Chapter 1 Escape (1)
The brand new white walls have exquisite reliefs, a layer of yellow gauze hangs in front of the French windows, and the blue blackout curtains on the inside are drawn.
The sunlight shines through the gauze curtains onto the wooden sofa.
The sturdy nanny wrapped in a white headscarf almost flew down the mahogany stairs - she was very busy. Almost everything in this big house had to go through her hands, and the young ladies in the family were also under her discipline.
So she was the one who scolded Irene the most in the past few days.
"Erin, look at the hem of the shirt you mended. The stitches are missing and the edges are curled up. I have never seen a girl with worse craftsmanship than you. Look at your sister, she has great craftsmanship."
Irene didn't even bother to raise her head, her fingers waved more and more skillfully, leaving behind a string of crooked and crude stitches.
The nanny's incessant scolding voice sounded again, her tone as sharp as thorns, piercing Irene's already tense nerves, and the girl's fingers holding the needle and thread suddenly tightened.
"Humph," a gloating sneer came from the opposite side.
Irene said coldly: "Since Lily's craftsmanship is so good, then make up for all of these."
She swiftly threw the work in her hands onto the low rattan table, and her words were even more strident.
The girl sitting opposite her was so angry that her face turned red, but she didn't know what to say. She could only glare at Irene angrily and said in a sharp voice:
"Mammy, look at her!"
Lily has been like this ever since she traveled through time. As long as there is someone around, she will compete with her in everything.
Go ahead and argue, she won't accompany you.
No hard persimmon or soft persimmon is as bad as her rotten persimmon - whoever pinches her will have dirty hands.
Irene stretched out on the sofa with her legs crossed and her head tilted, completely exhausted.
No matter what you do, she will run away. Whoever wants to do it can do it, but she won't do it anyway.
Eight days ago, she went downstairs to buy food in her pajamas and slippers when a luxury car lost control and rushed straight towards where she was standing, ready to knock her away in the next second.
Irene was so frightened that her legs went weak. She closed her eyes tightly because of the screams and the glaring lights in front of her eyes, but the severe pain she had imagined did not come. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself at this small plantation in Alabama.
It has been eight days since she traveled through time. During these eight days, she has been putting on a corset, mending clothes, cooking and cleaning.
I couldn’t even eat enough, and if I took one more bite of meat at the table I would be criticized by the nanny.
It’s not that there is not enough food, it’s just that this era is extremely harsh on women.
You can't eat too much, you have to appear to have a small appetite; you can't be timid, it's best to hide behind a man with tears in your eyes when something happens; you can't be knowledgeable, you just have to keep your big watery eyes open and look at the man who talks big with admiration.
It is even worse after marriage. Women give birth one after another. It is normal for a family to have seven or eight children, until they can have no more.
Even right after giving birth, she has to take care of all the big and small chores at home, just like the original mother is now, rocking the cradle with one hand and holding the account book with the other.
Irene's face looked extremely bad. A few days ago, she heard her original brothers discussing the war situation at the dinner table, and then she realized something more important.
It is now April 1860, less than a year before the outbreak of the Civil War. Once the war breaks out, cities in the South that only produce cotton and rely entirely on trade for supplies will probably not even have enough food to eat.
Her family owned a plantation in the cotton-producing region of Alabama. They managed a large cotton field and had twenty black slaves. Their life was decent, but definitely not wealthy. The estate had to be left to the eldest son, and the girls had to marry off early.
The original body was only 16 years old, and her father was already discussing the wedding details with the man. The man's family wanted to get married and have children early, at least to leave a seed for the family before the war.
How could she travel to this era for no reason?
Irene closed her eyes tightly, becoming more determined to escape.
She did have some ideas about where to escape, but how to escape and how to avoid being caught after escaping were the real problems.
Especially how to escape. In this era, it was extremely difficult for unmarried white women to go out alone.
Girls had to be accompanied by a male relative or a trusted servant when going out. Going out alone was considered a dissolute act that would easily attract the attention of local people and alert the enemy.
Wearing men's clothes was not an option either, as she had a plump figure and there was a high chance she would be discovered.
The best way was to disguise herself as a black maid and sneak onto a merchant ship. Mobile was a port city, and as long as she could sneak onto the ship, she could reach Rochester after a few trips - where the feminist movement was active and women had a high status.
But the status of black women was extremely low. She might even be captured and sold as a fugitive slave before she could escape from Alabama. There was a "fugitive slave patrol" in the local area that specialized in this kind of thing.
After being captured and finding out she was a white woman, Erin's breathing hitched, not daring to even think about what kind of tragic consequences she would encounter.
Even if they were not caught, they would face the problem of not being able to buy a boat ticket if they pretended to be black - racial segregation was serious and blacks were not allowed to use white people's means of transportation.
If you stick your head out, you'll get a knife. If you hide your head, you'll get a knife too. Irene's eyes went dark. She wanted to stab herself to death. Maybe she could go back to the body after she died. Her graduation thesis had just been published and she hadn't received the reimbursement of the page fee yet...
Forget it. If I wear it back, I’d get hit by a car. I might as well live in this era.
God gave her a second life, so she must live it well.
What's more, she is now in the so-called "Gilded Age" - an era of rapid economic growth when anyone with ability can get rich.
"Since you don't want to mend clothes, you can go and help with cooking. We'll have a good banquet at noon today," the original father John's low voice sounded with a cheerful tone. After that, he hurriedly stood outside the door and stared at the village entrance, as if he was looking forward to something.
John was rarely seen in a well-cut, dark, knee-length frock coat, paired with a silk waistcoat, a tie of the same color, and even a bowler hat.
This is the first time I see John dressed so formally. Is someone very important coming?
Irene was a little confused, so she stood in front of the kitchen window and looked outside while cutting potatoes.
After a while, reddish-brown dust rose high, and two carriages stopped in front of her house. One of them had people sitting in it, and the other had a huge cage covered with black cloth.
Four black slaves carried the cage like a sedan chair. John bent his waist stiffly, took off his hat and put it on his chest, and said something to the people in the carriage.
Irene couldn't see his expression, but from his actions she could tell that the man was of a much higher status than John.
I couldn't see his face clearly, I could only see his general body shape. He was a tall man wearing a dark brown suit.
The man did not get out of the car, but just said a few words to John. After a while, the servant flicked the whip in his hand, the horse neighed, and the car left in a hurry as when it came.
John, with his slaves, walked happily towards the cotton warehouse.
The warehouse had two floors. The first floor was where the cotton that had not yet been shipped out was stored, and the second floor was a dark and narrow attic where Irene had taken things. She still clearly remembers the rat running over the back of her feet when she picked up the basket.
The light and cool long tail brought a shiver and numbness when it swept across her. When she recalled the touch, she couldn't help but shiver.
As the few people walked, John was grinning and laughing, looking very happy with a flushed face.
Is this something worth a lot of money? She had been here for a few days, and it was the first time she saw John so happy.
Irene's heart was moved. Money was the most important thing when it came to escaping. If this was something valuable...
She turned sideways, stood in the blind spot of the window, and looked at the cage carefully.
The cage is about 1.5 meters long, wide and high, and is covered with black cloth. It might be some large item that is sensitive to light. Could it be an oil painting, solid wood furniture, or silk?
It shouldn't be caged.
Or an animal? No, a living thing would have to make some noise, but the cage was strangely quiet.
Irene thought quietly.
Suddenly, a pale and bloody hand quietly stretched out from the gap in the black cloth, tightly grasping the bottom beam of the cage. Blood flowed out from between its fingers and dripped onto the ground.
The original owner's father cursed, pulled out the whip hanging on his waist, and swung it down.
The whip tore through the air, and the slaves visibly shrank back, the whip tips hitting their flesh, making dull sounds.
The hand felt pain and shrank back suddenly, leaving only a red and black mark stained with blood on the edge of the cage bottom.
Irene's scalp felt numb, as if a basin of cold water was poured over her head. She was so frightened that she could hardly hold the knife in her hand.
There was a living person in that cage.
Irene's breathing stagnated as she once again clearly realized the reality.
This is not the 21st century of pursuing equality, where people are also part of the commodity transaction.
——She too
Women are even more expensive because they can give birth.
Just like a ewe is more valuable than a ram.
Irene's chest heaved violently, and the whalebone belt around her waist became tighter and tighter, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. Her heart beat so fast that it almost broke through her bra.
Her vision went dark. Irene leaned against the counter, took out the nasal salt from her pocket and took a deep breath. The dizziness subsided a little.
How could it not be uncomfortable? Her waistline was now squeezed to 21 inches, 53 centimeters!
Even when she was starving and malnourished in her previous life, her waist circumference didn't even reach 53cm.
If she doesn't run away, she will get scoliosis. After all, this is not the original owner's body, it is her own body!
She wasn't bound in a corset since she was a child.
It's magical to say, Irene thought she was a ghost, after all, when she woke up, she was wearing local clothes and was mending clothes in her own house.
It wasn’t until she discovered the chicken pox scars on her arms and the tattoos on her waist and behind her neck that she realized it was her body.
Fortunately, the original owner looked exactly like her, with the same height and weight, so the original owner's family didn't recognize her.
Of course, it is also possible that in the past no one cared about what kind of person the original owner was.
The second child in a large family always receives this treatment.
The smoke from the cooking rose high, and fat oozed out of the surface of the barbecue on the barbecue pit, emitting a rich aroma after being licked by the flames.
A dining table covered with a tablecloth was placed on the left side next to the warehouse, and servants hurriedly shuttled between the kitchen and the dining table carrying silver trays.
The maids, in their large calico skirts, were busy setting the table.
The corridor was filled with skirts of various colors, piled up together, accompanied by the sweet laughter of girls - only unmarried girls could wear brightly colored long skirts, after getting married, what awaited them were all kinds of dark-colored dresses.
As more and more guests came, Mrs. Tina returned to the living room with her two young children, leaving the shade of the trees in the yard, which was best for chatting, to the men.
"We don't want to be with them. The men are so noisy," Tina complained to the ladies who had arrived earlier in a pretentious manner, as if it was a sweet trouble.
Those who came at this time were close acquaintances. Several men sat in a group with their legs crossed, and criticized the northern soldiers.
"I say it takes one Southern soldier to kill a dozen Yankees," John shouted, holding a glass of wine. He was wearing high boots and a loose linen shirt that could not cover his fat belly.
It's so funny. What are you going to use to fight? Are you going to use the single-shot muzzle-loading rifle you imported from the UK to fight against someone's automatic rifle?
He was shot before he had even finished replacing his bullets.
Without iron and warships, what can we use to fight against others? Rely on arrogance?
funny--
Irene turned her back and rolled her eyes silently, standing out among the group of young ladies wearing long skirts with hoops and giggling.
The clearly visible look of contempt attracted the attention of the man in the attic.
"Erin, this color looks terrible on you," a male voice with a duck voice said, "Didn't I tell you last time that I don't like you wearing green? Why are you wearing it today?"
Irene looked down at her light green cotton dress expressionlessly, then looked up at her cheap fiancé's frog-like bulging eyes.
"Then give me a new one. Give me whatever color you like. I want a silk one with layered ruffles and handmade lace. It would be best if it has some pearls."
What she said were all standard equipment for high-end banquet dresses. Just one dress would cost between five hundred and one thousand dollars, which is almost one-tenth of the annual income of a medium-sized plantation like her fiancé's family.
"Mom!" The boy was stunned, his tone was shy and annoyed.
The agile Mrs. Linda grabbed her son and protected him behind her like an eagle. "Miss Irene, asking for a gift from your unmarried fiancé is not what a good girl does."
"Really?" Irene tilted her head, her tone confused, "Does that mean he's a good man if he's almost twenty and still hiding behind his mother?"
The frog stuck its head out and croaked, "I am your husband, how dare you talk to me like that?"
"Don't scream," Irene smiled brightly, showing her eight neat teeth, "I'm not your bride yet..."
The last two words were deliberately drawn out, and the boy's broad face turned the color of liver.
As soon as she finished speaking, Irene turned and strode up the steps toward the dining table.
"where did you go?"
Irene didn't even turn her head and said happily, "Ask your mother, she knows everything."
Cool!
Irene raised the corners of her lips happily. These were the two happiest sentences she had said in the past few days since she came here.
Anyway, she is going to run away soon, so why should I endure it? What if she gets breast nodules from anger? It will be difficult to treat in this era.
"How can you talk to Joe like that? He's your future husband. You're so rude," Lily muttered angrily. "Joe is the only son. His family's huge fortune will belong to him in the future. It's a blessing for you to marry him."
The roasted meat was tender and drizzled with marinade. Irene cut the roasted meat in her hand and said nonchalantly, "You want him? Then I'll give him to you. He will be your husband from now on."
Lily blushed, frowned in disgust, and covered her lips with a handkerchief, "You are so rude when you eat, have you never eaten in your life?"
Irene put down her knife and fork and looked at Lily in front of her. During the past few days since she came here, Lily has been targeting her, belittling her, and trying to suppress her in everything.
And their mother never tries to balance the conflicts between her daughters, and even enjoys seeing such conflicts happen.
For example, now.
Irene glanced at her original mother who was sitting at the end of the dining table. The woman seemed to be chatting and laughing with another lady, but in fact her eyes were always paying attention to her two daughters, and there was even a gleam of expectation in her eyes.
After being tied up in the backyard for so long, is this kind of competition for beauty the only thing that matters to women?
There seemed to be something hard stuck in her throat, and a bunch of truths surged in her mind that she had to express, but when they came to her lips, only a few short words remained.
Irene curled her lips, put down her knife and fork, pointed at the men at the other end of the table and said:
"Can you understand what they are saying?"
The men were discussing the situation in the North and South. Guns, factories, revolution, all unfamiliar words. Lily was stunned.
"That has nothing to do with women. I don't need to understand it."
"They are talking about the war that is about to break out." Irene curled her fingers and tapped the table. "War will affect everyone's life. Why can't it have anything to do with women?"
Lily subconsciously continued, "God has divided the work. Men and women have their own things to do."
"If the bullet hits you, will the broom protect you? Or..." Irene looked at the men whose stomachs collided with each other from a distance and gave a smile that frightened Lily.
A slow and clear voice rang in her ears.
Irene leaned against the tree trunk, her eyes sparkling with ambition, so bright that it was amazing.
"You expect the men who drink so much that their bellies are bigger than if they were pregnant and hide behind their mothers when something happens to protect you?"
"Don't dream, baby. They can't run faster than you."
"They still want to win the war? What else can they do except enslaving black people and bragging? They have no guns, no ships, no iron. How can they fight? It's a joke."
Her tone was full of undisguised sarcasm towards men. She didn't sound like a good girl from a plantation owner's family at all. She was extremely rebellious, as if she had rebellious genes in her bones.
…
Leo was half-lying in front of the low attic window. Due to excessive blood loss, his face looked extremely pale, and his gray-blue pupils were hidden in the dark, revealing a cold, inorganic texture.
It's really strange that in this kind of family and for a girl of this age, the only things on her mind should be men, housework and new dresses.
Not only does she understand the current situation in the South better than most people, but she can also see the stupidity of men very clearly.
Weird girl.
An extremely cold gaze fell on Irene from top to bottom, making her feel very uncomfortable, but she couldn't find the source of this gaze.
No one was looking at her, and the only person next to her - Lily, was still in a daze.
Irene looked around calmly. In the distance, men gathered in a group. The ladies were doing their best to attract men. No one paid attention to her who was always silent at the dinner table and in social occasions.
Someone was staring at her in a corner that she couldn't see. The unknown fear made her heart beat faster and faster, and cold sweat oozed out, soaking her underwear.
It felt like a skinny black rat scurried past your feet in a dark attic.
By the time the nerves transmit the touch sensation to your sluggish brain, countless mice have already scurried past your feet.
What is scary is not the unknown, but the belated realization.
Who is looking at her again?
Irene cleverly moved her position and stood on the other side of the dining table. The tall trees obscured her figure a little, but she still felt that someone was looking at her, and even her exposed skin felt slightly burning.
This angle is the only position where you can see her from above!
Irene raised her head sharply, her eyes shooting straight toward the small attic window.
A white streak flashed in the corner of the window, and the blood-stained big hand holding the cage came into her mind.
Is that the guy in the cage?
But wasn't he locked in a cage? Could it be that he was released?
Irene stared at the attic window, as if staring at the eyes peeking at her from the darkness, and the doubts in her heart grew bigger and bigger.
Until the end of the banquet, when the guests left one after another, Irene was still thinking about this matter. The original owner's father was drunk and lying on the sofa, yelling some stupid things.
"Irene, help your father to the bed," the mistress ordered Irene while directing the servants to clear the table.
John reeked of alcohol and a hot, foul smell came out of his mouth. Irene frowned and finally understood why Lily had hidden in the kitchen so early in the morning.
"We're going to make a fortune, hiccup..." The short and fat man who used Irene as a crutch boasted drunkenly, "Your father got a big deal, haha - that cage, there's a hundred thousand dollars in it, enough to buy forty slaves or a new plantation."
"This little Englishman's kid is really fucking valuable," John laughed heartily at first, then suddenly lowered his voice, "If I crush this little ant to death, I'll be a wealthy man in the surrounding area."
"Thanks so much to that little bastard named Leo and his damn rich brother."
"When you get married next week, Dad will give you a good wedding."
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