Ermine dutifully refilled her glass and sympathetically offered, “Well, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of, Miss Victoria. It’s not your fault that Master Ryan is the only one to carry on. I remember how you lost all those babies. Two before Master Ryan was born, and then you nearly died having him, and then lost three more later on. You tried. The good Lord knows you tried.”
“I certainly did. Ryan should have appreciated that fact, respected it, and accepted that it was his duty, and Ermine’s, to have as many sons as possible so the Youngblood name would go on. But how in the name of heaven,” she cried, lips trembling, eyes brimming with tears, “could he dare to mix his seed with someone of unknown heritage? I seem to remember that Zachary married Arlene after a trip farther south. She came back with that…girl in there when she was just a baby. She probably didn’t even know who the father was. And I’m supposed to accept that trash into my house? I’m supposed to be grandmother to her children?
“No!” she declared vehemently, pounding the chair with her fists. “I won’t do it. There has to be a way to end this madness.”
Through the years, Eliza had experienced many similar scenes with Victoria when she was distraught about something. Consequently, she knew much local gossip and was able to remind her of a similar situation. “You told me last year about how Miss Coralee Sutton was sent away by her daddy, because she brought shame on the family after letting a man bed her before he married her.”
Impatiently, Victoria snapped, “What does that have to do with any of this?” Suddenly, it dawned on her, and she gasped. “That’s how she got him to marry her! She made him crazy for her and held out for marriage. Oh, that cunning little bitch!”
Eliza suppressed a smile to offer instead another cluck of dismay.
“But that also has to mean he can’t really be in love with her.” Victoria was starting to get excited as she began to see a light at the end of a long, despairing tunnel. “Tell me, do they seem happy?”
Eliza told the truth, how there did seem to be some tension, and Master Ryan always seemed to be in a bad mood.
“Then it’s obvious that now that he’s got what he wanted, he regrets what he’s done. Oh, my poor boy!” The tears spilled down her cheeks, and she realized it was up to her to get him out of the mess he had got himself into. But she also knew she was going to have to be very careful. Ryan could be quite stubborn. And the two of them had never seen eye to eye on many things. If she angrily condemned what he had done, it would only make him defensive, thus making her scheme difficult.
Eliza could tell she had finally come up with a plan and asked excitedly, “What are you going to do, Miss Victoria?”
It was Victoria’s time to smile, at last. “First of all, I want that bath and my tea and my spice cake. Then I want you to get busy and prepare a very special dinner.”
Eliza was puzzled and said so.
“Don’t you see? I’ve got to help my son make the best of a bad situation. He needs sympathy right now. Understanding. I’ll let him know, in subtle ways, that I can understand how a beautiful woman like Miss Sterling could beguile him into marrying her.
“I will also let him know,” she added, eyes narrowing with malicious delight, “that I’m ready and willing to help him straighten out his life.”
Eliza nodded, feeling a comforting rush. It was just like she’d known it would be. Miss Victoria would take care of everything.
Rosa hated to give the message to Miss Arlene. She had been dressed and ready to go since first light, so looking forward to spending the day with Miss Erin. But, more than that, Rosa knew she wanted to be out of the house when Master Zachary woke up. He had come in late the night before, all liquored up. She had heard him yelling and screaming all the way from the storage room, where she now slept. She knew he would have her beaten if he found out she was disobeying his rule that no slaves were allowed in the house at night, but after that time when he had beaten Miss Arlene so bad, Rosa didn’t dare go all the way to the compound. She wasn’t about to leave her beloved mistress all alone with that man. If she hadn’t found her when she did that night, Miss Arlene wouldn’t have lived. It was Tulwah’s magic that saved her. Rosa had sent Ben running through the night to fetch him, and he had come and packed Miss Arlene’s chest in some kind of poultice to stop the bleeding from her mouth and nose. He had stayed with her till near dawn. He had been back since, too, but nobody knew that except Rosa, and she was not going to tell. She suspected he was gathering wanga for his spell she’d begged him to cast on Master Zachary. She just wished he’d hurry up and do it, because things were getting bad. He had beaten poor Ben again, because he was just so angry over Letty. She feared Ben was going to run away, and she only hoped he would wait till Mahalia sent word about the new plan the Free Soilers were setting up. If he didn’t, and he got caught, Master Zachary would take particular delight in killing him. He had already had the whipping post brought out of the swamp and placed right in the middle of the compound, and now when he did his whipping, he ordered all the slaves to gather round and watch.
Rosa shook her head in hopeless despair as she made her way up to Miss Arlene’s room. She figured there just had to be a special place in hell for a demon like Zachary Tremayne.
Arlene glanced up as she entered. She was sitting by the window and had seen the horse come up the road, and Rosa could tell by the disappointed look on her face that she already knew there was not going to be any trip that day to Jasmine Hill. “Did the messenger give the reason?” she asked dully.
“No’m. He just said Miz Erin said it couldn’t be today. That’s all.”
Arlene blinked furiously; she didn’t want to cry in front of Rosa. She had been living for this day, because she had made up her mind that she would move in with Erin and Ryan if it was all right. She had reached the point of being absolutely terrified of Zachary and was even starting to fear for her life. Last night, he had taken her savagely and brutally.
Afterward, he had shoved her away in loathing and disgust and said, “I’m gettin’ sick of you, sick of thinkin’ how you’re one-quarter the color of the ones I wouldn’t wipe my feet on. You’re not good for nothin’ anymore, always coughin’, always lazin’ around. Before, I could look forward to havin’ Erin in my bed, but you ruined all that for me.”
Sore and bleeding, Arlene had laid there for long hours in anguish, wanting to just die then and there so she would never be hurt or humiliated by him again. When Tulwah had boldly slipped into her room, she had welcomed him. And she had even broken down and cried and told him what had happened. He had a poultice for her to use after he left, and he promised she would not have to suffer much longer. He was taking care of things. She didn’t know what he had in mind, didn’t care what happened to Zachary. All she knew was that she was ready to get down on her knees to Ryan Youngblood, if that’s what it took to escape from the torture and the madness.
She got up and began to undress. There was nothing to do but go to bed and try to sleep. She would take a big dose of Tulwah’s medicine. It always made her drowsy.
It was nearly dark when Zachary finally woke up from his drunken stupor. He lay there a few minutes and anguished over the throbbing pain in his head. The cure for that was the hair of the dog that bit him, as the saying went, which meant he needed a drink. Bad. And he was going to have to get up and get it himself from his supply downstairs, because the slaves were supposed to be out of the house at such an hour.
He rolled to his side, about to get up.
And that was when he saw it.
The rooster’s half-closed, glassy eyes stared at him from where they lay propped on the pillow next to him. The stringy stump of its head oozed blood, and it had run down onto his shoulder.
With a scream and an oath, he grabbed it to fling it against the wall, where it exploded in a sickening pulp.
He leaped to his feet, his own blood rushing to his head in a rage of terrified anger.
He knew what it wa
s and what it meant.
Voodoo. Black magic. Evil spirits.
Someone was casting a spell on him, and he could hear the furious pounding of his own heart as he rationalized just who that someone had to be.
His mulatto wife.
Well, he had news for her if she thought she was going to use her African blood to put a curse on him. He’d fix her. He’d put her where she’d be no threat with her obeah, ever again.
He was going to do what he should have done a long time ago.
He was going to send her where she belonged, back to her own people…and bondage.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ryan knew something was wrong when he saw Ebner waiting at the stable. Quickly dismounting, he turned his horse over to a groom and brusquely demanded, “Let’s hear it.”
“Miz Victoria is back.”
Ryan nodded, felt tension creeping. He’d known it could happen at any time, but damn it, he wished he had been there. They started toward the house. “What time did she get here?”
“It was about noon.”
Ryan glanced toward the horizon where the sun bathed the landscape in golden hues as it sank behind the western ridge. It was getting late. “Well,” he prodded with a sigh of resignation, “how did it go?”
Ebner knew he was talking about the first meeting between his mother and his wife. “Lordy, Mastah Ryan, I don’t know.” He wrung his hands in a helpless gesture. “Eliza, she didn’t tell yo’ mama nothin’ befo’ she went in the house. All I know is Miz Erin, she ain’t come downstairs all afternoon, but she did send Annie out to the stable to get somebody to ride over to her mama’s house and tell her she’d have to postpone her visit today.”
Ryan groaned out loud. Damn, that had slipped his mind, too. In fact, he’d been so lost in thought as he rode aimlessly all day that he didn’t even recall where all he had wandered. And he hadn’t resolved anything by his brooding. The givens were the same—he loved Erin; she didn’t return that love. Still, he had no intentions of ever letting her go, and he’d be damned if he’d wear his heart on his sleeve and wind up feeling like a fool—again.
Ebner continued. “Eliza said Miz Victoria said that I’m to let her know when you got here, and to tell you to go to yo’ study and wait fo’ her there.”
“Fine. Do that.” He wanted to get the encounter over with as quickly as possible.
In his study, he filled a glass with whiskey to brace himself for what he felt was going to be an unpleasant scene.
He did not have long to wait. He had just sat down behind his desk when his mother appeared.
He stood in polite greeting. “Welcome home,” he began with forced geniality, but immediately fell to stunned silence as she burst into tears. He had never known her to cry. Not even when his father died.
He watched uncertainly as she sank to the leather sofa to cover her face with trembling hands. This was a side to her he found himself totally unprepared for. He’d expected screaming, yelling, anything but tears.
Not knowing what else to do, he went and sat down beside her, awkwardly putting his arm about her quaking shoulders. “Listen. I didn’t mean for it to be a shock to you. I wish I’d been here to tell you myself, and—”
“No!” she cried sharply, raising misty eyes to look at him in anguish. “It’s not your getting married that hurts, Ryan, though, dear God, I pray you won’t live to regret it.
“I can accept that,” she rushed on, “but what hurts me so is thinking how you must hate me to turn your wife against me, before I even had a chance to meet her and try to accept this marriage.” She summoned a fresh attack of grief, shook her head wildly in pretense of being too upset to go on.
Ryan was not only baffled, he was fast becoming agitated by all the mystery. “Will you please stop crying and tell me what this is all about?”
She cried even harder.
He looked up then to see Eliza outside the door, apparently reluctant to intrude. With a sigh, he got to his feet. “Well, Eliza, maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”
Eliza recited, as she had been coached. “I heard Miss Victoria crying. I’m afraid she’s going to become ill if she doesn’t get hold of herself. It was a terrible, terrible scene, Master Ryan. I wish you had been here for her.”
“Well, if somebody doesn’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m going to get ill, too—in a different way,” he added grimly.
Eliza continued her recitation. She explained that Miss Victoria, unaware of his marriage, went to her room, like always. “Miss Erin”—she lifted her chin in a gesture of disdain—“was still asleep, and when she woke up and saw your mother, she had a fit and started cursing and screaming at her to get out.”
As planned, Victoria took over at that moment to wail, “Oh, it was awful. Just awful. I’ve never had anyone talk to me like that in my whole life. Such filthy language! I didn’t know what was going on. All I could think of was that you’d brought one of those—those street women home with you, and she was in my bed.”
Ryan glared at Eliza, then, and wondered if she’d told about him having Corrisa Buckner sleep in his bed. If she hadn’t, she would, but for the moment, she was not meeting his accusing eyes, because she probably knew what he was thinking.
Victoria prattled on. “I asked her to leave, and that’s when she started after me, saying I was the one who had to get out, because she was your wife, and I had no right to be there. She said things were different now, and I’d find out soon enough who’s in charge now, and…oh, dear, dear Jesus. Your father would turn over in his grave if he knew you’d let anyone treat me this way.”
She gave a loud gasp, began to shudder convulsively as Eliza, right on cue, rushed to comfort. Cradling Victoria in her arms, she looked up at Ryan to say worriedly, “I think you’d better send for a doctor. She’s real bad. Real bad.”
Again, as planned, Victoria threw up a hand in protest and took deep, rasping breaths, as though fighting to get hold of herself. Swallowing hard, gulping, giving her head a brisk shake, she protested, “No. No doctor. I won’t air the family’s dirty laundry for all of Richmond to gossip about. We’ll make the best of all this. Somehow. Eliza, get me some brandy. A big glass.” She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes as Eliza rushed to obey.
Ryan sat down behind his desk again and tried to sort it all out. It just didn’t sound like Erin, but he didn’t know what to believe, especially since he hadn’t heard her side yet.
Victoria sniffed and blew her nose in the lace handkerchief she drew from her pocket before going on with her tale. “I just ran out. I was afraid she was actually going to strike me. She did throw something, a pillow, I think, and she had her hand on the lantern when I ran out the door, getting ready to throw that at me. She just went crazy. If only someone had told me, prepared me for all this, I’d have waited till you got home and talked to you first. But I had no way of knowing you’d moved her into my room, or I’d never have intruded.”
“Eliza could have told you.”
“She said she didn’t think it was her place—”
Ryan couldn’t resist a sarcastic sneer. “Well, that’s the first time she’s ever worried about her place when it came to my business.”
Victoria let that pass. “Eliza took me to where you’d moved me.” She made her voice tremble as she asked pitifully, “What’s to become of me now, son? Where is my place in your life? If I’m in the way, I’ll move out.”
“That’s not necessary,” he said tersely.
“I don’t understand any of this, anyway. You know I had my heart set on your marrying Ermine. Poor thing! Her heart is probably broken.”
“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be engaged to somebody else by Christmas.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. He might be right. Ermine was a lovely girl, and when word spread she was no longer engaged, the young bachelors of Richmond would beat a path to her door—all the more reason Victoria knew she had to move quickly. “So, tell me
about Erin Sterling,” she prodded, pretending not to know anything about her. “Who is she, anyway? Where does she come from?”
“Not far from here. Sterling was her real father’s name. Her mother remarried.”
Victoria wanted to make him say it, “And her mother is…?”
“Arlene Tremayne. She’s married to Zachary Tremayne.”
“Oh, dear God!” Victoria began to sway to and fro, feigning surprise. “Oh, dear, dear, God! That dreadful man! And his wife! I’ve seen her. Always pushing herself on people. No one knows anything about her background. Why, there’s no way of knowing what kind of heritage your children would have, and—” She looked up sharply. “Oh, no! Don’t tell me that’s the reason you did this. Tell me she’s not carrying your child!”
“Not yet,” he replied coolly.
“Well, I find it hard to believe you married her because of love, not when she comes from such questionable background.”
He surprised even himself by his quick retort. “Actually, I did.”
That was a jolt, and she wouldn’t let herself believe it, but offered instead, “I can get you out of this trouble.”
“There’s no trouble, Mother.”
A smug smile touched her lips. “I’d say you’ve got a lot of trouble with a wife who curses your mother.”
“I’ll talk to her. I’m sure it was just a little misunderstanding.”
“I just wish you’d help me to understand what brought all this about,” Victoria begged again, taking the brandy Eliza brought.
Gently he asked a question of his own. “When have you ever understood anything I did, Mother?”
Victoria knew she’d get nowhere by arguing. Continuing with her plan, she whispered pitifully, “Then at least tell me what’s to become of me now.”
Midnight Rose Page 26
