The Kitchen House Part 17

IN 1797 W 1797 WILLIAMSBURG WAS NO longer the capital, but the town was noted for three remaining inst.i.tutions. One, the focus of the town and the local gathering place was the courthouse. It was an impressive brick building, centrally situated, and appeared much as an anchor for the main thoroughfare, the Duke of Gloucester Street. A man of law, Mr. Madden was intimately familiar with this workplace. longer the capital, but the town was noted for three remaining inst.i.tutions. One, the focus of the town and the local gathering place was the courthouse. It was an impressive brick building, centrally situated, and appeared much as an anchor for the main thoroughfare, the Duke of Gloucester Street. A man of law, Mr. Madden was intimately familiar with this workplace.

The second, also central, was the College of William and Mary. Established in 1693, it had maintained an excellent reputation as a school for higher learning, particularly for law. It was at this inst.i.tution that Marshall would further his education.

The third, the one that eventually took on most significance for me, was the public hospital. It, too, was a fine brick building. This one, built in 1773, sat on the edge of town and was more commonly known as the Hospital for the Insane. Its reputation was growing, and it was to this hospital that Miss Martha was admitted. The hospital accepted only those who were dangerous or curable. I was never told under which of these two categories Miss Martha was signed in.

The Maddens had an inviting home. Within easy walking distance of the courthouse, it was a rambling clapboard house, and though certainly impressive in size, it was not as large as the big house I had left behind. There were many rooms in this home, but the ceilings were low, and the rooms were more compact, more intimate, than those in Tall Oaks. Many of the windows held cus.h.i.+oned window seats, while on other wide windowsills, indoor plants flowered, often perfuming the room. Although there was a library, books were casually set about in other rooms, and I guessed rightly that reading in this household was routine. The furnis.h.i.+ngs here were not as extravagant as at Tall Oaks, but they were substantial enough for one to know that this home belonged to a family of means. At first glance I was taken aback by the colors of the rooms, painted in rich and vibrant hues, although in a short time I adjusted to that particular style of decoration. library, books were casually set about in other rooms, and I guessed rightly that reading in this household was routine. The furnis.h.i.+ngs here were not as extravagant as at Tall Oaks, but they were substantial enough for one to know that this home belonged to a family of means. At first glance I was taken aback by the colors of the rooms, painted in rich and vibrant hues, although in a short time I adjusted to that particular style of decoration.

To my great astonishment, I was given my own small upstairs room. Later, I was to learn that I was placed here, as this room was attached to the larger bedroom next door that was intended for Miss Martha's use on her return from the hospital. Nonetheless, I was astounded to be sheltered in the main house and to have it decorated so prettily. My room's lively green contrasted pleasingly with a white coverlet on the footed bed. A circular braided rug covered much of the pine floor, and on the edge of it set a small oak desk in front of a gabled window.

I looked out at the broad and busy street below, outlined by large elm and locust trees, and through them I saw other homes similar in character. Some appeared in need of repair, but almost all were surrounded by lush gardens filled with flowers, herbs, and shrubs.

My hosts had only one child: a much loved daughter named Meg. On my arrival in Williamsburg, she greeted me enthusiastically. She was twelve to my thirteen years, and though we had both grown since our first meeting years ago, now she was significantly shorter than I. She was slim, and her limp was more p.r.o.nounced than I remembered, but her frizzed brown hair floated out as before, and I must say that on first approach, she struck me as an odd creature. She wore round eyegla.s.ses, but while listening to you speak she removed them and peered directly at you, her large brown eyes never leaving your face, almost as though she were trying to study what generated your thoughts.

For the first few weeks, I was so shaken by my abrupt change in circ.u.mstances that I am not certain how I would have made it through had it not been for Meg. I found it especially difficult to reconcile living within the confines of a town. The constant activity unsettled me, and I found the sudden shrieks of neighboring children or the unexpected rattle of carriages going by unnerving. During the day, with so many around, the atmosphere of town living felt constricted, and I longed for the open fields and forest paths I had left behind. reconcile living within the confines of a town. The constant activity unsettled me, and I found the sudden shrieks of neighboring children or the unexpected rattle of carriages going by unnerving. During the day, with so many around, the atmosphere of town living felt constricted, and I longed for the open fields and forest paths I had left behind.

But in Meg's bedroom, I found solace. In it was the world of birds and botany, the natural world that I thought I had left behind. I was delighted to see that she collected nests, too, and had them lined up across the windowsills amid rocks and leaves of all kinds. Framed fern species covered most of one wall, while prints of birds covered another. All of them, she told me, were indigenous to the region.

As I studied the prints more closely, I was startled to hear a gravelly voice call out from a far corner. "h.e.l.lo!" I swung around.

"Sinsin," Meg said, going over to a large wicker cage, "you must be nice." She opened the door of the cage and held out her hand. A large black bird stepped out, hopped to her shoulder, then, cooing, nuzzled her ear.

"This," said Meg proudly, "is Sin."

"Sin?"

"Yes, I called him Sin. Mother named him. He is not her favorite. 'Black as sin,' she said the day I got him."

"Would he come to me?"

Meg beamed. "Of course." The bird came willingly and gave me giggles while he searched my hair with his beak.

"What does he eat?" I asked.

"Mice, frogs, peanuts, fruit..."

"What kind of bird is he?" I stroked his iridescent black feathers.

"He is of the genus Corvus. A black crow." She spoke formally, as a schoolmistress might. "I found him when he was very small, and he imprinted on me. He is quite intelligent, and I've taught him to speak." While she put him through his paces, I looked about the room.

A small plant, roots and all, was propped on her desk, and I saw on an open drawing pad the beginnings of a sketch. Seeing my interest, Meg brought out another prized possession: a long oval-shaped tin box painted a light blue. She explained that it was used to collect plant and animal specimens from the outdoors. It was attached to a leather strap, and she slung it over her shoulder to demonstrate how she could open the attached lid with one hand. The lid itself was delicately hand-painted with white and pink wildflowers, though some of the decoration had been worn away from use. It was a vasculum, she said, rolling her tongue around the word as though it were candy.

I was awestruck when she pointed out her shelf of books. They were all gifts from her father, she said, meant to a.s.sist her in her studies. After Sin flapped to a perch above the desk, I sat in a small chair to recover myself and stared about in fascination. Meg was thrilled at my interest in her world, and within days we were bonded.

AT THE BEGINNING I I WAS WAS scheduled to take only reading and writing lessons with Meg. I was given some household duties, and Miss Sarah had her Negro servant, Nancy, instruct me in those ch.o.r.es. Desperately lonely for the family I had left behind, I tried to establish a friends.h.i.+p with Nancy and her daughter, Bess. scheduled to take only reading and writing lessons with Meg. I was given some household duties, and Miss Sarah had her Negro servant, Nancy, instruct me in those ch.o.r.es. Desperately lonely for the family I had left behind, I tried to establish a friends.h.i.+p with Nancy and her daughter, Bess.

Nancy and her husband, along with Bess, lived on the Maddens' property in a small home out back of the kitchen house. The two women cooked and cleaned and kept up the home under the supervision of Miss Sarah, while Nancy's husband maintained the property and the substantial gardens.

While working at my ch.o.r.es, I made overtures to Nancy and her daughter, but they, knowing nothing of me, kept their distance. One afternoon, finding myself with free time and thinking to pursue their friends.h.i.+p, I went out to the kitchen and there asked if I could be of help with the cooking. They looked at me, stone-faced. No, I was told, everything was just fine. They didn't need my help.

Later that day Miss Sarah came to me and asked that I not disturb the servants. They were very private, she said, and did not like others in their workplace. In my navete, I was confused by their rejection of me but made no further attempts to win them over. disturb the servants. They were very private, she said, and did not like others in their workplace. In my navete, I was confused by their rejection of me but made no further attempts to win them over.

At first I thought Miss Sarah overbearing, but in time I came to understand that her intentions were well meaning. Miss Sarah took her household seriously, and though her family was her first priority, her social obligations were also of great concern. Since her childhood, she had been afforded a place in society that carried with it luxury and privilege. Her mother had stressed the obligation of station, and Miss Sarah was determined to carry out her duty. I often heard her state how she felt obliged to help the less fortunate, and there was no doubt that my welfare was included under that dictum.

For Miss Sarah, appearance and propriety were of utmost importance, though she herself was stout, and her taste in clothing did not lend itself to flattery. She had a weakness for sweets, and as a result, her brightly colored dresses were often more fitted than the seamstress intended. Like Meg, Miss Sarah had an odd inclination to stare at one while he or she spoke, but what set her apart from her daughter was that Miss Sarah silently mouthed along with the speaker as though to better digest the words.

Mr. Madden was away a good deal of the time, but when not lawyering, he was taken up with gardening. He indulged Meg at every turn, which left Miss Sarah to draw a more solid line with her daughter. It was over dinner that I first witnessed the closeness between father and daughter. Both loved the world of botany, but while Mr. Madden kept his interest largely to his garden, Meg sought to understand what lay outside their domesticated backyard.

I was amazed to learn that Mr. Madden was the one who provided much of the live food for Sinsin. To Miss Sarah's dismay, it was often a topic discussed during our meal. There were days when I forgot to eat, so intrigued was I with the unusual dinner conversation. In due course, Mr. Madden tried to include me, but I was so stricken by shyness that I was almost unable to respond. It must have taken the better part of a year before I could look him in the eye to answer his questions. so stricken by shyness that I was almost unable to respond. It must have taken the better part of a year before I could look him in the eye to answer his questions.

I must add how surprised I was on the first day when I was told that I would dine with the family; heretofore, I had not sat at a formal table such as theirs. Guessing my need, Miss Sarah jumped at the task of guiding me through. I was eager to prove myself and immediately patterned myself after her example.

In the weeks that followed, Meg insisted that her mother release me from my household duties so that I might take part in all of her lessons. Our tutor was an older widow, Mrs. Ames, bright enough, though often sidetracked and much given to gossip. Daily, but for Sat.u.r.day and Sunday, we had morning lessons in reading and penmans.h.i.+p. Art and music were reserved for two afternoons a week, while dance cla.s.ses were given on alternating days. The rest of the time we had the freedom to wander out on excursions. Initially, I would have liked to go to the downtown shops, to see for myself what I heard existed there. But Meg was uninterested, so in our free time, I a.s.sisted Meg as she gathered new plant specimens for botanical study, or I helped her devise new ways to catch a fresh dinner for Sinsin.

With each pa.s.sing month, I was introduced to other aspects of a new and pleasant world. Yet, though most of my days were spent in happy pursuit, always, underlying, was the tenuous feeling of an uncertain future. I was told on more than one occasion that my education here was to enhance my opportunities, but I was never informed as to what those opportunities were. Fearful, I kept the questions to myself. I was not ungrateful for the fortunate circ.u.mstances I found myself in, but through all my time in Williamsburg, my deep longing to return home did not abate. Early on, when writing a letter to Belle, I considered entering a plea for her a.s.surance that I might one day return. But after reflection, I knew the futility of asking for her intercession and decided otherwise. That decision, though, left me feeling more alone than ever.

I dreaded bedtime, as that was when homesickness overtook me. At night my lovely bedroom felt empty and lonely. In the dark, I felt sick for the scent or touch of Sukey, and I longed for the late-night kitchen sounds or the familiar voices of Belle or Mama. Before sleep, I could not stop the memories. I replayed Sukey's run for the carriage over and over, and when the pain was too great, I took my blankets from my bed and arranged them on the floor to resemble my old pallet. From there I pulled Mama's basket from under the bed. I removed each treasure, then gave myself over to the impotent sorrow that engulfed me. When I finally slept, I often dreamed that I was on a s.h.i.+p. I would wake, my heart pounding from fear of the next wave, the one that would wash away all that was familiar. me. At night my lovely bedroom felt empty and lonely. In the dark, I felt sick for the scent or touch of Sukey, and I longed for the late-night kitchen sounds or the familiar voices of Belle or Mama. Before sleep, I could not stop the memories. I replayed Sukey's run for the carriage over and over, and when the pain was too great, I took my blankets from my bed and arranged them on the floor to resemble my old pallet. From there I pulled Mama's basket from under the bed. I removed each treasure, then gave myself over to the impotent sorrow that engulfed me. When I finally slept, I often dreamed that I was on a s.h.i.+p. I would wake, my heart pounding from fear of the next wave, the one that would wash away all that was familiar.

THE DAYTIME WAS EASIER, AS I had constant distraction. I was interested in all of the cla.s.ses, but dance instruction provided the most amus.e.m.e.nt. Dance was taught by Mr. Degat, and accompanying him with a fiddle was his longtime friend Mr. Alessi. The two shared a home but often did not see eye to eye, and each thought nothing of correcting the other's work. There were days when our cla.s.s was suspended because one or the other stomped out, leaving only half a team to continue alone. Considering their interdependence, the one-man attempt was usually unsuccessful. I had constant distraction. I was interested in all of the cla.s.ses, but dance instruction provided the most amus.e.m.e.nt. Dance was taught by Mr. Degat, and accompanying him with a fiddle was his longtime friend Mr. Alessi. The two shared a home but often did not see eye to eye, and each thought nothing of correcting the other's work. There were days when our cla.s.s was suspended because one or the other stomped out, leaving only half a team to continue alone. Considering their interdependence, the one-man attempt was usually unsuccessful.

After one such episode, Meg informed the table at supper that evening of their latest unhappy drama. The two men were already tense when the cla.s.s began. When a misstep happened between Meg and Mr. Degat, Mr. Alessi stopped his music and voiced the opinion that if Mr. Degat had moved to the left instead of to the right, all would have come off as intended. Mr. Degat expressed the view that if the fiddle playing had been more even, he would not have been so distracted. Mr. Alessi declared that his fiddle playing was above reproach and perhaps Mr. Degat would like to apologize for such a slur. Mr. Degat a.s.sured him that he would not, and with that Mr. Alessi put down his instrument and left the room for "some clean air." Furious, Mr. Degat walked over to the resting fiddle, picked up the bow, and snapped it in two across his knee. He then carefully replaced it beside the fiddle. Having spent his rage, he came back to us, nervously glanced at the door, then clapped us to order. Cla.s.s would go on, he informed us. He would hum the accompaniment to our dance. And hum he did, after partnering me with Meg. We had scarcely begun to dance when Mr. Alessi strode in. A scream of outrage followed the discovery of his split bow. As he made his exit, he announced that Mr. Degat was a vile and wicked man. In response, Mr. Degat only hummed louder as he waved us on. Mr. Alessi had been gone under a half hour before Mr. Degat developed one of his debilitating headaches and had to cut our cla.s.s short. knee. He then carefully replaced it beside the fiddle. Having spent his rage, he came back to us, nervously glanced at the door, then clapped us to order. Cla.s.s would go on, he informed us. He would hum the accompaniment to our dance. And hum he did, after partnering me with Meg. We had scarcely begun to dance when Mr. Alessi strode in. A scream of outrage followed the discovery of his split bow. As he made his exit, he announced that Mr. Degat was a vile and wicked man. In response, Mr. Degat only hummed louder as he waved us on. Mr. Alessi had been gone under a half hour before Mr. Degat developed one of his debilitating headaches and had to cut our cla.s.s short.

At the story's end, Mr. Madden, not one to voice an opinion on such matters, questioned Miss Sarah if she might want to consider hiring another fiddle player. Miss Sarah reacted with surprise. They came as a team, she said. And did he not realize that Mr. Degat was the very best instructor of the very difficult minuet? Besides, she said, the two of them always worked out their differences. I glanced at Meg and could see that she was as relieved as I when Mr. Madden did not voice any further disagreement. We both enjoyed our dance cla.s.s as it was.

THERE WAS A L LATIN CLa.s.s taught on Sat.u.r.day morning, and I was surprised to learn that it was taught by no other than Marshall. This was a free day for him from his own school, and by special arrangement made with his uncle Madden, he agreed to teach Meg the language he studied there. Although I had little interest in the subject, I was suffering from homesickness and looked forward to seeing Marshall. Upon our first meeting, he greeted me kindly and did not seem surprised at my new position in this household. I'd had only a little to do with him the previous year when he had come home to visit his father, but I did recall the attention he had shown me. And now, simply by seeing him, I felt a happy connection to the family I had left behind. taught on Sat.u.r.day morning, and I was surprised to learn that it was taught by no other than Marshall. This was a free day for him from his own school, and by special arrangement made with his uncle Madden, he agreed to teach Meg the language he studied there. Although I had little interest in the subject, I was suffering from homesickness and looked forward to seeing Marshall. Upon our first meeting, he greeted me kindly and did not seem surprised at my new position in this household. I'd had only a little to do with him the previous year when he had come home to visit his father, but I did recall the attention he had shown me. And now, simply by seeing him, I felt a happy connection to the family I had left behind.

It was routine on Sat.u.r.days, following the lesson, for Marshall to stay on for the afternoon dinner. Mr. Madden and Miss Sarah showed a genuine interest and affection for Marshall, and because of my own similar needs, I recognized how he thrived on their attention and approval. showed a genuine interest and affection for Marshall, and because of my own similar needs, I recognized how he thrived on their attention and approval.

Marshall was a handsome young man; everyone said so. His blond hair had darkened to a sandy color, and if a facial feature had to be named as most prominent, I would reference his firm jaw and strong cleft chin. He had a full mouth, straight white teeth, and eyes of the bluest blue. Always well groomed, he stood over six feet in height and was broad-shouldered and of excellent physique.

Marshall was a good teacher, and although he confessed he did not have a deep pa.s.sion for botany, it appeared to give him satisfaction to help Meg decipher the Latin terminology that held for her so many of nature's secrets. So, given my shared enjoyment of botany with Meg and the appeal of Marshall as a teacher, I began to look forward to the Sat.u.r.day cla.s.s.

ONE NIGHT AFTER A TERRIBLE bout of homesickness, I formulated a plan. I decided that Miss Martha must recover, and when she did, I would return home with her to serve as her companion. That was when I first began my plot to see her. bout of homesickness, I formulated a plan. I decided that Miss Martha must recover, and when she did, I would return home with her to serve as her companion. That was when I first began my plot to see her.

In the first months when I asked to visit Miss Martha, Miss Sarah left no doubt with her adamant refusal that the hospital was not a place for someone of my age. I noted that Miss Sarah herself made fewer visits each month until, finally, late one Thursday afternoon on her return, I overheard her speaking to Mr. Madden. I unabashedly stopped outside the library door to listen.

"It is simply too horrible to speak of! I convinced him to come, and now to have this happen!" she said.

"He is her son," Mr. Madden replied. "You were right. It was time he went to visit."

"But you don't know ..." She began to sob.

"Begin, then, my dear."

"I don't know if I can speak of this," she said.

"You must. Tell it to me straight."

Once Miss Sarah began, she told the story in a rush. "I said, 'Marshall, she is your mother. You are her only hope. Seeing you, she is certain to respond.' He didn't want to come. I could see how pale he was even as we approached the hospital. In the lobby, he had to sit, but I, thinking he might inspire a breakthrough, all but forced him to go through with the visit. She was sleeping when they unlocked her cell to let us in, and I suppose because of that, the attendant didn't stay. Marshall took his seat on a stool in the corner, and immediately, across the way, another... pitiful woman ... reached her arm through the bars and screamed for his help. When I saw how this affected him, how he trembled, I took pity and was about to suggest we leave, but that was when Martha woke up. She was calm-until she saw Marshall. Before either of us had a chance to guess at what her actions might be, she rose from her pallet and flung herself upon him. When he tried to free himself, she caught his face and kissed him in a fas.h.i.+on that ... surely she thought him her husband. When she began to ... G.o.d help me ... to touch him, he was in such a stupor that he could not protect himself. It took me calling for the attendants before he was able to free himself." Miss Sarah choked back sobs. 'Marshall, she is your mother. You are her only hope. Seeing you, she is certain to respond.' He didn't want to come. I could see how pale he was even as we approached the hospital. In the lobby, he had to sit, but I, thinking he might inspire a breakthrough, all but forced him to go through with the visit. She was sleeping when they unlocked her cell to let us in, and I suppose because of that, the attendant didn't stay. Marshall took his seat on a stool in the corner, and immediately, across the way, another... pitiful woman ... reached her arm through the bars and screamed for his help. When I saw how this affected him, how he trembled, I took pity and was about to suggest we leave, but that was when Martha woke up. She was calm-until she saw Marshall. Before either of us had a chance to guess at what her actions might be, she rose from her pallet and flung herself upon him. When he tried to free himself, she caught his face and kissed him in a fas.h.i.+on that ... surely she thought him her husband. When she began to ... G.o.d help me ... to touch him, he was in such a stupor that he could not protect himself. It took me calling for the attendants before he was able to free himself." Miss Sarah choked back sobs.

"Oh, my dear," Mr. Madden said.

"But that is not all," she murmured, and I leaned in closer to better hear.

"What, then? Say it once, and we shall never speak of it again."

"Before we could leave, before we could make our exit, she lifted her skirts and ... urinated." When his wife began to sob, I imagined Mr. Madden holding her to him while he soothed her. After she quieted, he asked again about Marshall.

"He would not speak to me in the carriage. When I took his trembling hand, he pulled away. I tried to apologize for my part, but he would not look my way. How could I have failed him so dreadfully?"

"You did not fail him, my dear. You were right to include him. Of course you would presume his presence to have helped."

"But I might have guessed. Remember last Christmas dinner ... when he had too much drink ... how he claimed that Martha hated him, that she blamed him for Sally's death? And do you remember his anger when he spoke of her extreme laudanum use throughout his childhood?" hated him, that she blamed him for Sally's death? And do you remember his anger when he spoke of her extreme laudanum use throughout his childhood?"

"But isn't laudanum one of her treatments now?" Mr. Madden asked.

"No, they've stopped it." There was a silence before she continued. "As it stands, I can't see how she will ever be released. They've tried everything. They bleed her every week, they purge her, they've tried intimidation and then the restraining chair. Many times they've used the cold baths, but nothing, nothing is working."

"My dear," Mr. Madden said, "why do you continue to visit? What possible purpose can it serve?"

"I cannot abandon her," Miss Sarah said. "It is my responsibility. She is alone all day in that terrible cell. She sleeps on a pallet, without even the dignity of a bed. They won't give her cutlery. She is forced to eat with her hands, like an animal!"

"Does she know it is you when you visit?" Mr. Madden asked.

"There are times after she's taken exercise in the yard-the mad yard, they call it-when she appears to have some recognition. But then she pleads for the baby, or for our sister Isabelle. I feel I must be honest, yet she grieves so when I tell her they are both dead."

I could take no more and, victim of my own indiscretion, ran to my room with this news that further troubled my already sleepless nights.

THE FOLLOWING S SAt.u.r.dAY, AFTER THE visit to his mother, Marshall did not come to teach our Latin cla.s.s, nor was he present for our afternoon dinner. On Miss Sarah's insistence, Mr. Madden went out to find him. The search ended in the late evening when Marshall was found drunk in a tavern some miles from town. Meg was already asleep, and I was with Miss Sarah in the front parlor when Mr. Madden returned with his nephew. Marshall was so inebriated that it took the three of us to get him to a bedroom. visit to his mother, Marshall did not come to teach our Latin cla.s.s, nor was he present for our afternoon dinner. On Miss Sarah's insistence, Mr. Madden went out to find him. The search ended in the late evening when Marshall was found drunk in a tavern some miles from town. Meg was already asleep, and I was with Miss Sarah in the front parlor when Mr. Madden returned with his nephew. Marshall was so inebriated that it took the three of us to get him to a bedroom.

As we settled him on the bed, Miss Sarah and I saw his right hand was badly bruised and cut. Together we cleaned it, and though our nursing must have pained him, he communicated only through incoherent mumbling. When he began to retch, we turned him to his side, but from the state of his clothes, it was clear that his stomach had already given up everything but the bloodstained gall that he now spat out. When he slept, we all retired for the night, only to be woken later by shouts from Marshall's room. By the time the Maddens reached him, he was cras.h.i.+ng about the room. hand was badly bruised and cut. Together we cleaned it, and though our nursing must have pained him, he communicated only through incoherent mumbling. When he began to retch, we turned him to his side, but from the state of his clothes, it was clear that his stomach had already given up everything but the bloodstained gall that he now spat out. When he slept, we all retired for the night, only to be woken later by shouts from Marshall's room. By the time the Maddens reached him, he was cras.h.i.+ng about the room.

Meg stood with me in the hallway, and we comforted each other until Miss Sarah came and sent us back to our rooms. There was activity the night long. Unable to sleep, I dressed at dawn and went out to ask Miss Sarah if I might be of service. Her eyes were red with fatigue. "If you could just sit with him, I might sleep for an hour," she said. "Mr. Madden is preparing to leave. He must see to ... to take care of ... the consequences."

I took the chair alongside the bed, a.s.suring Miss Sarah that I would call if I should need her. After she left, I shyly looked over at Marshall, who slept. Where during the night, I had been frightened of his state, now he lay pale and vulnerable. I was reminded of his worst days as a child, of his haunted face after the death of Sally, of his beaten appearance when I found him in the privy, and my heart opened to him. How like his mother he looked, I thought, and I plummeted into sad longing for everyone at Tall Oaks. I could not help my tears and was drying my eyes when I became aware that Marshall was awake and looking at me.

"Don't cry," he said, reaching his bandaged hand toward mine. I stared in horror at his swollen purple fingers. At my reaction, he took note of his hand and rose on his elbow to take better stock. With that movement, he began to retch again, so I held the basin and comforted him as Mama Mae might have done. His face was damp from the strain, and when he rested back, I placed a wet cloth across his forehead. His blue eyes met mine, and when he tried a smile, I felt a rush of tenderness toward him that I had known only with Sukey and Campbell. I wanted to comfort him then, to hold him as a child in my arms, but I knew it was inappropriate and I held myself back. Confused by my feelings, I was happy to leave the room when Miss Sarah came to relieve me. then, to hold him as a child in my arms, but I knew it was inappropriate and I held myself back. Confused by my feelings, I was happy to leave the room when Miss Sarah came to relieve me.

I did not see Marshall again until the next day. He was still too sick to eat and could retain only sips of water. Miss Sarah stayed at his bedside but eventually joined the family downstairs for breakfast.

"He says the only thing that appeals to him is Mae's soup," Miss Sarah told us.

"I don't believe coddling will help the matter," Mr. Madden said, helping himself to another waffle. "Perhaps a few days with an empty stomach will teach him."

"He must eat!" I spoke so pa.s.sionately that everyone at the table stared at me, and I felt my face grow hot. "I'm sorry."

While Mr. Madden concentrated on his food, Miss Sarah spoke. "Of course Marshall will be given food, my dear."

In silence, I choked down the rest of my breakfast, then asked to be excused. As I made my way up the stairs, I overheard Mr. Madden's remark: "Loyal little thing. One can't fault her for that."

I waited until later in the day, when I found Miss Sarah alone, before I told her that I knew how to make Mama Mae's soup. Could I make it for Marshall? I asked, and she gave her permission.

Nancy and Bess did not welcome me into their kitchen, but neither did they hinder my work. They watched as I caught, killed, and cleaned the chicken, then chopped the parsley, onions, and thyme. I simmered the soup exactly as Mama Mae had taught me, and it was finished by evening. Miss Sarah was leaving Marshall's room as I brought a small cup of the steaming broth upstairs. Her concern for him was clear.

"I don't know," she said, looking at the cup I carried. "I doubt he can tolerate even that."

"Could I try?" I asked.

"Go ahead. Can you manage if I go for some supper?" she asked, and I a.s.sured her that I could.

By lantern light, I saw how little Marshall had improved; he looked at me listlessly as I perched on the edge of the bed. "I made you some soup," I said.

He looked at me. "I can't eat, Lavinia."

"This is broth. I made it just like Mama Mae showed me," I said as I placed a napkin across his chest. When I offered him a spoonful, he shook his head, but I persisted until he opened his mouth and swallowed the warm liquid. "Good," I said. I waited before offering more. Marshall did not take his eyes from me. Concerned only that he keep the liquid down, I did not rush, and in between spoonfuls, disregarding his gaze, I watched the flickering shadows in the darkening room.

"This is good," he said.

"I know," I said. "I had some in the kitchen."

He gave a small laugh.

"Do you feel better?" I asked.

"I will if I can keep this down." He took a deep breath. "I heard that you took a stand for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"At breakfast."

"I only said that you needed to eat."

"Is Uncle angry with me?"

"I think so." I waited awhile.

He turned his head to the wall. "Well, it isn't the first time."

"What do you mean?"

"He has charge of me until I am twenty-two, and he is always trying to control me. 'Laying boundaries and setting standards,' he calls it."

I had no answer to that and settled the spoon in the empty cup. I rose to leave.

"Will you stay?" he asked.

"Would you like me to read? I can turn up the light."

"No. Just sit over there. Talk to me."