Receive Me Falling (20 page)

     
     
Catherine
read through the entries of 1810 as her mother catalogued the expansion of the
plantation, the acquisition of more slaves, the social climate developing on
the island, and her continued wish to move back to England.
 
She wrote of her numerous illnesses, and
complained of the fatigue, sickness, and oppressive heat that made her life so
uncomfortable.

     
     
Catherine
began reading with more care as she reached the time of her mother’s pregnancy
with herself.

     
     
           
           
           
           
September 1811

       
   
A
physician has confirmed what I have recently suspected—I am expecting a
child.
  
Just when I thought I could not
possibly bear one more physical inconvenience I have been told that I will bear
a child in this wild and savage place.
 
I
had secretly hoped that the climate was causing my infertility, but it appears
that is not so.

       
   
I
have been quite nauseated, overwhelmingly tired, and unable to concentrate on
anything.
 
All I can do is lie in my bed
while Esther fans me. Fruit is about the only thing I can stand to eat, and the
smell of fish absolutely makes me want to die!
 
How much can a woman possibly be expected to endure?

       
   
At
least Cecil is keeping away from my chambers.
  
I should have told him I was pregnant months ago!

       
   
Poor
Elizabeth does her best to entertain me with the
pianoforte we recently had shipped to Eden,
but I can only stand to hear one song before the infernal noise positively ails
me.
 

           
I cannot believe that I am going to
feel this way for seven more months.
 
It is
truly a distressing thought.

           
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
      
    
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
           
        
   
           
           
           
           
          
December 1811

           
Life has become even more difficult
now that I am expanding by the day.
 
I do
not understand how those pregnant slave women can work in such heat, under such
sun, in such a condition!
 
It just
reinforces what Cecil believes about the purpose of such servile beings on this
planet.

           
I watch Esther try to conceal her
swelling abdomen along with mine.
 
It is
absolutely indecent that a slave woman like Esther, with no known male
companion, is carrying a child.
 
She is
appropriately mortified and humiliated and is lucky that I have not abused her
further by calling attention to the situation.
 

           
It is a wonder that more of the
women are not walking around in her condition with the way they run around the
fields half-naked and in such proximity to the males.
 
My poor mother, God rest her soul, would be
horrified if she ever knew all I was subject to witness in this place!

           
April 1812

           
I am nearing the conclusion of my
confinement.
 
Strange and terrible
sensations have been gripping my abdomen since last night, and Esther has begun
preparing the nursery.
 
How she will
deliver my child after just having delivered one herself is quite beyond my
comprehension, but Mary will assist her.
 
The island physician is ill, so there is no telling when he will be out
to Eden.

           
I am filled with a longing to lay
eyes on this child that has grown and moved within me for so long.
 
However, I am filled with much terror over
the idea of labor. I only hope it will all be over quickly.
 

           
Writing in the face of such pain is
becoming difficult, so I will put down my pen until after the baby has arrived.

Catherine
turned the page and saw that the entry she had just read was her mother’s
last.
 
She flipped back, wanting more,
but sickened at the true nature of her mother.
 
Some pages had been ripped out between September and December of 1811,
but that was all.
 
There was nothing
more.
 

           
The thought of Esther’s pregnancy
with Leah began to trouble Catherine.
 
She had always assumed that Esther had a companion who fathered Leah,
and had since died.
 
Catherine conjured
Esther’s dark face, and then Leah’s face which was the color of wet beach
sand.
 
Catherine pushed the bed curtain
out of her way and moved over to the open window.
 
She strained her eyes to see through the
rain, but found it impossible.
 
Catherine
closed her eyes and allowed the sounds of the rain pouring down to push the
disturbing thoughts that had begun to emerge from her mind back into the dark
places from which they had come.

A
loud boom of thunder and a flash of lightning roused Catherine from her thoughts.
 
Wondering at the time, Catherine slid the
diary back into its original resting place, smoothed the bedspread, and crept
out of her mother’s room.

           
The entire house was hushed and
dark.
   
She thought that she heard the
sound of movement coming from behind Cecil’s closed bedroom door, but as her
foot creaked the floorboards it stopped.
 
Catherine moved down the long staircase and into the music room.
 
Leah was cleaning and polishing the furniture,
and looked up with surprise when Catherine entered the room.

           
“What time is it?” asked Catherine.

           
“
Eleven o’clock
.
 
Where have you been?”

           
“I was resting upstairs.
 
The weather has depressed my spirits.”

           
Leah stared at Catherine, and
returned to her work.
 
Catherine moved
over to the pianoforte and began playing.
 
The sounds drifted through the house, up the stairs, and dissolved on
the wind and rain outdoors.

That
night, since the weather cleared, the Dalls went to a dinner party at the Hall
Plantation.
 
The carriage rocked slowly
over the mud as the night began to fall.
 
Catherine said nothing to her father, and he was content to sip his
drink.
 
She watched the setting sun grow
fat as it stole the color from the landscape and sank heavily into the
ocean.
 
Slaves were still working in the
Hall fields as they passed toward the main drive.
 
Their features were lost in the shadows on
their dark faces.
 

           
Before turning up the main drive,
Catherine could see the Whitting home. Three small, dirty children chased a
goat around the front yard trying to tie it up to the fence.
 
Mrs. Whitting bundled tobacco leaves on the
front step.
 
She looked up and waved at
Catherine as she passed.
 
Catherine waved
back but her hand froze as Caleb stepped onto the front porch with a gun in his
hand.
 
His half-buttoned shirt hung over
his breeches, and his face was fierce. He jerked his wife up by the arm and
pushed her into the house.
 
His children,
who had succeeded in tying up the goat, ran in through the door without a
word.
 
Catherine looked away and was
relieved to be swallowed by the trees lining the Hall’s drive.
 
When she turned to Cecil to see if he had
noticed the exchange, she saw that he was snoring with his chin resting on his
chest.
 
His empty glass rolled on the
seat beside him.

Catherine was not looking forward to an evening of
mind-numbing conversation with the Hall women, but could think of no good
excuse not to go.
 
Mrs. Hall was
insufferable in her obsession with marriage.
 
She considered any woman not married by twenty to be doomed to a life of
spinsterhood and misery.
 
She admonished
Catherine for not taking courtship more seriously.
 
Mrs. Hall was determined to have her
daughters married off—before twenty, if possible—to bachelors of the
islands.