Wilde, Jennifer (70 page)

She
was silent for a moment, staring across the room at the gray marble fireplace
without seeing it. She was seeing something else, a terrible scene that must
have been burned into her memory. When she spoke, her voice trembled.

"Since...
I was fourteen years old."

"You
didn't—it wasn't of your own free will—"

"He
took me by force the first time, and—and I never had the strength to resist
him. I... I've wanted to kill myself ever since it—ever since it began, but I...
I could never bring myself to do it."

"How
could he? How
could
he?"

"He
loves me," she said. "You must understand that. I'm the only person
in the world he cares about. There were just the two of us, you see. My mother
died when I was born, and then when I was eight, my father's estates were taken
away from him. He had a heart attack and he died. Helmut and I had to leave
Germany. My father had offended someone very important, a member of the Royal
Family—it was over some political issue. I don't know all the details. Helmut
was twenty-four. He had said some dangerous things and they were going to
arrest him. They had seized the house and everything in it, but he managed to
slip inside and steal all my mother's jewels. We fled. We managed to get out of
the country. He sold the jewels in France. That was the beginning of his
fortune."

She
paused, her violet-blue eyes begging me to understand.

"He—he
took such good care of me. He gave me everything. We came to America and he
started buying land and making deals and—and he said he was doing it all for
me. My father had been a baron and we had lived in splendor. Helmut promised me
we would live like that again, and—and he kept that promise. Everything he did,
he did because he loves me, and the—the other—that's because he loves me, too.
I never wanted it that way, but I... I've never had the strength to—" She
cut herself short, forcing back a sob.

"I
understand, Meg," I said quietly.

"I
thought—I hoped—when I got his letter saying that he'd married, I hoped it
would mean he would no longer— that that part of it was over. I was wrong. He
married you because he didn't want people to suspect the truth."

She
was silent for a moment, looking down at her hands. The tears were beginning to
dry on her cheeks. When she continued, her voice was calmer, but she didn't
raise her eyes.

"When
I first returned, I tried to fight him. I kept my bedroom door locked. I told
him—I told him there would be no more, and then—then he began to work on me. I
had to give in. I had to let him or—or else kill myself. I wish I had. I wish I
had killed myself a long time ago."

"You
must go with James, Meg."

"I
can't."

"There's
nothing Helmut can do, particularly if you leave Natchez."

"I
can't," she repeated.

"You
love him. He loves you."

"I—I'm
soiled. I could never marry him, not after what—"

"He
need never know."

"He'd
know I wasn't pure. He'd know that, the first time we—"

"Not
necessarily. You could tell him there'd been a —some sort of accident. A riding
accident, at school, in Germany. That would explain the lack of blood. As for
the other, all it would take would be a bit of skillful acting."

"Helmut
would never let me go."

"Helmut
needn't know anything about it until you'd already gone. You must, Meg."

I
tried to sound calm, firm. I was shaken to the core, but I knew I had to hold
on, hold back the horror that threatened to render me helpless. I couldn't stay
at Roseclay any longer, not now, not after what I'd learned, but I would think
of my own situation later on. First I must help this poor girl who had been
driven to the brink of insanity. I could almost see the hope springing to life
in her as she looked at me, her eyes filled with fear and indecision.

"You'd
help me?"

I
nodded,
glancing at the clock. "It's just after three. Helmut won't be back until
six at the earliest. I'll have one of the grooms saddle a horse for me. I'll
ride out to Kirkwood's plantation and see James."

"He
won't want me. Not after I told him to go."

"Don't
be absurd!" I snapped. "I'll tell him to be waiting in the gazebo at
one o'clock in the morning. He'll be there. You'll leave together
tonight."

"If
Helmut were to—"

"Don't
think about Helmut!" My voice was sharp. "Think about James. Think
about your love for him and his for you. You'll go away together. You'll be
married."

"But
James has no money. I haven't any, either. We— how will we live? How can
we?"

"I'll
take care of that."

Meg
stood up, frail, nervous, the corners of her mouth quivering. She was badly
frightened, but hope glowed in her eyes. She looked at me for a moment, and
then, giving a little sob, rushed over to me, flinging herself into my arms. I
held her tightly as the sobs racked her body. Feeling an overwhelming pity for
this defenseless girl who had been so terribly victimized, I stroked her hair
and tried to comfort her. When her sobs began to subside, I eased her away from
me.

"You
must be strong, Meg. You must be very strong."

"Helmut
will expect me to come down for dinner. I couldn't possibly face him. He—he'd
know immediately. I wouldn't be able to hide—"

"You
need never lay eyes on him again," I said firmly. Go to your room and pack
a few things, and you can wait there until I come for you. I'll tell Helmut
you've developed a headache and have gone to bed early. He may want to go to
your room to check on you, but— somehow I'll prevent that. You must'nt worry.
You must just do as I say."

Meg
nodded, on the verge of tears again. So, I took her up to her room and
deposited her there with instructions to pack. Ten minutes later I was riding
down the river road on the sleek gray mare, my skirts bunched up about my
knees, my hair flying behind me. Anyone seeing me would have been scandalized,
but that couldn't possibly concern me at this point, and there had been no time
to hitch up a buggy. I dug my knees into the mare's flanks, urging her on,
racing beneath oak trees and past fields of cotton, past slopes covered with
orange and yellow wild-flowers. Dust swirled up behind me in thin tan clouds.
The wind stung my face. The speed, the movement was a glorious release, an
outlet for emotions I was determined to hold off as long as possible.

Kirkwood's
plantation was large. The house, a ramshackle two-story white frame badly in
need of paint, was surrounded by giant oaks. Chickens wandered about the front
yard pecking at the grass. They squawked angrily and flapped their wings as I
rode past the house toward the quarters in back. A plump black woman in faded
blue dress and red bandana was hanging wash on lines strung out beyond the
slave quarters. Dismounting, I tied the reins to a post and asked the woman
where I might find James Norman. Totally unruffled to find herself confronted
with a disheveled, wind-blown white woman asking for the young overseer, she
took another piece of wet wash from the large brown basket, draped it over the
line, and pointed to a small, unpainted frame building on the edge of the
fields.

A
shaggy rust-colored dog, asleep on the front porch, stirred lethargically as I knocked
on the door. Norman opened it almost at once. His face was white, his dark eyes
ablaze with emotion. Scowling, he asked me what I could possibly want and
looked as though he wanted to throttle me.

"I
must talk to you," I said.

"The
woman I love has just called me a fool for loving her! I've just given up my
job. I'm leaving Natchez first thing in the morning. I've no time to chat, Mrs.
Schnieder."

"May
I come in?"

"Come
ahead!" he thundered.

He
led me inside and then, ignoring me, began pulling clothes out of a chest of
drawers, carrying them over to a large, battered suitcase opened out on the
bed. Shards of a broken blue pitcher glittered in a pool of water on the
hardwood floor, wilting purple flowers scattered about them. I had the feeling
he had hurled the pitcher against the wall only moments before. Cramming the
clothes into the suitcase, he glared at me, brows lowered, jaw thrust out.

"She's
going with you," I said.

"What
are you talking about?"

"Meg
is going to New Orleans with you."

"She
detests me! She told me I—"

"Will
you be quiet and
listen
to me!"

James
stared at me with his lips parted, his eyes full of confusion, and then those
blazing fires of emotion died out abruptly. He looked worn and incredibly
weary. Moving back over to the chest, he slowly pulled out a pile of shirts.

"She
sent me away," he said. "She made it quite clear that she never
wanted to see me again. I'm leaving. It's the only thing left for me to do. I
can't remain in Natchez. Four years I've waited, and now—"

"She
had her own reasons for sending you away. She— she was afraid of her brother
and what he might do. But she realizes she can't live without you. She cried
and cried, and then—then she begged me to help, begged me to come to see
you."

"Why
didn't she—"

I
interrupted before he could finish his sentence. "Helmut told her that if
she tried to see you he would do you bodily harm. That's why she lied to you
this afternoon, why she sent you away. She was afraid for you. She thought she
was—protecting you."

His
eyes began to smoulder again. "I'm not afraid of him! He can't dictate—"

"Meg
is
afraid of him. That's the important thing. I made her see reason. I
told her the two of you could elope, leave for New Orleans the first thing in
the morning."

"We
should be able to marry freely and openly. We should be able to live right here
in Natchez so that I could keep my job and—"

I
was exasperated and James, noticing my expression, cut himself short.

"What
do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I
want you to be waiting in the gazebo at one o'clock tonight. I'll bring Meg out
to you. It—it must all be done in secrecy. Helmut mustn't know until you're
already safely on the boat."

He
nodded curdy, and I told him that I had to get back immediately. He stepped
outside with me. The dog thumped its tail on the wooden boards of the porch. I
paused on the step, turning to look at him with serious eyes.

"One
more thing," I said. "You mustn't question her about anything. This
has all been a great strain on her and —and she hasn't been well. You must
concentrate on making her happy. Make her forget the past. Your future together
is all that matters. Don't—don't ever mention her brother."

"I
understand," he replied grimly.

He
didn't, of course, but I was convinced he would heed my advice. I bade him
goodbye and rode back to Roseclay. Leaving the horse in the stable, I walked
wearily up to my room. I had Lelia prepare a bath for me, and I soaked in the
hot, scented water for a long time, hoping it would help me to relax. It
didn't. I was tense and edgy as I arranged my hair, for I knew that the most
difficult part was yet to come. I must be cool and calm at dinner. I mustn't
let Helmut suspect anything.

I
dressed with great care, selecting a deep yellow brocade embroidered all over
with floral patterns in gold thread. It was an elaborate garment, meant for a far
more splendid occasion, but I wanted to dazzle and distract him tonight, and
the gown gave me confidence. It was almost eight when I moved down the
staircase, still tense, praying I would be able to hide it.

Helmut
was waiting in the parlor, in a bad mood already because Meg and I hadn't
appeared earlier. I smiled, apologizing for my tardiness and explaining that I
had had trouble with my hair. Helmut made a grimace, refusing to be mollified.
I added casually that there would just be the two of us tonight as Meg had
already gone to bed with a headache.

"She
doesn't intend to join us?"

"I'm
afraid she overtired herself," I replied. "We spent all afternoon
working on a dress. She knows the Holburns have invited the three of us to
dinner next Tuesday. But none of her new clothes will have arrived by then, so
she asked me to help her re-do one of her gowns."

That
seemed to please him. "She mentioned the Holburns?"

"She
said that you had insisted she go with us and, since she must go, she wanted to
look nice. 'I don't want Helmut to be ashamed of me' were the words she used, I
believe. The dress is going to be rather nice. It's pale-blue silk, and we've
taken it up and trimmed it with—"

"Spare
me the details," he said, leading me into the dining room. "I'm glad
to see she's taking an interest. I suppose a night of rest will be good for
her."

"She's
most anxious to finish the dress. We'll probably be through with it
tomorrow."

Helmut
was in a tolerant, almost genial, mood throughout dinner, listening to my
chatter with lordly condescension, eschewing his usual sarcasm. My nerves were
ajangle, and I kept up the chatter, hoping he would take my nervousness for
vivacity. I couldn't allow silence to fall, and when my supply of small talk
began to run low, I plied him with questions about his various enterprises,
subtly flattering his ego by pretending to be very impressed. He arched an
eyebrow in amusement.