The Slave Haunting

Summary: In old pre-revolutionary America, the South enjoyed a major deal of the wealth of the New World. With large plantations and prospering aristocratic families, Souther Plantation owners lived comfortable, wealthy lives...All but the Shield's family, one of the most prosperous of the Southern Plantation families in Virginia, Stationed in one of the oldest regions of the state the family manor begins to undergo a series of "odd" events centered around one of the families young black servants. And just as things seems to be getting better, the Lord's sons, from abroad in London come in at the end of the school year and the haunting take on a whole new turn.

NOTE: This might portray sauced up image of slavery, but Slavery was not a fanfic, not romantic or happy Gilmore in any way...I just prefer making it happy because there's too much sadness in the world already

Chapter I: The girl behind the Curtains

The day was bright and sunny like any other Virginian summer day, the patches of green extended for miles, and further up, there was a huge manor; and if one squinted from the far off entrance to the plantation, you can see the clear outline of the house. It was very huge, and the white painted cabin to the far left of the mansion was one of few of its kind in this slave populate Virginia region. But the Shield's family took great care in the treatment of their indentured servants; unlike most of their neighbors they did not own slaves-at least not in the general sense- most of their servants were paid a very minimum wage, housed properly, and taken care of as any other servant. The family did not greatly rely on its plantation to procure an earning. It had many prospering businesses in the North and Western regions of the United States as well as in Great Britain, France and Russia. The plantation in the South was just one of many business ventures that the family took up, so they saw it git to pay indentured servants rather than buy slaves. There's the fact that the family was also very philosophical in its believes and saw slavery as anti-human went a great deal into leading them away from slavery.

Now as the young prospective son returned home to his parents he could not help but feel a pang of guilt for the servants who despite being free in his families estates and minds was subject to the depraved dubbing of slavery.

But he was never-the less happy. Being a man of intellect, the young lord had always had a sense for human rights, and had spent a large part of his childhood with the servants. They were like a second family to him, his white nanny as well as his African one had been a large part of his over-all childhood.

The butler opened the door as soon as it stopped.

He could already hear the silent murmurs that indicated the households presence. He smiled diligently at everyone as soon as the door opened.

His mother's face, was the brightest amongst all the others. The smile she attempted to suppress clearly etched on her face and lighting her bright blue eyes.

As he descended he took the time to hug and greet all of his former nannies and the household, his childhood friends, and even his old school master.

His mother, he saved for last.

She stood with her hands folded across her chest almost as if to reign in her excitement; her hands and her very form shook from the very effort.

"Mother." He grinned, his own darker eyes sparkling at her while his bemused features urged her forward.

"Son!" The smile she'd been holding broke through and her lips lifted as a smile broke through.

She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks, then his forehead, then she pulled him away to get a closer look at him before finally planting a kiss on his head again.

She crushed him to her, hugging him and taking in a whiff of his scent.

"What took you so long?"

"I missed you too mother." She smiled, finally releasing me. I knew as she dragged me into the house that she was about to bring me to father. And the fact that she was the one dragging me to him only means that our little issues have yet to be resolved.

"I assume you are...busy?" She cast me a sideways glance, almost a warning to me, to keep our little issues leached for this day. Mother always had a habit of canceling all businesses on days that she deem "family days" which was holidays, birthdays, and whenever she feels like its a special day. And she hated mixing business with family.

"Sit down in the waiting room and I will get that man down here this instant. I cannot have my boy home and not attend to him now can I?" She escorted me to the sitting room, and left me on the sofa after a kiss on the cheeks and a pat on the head; old habits die hard.

Mother left me, she walked to the grand oak doors and pushed them open, her skirts swishing behind her as she exited.

I listened to the silent clanking of her shoes as she took to the grand stairs and headed upstairs.

A light smile lightened my lips at the familiarity of everything. The room, was as magnificent as ever, the sun shone in here with a brilliance that could almost be described as magical. And the golden decorations made the room glitter with an ethereal light.

As I surveyed the room, from the old paintings to the new pottery and furniture something caught my attention.

It was subtle, I would not have noticed it if I had not been paying close attention. Now that I was, I could clearly see the little silhouetted figure crouching behind one of the heavy draperies in the grand hall.

A person. A child perhaps.

I moved to the draperies, slowly and gently moved the draperies aside.

"Hey little girl are you what are you doing here...Are you playing hide and seek?" The young girl did not budge, did not even bother to look at me.

I attempted to touch her...

"No!" The sharp command came from in the voice of my mother. I held my hand in mid-air inches away from the girl.

"What is wrong with her?" My mother came to stand near me and gently pulled my hands away.

"Do not touch her dear... She does not like to be touched...Do you dear?" The girl did not pay any attention to mother, she just kept staring at the wall in front of her, almost as if she were seeing some interesting image.

A closer look, and I could see her mouth moving, but no words came out. I tried to recall a childhood image of this girl, of such strange behavior-surely I could not forget such a strange woman, could I?

"Come, perhaps we should have a go at the library instead, come!" She swirled around again in that same usual manner of hers and beckoned me to follow. I took a final glance at the strange young girl wondering if we should leave such a clearly damaged person alone or if we should do something.

Seeing as how I had been gone from home for years, and I had no idea of what was going on or who the girl is, I figured mother knew more so I just followed her.

We walked down the familiar hall from the waiting room to the library. The large oak doors with the elaborate decorations engraved in them. The door was still the same, as was the interior.

There were more books than I last remembered, and there were more furniture than I last remembered, new sofas, desks, chaises, daises and several new shelves.

And the upper part of the library was far more decorated than I last remembered. The railing was made of polished wood with designs on them. The stairs carpeted, and the desks cushioned. The lambs were also beautiful, decorated with paintings of woodland creatures. They were very beautiful the paintings, professional, they even rival those of the European Classical artists.

" I see the library has undergone some changes." She laughed at that, taking the seat at the head of the main desk, and letting me sit on the chair across from her.

"Yes some changes. The entire house went through some changes in your absence son." Her tone became grave, etched with a sort of darkness I could not quite place. My mother had gone through a great deal of hardships, father's death had been the reason for my deportation to Europe and her state of depression several years ago, and whatever else had taken place here while I was gone, has only increased that depression.

I hated seeing her like this.

Broken, lost and completely helpless.

That was not my mother, she was resilient, strong and determined, always capable of standing on her own two feet, even when father died she fronted a strong and brave front, one of determination and strength, only in the loneliness of her chamber did she allow herself a show of weakness.

"What has happened mother. I cannot help but feel a sense of dread in the atmosphere of the home.

"Do not worry about that. Come tell me of your great adventure in Europe." She smiled at me, and encouraged my story telling.