Kitty chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “No. No, he wouldn’t do that,” she said.
“I want you to go downstairs and find Mattie and bring her up here. Don’t let Corey see you searching for her. If Hugo says anything, you tell him I refuse to go downstairs until after I see Mattie. Do you understand?”
Nina was hesitant. “I…I don’t know, Mrs. McRae. I don’t want your husband mad with me.”
Kitty stamped her foot in exasperation. “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll tell my husband that I find your work unsatisfactory. He’ll never do business with you again. Now go downstairs and find Mattie and bring her up here. Take the back stairs and slip in among the crowd. If you’re careful, no one will notice you. Now go on.”
Shaking her head in dismay, Nina backed slowly toward the door, then turned and hurried out. Kitty pressed her fingertips against her temples. Something was very wrong. Had Corey frightened Mattie? More and more lately, she found herself wondering if what Nancy had told her were true. Had Corey had anything to do with Mattie being attacked and raped? Oh, God, she prayed not. Surely he drew the line somewhere?
Finally there was a soft tap on the door. “Come in,” she all but screamed.
The door opened. Nina stepped inside, looking quite upset, followed by a teary-eyed, trembling woman dressed in black. “I’m going now. If anyone asks, I had no part in this,” Nina said quickly, pushing Mattie Glass into the room, then moving outside and closing the door behind her.
“Mattie, whatever is the matter?” Kitty began.
“Oh, Kitty, Kitty, you’re going to hate me for what I’ve done to you.” Mattie burst into hysterical sobs, burrowing her face in her hands.
Kitty flew to her side, placing an arm about her shoulder, leading her to the velvet sofa in front of the fireplace. Mattie collapsed in a sitting position, but Kitty was forced to stand. She could not crush the floral blossoms on the back of her hooped skirt.
“Now tell me what this is all about.” Her voice was gentle, and she kept a reassuring hand on Mattie’s shoulder. “I would never hate you, Mattie. Just tell me what has happened to upset you so.”
“The marshals, they came to see me about…” She sniffed, coughed, sobbed once more, then cleared her throat, fighting for composure.
“Yes, go on. The marshals came to see you about what happened to you. I hope you were able to tell them something that will help them find out who was responsible.”
“I’m afraid I have.”
“Afraid?” Kitty raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Mattie shook her head from side to side. “I just didn’t know what it would mean when I gave them…” She began sobbing wildly once more.
Exasperated, Kitty dug her fingers into the woman’s shoulders. “Now stop crying, Mattie. Get hold of yourself. Any minute now Hugo is going to pound on that door and tell me it’s time for me to make my entrance. Tell me what it is you are so upset about. I am not going to hate you, and I don’t know why you dare think I would.”
The woman turned mournful eyes upon her. “Kitty, when that first man attacked me…” she swallowed hard, fighting for composure, “…I was not yet unconscious. I was still struggling. I’ve told no one, not even the sheriff because I didn’t trust him, that I was able to tear something from that man’s shirt, It was a button, a button with CSA on it.”
“That means the man was wearing an old Confederate uniform shirt,” Kitty gasped. “That may help some, Mattie, but a lot of our soldiers still wear the shirts now and then.”
Mattie lowered her eyes, knotting a wet lace handkerchief in her trembling hands. “There was something else. I tore at his hair. I ripped a lock of his hair, and when I returned home from the hospital, I remembered that. I found it, between the bed and the wall. It was red, fiery red.”
“So the man had red hair and wore an old Confederate uniform shirt. Those are two good clues, Mattie. You gave these to the marshals? That’s fine. They have something to go on at least.”
Mattie shook her head in short, quick jerks. “You don’t understand what I’m saying, Kitty. Don’t you remember I said those men wore hoods over their heads? How do you think I tore that lock of hair from that man?”
Kitty stared at her, puzzled. Then she snapped her fingers triumphantly. “Oh, Mattie, I know what you mean now. You were able to struggle and get that hood up to where you could tear at his hair. Then you must have seen his face. You can identify at least one of the attackers. That’s wonderful. And I don’t blame you for not telling anyone until the federal marshals came…”
Her voice trailed off as she saw the look on Mattie’s face. “Why do you look so upset? Mattie, I don’t understand. You should be glad. You may be able to identify that man. Isn’t that what you want?”
“The marshals took the button and the lock of hair,” she whispered tremulously. “They said they were going to investigate. They did, and they came back to see me and told me they had found out about a red-haired man who wears an old Confederate shirt. They want me to identify him.”
“Then by all means, do so. What’s the matter? Are you afraid of him? You certainly have no reason to be. Once you have fingered him as the responsible party, the others will be easier to find. The law will take care of all of them. You have no reason to be afraid.”
Mattie took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then spoke the words that sent chilling fingers up and down Kitty’s spine. “The man they want me to identify works for your husband, Kitty. His name is Coot Wiley.”
“Wiley?” Kitty felt her eyes bulging. She swayed. Grasping the back of the sofa for support, she whispered, “Yes, yes, of course. Coot does wear an old Rebel shirt most of the time. He’s so dirty and filthy, probably never bathes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without that shirt. And he does have red hair. If it was Coot, and you can identify him, then that means Corey was behind it all. He wanted to frighten you into selling your land.”
“Exactly.” Mattie nodded. “Oh, Kitty, please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to cause you grief.”
“Cause me grief?” Kitty blinked, confused. “Mattie, I don’t understand. How can you cause me any grief? Corey is the one in trouble, not me.”
“But he’s your husband, and he will be in deep trouble if this is all brought out.”
“Mattie, I told you that day I visited you in the hospital that I don’t love Corey. He found me in a desperate situation, and I had no other path to choose except to become his wife. I had my son to think about. I hate Corey McRae, now more than ever, because I believe he did have something to do with what happened to you. He probably masterminded the whole thing. I hope he gets what’s coming to him. So please, don’t think you have caused me any grief.”
“But they’re coming here tonight.”
“Who’s coming?”
“The marshals. I didn’t know anything about what they had found out until just before I started getting dressed to come here. They came to my house and said they wanted me to identify that…that man.” She shuddered with revulsion, memories of the horror washing over her. “I told them about the party, Kitty. I asked them couldn’t they wait until tomorrow, but they couldn’t.”
“Well, it’s best to get it over with,” Kitty sighed. “Don’t worry, Mattie. If Coot Wiley is one of the men responsible, and Corey was behind it all, the marshals will deal with them.”
Kitty was trying not to show the sudden burst of hope that was flowing through her veins. If the marshals could prove Corey was responsible, then it would probably mean he would go to prison. Then she would be free!
“Kitty, there’s something else.” Mattie had gotten to her feet, reached out to clutch her arms.
There was a sudden, loud pounding on the door, and Hugo was calling. “The master is ready for you, madam. Now.”
“What is it?” Kitty whispered anxiously, frightened by the look in Mattie’s eyes. Somehow she sensed that what the woman was about to say would be the most astonishi
ng news yet. “Tell me quickly.”
“The marshals. They…one of them—”
The door opened and Hugo stepped into the room, eyes flashing with anger at the sight of Mattie. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “How did you slip up here? I told you Mr. McRae said no one was to see Mrs. McRae until after she made her entrance. Get out of here at once.”
“Now, you wait a minute, Hugo,” Kitty flared, matching his anger. “Who do you think you are to burst into my room and tell my guest to get out? I think you overestimate your importance and position in this house.”
“I think you underestimate your husband’s authority.” He gave her the insolent sneer she hated. “Now, shall I call him up here or will you have your guest leave and make your entrance? Everyone is waiting at the bottom of the stairway, and the orchestra is playing.”
Kitty looked at Mattie, burning with the desire to hear what she had been about to say. “Give us one more moment, Hugo, please.”
“No!” he snapped. “Come with me now. I am not going to have the master angry with me. I follow orders.”
“Oh, Kitty, I…” Mattie shook her head, then lifted the skirts of her black crepe dress and ran across the room, swishing by Hugo to disappear into the hallway.
Kitty had no choice but to make her entrance. Whatever Mattie was going to tell her would have to wait until later. She moved by Hugo. He continued his insolent smirk.
When she appeared at the top of the curving stairway, her hand lightly touching the banister, she tilted her chin upward, forced a smile upon her lips. A wave of sighs and gasps of stunned reaction swept across the faces. Slowly, she made her descent. She caught sight of Corey waiting at the bottom with outstretched hand, pride and triumph gleaming in his black eyes. This was his moment. The king awaits his queen. She prayed fervently that it would all be over soon. The king would be exiled—the queen freed.
She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. The crowd moved back, making a path for the two as they walked toward the ballroom to the left of the entrance foyer. People continued to murmur. “You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen, my darling,” Corey whispered in a tone filled with awe. “And to think you are mine, all mine. Oh, my darling, you do me proud tonight.”
She kept the forced smile on her lips as they began to dance in the middle of the room, the crowd forming a circle about them. It was a waltz, and Kitty held out her skirt with one hand, making the swoops and swirls, and Corey expertly maneuvered her on the floor. Others began to dance. And finally, the music ended. People descended upon her, complimenting her on her marriage, her loveliness. Men bowed and kissed her hand. Women who had spat at her before now curtsied as though she were reigning royalty.
“Enjoy it, my dear,” Corey whispered, lips so close to her ear she could feel the warmth of his breath. “This is your moment of glory. Those who scorned you now bow and scrape. I want you to remember that it was I who gave you all this. I took you from the gutter and made you the empress you are now. I have given you the world.”
“Then give me my baby,” she turned her head slightly to hiss as someone she had never seen before kissed her outstretched hand.
“Ahh, you shall have him quite soon.” He turned to acknowledge a greeting, accept words of congratulations, then moved his lips back to her ear. “I think you should bear my child as soon as possible, darling. It’s not good to dote on John so much.”
Shivering with revulsion, she wondered if she could possibly love a being created from his degrading lust. But soon she might be free, she remembered, and the smile she gave her next admirer was genuine. Soon, all this could be over.
Her eyes searched the throng for Mattie, but she was nowhere to be seen. What if Hugo had thrown her out of the house? Finally she was able to move away from the crowd in the ballroom and find Hugo with a tray of champagne. Stepping close so no one could overhear, she murmured, “Hugo, have you seen Mrs. Glass? I wish to talk with her.”
“I have no idea, Mrs. McRae,” he responded in a bored tone, making no effort to lower his voice. “She ran down the back stairway, and I do hope she kept right on going. Her kind has no business at this party.”
Kitty’s fiery temper got the best of her. “Who are you to say who does or does not belong here, Hugo? Corey took you in and gave you a bath and taught you how to speak properly, and now you look down on everyone around you! I will not have it.”
Whipping his head about, he snapped, “You’re a fine one to talk. I know what you were before Mr. McRae picked you up and wiped the dirt off, and so does everyone else. You always did love the shiftless trash niggers, didn’t you? Jacob and his kind. You can’t stand to see some of my people have the backbone to rise up and better themselves.”
Guests who could hear what was being said backed away in astonishment. For a few seconds, Kitty could only stand there, shocked, unable to believe what she had just heard. Then, before she realized what she was doing, her hand cracked across Hugo’s face. Startled, he dropped the tray and the crystal glasses filled with champagne went crashing to the floor.
“How dare you speak to me that way?” she cried. “How dare you?”
The orchestra had ceased playing, its members distracted by the scene. Guests began moving closer, filled with curiosity. Suddenly Corey was pushing his way through to stare incredulously at the mess of broken glass and champagne spilled upon the floor, and at the angry faces of Hugo and Kitty.
But his presence did not quell Kitty’s fury.
“How dare you speak of Jacob in such a way?” she lashed out. “You aren’t fit to wash his feet.”
“Stop it!” Corey’s fingers wrapped around her arm, digging into the tender flesh. She winced with pain but continued to stand there rigidly glaring at the negro.
“It doesn’t matter about him anymore, anyway,” Hugo said with a short laugh, eyes gleaming. “Nobody will be bothered with that old fool again.”
“Hugo, I will have you soundly thrashed for this,” Corey said between gritted teeth. “Go out to the kitchen and stay there until you hear from me.”
His eyes taking on a look of fright, Hugo turned and all but ran from the room, pushing aside the guests roughly in his haste to escape his master’s wrath.
Corey released his hold on Kitty long enough to wave his hands in the air. “Please forgive this little scene. You all know our nigras are getting uppity. I’ve been having trouble with this one, and I apologize for your having to witness such a thing. Please…” He gestured to the orchestra frantically to start playing once again. “Let’s all dance and enjoy ourselves. This is a festive occasion.”
With the music filling the air, people began moving away, but their heads were close together, buzzing. “Now, you, my dear,” Corey turned on Kitty furiously when no one was close enough to hear. “I want you to go to your room and get hold of yourself. I’m going to see to Hugo, and then I will be up to get you. This is a disgrace!”
She turned a frosty gaze upon him, unmoved by his anger. “What did he mean when he said no one would be bothered with Jacob again? Where is Jacob? What have you done with him?”
“I told you to go to your room.”
“And I’m not going anywhere till I find out what has happened to the dearest friend I have in this world. If you don’t want me to make a scene your guests will not forget, you had better tell me, Corey.”
“Who do you think you are? Giving me an ultimatum! You want that brat of yours to stay in Raleigh forever? Now you do as I say, or believe me, you will regret your disobedience.”
She did not move.
Another servant appeared, looking uncertain as to whether or not to speak.
“Well, Lidas, what is it?” Corey demanded impatiently.
“The food. It’s ready,” the Negro said nervously, tugging at the tightly buttoned shirt and cravat.
“Good, good. Tell the orchestra leader. Have him make the announcement. I have other things to tend to.” He turned to Kitty. “I wil
l take you to your room since you refuse to obey me.”
“If you want to avoid a scene,” she said, very quietly, a slight smile on her lips so those watching would not think them arguing, “tell me what you have done with Jacob.”
“Oh, all right, but you’ll pay later for this rebellion. I promise you that I sent Jacob away, with his grandsons. He is well taken care of, living on a farm I own down in South Carolina. I did not want him around. I did not like your friendship with a cotton-patch nigra. He left three days ago.”
She clenched and unclenched her fist, fighting the impulse to send her hand cracking across his face. “You have just given me one more reason to hate you, Corey.”
“That doesn’t bother me in the least. I never asked you to love me, you little fool, just obey me. All right. Stay here and keep that smile on that beautiful face of yours. Pretend that nothing is wrong. Mingle with our guests. Everyone thinks Hugo was just being uppity. These people are used to the Negroes rebelling. We can carry this off with a minimum of embarrassment. Later tonight, you and I will settle this latest riff because I cannot have you—”
“Mr. McRae.”
It was Hugo, and his eyes were wide with fright as he tugged at his master’s sleeve.
“I told you to get the hell out of here.”
For a moment Kitty thought Corey was going to strike him. She could tell he was fighting for control.
“Sir, this is important. Come with me, please. There…there are…” he leaned over and whispered, but Kitty heard the words, “…federal marshals on the grounds. One of the guards just told me. They’re headed for the front door this very minute.”
Corey looked shaken. He turned to say something to Kitty, but loud banging on the front door drowned out the sound of the orchestra, and everything and everyone became silent.
Straightening his coat, mustering every ounce of dignity and control, Corey murmured, “Go to the door, Hugo.”
The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 Page 31
