The Unforgiven Page 9

  “Excuse me, Amelia. I need some air,” Madeline said.

  “It’s hot as purgatory out there,” Amelia replied.

  “Nevertheless.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll have some cool lemonade waiting for you when you return.”

  “Thank you.”

  Madeline forced herself to smile as she walked out of the dining room. She had to control her temper and be respectful to her hosts. Once outside, she ran around the side of the house and headed for the slave quarters. She would find Mammy regardless of what Amelia had said.

  Chapter 12

  The slave quarters of Arabella Plantation were about half a mile from the main house—close enough to keep an eye on, but far enough to not be an eyesore to the family. About twenty cabins were clustered around an open space used for cooking, hanging out the washing, and doing various other chores that required elbow room. Given that the Bessons owned about two hundred slaves, about ten people slept in every one-room hut that boasted one small window and a narrow doorway.

  Peering into the nearest hut, Madeline saw no furnishings except a couple of shelves on the walls and nails for hanging things. Rolled-up blankets lay neatly piled against one wall, waiting for their owners to spread them on the floor at bedtime. Madeline turned away, ashamed of her earlier bout of self-pity. She’d lost her father and her home, but she had no right to complain when other people lived in such barren conditions without hope of anything better. Mr. Larson had said the Bessons were good to their slaves. She’d hate to see what slave quarters on other plantations looked like, ones where the owners weren’t as ‘good.’

  Madeline slowed her pace as she drew closer. Several women were hanging out the washing and cooking in large pots over open fires. Most of them had babies, either perched on their hips or in slings worn on their backs while they worked. Madeline noted with some surprise that the women looked too old to be the babies’ mothers. The mothers were likely in the fields picking cotton, while the elderly stayed behind to look after the children and see to domestic chores. About a dozen pickaninnies ran around the yard, some completely naked, chasing each other and hooting with laughter. Some of the younger ones who could barely walk toddled behind the others, trying to get in on the fun. The women kept a watchful eye on the children as they went about their tasks.

  Madeline stopped. The slave women would not welcome her presence and she had no wish to intrude. She found a shady spot and settled in to wait. It was close to noon, so the laborers would probably return soon for the midday meal, unless it was brought out to them in the fields. Madeline didn’t yet understand the workings of the plantation, but she would learn soon enough if she remained watchful. Not that it mattered. Life on the plantation had a rhythm of its own, and she would have to adjust if she hoped to fit in and find some measure of contentment.

  Her father had been gone for just six days, but already her life had taken on a surreal quality, flowing over her like a swift current that carried her along no matter how much she resisted. She had no say in anything that happened to her, not anymore. Her only choice was to be humble, grateful, and obedient.

  Caught up in her somber thoughts, Madeline barely noticed the column of laborers making their way back toward the living quarters. They looked tired and dusty, but most of them appeared to be in good spirits, talking and joking amongst themselves and calling out to the women and children. Some of the children ran toward their fathers, who scooped them up and put them on their shoulders, the children’s bare legs making a thick scarf around the men’s necks. A few young women broke away from the crowd and reached for the babies, putting them to their breasts before they even had a chance to sit down or have a cup of water.

  Madeline stepped forward and shielded her eyes with her hand, searching for Mammy. She spotted her eventually, way in the back, walking slowly, as if in pain. Madeline took off at a run and threw herself into Mammy’s arms, blubbering like a baby. She had a speech prepared, but words deserted her, leaving her mind blank as she clung to the one person she still had left in the world.

  “Come now, child,” Mammy said, her voice as soothing as warm molasses. “Don’t tear yourself up. It’ll all be all right.”

  “Nothing will ever be all right, Mammy. How could they send you to the fields?” Madeline sobbed.

  “Don’t you worry about me. I’ve been in them fields before. It ain’t so bad once you get used to it. Now, tell me how you been.”

  “Mrs. Besson hates me, but I don’t know why. She keeps referring to something Daddy did that was unforgivable. She told George to send me away, but he refused.”

  Mammy nodded, as if Madeline had just confirmed her suspicions. “Now, you listen to your old Mammy. Your Daddy was a good man, and he loved you something fierce. Loved your momma too. That woman in that there house is your grandmother, no matter if she likes it or not. So you go back in there and you act like the granddaughter of the house. You hear? You make a place for yourself, and you hold on to it. You’s got rights, baby girl. Don’t forsake them.”

  Madeline stared at Mammy. Her plump face glistened with sweat and she looked worn out, but her eyes shone with determination and defiance. She wasn’t broken, nor was she bitter. She’d accepted her fate and was urging Madeline to do the same.

  “I will help you, Mammy. I promise. It might take me some time, but I’ll see that you’re treated right.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, child. You just look after yourself. There’s good folk here, and I’m not treated unkindly. There’s them that’s much worse off than me, believe me. Why, you see all them little ones running around? That’s all you need to know.”

  “Know what?” Madeline asked, confused. The children were sweet, but she hadn’t given them another thought.

  “There’s some as have breeding farms and put the babies up for sale to make a profit. Tear them away from their mommas as soon as they’s born. Here, families are kept together. No one takes the babies away, and no one suffers needless cruelty.”

  Madeline looked around. Workers sat around, enjoying their meal. The women served collard greens with large chunks of cornbread liberally smeared with fat and some kind of side meat. Some ate in silence, but most chatted and exchanged news and gossip with their friends. Madeline had never given much thought to the conditions the slaves lived and worked in before today. She only knew Mammy and Tess, and they had been part of the family. She looked at a young woman who rested her head on the shoulder of the man seated next to her, his arm going about her protectively. He held a small child in his lap, and tickled it with his free hand to make it giggle. The very idea that someone could simply take that baby away and sell it made Madeline’s stomach churn with outrage.

  “Now go back to the house. And don’t go making things worse,” Mammy instructed.

  “I miss you,” Madeline said, feeling sadder than she had before. There was a finality to Mammy’s words. She was saying goodbye and telling Madeline to keep her distance for both their sakes.

  “And I miss you, baby girl. I’s loved you since you was born, and I will love you always. But your life is on a different path now, and you don’t need me holding you back.”

  “You’re not holding me back,” Madeline protested.

  “No, but I ain’t helping you forward neither.” Mammy reached out and pulled Madeline into an embrace. She smelled of sweat and dust, but Madeline didn’t care. She buried her face in Mammy’s shoulder, wishing she could stay that way forever.

  “I love you, Madeline. I always will.” Mammy gently took Madeline by the shoulders and held her away from her. “Go,” she said softly. “Find happiness, my girl.”

  Chapter 13

  Madeline muddled through the rest of the day, wishing only that she could retreat to her room and go to bed where she would no longer have to pretend to be a well brought-up young lady with not a care in the world. The brief moment of shame she’d experienced down at the slave quarters passed like a cloud over the sun and sh
e felt more melancholy than before, her heart hollow in her chest, as if her loss had emptied it of blood and muscle and left a fragile shell in its place. She missed Daddy with an ache that was almost physical, and it reminded her of the desperate months after her mother had died, the loss leaving her so heartbroken that she’d cried and cried, forcing Daddy to put aside his own grief and do anything he could to soothe her.

  Mammy, without being told, had cleared out all of Corinne’s belongings, leaving nothing at all that could remind Madeline of the woman who’d loved her. Even her nightdress had disappeared, along with all her dresses and shoes. Madeline had buried her face in her mother’s pillow, inhaling the smell of her hair, a smell that was achingly familiar. She’d fallen asleep clutching her mother’s pillow and only woke when her father gently kissed her brow.

  “Wake up, Maddy,” he’d said. “It’s time to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Go out. We’ve been cooped up in this house far too long, wallowing in our grief. Let’s take a walk along the river and look at the boats. What do you say?”

  He knew that Madeline wouldn’t be able to resist. She loved watching the boats on the Mississippi. She especially liked the steamboats that dwarfed all the other vessels on the river, making them appear almost toy-like. And they were beautiful, too, like floating palaces with multiple decks adorned with lacy white railings, a huge paddle wheel on the side, and the boat’s name painted in big black letters on the wood casing around the wheel. Sometimes, music floated from the decks of a steamboat, a merry party taking place on the river. Madeline wished more than anything that she could attend such an event and stand on the top deck, her gloved hands on the railing, watching the water churching beneath the wheel and listening to sounds of gaiety coming from the salon within.

  “Before we go, there’s something I’d like to give you.” Daddy had taken out a long, narrow box from his pocket and handed it to Madeline. “Open it.”

  Madeline ran her small fingers along the length of the box. It was made of polished wood, and felt smooth and cool to the touch. She carefully opened lid. Inside, nestled among folds of blue satin, lay a fan. It was made of ivory and lace, the ivory almost as delicate and transparent as the gauzy fabric.

  “I bought this for your mama, but never got the chance to give it to her. She would have wanted you to have it, to remember her by,” he said, chocking on the words.

  “I will keep it always,” Madeline said. She flipped open the fan, gazing at it in rapture. Her mother had loved beautiful things, and would have adored this fan.

  “Someday, I will explain things to you, Maddy, but you are still too young and too naïve to understand. I want to keep you that way for as long as possible.”

  “What things?”

  “Things that will change your view of the world, and of yourself.”

  Maddy shrugged. She had no interest in the world. She fanned herself, enjoying the delicate feel of the ivory in her hand. It was exquisite, and something of her mother’s, which made it all the more special.

  **

  Madeline took out the fan and caressed the ivory with her fingers as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She wished she had something of her father’s, but Mammy had disposed of all his possessions before the funeral. Madeline had begged for a memento, but Mammy had said that keeping Daddy’s pocket watch or tie pin would only make Madeline sad. What made her sadder was the knowledge that Mr. Larson had taken everything of value to help pay Daddy’s massive debts. The sale of the house and Tess had covered a large portion of the sum, but not all of it, and Mr. Larson had personally seen to the disposal of furniture, paintings, silverware, books, and jewelry. Everything had gone, even Daddy’s clothes and shoes. Madeline briefly wondered if Mr. Larson had gotten his fee. In the past, she would have assumed that he would help as her daddy’s friend, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  **

  Madeline claimed a headache and asked to be excused from supper. She wasn’t hungry, just very weary, and desperate to be alone. She allowed Cissy to undress her and climbed into bed. The lavender shadows of encroaching dusk filled the room. Faint stars twinkled in the sky, but grew bigger and brighter as a velvety Southern night cloaked the plantation. Through the open window Madeline could hear crickets and cicadas as they embarked on their nightly symphony, and a gentle breeze carried the strains of a haunting melody from the distant slave quarters.

  Madeline was just drifting off to sleep when there was a light knock on the door. She thought it might be Cissy, but was surprised when George entered the room, casually dressed in a linen shirt and pants and carrying a single candle. He set the candle on the nightstand and parted the gauzy mosquito net before sitting on the side of the bed. The mattress sagged beneath his weight.

  “Are you all right?” George asked. “You weren’t at supper.”

  “I had a headache.”

  “I’m sorry. I heard you went to the slave quarters today.”

  “I wanted to see Mammy. Why was she sent to the fields, Cousin George? She’s an old woman. Surely something could have been found for her indoors.” Madeline hadn’t meant to sound reproachful, but she was angry with George, and angry with the situation. She grew silent, hoping she hadn’t made things worse for Mammy.

  “You’re right. I’ll see to it that Mammy doesn’t go back to the fields again. Perhaps the kitchen house. It’s hot work during the summer months, but easier for a woman of her age.”

  “Why can’t Mammy stay with me, George? I miss her.”

  “Grandmamma won’t have it.”

  “But why?” Madeline exclaimed.

  “There’s history there, little one.”

  Madeline started, now wide awake. “History? They knew each other before?”

  “Of course. Where do you think Mammy came from? Your father took her with him when he left. Your Mammy has family here—two sons and their wives and children. They haven’t seen each other since Mammy left, but I’m sure they’re happy to be reunited at last.”

  Madeline swallowed down nausea. Mammy had lied to her. She knew all about Daddy’s family. She knew about the plantation and had lived here before. Mammy had children that Madeline knew nothing about, children she’d never thought to mention, not even today when Madeline had poured out her troubles to her. Madeline felt sick at heart. Did everyone always lie and deceive?

  “And what about Tess?” she demanded. “Did she come from here as well?”

  “No. Your father must have purchased her after he left.”

  “George, what did my father do?” Madeline asked, her need to know now driven by anger. “Why was he cut off by his family?”

  George shook his head. “I don’t know. I was very young when it all happened, and no one would have told me the truth anyway. I just know that he was cast out and told never to return. No one spoke of him again. I asked my father, but he told me I was better off not knowing. And Grandmamma will take the secret to her grave. She’s a proud woman, and couldn’t bring herself to forgive Uncle Charles, not even after my father died, leaving no one to run the plantation. She managed everything until I was old enough to take the reins. She put her heart and soul into this place, so I can’t openly defy her.”

  “She holds me responsible for my father’s actions,” Madeline said, her tone bitter.

  “She doesn’t hold you responsible, but you are a reminder of something she’d rather forget. And perhaps, in some small measure, seeing you has made her question her judgement.”

  Madeline doubted it. Sybil Besson didn’t seem like a woman who ever questioned her own judgment, only that of others.

  “I know I’m young, but if I had a child, I can’t begin to imagine what he’d have to do to have me cut him out of my heart this way,” Madeline said.

  “You are right, you are young. There are things you don’t understand, little Maddy.”

  His use of her pet name startled Madeline. No one had ever called her Maddy except her parents. It was sp
ecial, and private, but it would be rude to correct him.

  “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” George leaned over and kissed Madeline on the forehead, the way her Daddy used to do. “Sleep well.”

  George pulled back the mosquito netting and adjusted it so there were no openings, then picked up his candle and left the room as quietly as he had come.

  Chapter 14

  April 2014

  London, England

  Gabe shut his laptop with the air of a man who’d just moved mountains. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d rearranged several end-of-term meetings, locked in three guest lecturers to take his classes, and booked a flight to New Orleans. The Institute of Archeology directors would not be happy with him for taking two weeks off so close to the end of the school year, but Gabe had decided it was more important for him to be with Quinn. She’d sounded emotional on the telephone when she’d told him about meeting her father and brother, and now she was already immersed in the story of Madeline, thanks to an ivory fan Seth had given Quinn as a gift.

  Whether Madeline had anything to do with Quinn remained to be seen, but the fact that the girl didn’t seem to appear in any family records or old photographs was enough to arouse Quinn’s curiosity, and in turn, Rhys Morgan’s. Quinn had decided to extend her stay in Louisiana by a fortnight, and last Gabe heard, Rhys was waiting on approval from the powers-that-be for his request to send a camera crew to New Orleans to film Quinn’s quest for her family history. And if anyone could smell a good story, it was Rhys Morgan, damn his overly sensitive nose.