The Big House loomed large over Mae as she walked closer and closer to it. She needed a sip of the famous Madam Whitley sweet tea to refresh and cool her as her throat had long been parched with her being in the heat for so long. She couldn't imagine what the fields must be like around now, maybe they let the men have a day off and take a swim in the creek for fear of heat exhaustion or death. As it was said, the Whitley's were different. There was a reason for their success and their secret was only a secret to those who didn't live there.
From the front of the mansion, its grandeur can only be described as a wonder of the South. White Pillars that were built from the ground similar to how the Greeks did it thousands of years prior surrounded the exterior holding up the massive roof and attaching to the first and second-floor decks. Upon the decks were white wooden rocking chairs for when the heat was not bearing down upon the land or for a discussion better suited for outside rather than in.
Behind the pillars and decks were massive windows, like walls of glass, this was so that the Whitley family could properly survey and purview their land without an obstructed view, that is except for the Magnolia. In the middle of the building where the steps from the ground reached the first deck stood a large oak door that carried a rich white paint to match the exterior of the home.
The grand door stood before Mae as she gripped the cool brass knob. Rather than a dark hue, the knob was a lighter color as many a hand had turned it and passed through the entry into the haven that was the Whitley Family home. As she passed into the entry the temperature was immediately cooler.
When the home was built, it was built with the heat of the summer and coolness of the winter in mind. Above the second story stood a third floor, which Mae rarely ventured to, except to look out of the best view that the home held. If you climbed all three levels of stairs you would find yourself in an overlook of the whole property with glass windows in a perfect circular view of the property. From this view, the magnolia did not block your line of sight. Not only did this sight offer wonder and awe, but the construction of it when you opened the windows during a hot day along with the front and back doors created a kind of wind tunnel that would keep the hot air flowing out and the cooler air in the house where the fans from the help were not constantly required.
Mae had studied all she could about the "why" behind how the house would stay so temperate, but it still baffled her, must have been some voodoo magic from long ago. Mae looked to the right of the house to where the study, den, and guest quarters were and over to the left where the kitchen, dining room, and washroom were. The second floor held the main family quarters and Mae's room. The third floor held what Madam Whitley simply described as "Trinkets and secrets, mostly the former than the latter, as we hold no secrets except to those that ask about them too often." Supposedly they had extra furniture and other household goods up there, but nobody ever really knew.
As soon as she crossed the threshold of the doorway, Madam Whitley waved her over to her with her "come here now" type gesture and spoke in a direct tone to Mae, "Now Mae, our guests are to be here soon and they are esteemed. I need you on your best behavior because the dealings that go on tonight could directly have many futures before us. Now run along and at least act like you're cleaning. I don't want one of the other missus telling me I treat you any different."
Mae continued up the stairs gripping the ornate wooden rail. Each step was sturdy under her feet with the occasional creak serving as a reminder of just how old the house actually was. The staircase was on the right side of the entry. The center of the house was essentially open from the main floor all the way to the the third and on the third floor Mae loved to look out from the Widow's Walk. Its nickname is quite interesting as Master Whitley seemed to pace up there far more often than Madam Whitley would. Master Whitley always seemed to have a fire dancing behind his eyes. You could say there's quite a bit of witt behind the Whit.
As Mae reached the third floor and climbed up to the glass lookaround she always wondered what else could be out in the world. Many guests had come and gone yet she was never allowed to leave except to go to town with Master Whitley. Mae's life had been easier than most for someone of her complexion, but even so, on the Whitley Plantation regardless of its beauty, there had to be more to see, more to do.
She knew it was nothing more than a dream, especially with how deep in the South they were, she was closer to swimming across the large ocean to where the stories of pirates and islands than she was to make it to the north.
Like pirates, not many of the native Indians were left, if any at all. They had all been driven out and forced to the west. They were more of a legend than a reality. Mae had never seen one of them, but had heard stories of the ocean and of islands from people who had come from the coast. She had always heard that the water was blue, but from the way it's told, the Great Mississippi River feeds into the ocean and it's more of a brown and green to the south. Maybe it could be blue elsewhere, but it's only the ugly muddy earthy color off the shore of Mississippi. Who knows where that ocean could take you, far far away where only dreams lived.
As Mae was pondering the world and where she could live, she almost missed the sound of hooves and the neighing of the draft horses coming back from the town. They were to have company, and it seemed that the company, along with the Master of the house, Master Whitley, had finally arrived.