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it goes no farther than this room.” Rathburn paused.
    â€œYe have it.”
    â€œVery well,” said Rathburn, and Marisa, still listening at the door, could easily envision her step-uncle’s self-satisfied smile. “Suffice it to say,” Rathburn continued, “that the destruction of the Dutch homes and their fields will cause their loans to be called in, which the townspeople will be obliged to pay to me.”
    â€œAye, Gov’nor. But if all the Dutch land is destroyed, how will they pay ye what they owe ye? ”
    Rathburn laughed. “’Tis a problem, indeed.” Again Rathburn hesitated. “Perhaps the land will have to be confiscated as payment.”
    â€œAh,” said the unknown voice. “ ’Tis a means by which to extend your influence? ”
    â€œExactly,” agreed Rathburn. “Their fields will be ready to bear more tobacco within a year or perhaps two, and the Dutch will be obliged to work the fields, which will then belong to me.”
    â€œAh, now I understand.”
    â€œDo ye? Do ye grasp it in full, then? ”
    â€œI believe so, Gov’nor. Ye will own the land. The profit will be all yers.”
    â€œAnd the people,” added Rathburn. “Don’t forget that the people and their labor will also be mine.”
    â€œBut they is white people, a free people. If ye own them, then . . . What you speak of is . . . it’s slavery, ain’t it, Gov’nor? ”
    â€œPerhaps. At least it will be so for five years.”
    â€œFive years? ”
    â€œThe amount of time it will take the people to work off their obligation, I think.”
    â€œAh! I understand. ’Tis indentured servitude that ye seek from them.”
    â€œYes. And the profits will be quite . . . shall we say, profitable? ”
    â€œAye! That’s right smart, Gov’nor.”
    â€œIndeed.”
    There was a pause. Then the two men laughed.
    However, on the other side of the door, Marisa frowned. Was there something innately intelligent about the destruction of others’ livelihood and property?
    But then, perhaps, she was too naive to understand it. Mayhap such deeds as this were commonplace amongst the wealthy, a means by which fortunes were made. But if this were so, did she approve . . . ?
    It wasn’t as if she cared about a people she didn’t even know. It was only that the scheme seemed to be pure trickery, stealth.
    Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, nearing her position. Marisa panicked.
    She mustn’t be discovered.
    Taking a quick step backward, Marisa spun around on her heel and fled. She knew her escape required her ability to be as noiseless as possible, but as her nightgown swished out behind her, and her slippers whispered over the hardwood floor, she doubted her success. Her white chemise and dressing gown billowed out in back of her, adding to her discomfort and causing her to feel much like a phantom.
    It seemed to take forever to run the distance of the corridor, but at last her door loomed before her. Reaching out to turn the doorknob, it swung easily open, and she stepped into her room none too soon. Footsteps echoed along the corridor in her wake, and Marisa leaned against the door, gasping, praying that she hadn’t been seen.
    The footsteps came closer and closer. Was it her imagination or were they loud? As if her uncle and his guest, the unknown gentleman, had no care that they might awaken the single resident of this wing.
    The two men paused outside her door, and Marisa’s heart stopped in reaction, then it suddenly raced headlong. She shut her eyes and prayed to the Lord that she should remain undiscovered.
    Perhaps it was the prayer that did it. Though she could feel every beat of her pounding heart in her throat, nothing untoward happened. The footsteps wandered on past her door until her step-uncle and his bully were well out of earshot.
    Still Marisa barely dared to