The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) (3 page)

Grudgingly, he pushed the little girl
forward. She stumbled,
then
righted herself before
crashing to the ground.

Madeline knelt and smoothed back a
tangled mop of hair, the same chestnut color as her own darling Camilla’s.
“What is your name?”

Popping a bony finger into her mouth, the
girl dropped her gaze. “Catherina,” she mumbled.

“A lovely name for a lovely little girl.”
Madeline straightened and reached out for Catherina’s hand. “Would you like to
come home with me?”

She tilted her head and regarded Madeline
with a questioning gaze. “Mama, too?”

Through a veil of tears, Madeline nodded.
The woman gave a glad cry and hopped off the platform, pulling her dress up and
sliding her arms through the sleeves. She gathered her daughter into her arms,
her body shaking with sobs. “Thank you, missus. Thank you.”

Aware of the onlookers, Madeline leveled
a gaze at the woman. “Follow me,” she said with a curt nod. She remained silent
until they reached the carriage, then she turned. “What is your name?”

“Naomi, missus.”

Toby opened the carriage door, and
Madeline stepped aside for Naomi and Catherina to precede her. The slave
woman’s eyes grew wide and she hung back. “Missus!”

Madeline felt heat creep to her face. She
nodded. “Of course. How stupid of me,” she said with a weary sigh. “Toby, help
Naomi and little Catherina to the seat beside you and
please.
. .watch for Henry for me, will you?”

Settled once more in the carriage,
Madeline gathered her daughter, now wide-awake, into her arms. Feeling tears
burn her eyes, she pressed Camilla close, hid her face in the little girl’s
soft curls, and longed for the sight of her Missouri home.

*****

“How could you have been so foolish,
Madeline?”

Upon his return to the plantation, Henry
had insisted Madeline retire to her bedroom. Now she lay on the four-poster bed
she shared with her husband, taking a scolding as though she were a child. She
kept her gaze fixed on the patchwork quilt she had made with her own hands
during her confinement while carrying Camilla.

“I am sorry for embarrassing you,
Dearest
, but I can’t say I’m sorry for my actions.” She met
his hard gaze, pleading with him to understand. “What if it had been Camilla
and me on that auction block? It could have been, you know.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

“Why is it foolish to try to put oneself
in the shoes of another less fortunate? Just think, Henry. What if, God forbid,
a race of foreigners invaded our shores and carried off the inhabitants to
serve their own people, without a thought to the families being torn apart? Put
yourself in Naomi’s position, and tell me, how would you feel?”

With an irritated wave, he dismissed her
entreaty. “What has that ridiculous thought to do with your actions this
afternoon? Are a couple of slaves so important to you that you would risk the
well-being
of our own unborn child? What were you thinking?”

Madeline shrank from his wrath. Up to
now, Henry had always been a wonderful, indulgent husband, and she had never
known his anger such as he displayed now.

That a southern gentleman had even met,
let alone married, the daughter of an outspoken abolitionist was a wonder she
could only attribute to the hand and will of God. Love beyond reason was her
only excuse for marrying a slave owner.

But after six years of living in Georgia,
Madeline’s heart still broke for the slaves, and she could hardly lift her head
for the shame she felt every time her maids tended her.

She knew she had acted recklessly this
afternoon, but she didn’t regret it, nor would she confess to regretting her
actions just to appease the man she’d once loved with reckless abandon. She
stared now at her husband, who paced before her, red-faced with anger.

“Lord Almighty,
Maddy
.”
His fists clenched at his side. “You sound just like Jason. Sometimes I think
you ought to have married that nigger-loving brother of mine instead of me.”

“Why must you always bring Jason up
whenever we have a disagreement?”

He continued pacing as if he hadn’t heard
the question, though Maddy knew he’d heard just fine.

Henry’s brother had not been content to
cast his lot with the southern planters. His heart led him to the West, away
from slavery, away from his father’s control. So Jason had received his
inheritance early and left a couple of months ago to find his fortune in the
West.

Maddy knew Henry was relieved. Otherwise,
as the second son, he wouldn’t have inherited the vast Penbrook lands when
their father died.

 
“Henry, please calm down. As you can
clearly see, I’m fine. It’s done now, and I must say, I am sorely disappointed
in you.”

Henry halted his pacing mid-stride and
glared at her. He opened his mouth to speak,
then
closed it again, drawing a deep, frustrated breath. He turned his back, clearly
trying to gain control over raging emotions. Striding to the dresser, his
lifted his ever-present bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass.

Encouraged by his silence, though
disheartened by Henry’s drinking, Madeline forged ahead, compelled to bring up a
matter that had been heavy on her heart for several days. A subject she had
been loath to broach thus far, for fear of shattering the peace between them.

“Henry, I must ask you about something I
overheard you discussing with
Father
three days ago.”

“Do not turn this around,
Maddy
.” He held up a silencing hand, though he didn’t face
her. “I’ll not allow it this time.” Downing the brandy in one quick gulp, he
wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “We are discussing your inappropriate
behavior. Not mine.”

Madeline’s temper flared. “Do not speak
to me as though I’m a child, Henry. I must say, I find your attitude
disconcerting to say the least.”

“You find my attitude disconcerting?” He
swung about to face her. “I find your actions abominable! Mother has taken to
her bed in shame after your conduct today. And my father is so angry-”

Flinging the covers aside, Madeline shot
from the bed and faced her husband, nearly gagging at the smell of liquor on
his breath. “Do not speak to me of your father. He should be the one dying of
shame, and not because of my actions.”

He narrowed his gaze. “What are you
implying?”

“I-Yes, Henry, I will speak of this,
though you do not wish to discuss your conduct.” Unflinching before his anger,
Madeline met his gaze head on. “I overheard your father and you discussing the
selling of Abner and Jarvis.”

His eyes widened, then an expression of
shame flickered across his face. “I didn’t intend for you to know until
absolutely necessary.”

“Then it is true?”

“I’m afraid we have no choice. Abner is
insolent and unmanageable. We believe he is the reason Jarvis has tried to run
away three times in the past year. Besides, with Jason taking his inheritance
and moving west, we can’t afford to hang on to slaves who aren’t pulling their
weight. We have no choice.”

Lower lip quivering, Madeline blinked
against a rush of hot tears. “But Henry, Jarvis has a wife and three children
and another baby coming in the fall. How could your father sell him away from
his family? And why did you not try to discourage such a thing? Wh–what
if it was you who were being separated from your family?”

“Do not bring that up again, Maddy.” His
tone, which had softened, now became hard-edged once more. “Jarvis has tried to
run away three times. Was he thinking of his wife and children then?”

“Of course he was.” Madeline gripped
Henry’s arm as a wave of dizziness swept her. She stepped back suddenly and sat
hard on the bed.

In an instant, Henry knelt beside her,
his face clouded with concern. “Are you all right, Dearest? Should I call for
the doctor?”

“I’m fine.
Just a
little dizzy.
My head is clearing now.” She searched Henry’s tender
face. How could he be so concerned for her and so unfeeling about another man’s
wife? Taking his hand between hers, she pressed it against her heart. “Don’t
you understand? Jarvis planned to do what he must to secure freedom. I am sure
he would have returned, or arranged somehow for Lizzie and the children to
follow. Would you have done less?”

“Come, lie down now. We’ll discuss this no further.”

A screech from Camilla’s bedroom across
the hall sent them both to their feet, running to see what was amiss.

Henry flung open the door and found
Camilla and Catherina in a tug-of-war over a crocheted doll.

“It’s mine,” Camilla insisted.

“Missus tole me I could play wif it.” Catherina
kept a firm grip on the toy.

“Girls,” Henry said firmly. “What’s going
on in here?”

Catherina gasped and relinquished the
doll suddenly, sending Camilla backward. The child landed hard on her bottom.
Her face contorted with rage, and she flung the doll at the cowering slave
girl. Catherina clutched the doll tightly to her breast as though to protect it
from Camilla.

“My gramps will whip the hide off you for
that, girl!”

“Camilla Penbrook!”

Camilla shot a guilty glance toward
Madeline. “
Sh
-she pushed me down, Mama.” Tears
glistened in her enormous blue eyes.

But Madeline refused to be moved. “She
did no such thing. I saw what happened, and I insist you apologize to Catherina
this minute.”

“Really, Madeline.” Henry’s steady voice broke
in. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”

Recognizing a champion, Camilla bounded
from the floor and raced into her father’s arms. “I want my doll back and she
won’t give it to me.”

Madeline watched the exchange as if in a
dream. To see her daughter acting in this manner without the slightest concern
for Catherina’s feelings was almost too heartbreaking to bear.

“Catherina,” Henry said, his voice stern
but not gruff. “Is it Camilla’s doll?”

Madeline’s temper rose again. How did he
think a child of Catherina’s circumstances would have gotten such a toy?

Trembling, the slave child nodded.

“Well, then, you must give it back. We
don’t take things that belong to others. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, popping one
thumb into her rosebud mouth.

Camilla wiggled from her father’s arms.
She flounced to Catherina, jerked the doll from her hands,
then
tossed it onto her bed.

Henry’s mouth dropped open at the
display. He stared wide-eyed at Madeline.

“Now may I deal with this?” she asked in a
hoarse whisper, practically shaking with anger.

In stunned silence, he nodded.

Drawing a breath to steady
herself
, Madeline eyed her daughter, careful not to show her
anger. “Camilla, darling. You have not played with that doll in months, so Mama
gave Catherina permission to play with it. You were standing right there when I
did so. Do you remember?”

“Yes. But I wanted it.”

“Which of you two girls had it first?”

Camilla’s gaze settled on the floor.
“It’s mine.”

“Camilla Penbrook, I insist you look at
me when I’m speaking to you. Who had the doll first?”

Sending Catherina a venomous look, she
pointed. “She did.”

Madeline swallowed hard and kept her
words deliberately calm. “She has a name. Use it, please.”

“Catherina did.”

“I would like you to take the doll from
your bed and hand it to Catherina so that she might play with it.”

Madeline drew a sharp breath as a cramp
tightened her abdomen.
Oh, dear Lord,
please don’t let me lose my baby.

Camilla grabbed the doll from the bed and
jutted her chin forward as she held it out for Catherina. The slave child took
two steps forward. Just as she reached out for it, Camilla dropped the toy to
the floor.

“Camilla Penbrook!”

“She can pick it up if she wants it.”

Suddenly a spasm seized Madeline. “Henry.”
Her voice sounded strange to her own ears as she groped for her husband’s
steadying arm. Blackness invaded her senses and she felt herself
falling.
. .floating. From far away she could hear the soft
cries of her husband and child
,
then nothingness
overcame her.

*****

Andy glanced up as Miss Penbrook’s voice
trailed off. She stared in silence at the opposite wall, lost in her memories.

Henry waited for a moment, hoping she
would come back and finish the story. When it appeared she might not, he finally
spoke. “Miss Penbrook?”

The elderly woman jerked her chin and
stared at him, confusion clouding her eyes. “Yes?”

“Your mother. Did she lose the baby?”

“The baby went to heaven to be with
Jesus.” Tears sprang to the faded eyes. “It’s all my fault. Mama cries and
cries because she misses the baby. We’re moving to Missouri so she’ll be happy
again.”

Tears rolled down the weathered cheeks,
and Andy felt his heart lurch. He glanced around, wondering if he should call
for the housekeeper. Clearly, the elderly woman had lost her senses and thought
herself a child.

He rose and walked to the open door. “Delta!”

The housekeeper appeared in a matter of
seconds. “What are you shoutin’ about?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but something’s wrong
with Miss Penbrook.”

A worried frown creased her brow. “I tole
you she gets addled. The past always upsets her.” She brushed past him, an
accusing glare flashing in her eyes. As though it was his fault the old lady
had lost her marbles.
 

She sat on the edge of the bed and took
the weeping woman into her arms. “Shhh. It’s okay, Miz Penbrook. Delta’s here.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want the doll, really. She can have
it.”