage, and kept him company. People wondered how she was so attached to this young slave, but no one suspected the true nature of their relationship. Jacques Beaumont’s nephews, Édouard and Guillaume Lafontaine, regularly visited their aunt.
They had come apparently out of family courtesy, but Elizabeth knew that they were only thinking of the inheritance. Each visit was an opportunity to remind the old lady that they were her only relatives and that the estate would be well taken care of after her death. Édouard, the eldest, already owned three plantations in Georgia. He was a hard man, cruel to his slaves, and a man of profit.
Guillaume, the younger, lived in Charleston on the pocket money he had inherited from his father, spending his days drinking and playing cards. Neither of them had inherited their uncle’s intelligence, only his greed. One afternoon in November 1843, Édouard arrived unexpectedly.
Elizabeth was drinking tea in the drawing room when he burst in, his face red with anger. “Auntie, we must talk,” he said bluntly. “Sit down, Édouard. A cup of tea?” “I don’t want tea. I want to know what you’re planning with that young slave.” Elizabeth sipped her tea calmly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “They’re talking about him in town.”
“They say he treats him like his own son, that he eats at his table, that he sleeps in the main house. It’s a disgrace to the family.” “Samuel is my personal servant. I treat him as I please. What do you have to do with this?” Édouard leaned forward. “I’m worried because this estate will one day be mine, and I don’t want your unhealthy attachment to this slave to cause problems.” “Complications?” Elizabeth looked him straight in the eye.
“You mean legal complications that could prevent the inheritance?” The cousin turned pale. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” “Of course I do. You’re afraid I’ll change my will, and rightly so.” Édouard clenched his fists. “You wouldn’t dare. The law is clear. A slave doesn’t—”