The Kitchen House Part 18

I wondered how I would entertain him, but no sooner had I taken my seat than his eyes closed, and soon he slept.

In the night Miss Sarah gave him another cup of the broth, and in the morning he was asking for more.

During the next few days of Marshall's recovery, I helped Miss Sarah care for him. Meg wanted nothing to do with the nursing, though she did take a critical look at his wound when we changed the dressing. She declared there was no infection, then instructed her mother and me to carry on. Miss Sarah lifted her eyes to the heavens and shook her head when Meg made her exit. When Meg later returned, it was with Sinsin perched on her shoulder and playing cards in her hand. That afternoon, and in the afternoons following, we played some lively games of loo.

In all, it was almost a week before Marshall left again. During that time, Mr. Madden arranged for Marshall to board at the home of one of the professors from the College of William and Mary. The professor and his wife ran a tight ship, and there were curfews that would be enforced. At Marshall's discharge, Mr. Madden extracted a pledge from him to stay clear of alcohol and, in the future, to have wine only with dinner.

ONCE I I HAD LEARNED OF HAD LEARNED OF Miss Martha's sorry circ.u.mstances, after I knew that she had asked for me, for Isabelle, I felt compelled to see her and to have her see me. I grew convinced that if she saw me, she would become well again. A few weeks following Marshall's illness, I suggested to Meg that our botany excursions take us in the direction of the public hospital. The place was well known. Commonly called the madhouse, it was situated alone on a four-acre plot in a relatively undeveloped part of Williamsburg. It was within walking distance, and I shamelessly used the untamed woods behind it as a temptation for Meg to discover some new plant specimens. Although the two of us were given an unusual amount of freedom, I knew this was forbidden territory, as it was understood that our botany excursions were limited to the town park and to neighboring gardens. Meg, as I had hoped, was not bound by restriction and saw the excursion as an adventure. Miss Martha's sorry circ.u.mstances, after I knew that she had asked for me, for Isabelle, I felt compelled to see her and to have her see me. I grew convinced that if she saw me, she would become well again. A few weeks following Marshall's illness, I suggested to Meg that our botany excursions take us in the direction of the public hospital. The place was well known. Commonly called the madhouse, it was situated alone on a four-acre plot in a relatively undeveloped part of Williamsburg. It was within walking distance, and I shamelessly used the untamed woods behind it as a temptation for Meg to discover some new plant specimens. Although the two of us were given an unusual amount of freedom, I knew this was forbidden territory, as it was understood that our botany excursions were limited to the town park and to neighboring gardens. Meg, as I had hoped, was not bound by restriction and saw the excursion as an adventure.

I believe that initial visit was toward the end of October, my first year in Williamsburg, for I recall how Meg and I remarked on the red and yellow of the autumn leaves. We kept to the periphery of the woods that sheltered the hospital, and while Meg foraged, I found a s.p.a.ce to peer between the tall boards of the wall surrounding the mad yard. An occasional shriek or shout came from this outdoor s.p.a.ce where the patients took their exercise, and though fearful, I was eager to see what I might.

The day was cool, but the sun bore down into the enclosed area. My nervous eyes settled on a slight figure seated on a bench across from my makeshift window. As I watched, she pushed a heavy blanket back from her thin shoulders. At first I didn't recognize her, but there was something in the way she angled her head when she shrugged back the gray blanket that helped me identify her. I saw no attendants and called out to her. "Miss Martha." My voice broke, but I called again. "Miss Martha."

She heard me and looked up, much like a startled bird. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and waved it through the broken slats, then called again. She saw the white flash of my cloth, and her blanket dropped when she stood. Then she walked toward me as one who slept, sliding her feet one after the other.

I saw she was cared for, although her clothes were plain and cut loosely from a heavy brown homespun. Her beautiful long silky red curls had been cut short and, not anch.o.r.ed by pins or combs, stood away from her head in clumps. Dark blue half-moons emphasized her sunken eyes, and on either side of her forehead, angry red circles marked her pale skin. I later learned that this was where hot dry cups were placed during treatments by the physician in his attempt to draw the madness from her brain.

Frightened at what I had begun, I watched her slow approach but refused myself the temptation to run. As she peered out, her hot eyes met mine. I could scarcely breathe. "Miss Martha," I said, "it's me, Isabelle."

She gripped the fence with one hand to steady herself, then closed her eyes slowly and opened them again. When she reached through, her fingers brushed the side of my face. "Isabelle?" she whispered. closed her eyes slowly and opened them again. When she reached through, her fingers brushed the side of my face. "Isabelle?" she whispered.

"Yes."

She pulled her frail hand back, then reached out again and softly placed the palm of her hand to the side of my neck. I was at a loss until I heard myself spontaneously recite a favorite pa.s.sage from Sukey's bedtime story. As I finished the recitation with "and declares that she shall ride in her own coach," Miss Martha's hand began to tremble. "Baby?" she asked.

"Baby is at home," I said. "She is waiting for you."

Miss Martha stared at me, then her shrill screams pierced the air, setting off others as they joined her cries. I ran then, first to collect Meg, then to head for home.

As upset as I was after seeing Miss Martha that day, I still, in my navete, believed in her recovery.

ALONE, I I RETURNED TO THE RETURNED TO THE mad yard whenever I could summon the courage, but I did not see Miss Martha out until the following spring. Again I called to her, but this time she did not respond. mad yard whenever I could summon the courage, but I did not see Miss Martha out until the following spring. Again I called to her, but this time she did not respond.

Distressed, I went to Miss Sarah and, without telling her the reason, asked that I be allowed a visit to the hospital. However, my request disturbed her to such a degree that I did not pursue it. I did, though, through the next years, continue to observe Miss Martha at the yard whenever I was able.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Belle

THE FIRST TIME I I GET GET a letter from Lavinia, I know being there is hard on her. Not by what she says but by what she don't say. She don't ask about Sukey, about Mama, about the twins. Lavinia's letter says she's got a tutor and she's living in the big house. I can see that her lessons are going good, because Lavinia's already writing good as the cap'n. First I'm thinking that I won't write back. I'm afraid that my writing don't look good as hers, but Mama says, "You write her, she don't care 'bout nothin' but that we all missin' her." So, I get out my dictionary and I write to Lavinia. I say that Jamie is just the best baby and that he's growing like something in my garden. I don't tell her that he looks just like the white boy and that I'm worried about his one eye clouding over. a letter from Lavinia, I know being there is hard on her. Not by what she says but by what she don't say. She don't ask about Sukey, about Mama, about the twins. Lavinia's letter says she's got a tutor and she's living in the big house. I can see that her lessons are going good, because Lavinia's already writing good as the cap'n. First I'm thinking that I won't write back. I'm afraid that my writing don't look good as hers, but Mama says, "You write her, she don't care 'bout nothin' but that we all missin' her." So, I get out my dictionary and I write to Lavinia. I say that Jamie is just the best baby and that he's growing like something in my garden. I don't tell her that he looks just like the white boy and that I'm worried about his one eye clouding over.

I tell Lavinia that the twins and Mama say hi, but I don't say that Mama's getting over a hard time, losing another baby herself. She says at her age she's too old to carry one, and I'm thinking she's right. By my figuring, she's got to be getting close to fifty.

I tell Lavinia that this place is running real good-that Will Stephens is doing a fine job. Ida says everybody's happy down at the quarters. But we all know it don't stay like this when Marshall comes back.

'Course I don't tell Lavinia that Ben and me get together every chance we got. And for sure I don't tell her about the time that Mama Mae gives me the eye when she says, "I guess you know that Lucy's gettin' big with another baby?"

"No. You sure about that?" I ask.

"You look at her, you sure, too," Mama says.

Next time I see Ben, I push him away. "All this time you're with me, you're still getting on Lucy?" I ask.

"Belle," he says, "you know you the one for me. But Lucy with me, too. You know this."

"You send her back to the quarters where she belongs!" I say.

But then Ben gets mad. "That girl know 'bout you, but she don't say nothin'. She already got it hard, workin' the fields. And she a good mama to my boy. I don't send her back down like she some dirt. She stayin' and that be that." He turns to go.

I'm still mad about Lucy's baby, but I know I got to take Benny like he is. "Come here," I say. Then I kiss him good and make him want me like he's a starving man.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Lavinia

AS MEG AND I GREW older, Miss Sarah used our close relationship to teach the two of us the social skills required of young ladies in Williamsburg. Miss Sarah counted on my influence, as Meg often opposed these lessons, objecting to the time they took away from her beloved bird and nature study. I, on the other hand, knew it was in my best interest to please Miss Sarah, so I paid close attention. These were the polite accomplishments, she said, and was determined that we would not fall short in achieving them. Initially Miss Sarah's schooling attended to instructions as mundane as how to curtsy or how to correctly enter and exit a room. Gradually, though, these lessons became more sophisticated and included tasks such as how to act as hostess when presiding over a meal. older, Miss Sarah used our close relationship to teach the two of us the social skills required of young ladies in Williamsburg. Miss Sarah counted on my influence, as Meg often opposed these lessons, objecting to the time they took away from her beloved bird and nature study. I, on the other hand, knew it was in my best interest to please Miss Sarah, so I paid close attention. These were the polite accomplishments, she said, and was determined that we would not fall short in achieving them. Initially Miss Sarah's schooling attended to instructions as mundane as how to curtsy or how to correctly enter and exit a room. Gradually, though, these lessons became more sophisticated and included tasks such as how to act as hostess when presiding over a meal.

Although having tea was not the ritual that it became in later years, the serving of it followed a certain pattern, and according to Miss Sarah, it was an important social skill that every young lady was required to know. Meg thought the whole subject a bore, but I was genuinely intrigued and encouraged her partic.i.p.ation. As tea was very dear, Miss Sarah had her own tea caddy, a small box made of rosewood in which the precious commodity was kept under lock and key. Her beautiful tea set, imported red and white porcelain from China, had cups with no handles and a low squat teapot that differed so from a tall coffeepot. For the tea ceremony, Miss Sarah carefully directed us in all the necessary equipment. I was keen to learn this task, so Miss Sarah employed my eagerness as example: "You must be more careful, Meg. Watch Lavinia, see how she pours."

Despairing of Meg's lack of interest, Miss Sarah tried another approach. Using my fifteenth birthday as a means for exercise, she drew on Meg's fondness for her cousin and sent word to Marshall that Meg would host a tea in my honor the following Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Could he attend, and would he bring a gentleman friend? approach. Using my fifteenth birthday as a means for exercise, she drew on Meg's fondness for her cousin and sent word to Marshall that Meg would host a tea in my honor the following Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Could he attend, and would he bring a gentleman friend?

Meg was irritable from the start. Not fifteen minutes into it, the young man accompanying Marshall lost favor when he, with supercilious abandon, announced his disfavor of women studying Latin. Meg quickly replied that immature men with strong opinions were, by her estimation, very dull indeed. There was a long silence while Miss Sarah stared at Meg. Remembering my obligation, I fought unsuccessfully to recall a favorable subject to engage our stunned guests. Then (and I believe it was a true accident), in the pa.s.sing of a full cup, Meg spilled some of the hot liquid in her guest's lap.

That ended poorly when the young man made an unkind comment, and as he departed abruptly, Meg ran from the room in tears. Miss Sarah, red-faced, did not stop to make apologies before she left the room to set things straight with Meg. Mr. Madden, not yet home from business, was not witness to Marshall and me laughing together at the debacle.

As the lone hostess, I decided there was only one thing left to do: I poured the rest of the tea and offered Marshall the last of the crumpets. When there was a conversational lull, I remembered my duty and asked my guest about himself. I listened for quite some time as Marshall went on, noting with an inward smile how right Miss Sarah had been when she said that no man could resist talking about himself. Marshall finished by saying that though he enjoyed the study of law, he was only marking time.

"For what?" I asked.

He looked surprised at my question. "To go home."

"Of course," I said. I was so taken aback at his announcement that I lost the ability to call forth another question. I looked down and began to smooth the embroidered pink edging on the sleeve of my new birthday dress.

"And you?" he asked. "What do you want in your future?"

When I looked up, his blue eyes observed me so intently and his smile was so genuine that I quickly looked down again, this time to straighten my skirt. "I am not certain," I said.

I was saved when the hallway clock struck. I quickly remarked at the hour. Taking my cue, as a gentleman would, Marshall rose and announced it was time to leave. As he prepared to depart, he asked if Meg was planning other social events.

"I have no idea," I said.

"Well," he said in a most serious tone, "could you please send me word, before I make a commitment to attend, whether or not the event involves hot liquid?"

We laughed again. Before Marshall left, he picked up my hand, bowed formally, and with merry eyes said how very much he had enjoyed my company.

"And I yours," I replied, and produced a curtsy.

I sat for a long while after his departure and pondered my confused state. Since Marshall's unfortunate bout with drink, he had been on his best behavior. Something about the episode appeared to have freed him, and once again he was making every effort to please the Maddens. Marshall intrigued me. He was older and, in my eyes, worldly and sophisticated. Although he was always reserved with others, he put on another face when alone with Meg and me. Never did he make me feel less than his equal. Yet-although no one spoke of this-I wondered if I was not still considered his family's servant.

I set those thoughts aside when Mr. Madden appeared. He took a seat and asked how the afternoon had gone. Before I had time to answer, Meg, red-eyed, joined us to sit on a stool at her father's knee. Taking his hand, she pleaded that he intercede with Miss Sarah on her behalf. She could not bear a lifetime of this! When Miss Sarah entered, Meg's words ripe in the air, I decided it was time to go to my room.

MEG CONTINUED TO OBJECT TO her mother's tutoring. What was the point? she questioned. her mother's tutoring. What was the point? she questioned.

She further horrified her mother when she announced that she did not plan to marry, nor did she plan to take part in a social life, as it only took time away from her studies. I was sensitive both to Miss Sarah and to Meg, and because of that, I was able to intervene. Meg had a sense of fun, and as long as I approached the instruction with levity, Meg made an honest attempt to learn the basics. Then, too, when Miss Sarah tired of Meg's frequent opposition, I drew attention to myself. I asked questions and took pride in executing what I learned. Miss Sarah did not miss my contribution and praised me often for my good influence. Her focus on me did not trouble Meg in the least. On the contrary, Meg spoke to me of her grat.i.tude.

Of course there were days when I, too, grew tired of Miss Sarah's scrutiny, but I quickly brought myself to order when I reminded myself how fortunate I was to have this opportunity. I was becoming more and more concerned about my future. It was never spoken of, but I knew my time here was limited. Miss Sarah had hinted that one day I might marry, but where a husband could be found, I did not know. We did little socializing, since Meg opposed most outside invitations, and as she matured, her stand only grew more firm.

I did not know where to turn with my concerns. I no longer communicated regularly with Belle; painfully, I was coming to realize that I would not be returning to Tall Oaks. Through sporadic visits to Miss Martha, I saw that her condition only appeared to be worsening, and I doubted that she would ever go home.

In my fifteenth year, I began to entertain thoughts of locating my brother. I had always dreamed of finding him. Now, along with my longing to be reunited with him as family, I reasoned that he was of an age where he might be in a position to be of a.s.sistance to me. Given my good fortune with the Maddens and their extreme generosity, I was reluctant to approach them with a request for their help. I did not want them to think that I was ungrateful, nor that I wished to leave their home. Thus I was silent about Cardigan until an unexpected opportunity presented itself.

Sunday mornings were always taken up with church services, followed by socializing, wherein invitations were extended or accepted for the afternoon dinner. Mr. Madden preferred the company of steady friends, so it had recently become routine to have Mr. Boran and his young daughter at the Sunday dinner table. Mr. B., as Meg called him, was a partner in her father's business. In the previous year, the unfortunate man had lost his wife-the mother of his six-year-old daughter-to complications following the birth of a stillborn child. In recent months, Miss Sarah had taken it upon herself to help Mr. B. find a second wife. To date, Miss Sarah had been unsuccessful, as she had rather rapidly run through all of her possible candidates. It was quite clear to me why this was so.

To begin, Mr. B. made a poor presentation of himself, though it was uncanny how physically alike he was to Mr. Madden. Of similar age, possibly around forty-five, Mr. B. was also short and plump, balding and bespectacled. But that was where the likeness ended. Mr. Madden was well dressed, neat and tidy in appearance, and was the social equal to his wife. Under all circ.u.mstances, he knew the etiquette required, and although he was a private man who preferred solitary pursuits, when obligation demanded, Mr. Madden rose to the occasion with outstanding form.

Mr. B., on the other hand, was disheveled and unkempt. His true failing was a shyness that so affected him he was unable to converse without stammering and stumbling for words. To observe him attempt conversation was painful, and I often found myself jumping to his rescue. Apparently, he was grateful for my help, and after the third or fourth Sunday dinner, he sought me out to express the same.

I must mention how taken I was with Mr. B.'s delightful daughter, Molly. She was around the same age that I had been when orphaned, and for this reason I felt a kinship toward her. She was well mannered and of a curious nature, and following the Sunday meals, I usually spent time next to her on the settee. There we played at games while she plied me with questions about my childhood.

It was snowing outside the winter afternoon that Mr. B. approached me. Molly and I were playing a game of dominoes, and while I waited on her next move, I glanced up. This day, particularly, there was an intimate feel in the room, helped out by the crackling fire. As I gazed about the room, I saw Mr. Boran's advance. So clear was his discomfort, I immediately urged him to take a seat. It was his disability that gave me courage, for he was a gentleman of an age that otherwise would have intimidated me. Miss Sarah, always observing my manners, gave a nod of approval, but as the man sat, I caught Meg's look of reproach. I flashed her a smile before I turned my attention to Mr. Boran. He situated himself, and then, as Molly and I conversed, he edged into the conversation. He appeared to be as eager as his daughter to learn more of my past. Molly had already told him that I was an orphan, he informed me. Had I no other family? Only a brother, lost to me, I said. How was this so? father and daughter both questioned.

When I looked over and saw the Maddens in discussion and Meg distracted by a book, I decided to tell my tale. At the finish, after a short silence, Mr. B. astonished me when he suggested that he might be able to a.s.sist in finding my brother. I hesitated only briefly, but he guessed the reason and a.s.sured me that he would first seek the approval of the Maddens. Grateful beyond measure, I wasted no time in telling him so. The man grew red while Molly took my hand in hers and rested her head against my shoulder.

After supper, the Maddens asked me to stay with them when Meg retired early to her room. They informed me that Mr. B. had asked for their permission to look for my brother. They voiced disappointment. Why had I not come to them? If only I had asked, they would have carried out the search themselves.

After I explained, they offered me their full support, but they hastened to warn me that the search could take many months. They added that oftentimes such a quest ended in vain, and I was to keep in mind that my brother might never be found. Their concern, coupled with my excitement, threatened to move me to tears, but as Miss Sarah often lectured Meg on emotional outbursts, I held myself together. but as Miss Sarah often lectured Meg on emotional outbursts, I held myself together.

Miss Sarah concluded by saying that Mr. Boran was a good man and she was very pleased with the way I had put the poor man at ease. I left the room ready to burst from happiness, but I waited until I reached the stairs before I gave way to my excitement. Then I bounded up the steps two at a time and squealed as I flew into Meg's room.

She did not share my happiness. Instead, she was filled with forewarning. "He is using this as an opportunity," she said.

I sank into a chair. "An opportunity for what?"

"You know that Mr. Boring is looking for a wife?" she asked, sitting opposite me on the edge of her bed.

"It's Mr. Boran, Meg."

"It's Mr. Boring!" she said, and threw herself back on her bed with a great sigh, then flung her arm over her eyes.

I laughed.

"This isn't funny, Vinny," she said, peeking out from under her elbow. "Next he'll be proposing to you."

"Please, Meg!" I was astonished that she could even think along those lines. "I'm only fifteen years old. He is as old as your father!"

"That wouldn't hinder him; nor would it stop Mother if she thought there was opportunity for you," Meg replied.

As I prepared for bed that evening, I thought of Meg's words, but I soon dismissed her concern. Certain I would be reunited with my brother, I would let nothing cloud my happiness. That very night I sat at my desk and, for the first time in a long while, wrote a letter to Belle. I told her of the search for Cardigan and how I knew that within him lay the answer to my future. I then set before her my plan. Once I was settled with him, I would send for her and Jamie.

I ALWAYS LOOKED FORWARD TO ALWAYS LOOKED FORWARD TO Sat.u.r.days, when Marshall came to teach and then to spend the day. As we matured, our friendship grew and at times took on a flirtatious note. Increasingly, I found Sat.u.r.days, when Marshall came to teach and then to spend the day. As we matured, our friendship grew and at times took on a flirtatious note. Increasingly, I found him attractive and often saw him studying me. Occasionally, he would tease me, and I felt quite pleased with myself when he laughed aloud at my returning quips. When Marshall periodically experienced his "dark moods," as Meg labeled them, I was flattered to see that I was the one who could best pull him out. him attractive and often saw him studying me. Occasionally, he would tease me, and I felt quite pleased with myself when he laughed aloud at my returning quips. When Marshall periodically experienced his "dark moods," as Meg labeled them, I was flattered to see that I was the one who could best pull him out.

Then something of a more serious nature occurred, which might have given me pause but did not. During a cla.s.s, Marshall and I began bantering, and Meg, attempting to dampen our sport, silently peered at us over the top of her spectacles. Her serious demeanor only encouraged us, and together we teased her to join our fun. Marshall playfully s.n.a.t.c.hed her spectacles and perched them on the edge of his own nose. After Meg failed to retrieve them, she left the room in a huff. I saw her return, although Marshall, with his back to her, did not. I stayed quiet when she tiptoed up behind him, then pinned his arms while she called for me to take her spectacles from him. Meg was small but strong and determined. She had the advantage of surprise, and for a brief moment Marshall must have felt overpowered. His face whitened as he fought free. The stool he perched on flew over, and when he swung to face Meg, for one terrible moment, I was afraid that he might strike her. He stood over her, shouting, "Don't do that! Don't you ever do that again!" He was silent as he gathered his things and left the room, and he did not stay for dinner.

That outburst was never mentioned again. And there was a second.

It was a Sat.u.r.day-afternoon dinner, and we were celebrating Marshall's nineteenth birthday. Because we had guests, Mr. Madden made available more than the usual amount of wine. This day Marshall partook liberally, and when his speech began to slur, I saw a look pa.s.s between the Maddens. Immediately, Miss Sarah declared the meal ended and quickly ushered us into the front parlor while Mr. Madden made an exit to his study.

Our guests, a young couple well known to the Maddens, accompanied us. The young lady, Miss Carrie Crater, and her twin brother, Mr. Henry Crater, had joined us for this celebratory dinner. Following, we were to have a lesson in dance, to be taught by Mr. Degat and chaperoned by Miss Sarah. Miss Crater, seventeen, clearly found Marshall attractive. During the meal, as a means of gaining attention, she wondered aloud at my good fortune to be at this table. This comment appeared to set Marshall's teeth on edge. As Miss Crater was a quick study, she noted how her statement had affected Marshall, and by the time we were set to dance she had wisely changed course. dinner. Following, we were to have a lesson in dance, to be taught by Mr. Degat and chaperoned by Miss Sarah. Miss Crater, seventeen, clearly found Marshall attractive. During the meal, as a means of gaining attention, she wondered aloud at my good fortune to be at this table. This comment appeared to set Marshall's teeth on edge. As Miss Crater was a quick study, she noted how her statement had affected Marshall, and by the time we were set to dance she had wisely changed course.

Mr. Crater-Henry, as he insisted he be called-was an easygoing and likable character. Mr. Degat, who was to instruct us that day, was also to act as my dance partner. At the last minute he was unable to attend, although Mr. Alessi had come, ready to fiddle. I, without a partner, encouraged the others to take to the floor. Henry-I'm certain eager to impress Miss Sarah-insisted that I be his partner while his sister wait. Miss Crater, in an attempt to win favor in Marshall's eye, quickly agreed to his plan. I objected, but Henry would have none of it. He came to convince me otherwise, taking my hand and playfully kissing it, pleading dramatically for my partic.i.p.ation. In spite of the fact that I knew he was teasing, I became embarra.s.sed, and my face went hot.

To everyone's great surprise, Marshall leaped at Henry, picked him up by the collar, and thrust him against a wall. He did this with such force that poor Henry had the air knocked from him. The worst of it was, Marshall did not stop there. He leaned over Henry, now sprawled on the floor, and shouted, "Leave her alone! Do you hear? You do not touch her!"

By the time Miss Sarah reached Henry, Marshall had already exited the room. Mr. Alessi, a veteran of drama, began to fiddle. Over the music, brave Henry attempted good humor. "Mrs. Madden," he asked, still slumped on the floor, "could you advise me on the correct protocol?"

For once, it seemed, Miss Sarah was without a ready reply. Though she quickly recovered and attempted to make light of the situation, I saw through her thin disguise at how shaken she was by her nephew's outburst.

I did not know what to make of the event, but if it was ever discussed, I was not a party to the conversation. As it happened, my life took a sharp turn, and this incident quickly faded.

ON A T TUESDAY EVENING IN the spring of 1800, two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, Mr. B. came for supper. I wondered if it was possible that he brought news of Cardigan. It was out of the ordinary for guests to join us during the week, never mind the evening meal, and the fact that little Molly was not at her father's side further suggested something peculiar. Both of the Maddens were strangely subdued during the meal, and I, apprehensive, was quiet as well. Mr. B.'s behavior could not be judged, as he, at his best, said little. the spring of 1800, two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, Mr. B. came for supper. I wondered if it was possible that he brought news of Cardigan. It was out of the ordinary for guests to join us during the week, never mind the evening meal, and the fact that little Molly was not at her father's side further suggested something peculiar. Both of the Maddens were strangely subdued during the meal, and I, apprehensive, was quiet as well. Mr. B.'s behavior could not be judged, as he, at his best, said little.

That left Meg, but as this day she had finally received a long-awaited book, her goal was to complete the meal of cold ham and biscuits as quickly as possible so she might hurry off to her room. As the meal wore on, my stomach reacted, and by the time everyone had finished, I was afraid I would be sick. I was about to make my excuses when Miss Sarah suggested that I accompany Mr. B. to the front parlor. She would send coffee, she said. I forced back the nausea as I led the way. Once there, I sat on the green settee while the nervous man chose the wingback chair opposite me. He fidgeted with his coattails until I could stand it no longer. "Please..." I began, but he interrupted.

"I have found him," he said, "but he is not alive."

Had a sword been plunged into me, I would not have felt such pain. I cannot describe the depth of those words, nor how deeply they cut. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe as I was made aware of the details. Cardigan had been indentured to a blacksmith not five miles from Williamsburg. Three years into service, while shoeing a horse, he had suffered an injury to the head and died shortly after.

My body grew damp with the effort of fighting to keep my supper down. My whole future had rested on our reunion. Cardigan had been the last of my true family; he had been my only hope.