Part 11 (2/2)
She put three fresh johnnycakes on the plate in front of Quent while she spoke, then, after a slight hesitation, added a fourth. ”Some folks just are never filled up, no matter what you puts inside 'em.”
Nicole had difficulty understanding the speech of the Patent slaves, though she liked the music of their accent. This morning it was easy enough to tell that Kitchen Hannah was scolding Quentin, that she didn't mean a word of what she said, and was intensely pleased at his return.
”Thing is,” the old woman continued, ”I could have sworn there was two peoples eating up my store of johnnycakes. You got any idea who the second people might be, Master Quent?” She glanced up toward the attic above their heads. ”You think I be having to save some of these nice fresh johnnycakes for whoever might be presenting hisself to eat 'em?”
”No, Hannah. I don't think that's necessary.” He could tell from the surprise with which his mother and the old slave looked at him that Kitchen Hannah had already told her mistress Corm had arrived. ”There's no one here planning a late breakfast as far as I know.”
”But Hannah said-” Lorene broke off and waited for her son to explain.
”Corm did come during the night, but just to give me a message.” Quent was afraid to look at Nicole. Too much of what he was feeling might show in his face. d.a.m.n her, she made him forget everything he'd ever learned. ”He was sorry not to see either of you,” he nodded toward his mother and Nicole, ”but he had to leave right away.”
”And when will he be back?” Nicole seemed to be trying as hard as he was to maintain some dignity. ”Did he say when-”
”He didn't know.”
”But he promised! Monsieur Shea promised me, and he promised Papa-”
”I know. We talked about that. Corm asked me to take you north to Quebec and I said I would.”
”But he-”
She stopped speaking and Quent wondered what other promises Corm had made.
”More drink, my dear. It's good for you.” Lorene refilled Nicole's tankard from the pitcher of frothy brown ale cut with heated milk. She was sorry not to see Cormac, but he had been like that since he was grown, coming and going according to his own thoughts and fancies and explaining little. Besides, she was glad to have the girl here a bit longer. The blue frock suited her even better than the lavender had. Lorene told herself she'd have to look for the remains of that blue cloth before the mantua maker called again next week. It had been a very dear bolt, come all the way from London, and she had thought to have a cloak made of what she had left. But just now that blue cloth could be thought of as an investment.
John appeared and took his place, waiting for Kitchen Hannah to serve him. He'd been out on the land for some hours already and had heard the news of Cormac's arrival. ”Ah, I was expecting our tame savage to be here.” He spoke to no one in particular. ”It's always interesting to see if he'll show up in breechclout and feathers or done up in his fancy white-man costume.”
Quent did not rise to the bait, though he saw the distress of both the women and hastened to change the subject. ”Corm stopped by, but he had business in the north. He's already gone. How's the harvest looking?”
”Good-excellent, in fact. Best in years. Takes a strong hand to get the n.i.g.g.e.rs to do anything, but once they understand that slacking won't be permitted, they fall into line.”
Quent made a noncommital sound, then asked, ”Exactly what is it you've got planned for them today?”
John stopped eating and stared at his brother. ”And just why should you care? Gone for three years, then back and asking for explanations?”
”I was wondering, is all. And about that wheat, the field down near the sugarhouse road's gotten itself full of weeds. Going to be a huge amount to winnow if they're not pulled soon.”
”Don't tell me how to run Shadowbrook.” John's words were spit out through clenched teeth.
”Wouldn't dream of it. Just happened to notice that field when we walked in and thought I'd mention it. Considering what we were speaking of last night. I'm sure you remember our conversation.”
Nicole hardly registered what they were saying, or the animosity between them, or the way Madame Hale was looking from one son to the other. She was too absorbed in her own distress.
Lorene searched for a way to relieve the tension. ”There will be a prayer service in the great hall on Sunday, mademoiselle. Perhaps you-”
”Mademoiselle Crane is a Catholic.” Quent spoke the words with no particular emphasis, as if he didn't know how distasteful that idea would be to his mother.
Lorene, however, didn't look surprised. ”Yes, I presumed so. I just thought-”
”Thank you for inviting me, Madame Hale. It is most gracious. But if you don't mind, on Sunday I will simply stay in my room and say my prayers.”
”Yes, of course.” Lorene rose from the table and both her sons quickly got to their feet.
The two men waited until she'd left the room, then took their seats again on either side of Nicole. It was obvious that neither would leave the room until she did. Nicole waited a few moments, then got up and made her escape.
Quent and Nicole again sat on the circular bench that surrounded the chestnut tree on the front lawn. ”He promised,” she told Quent. ”Monsieur Shea promised. He has broken his word.”
”No, he has not. He has given me the charge, and that's the same thing as doing it himself. I'll take you the rest of the way. As soon as I can.” Small wonder she was upset. After claiming her the way he had, Corm had left her behind without a word. Hard for any white woman to understand, particularly one like Nicole. Probably she'd been a virgin until that night in the woods. Shoshanaya had come to him a proud Ottawa squaw, knowing and aware. Nicole had probably never been with anyone before her first night with Corm. She would-Sweet Christ, he was a b.l.o.o.d.y fool, and worse, a disloyal friend.
”You defend him,” Nicole said with some bitterness. ”But a gentleman would not do such a thing. Not go back on the word he gave to a dying man.”
”Look, Corm's not like us, exactly. He's half Potawatomi. Their ways are different from what you're used to. You had to have known it before you let yourself become-” He broke off.
”Become what?” she demanded. ”Please, Monsieur Hale, I would like to know what you are thinking. Before I became what?”
”His ... Corm's woman. That night with the Shawnee, when you chose-”
”I did not choose anything that night, Monsieur Hale. The squaw, the one who called herself Torayana, she told me I had to pick one of the men, but I refused. She pushed me at Monsieur Shea. I did not choose.”
Quent shrugged her words away. ”Doesn't matter. What's done is done.”
She felt her cheeks redden with anger. ”Nothing is done, Monsieur Hale! Nothing of what you mean! I am not a squaw, not some savage who-”
Quent looked at her, saw the rage. ”Wait a minute, you're telling me-Are you saying you and Corm didn't-You didn't promise-”
”We did nothing. And I promised Monsieur Shea nothing. Except for my undying grat.i.tude and a lifetime of prayer in return for his bringing me to Quebec. I have taken a vow, monsieur. I mean to give myself to G.o.d and become a bride of Christ. A nun. It is a sacred and solemn duty and-”
”But with the Shawnee ... You and Corm, you spent the night in the woods. I saw you come back the next morning.”
She looked at him, some of the fire turning to ice. ”I spent many nights in the woods with both of you, monsieur, and many days. Was my conduct on those occasions not appropriate for a lady? And did I have a choice to do something else?”
”No, but that was different. The drums-”
”Some of us do not become animals just because we are in the forest, Monsieur Hale.”
His heart was pounding against his ribs. He wanted to whoop but he didn't dare. ”Listen, I'm going to do what you want, I'll take you to Quebec. I gave my word and that's that. But there's one thing you have to do. Now. Otherwise all promises are canceled.”
”What thing, Monsieur Hale?”
”That's it exactly. Stop calling me Monsieur Hale. My name's Quent. Call me Quent. Promise?”
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