"They want to survey for rock oil* in Texas?" Annabelle's voice remained steady though her eyes narrowed, "No other motives?"
"None stated. Standard Oil seeks new fields" Isabella replied biting her lip. "Shall we refuse them?"
"No need for haste." Annabelle waved a dismissive hand. "Let Rockefeller dream of swallowing Texas as he did Ohio and Pennsylvania. We're no small fry to be gutted."
"I pray you're right" Isabella exhaled. "The South falls further behind each year."
"Yankee scheming!" Annabelle snapped. "Before the war, Southern wealth rivaled Northern. Only if industries…" Her lip curled. "A draft dodging profiteer becomes an oil titan. While our best bled in ditches."
She spat the name like venom: Rockefeller. The man who'd evaded Civil War service by hiring substitutes, then amassed fortunes hoarding grain and cotton as armies starved. His "war room"—a map tracking commodity prices under battlefront guises, epitomized Gilded Age ruthlessness.
"Exiled planters in Brazil weakened us" Annabelle conceded, "but also cleared Southern rivals. Now we stand taller, Alone." Her gaze sharpened. "No single Northern house outweighs us. Save your dread for the DuPonts, their gunpowder empire chokes our munitions trade."
The rivalry ran deep. While Sheffield arms factories had armed the Confederacy, the DuPonts—exiled French aristocrats, built their dynasty selling explosives to both sides. Worse their patriarch Pierre had brokered the Louisiana Purchase, swelling Yankee territory while Southern planters fought Mexican wars for Texan soil.
"Let Standard Oil come." Annabelle rose, fatigue etching her frame. "On their home soil, they hold slight advantage. But beyond borders?" A wolfish smile. "We bite as hard as any."
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Secluded in his study, Sheffield scratched notes for his sham graduation. The "Gilded Age" glittered with rot: universities sold degrees like cabbages, inspectors turned blind eyes for coins. A time when any man—not just elites, could buy success.
'Disorder breeds opportunity' he mused. 'Grandmother's right—boldness built this house. But when order returns…'
A knock interrupted. A servant bowed, "Master William, the Northern party approaches."
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rock oil -(period-appropriate term for petroleum)