A Matter of Principle (2 page)

“
No!” Nicolas pulled back. “No, nothing like that. I brought Jack. We’ve come for you.”

Sarah straightened and took a step forward, frowning. “Jack is here?”

“
He’s outside with my horse.” Nicolas waved toward the window.

Sarah walked unevenly across the room and looked outside. When she saw Jaqriel, she backed away from the window.

“
No-o-o!” she wailed and collapsed to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist as loud sobs ricocheted through her. “No, no, no, no. I can’t see him. He won’t want to see me!”

Nicolas’s jaw dropped.
Now what?

“
Sarah, please don’t cry.” He waved his hands in awkward circles, not knowing how to comfort her.

“
He will hate me!” Sarah’s words were muffled against the elaborate carpet. “I can’t see him!”

A sharp rap at the door startled them both. Nicolas stepped back and pulled the door open. It was Madam Purple.

“
Is aught amiss, sir?” She leaned to the side to see around his bulk. “I heard distressing sounds.”

Nicolas glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to see Sarah sitting on her knees, under tenuous control for the moment.

“
Nothing’s amiss, Madam, I assure you. I fear our game was louder than we intended.” He flashed his most congenial smile.

“
Game?” Madam Purple leaned farther and Nicolas obliged by opening the door wider. Sarah smiled tremulously.

“
Yes, um, plantation overseer and the, uh, reluctant—dairy maid.” Nicolas made it up as he spoke. “I’m sure you understand these sort of peculiarities?”

“
Yes, well, in my business? Of course!” Her eyes undressed Nicolas, for the second time in five minutes, pausing long on his groin. He resisted the urge to cup himself protectively.

Nicolas smiled again and bowed. “I promise to be quieter.”

Madam Purple backed out of the room and pulled the door closed. Nicolas heaved a sigh of relief. Sarah melted back onto the carpet and cried into the crook of her arm.

Nicolas squatted near her. “Sarah?”

One wet eye appeared over her elbow.

“
What’s amiss?”

Sarah shook her head slowly from side to side. Nicolas stood and retrieved the brandy bottle from the corner where it rolled. He opened it and poured two glasses. He downed one, refilled it, and carried the liquor to the puddle of Negress.

“
Here, drink this.” He pushed the glass into a hand that reflexively closed around it. He downed his second brandy and waited.

Sarah lifted her face enough to look at the crystal container. She pulled herself upright and gulped the liquid. She coughed explosively and dropped the empty glass on the rug.

“
Lord have mercy!” she squeaked.

Nicolas picked it up and set both glasses on the nightstand. “Might you speak to me now?”

“
Yes,” Sarah rasped. “Only do not make me take more of that!”

“
That’s fair.” Nicolas sat on the edge of the bed.

Sarah ran the back of her hand under her nose and wiped both of her eyes. She sniffed twice before she spoke. “We were caught in St. Louis. The man we were to meet never came. Or if he did, he never found us.”

“
How long were you there?”

“
We waited for a week. Maybe ten days. Then Jaqriel went to buy food. That’s when he was discovered.”

Nicolas ran his hand through his hair. “And you were with child. He couldn’t abandon you.”

“
No.” Sarah wiped her cheeks, wet again. “I hoped he would, but he did not.”

Nicolas’s gut clenched at her desperate words. He cleared his throat. “You both were sold?”

Sarah nodded. “Jack was sold to a stone mason in St. Louis. I was sold to the madam here.”

“
That mason built an addition on my home,” Nicolas explained. “That’s how I found Jack.”

“
Oh?” Sarah’s eyes met his. “How is he here?”

“
I, um, well I bought him. From the mason.” Nicolas felt his face grow warm.

Sarah frowned at him, her confusion clear. “
You
bought him?”

“
What happened next?” he prodded.

“
I came here, to St. Charles.”

“
The madam told me you have not been, uh,” Nicolas faltered. “What I mean to say is, you don’t…” He spread his hands helplessly.

“
No, I have never been asked to service any customers. Until tonight, of course.” Sarah glanced around the room. Nicolas saw her fingers tighten around each other.

“
I have no intentions of using you in any way, Sarah. Rest easy,” Nicolas assured her. “I’m quite satisfied with my wife and don’t frequent brothels.”
Anymore.

“
Yes, sir.” Her fingers relaxed.

“
You were with child.” Nicolas brought her back to her account.

“
I birthed a son.”

“
Is he here?”

Sarah’s lower lip tensed and disappeared under her front teeth. She faced the floor. A quick shake of her head was followed by loud, wet sniffs and frantic cheek-wiping.

“
They let me keep him until he walked. Then Madam said he was too much trouble and a whore house was no place for children. I begged her not to take him so young, but she would not hear me.” Sarah’s voice caught in gasps.

“
They sold him?” Nicolas breathed deeply, fighting a sudden thickness in his throat. Though he largely ignored his own son in the first years after his wife died, he now loved Stefan fiercely and could not imagine life without the boy.

“
No! They gave him away!” she keened.

“
Do you know to whom?”

“
No!” Sarah crumpled to the carpet once again. “My son is lost to me!” That was likely true. To recognize him as he grew would be impossible.

“
I’m sorry, Sarah,” Nicolas whispered.

“
I cannot face Jaqriel. He will never forgive me!”

“
No, Sarah, that’s not so.”

“
It is! It is, it is…” she moaned.

Nicolas was at a loss. He dare not touch the girl; too many taboos there. He rose from the edge of the bed and poured himself another brandy. He sat on a chair and pushed each boot off with the other foot. He loosened his shirt. “Sarah?”

No response.

“
Sarah? Can you hear me?”

Her head wobbled.

“
Sarah, I plan to get a good night’s sleep this night. We ride back to Cheltenham in the morning. That’s four or five hours on the road.”

She raised her head and met his gaze.

“
And because I plan to buy you in the morning, and take you with us, I would like to make certain that you’re comfortable as well.”

“
I’m not for sale,” she stated.

“
Sarah, anything, or anyone, is for sale when the right payment is offered.” Nicolas stood and rested his fists on his hips. “And I have the right payment.”

Sarah pushed herself upright, her cheeks glossed with tears and still on her knees. “How can you be certain?”

One side of Nicolas’s mouth curved as he pulled gold coins from his pocket. “Let us simply say, I am.”

Sarah’s eyes widened again. “Oh my Lord.”

“
So,” Nicolas dropped the coins back into his pocket, “might you make yourself comfortable for the night?”

“
I—I suppose I might, sir.”

“
Have you any belongings to gather?”

She looked stunned. “Only some dresses. I can get them in the morning.”

“
Even so.” Nicolas climbed wearily into the bed, still dressed. “Please make use of anything in the room, will you?”

“
Yes, sir,” Sarah whispered.

Nicolas’ head sank into the scented pillow. He heard himself snore. Once.

October 20, 1821

Cheltenham, Missouri

“
Bronnie? Look at me.” Sydney leaned over the foot of the bed; her hands gripped Bronwyn Atherton’s ankles. She wiped the sweat off one cheek with her shoulder. “Look at me!”

Bronwyn’s brown eyes focused on Sydney. She still whimpered.

“
You need to stop fighting your body! You are making your pains worse and you aren’t helping the baby come out.”

“
But it hurts so much, Sydney! I feel as though my back is breaking!” she wailed.

“
Some women feel it more in front, and some more in back. Taycie is bringing a bladder of hot water for you.” She straightened and toggled her head to release tension in her neck. “For now, I think you should get on your hands and knees. It might help relieve some of that pressure.”

Bronnie rolled on her side and Sydney helped her get into position. Rickard Atherton’s young mulatto slave, Taycie, slipped in the door and handed Sydney the pig bladder of hot water. Sydney set it in the scoop of Bronnie’s back.

“
That feels good,” Bronnie moaned.

The willowy Negress moved to the fire and poked it, adding a log. Sydney looked at the clock. It was nine-thirty in the morning and she was summoned to the Atherton manor, a mile and a half from the Hansen property, at three. Over six hours already, with a long way yet to go.



Taycie brought a tray of food for Sydney and cooled tea for Bronnie. The clock struck one. Sydney ate her sandwich sitting on the bed, her hand on Bronnie’s belly. For some reason, the younger woman found it easier to breathe through her contractions if Sydney pushed against her.

“
It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Sydney assured Bronnie as another pain started. “I’ll check you after this one.”

Bronnie squealed at a sudden gush of water. “Did I wet myself?” she cried.

“
No! That’s the bag of waters. Things should move very quickly now.”

It took Bronnie only three good pushes before a black-swirled head emerged. Sydney wiped it clean and maneuvered the shoulders through. A long vernix- and blood-smeared body somersaulted into Sydney’s lap.

“
It is a girl!” Sydney shouted. “And she’s tall already!”

The infant gulped and wailed.

“
A girl? I have a girl?” Bronnie’s tired grin split her face. “Oh, my beautiful baby girl.”

While she covered her daughter with kisses, Sydney tied off the cord and waited for the afterbirth. Taycie sidled up beside her.

“
Miz Hansen?”

“
Yes, Taycie?”

“
You, I mean, she… She didn’t scream very much.”

“
I try to show the women how to breathe through the contractions. They concentrate on that and forget to scream,” Sydney explained.

Taycie looked over her shoulder at the leather bag. “The oil?”

“
Helps keep the skin from tearing.”

Taycie squinted at Sydney, her mouth working tightly. She drew a deep breath. “Might you show me? Teach me, I mean?”

“
To be a midwife?”

Taycie nodded. “Some o’ the older womens, they make the girls scared. Real scared, with their spells an’ all. An’ we can’t have white midwives, you know.”

Sydney drew a slow breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm her sense of injustice. “I would be happy to teach you, Taycie. I’m certain Master Rickard wouldn’t mind. Your women deserve to know as much as mine do. I will talk to him about it soon.”

“
Thank you, Miz Hansen.”

Sydney considered Taycie’s flawless chocolate skin. “How old are you, Taycie?”

“
As best I know, I am seventeen. Maybe eighteen.”

The clock struck two. Rickard pushed the door tentatively and peered around its edge.

“
Come on in, papa!” Sydney pulled on the handle. “Come meet your daughter!”

Rickard moved toward the bed on legs that wobbled like saplings in a spring storm. “Are you well, Bron?” He pushed a lock of rich, brown hair from her forehead. Her brown eyes lifted to his, her love for him so obvious that it made Sydney blush.

“
Oh, Rick! Look at her! Is she not the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?”

Rickard lifted the tiny bundle and held her in front of him. Her bluish-brown baby eyes squinted at him. “Hello, darling! I’m your father,” he whispered.

“
What’s her name?” Sydney asked

“
Glynnis Lara Atherton?” Rickard looked to Bronnie for confirmation. She nodded.

“
I like that.” Sydney finished packing her leather bag.

Rickard sighed, looking a bit stunned. “I—I have a daughter.”

Chapter Two

Sydney slumped into a chair in the Hansen kitchen and brushed loose strands of hair out of her eyes. She felt every speck of the road dust covering her skin and she longed to wash. The Hansen’s housekeeper, Anne McCain, set a cup of chamomile tea in front of her, and then pulled a sweet-potato pie from the oven.