Moonwitch (26 page)

At least Danielle hadn’t suffered too greatly. There had been gossip, but no one had ever been able to prove that Danielle’s invalid husband wasn’t capable of fathering a child. Jeremiah had supported their story with bitter magnanimity because
of
his deep love for Danielle, saying he couldn’t begrudge her a child when he could no longer be a husband to her.

But now Selena would have to be told the truth. Kyle’s fingers tightened around his wineglass. She didn’t deserve to be confronted with this, he thought grimly. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair, either, to expect her to care for his sisters. But she would be a good mother to them. He had already come to admire her courage and resilience, and seeing her with the girls, he was learning the extent of her kindness and her generous heart. He could only trust and hope Selena would extend the same generosity to him.

When supper ended, the ladies removed to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained at the table. Over a glass of port, Thaddeus shared all the news and events that had occurred since Kyle’s last visit four months ago. Kyle wasn’t much interested in how many acts the General Assembly had passed or what issues the legislature planned to address, but he hung on every word, wanting to draw out the interval as long as possible. When it was time to join the ladies, he drained his glass, feeling the need to bolster his courage for the upcoming ordeal with Selena.

He didn’t have an opportunity to speak with her at once, however, for when he entered the drawing room, his younger sisters were gathered around Horatio, engaged in an effort to expand the bird’s vocabulary. For two hours Kyle had to listen to their giggling attempts to teach the parrot to say “minuet” and “cotillion” and “Scotch reel..” When they finally retired to bed, followed shortly by Bea and Thaddeus, he was left alone with Selena.

The silence hung heavily between them. For a moment Kyle watched her, wondering how to begin. Selena was sitting on the settee across from him, slender back straight, hands folded in her lap, soft lamplight playing on her hair.

She was waiting for his explanation, he knew. When she cast him a brief, somewhat nervous glance, he suddenly realized how important it was to him that she know the truth. He wanted her to understand.

Selena was the first to peak, though. “What is your son’s name?” she asked quietly, looking away.

Kyle took a deep breath. “Clayton…but everyone calls him Clay.”

“Does he favor you?”

He hadn’t expected that question, but he answered it honestly. “A little, I guess. Danielle says so, at any rate. He’s a beautiful child. Blond hair and green eyes. I was planning…hoping… to give him my name one day.”

“You intended to marry Danielle.” It was a statement, murmured in a small voice that wrenched his heart.

“Yes,” he admitted helplessly.

“But what of her husband?”

“Jeremiah…isn’t expected to live much longer. The doctor is surprised he’s lasted this long…” Kyle raked a hand through his hair. He was making a hash of this, stumbling over himself, searching for the right words. “I know it sounds callous to be discussing such things when her husband isn’t even in his grave yet, but Danielle has been concerned about how she would manage. I wanted her to know she didn’t have to worry, that I was willing to take responsibility for my son… and for her.”

Selena looked down at her hands. That was why Kyle hadn’t been free to accept her proposal of marriage. She remembered him speaking of a duty he was obliged to fulfill. At the time she had thought he meant his duty toward his sisters. “Danielle…must have been very upset to learn about me.”

“I don’t know… There never was anything between us. I knew Danielle, though not well. She had always been a friend of the family. When I came home a few years ago for a visit…she had been through a lot. Her husband had almost died from a bullet wound, and when he managed to recover, he was left paralyzed and in such pain that he had to be kept dosed with laudanum. Danielle had had a rough time nursing him constantly and finding money to pay the doctor’s bills.” Kyle paused, taking a deep breath. “The last week I was in Natchez, Bea coerced me into attending a revival meeting at a neighboring plantation, and Danielle was there. She was lonely and unhappy and crying, and so I comforted her, and, well… one thing led to another. It only happened once.”

Selena didn’t need to be given a more explicit explanation of what had occurred between them. She could picture it clearly: a desperately lonely woman weary of struggle and a strong, vital man who was more than capable of momentarily shouldering burdens on his powerful shoulders. Oh, yes, she could understand. She had been in a similar situation with Kyle herself.

“I should never have let it go so far,” he was saying. “I suppose I was careless…stupid. I didn’t even know about Clay until I returned the next year and Bea told me about the rumors. I wanted to make it right then, but Danielle couldn’t marry me. She didn’t want to accept money, either, for fear of how it would look, but I discovered a way. By then she was working at Chandler’s General Mercantile in town—Orrin Chandler is a friend of mine—and I gave him the money to increase her salary. And I did everything else I could—sent Clay gifts through Bea, talked my father into giving Jeremiah’s brother a job here as factor so he could help support them, saw to it that Danielle had a competent Negro woman to stay with Jeremiah full-time. And I’ve stayed away. That’s been the hardest part…that I can’t claim Clay as my son. I can’t hold him or play with him or even visit without providing more food for the town gossips.”

Hearing the note of despair in Kyle’s voice, Selena recalled how adamant he had been in his refusal to marry her, how he had almost pleaded with her to intercede with the governor. She had misunderstood his reasons then. Kyle hadn’t wanted to marry her, that was true, but it wasn’t his loss of freedom that had so disturbed him. It was the loss of his son. And she hadn’t given him any way out.

“I ought to regret what happened,” he said softly. “And I do—for causing Danielle more hardship. Yet I can’t wish the damage undone, for that would mean wishing Clay had never been born. You like children… so perhaps you can understand.”

She nodded, her clasped fingers tightening in her lap.

“Selena, maybe I don’t have the right to ask this of you—” he plowed his fingers through his hair again “—but if you could manage to overlook Clay’s existence, to pretend that nothing is wrong, at least in front of our neighbors, we could manage to avoid a scandal. And I could still see Clay once in a while.”

She finally met Kyle’s gaze, her eyes troubled, as his were.

“I can’t give him up, Selena,” he said with quiet anguish. “He’s my son.”

“Of course not. I could never ask you to.” Her own voice was husky with emotion. She thought it must have reassured him, for his intense expression relaxed infinitesimally.

“I don’t want my younger sisters to know, either. Obviously Lydia has guessed at least a little, but Zoe and Cissy are too young to find out.”

“I… I will do my best to see they never have reason to suspect.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a faint smile, of relief and gratitude, thinking the words inadequate to express his appreciation for her compassion.

They both fell silent then; there didn’t seem to be anything more to say, though Kyle wished there was.

She was so different from any of the women in his past, he thought, watching the lamplight glint on her hair like a silver halo. Observing her quiet, cool beauty, he could hardly remember what he had seen in any other woman.

Kyle shifted in his chair, feeling his body begin to throb as it always did lately when he was near her. He was bewitched by Selena’s ethereal loveliness, he knew. Her pale features and deceptive hint of fragility held such powerful allure that he found it harder and harder to remain alone in the same room with her. Making love to her had been like reveling in moonbeams—silver, sensuous rays that bathed him in magic and wrapped around his heart like slim fingers of light.

The thought of going to her now and removing her clothes, one by one, pressing her back upon the settee and burying himself in her enchanting body, beckoned him like a strong spell. And the visual image of Selena naked and writhing beneath him, long, slender legs clasping his hips, her quicksilver eyes liquid with heat, brought him to a pulsing arousal.

Kyle’s fingers slowly curled into fists. He couldn’t indulge in his inviting fantasies. Selena would be shocked to the depths of her proper little soul. Nor could he make love to her in the more conventional way, in his bed or hers, not when she had so clearly demonstrated she wouldn’t welcome his advances. He would have to control his moonstruck lust long enough to finish this conversation and escape.

But it was Selena who took the initiative. After a moment, she rose to her feet.

And yet she knew she couldn’t leave it at that. Not when she felt such a burden of guilt for forcing him into marriage. Kyle had made a bigger sacrifice than she knew when he wed her. “Kyle… I am sorry you had to marry me.”

He shook his head. “No, Selena, don’t. There’s no point in wallowing in regrets. What’s done is done. We’re married now, and we’ll have to make the best of it.” Realizing then how insensitive he sounded, Kyle added quickly, “We didn’t have the best beginning, I know, but perhaps now that we’re here, we can make a fresh start.”

“I would like that,” she said softly. And because he had made the first overture, she gathered up enough courage to ask a question that any wife had the right to ask. “Are you coming to bed?”

She wasn’t looking at him, though, so he didn’t see the flush on her cheeks or realize her discomfort with her boldness. “No, not yet,” Kyle said with a sigh. “I need to review the plantation books and see if I can make any sense of them. You go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

So much for starting over, Selena thought miserably. And later, as she lay alone in her bed, recalling what Kyle had told her, going over and over the nuances of his voice in her mind, she felt sick at heart. She wanted to believe Kyle’s assurances that there was nothing in his relationship with Danielle. But whether or not Kyle had ever loved the woman wasn’t the only issue. Danielle shared something with him that she, Selena, couldn’t. A son.

And it didn’t seem as if she would ever get the chance.

She didn’t see Kyle in the morning, or even in the afternoon, for when she came downstairs for breakfast, she learned from the servants that Kyle had gone out to the fields and wasn’t expected back till late. She spent the day touring the rest of her new home and becoming familiar with the house staff and their customary manner of operation. Martha, a large-boned, large-bosomed black woman, who had been the head cook before assuming charge of the house staff, was her guide.

The outbuildings were just as impressive as the main house. Selena was pleased to see that the house slaves’ quarters were immaculate and relatively comfortable, while the dairy, stables and carriage house were clean and in good repair. There was also a henhouse, a large vegetable garden and a small orchard, all of which were well tended and highly productive.

Martha had saved the kitchens for last. She beamed with pride when Selena admired the giant fireplace with its cranes and pots and the spit where meats were roasted.

“And now,” Selena said after inspecting the storage pantries and smokehouse, “if I might see the rest of the outbuildings.”

Martha pursed her large lips in surprise. “That be Mista Whitfield’s place. I don’ wanna be accused of steppin’ in his business.”

The name Whitfield introduced a jarring note into Selena’s otherwise pleasant day. Danielle’s brother-in-law, she surmised. She didn’t particularly want to meet with him, though she knew she would have to do so sooner or later if he was factor at Montrose. But for today, at least, she would likely be spared that duty, since Whitfield was no doubt giving Kyle a tour of the fields.

“I don’t see why Mr. Whitfield would object to you showing me around the plantation, but if he should, I will speak to him.”

Martha didn’t seem totally satisfied with such an assurance, however. And as they passed the factor’s office and the small brick house where he lived, she answered Selena’s questions with a wariness that hadn’t been noticeable before.

Selena herself was silent as they toured the smithy, carpenter’s shop, cotton gin and plantation store. She was intimately familiar with the workings of a well-run plantation, and here, unlike the main outbuildings under Martha’s charge, Selena could see evidence of neglect. What was worse, the few slaves whom she saw at work were old men who gazed at her with sullen eyes.

It was a distant walk to the quarters that housed the field slaves, but when she had inspected the small village of wooden buildings set in long rows, Selena was glad she had made the long trek. Here, too, were signs of patent neglect.

“Is Miss Bea aware of the condition of these houses?” she asked Martha.

“Miss Bea ain’t been here fo’ some time. That be Mista Whitfield’s place, like I said.”

“I see.” And Selena thought she did see. Bea was fully occupied with her house and family and wouldn’t have time to ensure that Whitfield adequately carried out his duties as factor.

“That Mista Whitfield, there be trouble with that man that Miss Bea don’ know nothin’ about,” Martha muttered cryptically. “I been in this family fo’ twenty-one years, and I ain’t seen nothing like it allowed roun’ here befo’.”

That was all Martha would say about the factor, and Selena knew better than to press her to inform on a white man. But she took such complaints seriously. She contemplated discussing the situation with Kyle that evening, but when he came home, weary from being in the saddle all day, she decided it could wait. She ordered him a hot bath and asked Martha to hold supper back for an hour.

Then, on second thought, she sought out Bea and asked if she objected. Bea laughed, however, and said she was pleased to see Selena slipping so easily into the role of mistress of Montrose.

Selena knew it was true; she felt comfortable in her new position and was already behaving as if she belonged. Yet she didn’t think the same could be said of Kyle. He seemed dispirited by his first day as master, and even though he didn’t say it in so many words, she suspected he hadn’t found any pleasure in being a farmer. Selena would have liked to discuss that with him, too, but Kyle retired early and was already gone the next morning when she rose.