Wilde, Jennifer (16 page)

"Me
an' Cassie'll watch after him for a while an' you can spell us after you've
waked up." She turned to Adam, her expression suddenly fierce. "You,
boy!" she snapped. "Get back out in them fields and get them niggers
back to work! I reckon that's what th' master's gonna be most concerned with
when he comes 'round, and I reckon you're th' one who's gotta take charge-a th'
works while he's in bed."

Adam
scowled, resenting her tone. "Yes,
ma'am,"
he retorted.

"Don't
you get uppity with
me,
boy! You may be a hulkin' brute of a buck, but I
figures I could still take you over my knee if I wuz a mind to! Get on outta
here now!"

Adam
grinned in spite of himself, and when he was gone, the enormous black woman
shook her head and clicked her tongue and told Cassie she was one lucky wench,
havin' a buck like that in her bed every night. Cassie was still too alarmed to
respond, and Mattie told her to switch her tail out to her cabin and fetch the
tin of snuff she'd left on the porch. Cassie left, but I still stood at the
front of the bed, wringing my hands. The old woman pulled a chair over to the
side of the bed and settled her great body into it, sighing wearily.

"You
go on an' mind me, Miz Marietta," she said gently. "Your man's goin'
be jest fine. Them herbs is already pullin' th' rest of th' poison outta his
system. Aint no need sendin' for a white doctor, either, 'cause it'd take two
days to get one here an' by that time th' master'd be outta bed an' mean as
ever. Go on, git! I'm tired-a lookin' at you!"

I
went to my room and undressed and washed and changed into a clean petticoat.
Even though I knew it would be impossible to sleep, I stretched out on the bed
and watched the rays of hot afternoon sun stealing into the room through the
open windows. I closed my eyes, frightened, worried, sore all over, my jaw
throbbing painfully, and I seemed to sink into a nest of darkness, floating
through the shadows. When I opened my eyes, the room was filled with a heavy
violet-gray mist. The curtains billowed softly as cool breezes drifted in from
outside. Alarmed, I sat up, realizing that I must have slept for hours. The sun
had already set, the last vestiges of twilight turning into night. I lit an oil
lamp and brushed my hair. Then I slipped on a clean blue cotton dress and,
barefooted, hurried down the hall to the master bedroom.

"Here
you is," Mattie said warmly, shifting in her chair, "an' you look all
rested up, too. I goin' get on back to my cabin now, I reckon. He goin' sleep
th' rest of th' night."

"Is—is
he all right?"

"Oh,
he's been tossin' 'bout some, mumblin' in his sleep. Sweated somethin'
terrible, too, an' me an' Cassie done changed th' sheets, rollin' him over to
get 'em on. Th' master didn't Like that none, but it wuz somethin' had to be
done. I fed him some broth a while back— don't want him starvin' on us."

"Thank
you for all you've done, Mattie. I'll take over now."

"Nursin's
'bout all I'm good for now, that an' bossin' them wenches in th' cookhouse. That
Cassie's still hangin' around in th' kitchen, didn't wanna go join her man till
you wuz up. On my way out I'm goin' have her fix a bowl of that broth an' bring
it up to you. You eat it, hear?"

I
nodded, distracted, looking at Hawke. Mattie heaved a sigh, put the tin of
snuff in the pocket of her apron and climbed heavily to her feet. She shuffled
over to give me a hug, and I found myself dangerously near to tears for the
second time that day. Mattie looked into my eyes, her own full of sympathy and
understanding, for Mattie had known all along what I was just now beginning to
realize.

"It's
goin' work out, Miz Marietta," she told me. "He went an' builded a
fence around hisself after that woman done him th' way she did. He won't let
hisself feel like other men, 'fraid he'll get hurt again, but one-a these days
he's goin' open his eyes an' see what's right here in front of 'em, an' that's
th' day you goin' be th' happiest woman alive."

Mattie
hugged me again and left the room. I could hear her moving ponderously down the
stairs, heaving and puffing as she went. She knew I was in love with Derek
Hawke, and I hadn't even suspected it, not until this afternoon when he had
nearly died. I was attracted to him, strongly attracted from the very first,
and I had told myself that was all it was: physical attraction. When had it
turned into love, I wondered, for love him I did, deeply, with every fiber of
my being. His very presence caused a joyous glow inside, a heady sensation as
though I were inebriated from the finest of wine. The physical attraction
remained, an aching torment, but it was only part of something even stronger,
something that filled me like sweet, silent music.

Hawke
moaned in his sleep, flinging out an arm, kick-nig at the sheet pulled up over
his chest. The room was stuffy, and I stepped over to the windows to let in the
cool night air. The oak boughs outside the window groaned, leaves rustling
crisply, and I could see fireflies in the distance, soft golden lights glowing
on and off in the dense shadows around the shrubbery. The long gold brocade
draperies swelled in the breeze, flapping gently. I turned as Cassie entered
the room with the bowl of soup. I told her to set it down by the bed and then
turned back to gaze out of the window, not wanting to talk just now. The girl
tiptoed out of the room, and I gazed up at the velvety-black sky frosted with
stars like chipped diamonds glittering.

"Marietta,"
he said.

I
turned. He was looking at me, weak, his beautiful face as pale as ivory, dark
gray eyes surrounded by shadow. I stepped over to the bed and sat down beside
him and took his hand, and he looked up at me silently. The cold, ruthless
Hawke I knew had been replaced by a man who needed my warmth, my love.

"Doan—don't
go," he pleaded. His voice was a hoarse croak.

"I'll
be here, Derek."

"You...
called... called me... Derek."

"Yes,
love," I whispered.

"Dis—disrespec—ful
wench."

I
placed my fingers over his mouth, gently touching the firm pink flesh.
"Hush now," I said. "Don't try to talk. I'm going to give you
some more of Mattie's broth."

"Doan—don't
want it."

"You're
going to eat it. You've lost a lot of blood. You need to get your strength
back."

I
eased him into a sitting position and propped the pillows behind him, and then I
fed him the soup Cassie had brought for me. He made a face, trying to look
threatening, but he obediently opened his mouth each time I carried the spoon
to his lips. Only one lamp burned in the corner of the room, creating a softly
diffused yellow glow, and the rest of the room was dim and hazy, blue-gray
shadows spreading over the walls. The draperies stirred as the cool breezes
drifted in and out. Derek finished the broth and closed his eyes, and he was
fast asleep even before I pulled the pillows away from his back. I sat there
beside him, gazing down at his face, a luxury I had never been able to indulge
in before.

Hours
passed, and he slept peacefully, and then, around two in the morning, he began
to mumble, frowning in his sleep. He began to sweat profusely, and I took a cloth
and wiped his brow. He tossed and turned, grimacing, and I stroked his cheek,
murmuring endearments, hoping to calm him. After fifteen minutes or so, he grew
still. I sighed with relief and started to get up off the bed. He sat up
abruptly, his eyes wide open, crazed. He seized my wrist, clamping his fingers
around it so tightly that I winced at the pain.

"Don't
go!" he thundered angrily.

"I—I
was just—"

"They
all go! All of them!
She
did—my mother. She left me in that horrible
damp brown school and went away and I never saw her again—"

His
eyes were full of venomous hatred, and he twisted my wrist viciously, pulling
me across his chest. He was in a delirium, had no idea what he was saying or
whom he was saying it to. I realized that, but I was frightened nevertheless.
If he had been weak before, he now seemed changed with super-human strength. He
caught both my wrists and pinioned them to the bed.

"And
Alice—that bitch! I loved her—" His voice broke in something like a sob.
"One day I could have given her everything she ever wanted, but she
couldn't wait! It might take years to get it settled, I told her, but it'll be
settled, I said, it'll be settled and we'll win and Hawkehouse will be ours and
you'll have a title and riches and—but she left! She left me, just like my
mother did, just like they all do!"

"Derek!
You're hurting me—"

"They
go! Can't trust 'em! Can't trust any of 'em—"

He
let go of my wrists and seized my throat, his fingers tightening furiously. I
cried out, and he choked off the cry, laughing demoniacally, and I thought I was
going to die as the blood rushed to my head and my vision began to blur. He
squeezed, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my throat, and then,
abruptly, he released me, and when I opened my eyes I saw him gazing down at me
in total bewilderment. A deep crease cut between his brows as he frowned.

"Marietta?
What did I—"

"You
were delirious—" I whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak.

"I
hurt you? I hurt you, yes, because you were created by the devil, you
see—" His voice was tender, caressing, and I realized that he still had no
idea what he was saying, was still delirious even though the mood was entirely
different.

"I
saw you, and I knew Rawlins couldn't have you, knew I had to have you
myself—" and he pulled me toward him gently.

"Yes—"
I whispered. "Yes—let me take off my dress—"

"Yes,"
he moaned. "Marietta, sweet, sweet—"

And
then the energy seemed to go out of him and he went limp. I sat on the side of
the bed and pulled him toward me. His head rested on my shoulder, his lips
touching my right breast, and he slept, the delirium over. I stroked the back
of his head, his shoulders, running my hands over the muscles of his back. A
gust of strong wind swept into the room and blew out the lamp. The room was plunged
into darkness dense and black, soon softened by moonlight. I held him against
me, savoring each moment, knowing I might never again feel his warmth, his
weight, might never be able to touch and explore the texture of his skin, his
hair.

He
slept deeply, shifting position only occasionally. Moonlight faded and darkness
lifted slowly, ever so slowly, and it was as the first pinkish rays of dawn
seeped into the room that he gave a mighty yawn and rolled off away from me,
clutching one of the pillows with both his arms and cradling it against the
side of his face. I slipped carefully off the bed and adjusted the bodice of my
dress. On his stomach now, stark naked, he slept, the strengthening sunlight
streaming through the windows and across his legs and buttocks.

Leaving
the room, I went down to the kitchen, where Cassie was already preparing a pot
of strong coffee. I sat down at the battered wooden table and accepted a cup of
coffee, shaken by what had happened, what had almost happened, wondering how
much of it he would recall.

Derek
slept most of the day, waking only twice, and then only long enough to eat.
While he was asleep Mattie removed the bandage and took off the poultice. She
stared at the wound and nodded her head in satisfaction, and then she washed it
and applied some medicine and put on a new bandage, but Derek didn't wake up. I
sat in the chair beside his bed throughout the night. He woke once and asked
for water. I held the glass for him, and he cupped his hands around mine and
drank, falling back to sleep immediately. When morning came I went back to my
room and changed and then joined Cassie in the kitchen.

When
I came into his room with the breakfast tray, he was sitting up in bed wearing
a shabby navy blue velvet dressing robe with black velvet lapels. His hair was
brushed, and he was freshly shaved, smelling of talcum powder. Although most of
his pallor was gone, there were still faint shadows under his eyes, and he
looked drawn. I paused, startled, and he arched one eyebrow, looking at me as
though I were an irritating, dim-witted child.

"Are
you going to give me my breakfast, or are you going to stand there all
morning?"

"You—you
got out of bed."

"Of
course I did," he said patiently.

"But—your
leg—"

"I
had to hobble a bit, but I could stand on it long enough to shave. It's healing
fast. If you're finished gawking, Marietta, I'd appreciate my breakfast. I'm
ravenous."

I
set the tray on the bedside table and stepped back. "I—I'm glad to see you
feeling so much better. You were in a bad way there for a while."

"It
seems I'm going to recover. I assume Mattie put one of her famous poultices on
my leg?"

I
nodded, nervous, at a loss for words. Hawke looked up at me with an irritable
expression. He was clearly not at all pleased at being confined to the bed, his
position of authority diminished. He reached over to the tray and poured a cup
of coffee.

"You
saved my life, Marietta. I'm grateful." His voice was brusque. "I
remember the copperhead, remember killing it, and everything after that is
foggy. You took my knife, didn't you? You cut my leg and then sucked the venom
out. Right?"