Sound of the Heart (20 page)

CHAPTER 33

Another Role to Play

The port was noisy, a strange sight to see after so long spent in the dark. It would have been more of a shock had the sun been out, but the morning was swathed in gray by a stubborn fog. It closed over the port so only bits and pieces of dock and buildings could be seen from the ship, as if it kept secrets to itself. The deck of the ship was busy as well, the hustle of sailors tying the ship down and stowing away sails. The gangplank had been lowered, and both soldiers and seamen worked together, transferring cargo to the docks.

The women were led to a large barrel of water in a corner of the deck and were told to wash their faces and manage their hair, make themselves presentable in public. It was the first time in months anyone had worried about appearance above survival, and the women were quick to run fingers through their matted hair and piece together tattered gowns. There was no mirror on board, so the women were each other’s critics. Glenna waited for the others to finish before she cleaned herself. The cool water felt good on her skin, and though it smelled nothing like the clear stream water back in Aberfeldy, it seemed relatively fresh, so someone had apparently brought it from the dock that morning. When she was done, she pulled out the tie in her hair, resettled it as best she could into a roll at the back of her neck, then joined a similarly clean Nessa at the rail.

“Quite a place, isn’t it?”

The other women nodded. Beside them, Brenda spoke for the first time in days. “I dinna like it.”

Nessa put one arm around the girl and squeezed her against her side. “There now, child. Ye canna say ye dinna like it if ye dinna try it first. Like tastin’ a new food, aye? Ye’ll be fine here.”

“Will ye stay wi’ me?”

Nessa exchanged a quick glance with Aline, then looked back at Brenda. “I think not, hen. I dinna ken for sure, but I imagine they’ll send us to different places.”

Glenna didn’t think the girl could have gotten any paler, but she did in that moment. And she stopped speaking again.

“Right!” they heard, and turned as one toward the speaker, a large man in uniform, addressing them from the higher deck. “You will be taken down in small groups and will say nothing. Nothing. Do you hear? Any speaking will result in a severe flogging.”

His audience was so weak Glenna doubted any of them could survive a flogging, so they did nothing but nod.

“Yes. Good. Now. Ladies first, shall we?” He gave the women a short bow and gestured, indicating they should accompany two wigged soldiers. Aline was the first of them to step onto the gangplank, followed closely by Brenda and Bonnie. Nessa held Brenda’s hand as they crossed over the water. Glenna and Lorna were the last two to cross.

The activity was even more bewildering once they were on the ground, caught up in the middle of it. Passersby jostled past, dogs sniffed and barked, people scurried by, carrying baskets and cases of whatever. Glenna and the other women faced the first soldier, whose eyes quickly passed over them as if evaluating goods of some kind. Then he stepped forward and grabbed Glenna by one arm. She stumbled forward, her chains cutting the calloused skin of her wrists.

“Up there,” the soldier ordered, indicating a raised platform.

Glenna frowned at him. “Why?”

“Weren’t you told
not
to speak? Get up there, woman.”

Glenna glanced back at her friends, who shrugged, looking helpless. Clearly no one, as usual, knew what was going on. With no other choice, Glenna stepped onto the platform where a bald, portly man waited. He flicked a cursory smile at her, then turned his attention to a growing crowd of onlookers.

“Ah. Yes. Quite right. Here we have the prize of
The Edinburgh,
a sweet young thing, maybe twenty years old. Quiet, agreeable, and as you can see . . .” He turned back and, in one quick motion, tugged up the side of her skirt to reveal a strong thigh. Glenna gasped and slammed her shackles at the man’s hands, but he was quick. Evidently he’d done this before. He grinned and muttered, “Keep quiet, girly. It’s not worth a thrashing.” He returned to his audience. “As you can see from those pretty legs, she’s no weakling. I wager she’s a good worker, if you know what I mean.” He beamed and pointedly winked at the crowd. “So let’s start the bidding. What do I hear?”

Glenna could do nothing but gape as numbers were thrown at the man, along with questions.

“Is she a virgin?”

“Wha—” Glenna’s objection was met by a sharp jab of the man’s elbow, rendering her speechless.

“I feel certain she is,” the man said, nodding at the caller. There were scatterings of laughter around the crowd.

“Pah! A looker like that ain’t no virgin!” someone called.

“Who cares?” shouted another.

“Does it matter?” asked the auctioneer. He nodded to an assistant, a burly, bearded man who had materialised behind Glenna. The assistant gripped Glenna’s hands while the auctioneer grabbed her bodice, tearing it straight down and to the side, revealing all. Glenna shrieked and wrestled with her captor, trying to free her hands, but she was helpless in his grip. An appreciative murmur rose from the crowd and numbers started flying more quickly at the auctioneer.

Tears surged down Glenna’s face and fell, unobstructed, onto her bare skin as she struggled against her captors. She could hear the women behind her, the sweet, pathetic moaning of Brenda as she realised it would be her turn soon. Nessa’s voice, outwardly calm, vibrated with a trill of fear.

“Does she read?” The question cut through the noise in a deep bass tone.

The little round man turned to Glenna, frowning. “Nod or shake your head. Can you read?” Glenna nodded and the man turned back to the crowd. “She reads.”

The same commanding voice bellowed out a new figure, silencing the other bidders. Glenna was tugged off the platform just as Lorna was brought on. It was the first time Glenna had ever seen Lorna look vulnerable, and as much as she disliked the woman, she hated the sight of her weakness even more.

The soldier finally undid the chains on Glenna’s wrists as she was handed over to her new master. Money changed hands. The man didn’t look her in the eye, only stepped back and draped a heavy black cloak over her shoulders, covering the ruined remains of her gown. She turned, looking for the owner of the cloak, and met the cool gaze of a solid, serious-looking man. He was middle-aged, his eyes maybe a foot higher than her own. He wore a black wig under a tricorne, an austere black waistcoat, and when she looked down, she saw the buckles on his shoes were a good, polished silver. A man of money had just purchased her. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

She spun around when she heard a yelp and saw Lorna, stripped similarly to how she had been. The woman had a weather-worn, cynical face, with eyes hard as rock. But her body was lush and young. Voices were raised again and Glenna watched three of the bidders call hard against each other. The eventual high bidder was a large woman who shuffled proprietarily through the crowd, revealing a copper red crown of curls and a dark green satin gown. Most of her breasts were revealed, bubbling over her bodice, and as subtle as the large beauty mark painted on her chin. Glenna met Lorna’s eyes as they both realised Lorna’s future, and thought she had never seen so much loss of spirit happen all at once. It was Aline’s voice that returned to her then, her tireless need to continue on for whatever reason.
Just survive
, she thought as loudly as she could, then turned away as Lorna was pulled off the platform and deposited into her new master’s hands.

Glenna glanced up at her own master—that was going to be a hard concept for her to accept—and didn’t see the same sort of threat. The man was watching the platform where Brenda now stood, shaking so hard she looked as if she might collapse. Glenna couldn’t bear the thought of what was coming. Bids came quickly and loudly, men wanting to bring home this young treasure who quite possibly
was
a virgin.

“Please, sir,” Glenna whispered. Her master glanced down quickly, surprised to hear her voice. “She’s just a girl, sir. If ye were to bring her wi’ ye, she’d work hard. If only she could walk from this wi’ her gown still intact—”

“She doesn’t look strong,” the man said, dismissing her. He had an accent, sharp and almost guttural. “I need strong.”

“Oh, but—”

His eyes swiveled to glare down at her, black as the darkest night in winter and just as threatening. She stared back, completely confused, and while they were held in this moment, the crowd cheered again. Brenda screamed, then bawled like a naked babe before dozens of hungry men. The same redheaded woman was back. She’d left Lorna with her man in the back and now came with eyes gleaming to claim this promise of treasure. Brenda’s eyes, white with terror, darted desperately over the crowd, hoping for rescue. There was none. Her slender back disappeared amid the throng and Glenna choked back her grief.

Somewhere in the town, a bell chimed ten o’clock. The man beside her glared impatiently at the remaining women.

“This one looks strong,” the man muttered, and called out immediately when Aline came to the platform. His bid was high enough that everyone around him hushed and Aline was led directly to him, her gown in one secure piece.

“This is enough. Come. Do not speak.”

CHAPTER 34

The Student Teaches

The women clasped hands and Glenna inwardly celebrated having Aline with her. It could have been so much worse for both of them, and now Glenna had someone she could believe in. A friend. They exchanged a glance of such intense relief they both almost laughed. Without a word, they followed the man to his fine black carriage, led by a matching pair of impatient bay horses, and climbed inside.

They sat on one side of the carriage, the man on the other. He fell asleep in almost the first moment when they’d settled themselves on the tapestried cushions. The countryside raced by the carriage windows in a blur while the women gawked with amazement. The fog was fading quickly, and now all they could see was the green and gold of oaks, birches, and maples as they raced past. After riding the rise and fall of the infinitely black sea for so long and sitting in a miserable heap within the damp cold walls of the fort before that, the autumn colours of the New World were almost overwhelming.

After a half hour or so, the women leaned back in their seats and glanced nervously at each other, unsure whether or not they were allowed to speak yet.

“What do ye think?” Glenna whispered.

Aline shrugged. “I’ve no idea.” She snuck a glance at the man opposite them. “Seems well enough, I suppose.”

The thought brought the faces of the others back to Glenna, the realisation of how close she’d come to living her life on her back.

“If ye pray, ye’d best do so for wee Brenda. An’ Lorna as well.”

By now Glenna was used to her friend saying what she’d been thinking. “An’ we’ve no idea of the others.”

“Nessa will be fine,” Aline said, though she looked dubious. “But Bonnie . . .” The words drifted unfinished through cracks around the windows and were sucked away into the fiery autumnal trees.

The trees in Aberfeldy would be golden by now as well. The oaks would be bathed in cloaks of red and yellow, dropping their leaves on the little home she and Dougal had left behind. As the carriage rolled farther into the countryside, Glenna brought the images of the little cabin to her mind, picturing the furniture Dougal had crafted, the bed with its finely carved wood posts, the thick mattress he had bought for her birthday. They’d never actually known her real birthdate, so Dougal had decided it for her. He’d come to her on the most beautiful autumn afternoon she’d ever seen, his arms full of goldenrods and sedum, his eyes dancing as he wished her a happy birthday. He’d decided the perfection of the day was due to the fact that it marked Glenna’s arrival on earth. She had giggled and cried and he had gathered her up against him, kissing the salty tears from her cheeks, telling her he loved her and always would.

Do you still, Dougal? Is there love where you are?

The women settled into the uneven rhythm of the carriage, lulled by the hoofbeats always ten feet away. Without needing to say another word, they fell asleep.

Glenna awoke sometime later. The sun was past the midway point, so it was early afternoon. They’d probably slept the better part of three hours. As awkward and uncomfortable as these quarters were, they were a huge improvement upon the ship. And the air, clean and fresh, smelled more like grass than salt. It was a comfort Glenna had almost forgotten. She leaned over and nudged Aline from her nap.

The man sitting across from them still hadn’t spoken, but was awake. He sat upright, glaring at his surroundings as if they had somehow offended him. His wig had been removed and set on the bench beside him, the black and gray hair beneath combed severely back from a well-defined widow’s peak. During the journey he had unbuttoned the silver buttons of his waistcoat, and when he finally seemed to notice the women, he did them up again. He studied Glenna and Aline with a look bordering on disapproval, but Glenna wasn’t offended. It seemed to be his regular expression. She offered a tentative smile, inviting conversation. Aline kept quiet. He narrowed his eyes at Glenna and at one point he looked as if he might speak, opening his mouth slightly and squinting with thought. Then he thought better of it, snapping his mouth shut and looking back outside. At a loss, she turned her head and looked out her own window.

Eventually they slowed, and the voice of the driver rang across the pebbled drive of a vast courtyard. Both women leaned forward, curious, then sat abruptly back, eyes wide with amazement. The house they approached was more than a house. It appeared to be a plantation of some kind, and its red brick face was more vivid than any house Glenna had seen before. When the horses pulled them to the front of the magnificent home, the carriage was welcomed by the main building, but more outbuildings stood behind, waiting to be introduced. When they stopped, Glenna stared at the huge, ornate door, freshly painted white, then counted three floors, with twenty white-framed windows in all.

The man cleared his throat and they turned expectantly toward him. “Stay here,” was all he said, then he climbed through the carriage door when it was opened by a small, smartly dressed black slave.

Other than some of the deckhands, Glenna had never before seen a dark-skinned person. And to see one dressed in such finery was startling to say the least. With his wig firmly back in place, the new master stalked directly to the front door while Glenna and Aline watched. The little black slave, topped with a clean white, ribboned wig, closed the door carefully, nodded briefly at the driver, and the carriage moved on.

No more than five minutes down a small lane, the carriage stopped by a modest building, this one constructed of wood. They were greeted by a squat, round woman, her ebony skin a sharp contrast to the white cap she wore, which strained to hold in her curly black hair. The woman tilted her head to the side and folded her arms over a massive chest. She nodded slowly, taking in the two dazed faces staring through the carriage windows.

“Y’all be the new girls. Come now. We’ll clean you up.”

Glenna stared at the woman, mouth slightly open. She was mesmerised by the low, easy sound of her voice, the way the Southern words rolled through her lips.

The woman’s eyes bulged slightly and she raised her voice a few notes higher. “What is it, child? Y’all gonna sit there all bloomin’ day an’ stare, or is you comin’ inside so’s I can dig you up somethin’ to eat?”

Glenna shook off her daze and followed Aline out of the carriage. The woman ushered them into the house, and they stopped just inside, looking around at the sparse but clean furniture. The wooden boards underfoot were smooth from wear, but Glenna didn’t see any dirt or dust. She wasn’t used to standing on a wooden floor, since any home she’d had in Scotland was over a dirt floor, and felt suddenly as if she trespassed.

The woman noticed Glenna’s discomfort and nodded. “Dat’s right. We keep this house clean as a whistle. Y’all keep your nasty dirt outside the house.” A wide wooden rocking chair creaked as the woman lowered herself onto it. She started to rock, back and forth, while she looked up at them, linking pudgy fingers on her lap.

“I’m Bess. This here is where we eat. You, me, an’ some more. They all out harvestin’. You might see ’em later afore dey falls dead asleep. Which one of you be the teacher?”

Aline and Glenna weren’t prepared for the question. They said nothing, and the woman sighed, exasperated. “Which one of you can read?”

“I can,” Glenna said.

“Good. So you’s the teacher. Massuh Schmidt gots eight little angels.” She gave Glenna a wink. “He wants them all readin’ an’ writin’ an’ talkin’ English good as can be.”

She turned to Aline and eyed her top to bottom, hands braced on her broad hips. She nodded. “An’ you’d be for the fields. Massuh wanted two whiteys to keep each other quiet an’ share a room. Didn’t figure it’d do to mix with us darkies,” she said with a chuckle. “Good to see he found a strong one. I ain’t got no use for no babes out in them fields.”

She stared at them a little longer, big eyes narrowed. “You’ll be hungry. Made some cornbread an’ kept it for you. Sausage, too.” Glenna swallowed reflexively and Bess’s wide mouth smiled. “You ain’t had nothin’ to eat in a long time, I don’t figure. Come along then. Y’all done found yourself a good place to live. Y’all are gonna work hard, that for sure. But here we always gots a bed and food.” Her face instantly hardened. “An’ we don’t mess with no fools. Any trouble out of y’all an’ you’ll feel it on your backside for a long, long time. You understand me, my little white lambs?”

They nodded quickly.

“Good. Now come sit your pretty selves an’ we’ll find you somethin’ to fatten you up. Don’t look like you ate much on dat ship. Den you’ll need to wash up an’ get some of that stink offa you.”

Bess appeared to be telling the truth. So far, it didn’t seem like such a bad life. The cornbread was delicious, the milk warm and thick. Bess showed them their house, four walls containing nothing but two narrow beds, and left them while she tended to someone or something. The women sat on the edge of the beds and stared at each other.

“Soft bed,” Aline said. She sighed and pressed one palm into the mattress. “I reckon I’ve no’ seen a bed in, oh, maybe six months. An’ it were none so clean as this.”

Glenna lay down, closing her eyes as her head sank into the cotton-covered straw. “God, I’m weary.” She draped one forearm over her eyes and quietly wept, giving in to the exhaustion, the relief, the confusion, the grief. Neither woman spoke, and both soon melted into sleep.

Too soon, Bess appeared in their room, bellowing for them to get up. A tall, lean black woman had come with Bess, expressionless and plodding, and after shaking her head and sniffing with disapproval, had taken Aline away with her. Bess led Glenna to the main house, then in through the servants’ entrance in the back. They took a quick right into a large, sun-drenched room where beams of dust sparkled over two rows of chairs with desks. A larger chair and table were positioned at the front of the room.
My desk,
she thought with amazement. Closer to the door stood a plush, red velvet armchair, looking out of place, and Glenna wondered at its presence.

Bess introduced her to the room. “This be the schoolin’ room. Now step inside, that’s right, and wait here, quiet-like. I’ll get the mistress.”

Glenna stared around the room, transfixed not only by the clean, bright space, but also by the very idea of what she was about to do. Teach? When she’d first met Dougal, the closest she’d come to reading was staring with a kind of lust at a book someone else held. He had taught her, one word at a time, and she’d surprised even herself with how quickly she’d picked it up, though he’d laughed at her every time she mentioned that.
Ye’ve always been smart as a whip,
he’d said.
Ye just dinna believe it yerself.
After reading worked its way into her brain, feeding her hungry mind, there was no stopping her. She’d been a thorn in Dougal’s side, begging him for more books every time they’d gone to town. The books he’d first read to her were later read through her own lips while he lay content beside her. Sometimes when they lay in bed at night, her pillow propped as close to the candle as she could manage, he’d rest his hand on her belly and she’d pick up the cue, absently massaging the tired, muscular forearm as she read. She remembered that solid arm, those beloved calloused fingers, so clearly. As if he were there with her. As if she could turn right this moment and smile up at him.
Look at me, Dougal! I’m a teacher!

But there was no one there, no one with whom she could share the indescribable thrill racing through her. And when the diminutive mistress of the manor, the regal Frau Ursula Schmidt, swept into the room, salmon-coloured skirts swishing along the shiny, wood-planked floor, Glenna wasn’t about to admit this was her first occasion to fill the role.

Frau Schmidt wasted no time getting to know Glenna before she rattled off a list of everything she required from her children’s new teacher. “Everysing vill be English,” she ordered. “No German. You understand?” Glenna nodded. She didn’t know any German, so that was a good thing. “Ze children vill learn reading, writing, arithmetic, sewing, music—you know music,
ja
?”

“I sing, ma’am.”

“Do you? Sing now. Show me.” She waved one hand impatiently, gesturing for Glenna to go ahead, then sank into the armchair. Ah, thought Glenna. The mistress’s chair for when she wanted to look in on lessons. The thought made her heart flip a little. What if she couldn’t do this? What if the woman discovered what a fraud she was?

Then again, they’d only asked if she could read, not if she could teach. Glenna took a deep breath and listened hard for Dougal’s encouragement. She was here and she had been placed in a very comfortable position, while some of the other women faced hellish lives Glenna tried not to imagine. She could do this. She would succeed and make Dougal proud, wherever he was.

The frau raised one thin brown eyebrow, waiting. Her lips were pursed, chin lifted so she could focus completely on Glenna. The tight expression was critical, Glenna could see, but curious.

Fortunately, Glenna’s gift for singing was one thing she’d never questioned. Glenna had sung on demand before, though that had been either in taverns, on slave ships, in prisons, or in Dougal’s bed. She took a moment, trying to recall something decent she could present to this woman. An old hymn came to mind, one she’d heard on the journey across, and she filled the velvet-curtained room with her nightingale voice.

For the beauty of the earth

For the glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

This our hymn of grateful praise.

Mistress Schmidt stared. Her hands, folded in her lap, were almost hidden within her voluminous skirts. “Is there more? Sing more!” she demanded.

For the beauty of each hour,

Of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale, and tree and flower,

Sun and moon, and stars of light.