She approached her husband and tentatively reached toward him. After a moment, he came to her. Simon bent close, gently kissing her. Gloria responded with eagerness, joy thrumming through her veins.
“Perhaps Bianca needs to regain her strength. Won’t you consider only summoning her periodically?”
Simon nodded. “I’ll consider it,” he murmured. He drew Gloria even closer. When they drew apart, his smile had returned. “I’ll take Edward to the nursery,” he said breathlessly. “Then I’ll come back. Please don’t worry so, sweetheart. I’ll take care of him.”
Gloria nodded, relieved that Simon was here. There were times when his absences caused her great distress. Yet he always returned. She had to trust him.
Chapter Three
“Enter, Bianca.” Gloria’s voice was warm and inviting.
Nervously, Bianca entered Stepmother’s chamber. The room was opulent. Pearl-inlaid tables with many ornaments filled every available space. The high, vaulted ceiling resembled how Bianca imagined a cathedral might look. Of course, her own room was lavish as well, but she despised the chamber. So much luxury but still a prison. Stepmother seemed to be in her element, however.
Bianca approached the vanity table where Stepmother always sat. “You summoned me?” she asked.
Gloria smiled. “Yes, my dear. You mustn’t be nervous. Sit.” She gestured to a velvet-cloaked armchair. “I am having my breakfast. Would you like something?” She pointed to a tray of pastries and a pot of fragrant tea. “I can procure coffee for you. I never liked the taste myself.”
Bianca shook her head and frowned. “I have already eaten.” She gestured pointedly to the tray. “I helped Mabel assemble the breakfast you are eating, you know.”
Gloria frowned for a moment. “Mabel? Oh, yes. Priscilla’s daughter.” She looked pointedly at Bianca, her eyes holding an indefinable expression. “Do you remember when you used to come to my chamber and admire my things? Do you remember the time I combed your hair?” She gestured to the combs and cosmetic caskets arrayed on her vanity table. “You told me you wanted to be as beautiful as me. I allowed you to use some of my cosmetics. Your cheeks shone so vibrantly.”
Bianca fidgeted nervously. “Priscilla was angry with me. She said I was too little for cosmetics,” she said. “I washed them off.”
Gloria shook her head. “Of course Priscilla would be angry. After all, cosmetics could not conceal her blemish. Slaves are not fit—”
Her voice abruptly trailed away as she saw Bianca’s angry expression. Gloria poured a liberal amount of milk into her teacup, and when she spoke again, her voice was brusque. “I understand your father summoned you yesterday. Are you feeling better this morning?”
Bianca nodded. “Still a bit tired, but the weakness always leaves me in a day or two.” Her cheeks flushed with a smile. “We had a picnic. It was wonderful!”
Gloria frowned. How Edward would love picnics if he were only strong enough to go outside. “Yes,” she said shortly. “I am glad to hear you had a good time.” She leaned back in her chair. “How does the feeling come upon you?” she asked pensively. “Is it painful? What does the summoning of the land sound like?”
Bianca pursed her lips in thought. How did one describe something indescribable? “It’s like at market when the merchants count their coins. A chinking, clattering sound. But it is not loud. It doesn’t hurt my ears. It’s as if the land is singing.”
Gloria shook her head in confusion. “It does not hurt? Why, then, do you weaken so?”
“I don’t know,” Bianca said. “I just feel like I do after helping the slaves cook Sunday dinner: like a wet tablecloth is being pressed down on my head. I can’t breathe.”
Gloria rose and slowly approached Bianca. She bent forward, her eyes ablaze with earnestness. “This refusal of yours to stop spending time with the slaves is growing ridiculous. I have been more than indulgent with you. Please be sensible, child. They’re inferior to you. The quicker you learn that—”
“That’s not true!” Bianca cried. “And what am I supposed to do? You never have time for me, and Father—”
“My son takes priority!” Gloria snapped. Her face flushed with anger, and she blinked back tears. “Perhaps I should talk to Simon about procuring a tutor.”
Bianca shuddered inwardly. A tutor would mean she must stop her lessons with Priscilla. She couldn’t do that! But Stepmother did not know about their lessons. It was forbidden for slaves to read, but Priscilla had told Bianca that she had learned when she was a little girl. Bianca knew that no one could learn of this secret. She must not speak of it.
“Please, Stepmother. Why did you summon me?” she asked.
Gloria sighed. “I am concerned about this weakness you are experiencing. If your father summons you before two months’ time, I want you to refuse to go with him.” She held up her hand as Bianca opened her mouth to speak. “Your weakness will inhibit your ability to hear the singing of the earth.”
“I want to go with him,” Bianca said in surprise. “It’s the only time I see Father. I’m Edward’s only hope. I won’t refuse Father’s summons.”
Gloria shook her head. “Even if the listening continues to weaken you?”
“I never stay weak long,” Bianca said stubbornly. “I’ll be all right.”
Gloria’s face hardened. “If I tell you to do something, you will do it. Do you understand? Yes, you are Edward’s only hope of getting well, and that is the very reason I am giving you this order. Your duty is to be strong enough to listen, and after your fainting spell yesterday, I’m convinced that the next time you listen, something worse might happen. Your father is desperate to heal Edward, and his desperation is making him unreasonable. Edward is Simon’s son, his favorite child,” Gloria said bluntly.
She bestowed upon Bianca a long look, a look that spoke volumes. “You are old enough to know that a father in name only is not the same as one who loves you.”
Bianca gasped, feeling as if she had been slapped. “How dare you? Father does love me!” she cried indignantly.
Gloria sighed, feeling guilt surface. “I meant that you must learn your place,” she said. “Sons take precedence.”
Gloria knew this fact only too well. Hadn’t her own father been eager to be rid of her? Hadn’t he insisted she marry the rich gentleman who wooed her, even though the courtship was a whirlwind affair? Fortunately, Gloria had grown to love Simon over the years, but there were times his brooding moods or bouts of anger frightened her. Her stepdaughter was naïve of the ways of the world. The sooner she awakened to reality, the better off she would be. But Bianca was so unreasonable!
Gloria turned away from the infuriating girl. “Go now,” she said wearily.
Bianca rose and hurried to the chamber door. On the threshold, she turned and addressed Stepmother.
“You may look beautiful,” she said flatly, “but you’re ugly.”
She fled the room, blinking back mercurial tears. Stepmother would not see her cry. The comment hurt so very much. It was a lie! At least, Bianca hoped that Stepmother lied.
Gloria’s ears rang with the insult her stepdaughter had flung at her. In her mind, she saw Simon’s furious face the day the physician had delivered the news that she could no longer bear children.
“You are weak. All you can give me is a sickly son!” he had fumed, his hand upraised. He had not struck her, but there was always the possibility he would.
Bianca needed to be strong in order to fulfill her purpose, but even a monthly summons hurt her. She had fainted yesterday, and that had never happened before. There had to be another way to procure what was needed to help Edward, a way that was more beneficial.
What if Bianca’s gift could be used by someone else? Herself, for example? Gloria was a grown woman, and perhaps that meant she was stronger. Bianca’s ability to hear where the land’s resources were kept was a gift to be coveted. History books spoke of the rarity of such a gift. There were other books as well, books o
f forgotten lore that Gloria remembered perusing when she desperately sought any means to make her son well. She knew of a way to possess Bianca’s gift, but her heart recoiled at the prospect. Even so, Gloria was desperate.
Gloria rang a bell beside her bed, and a slave girl entered the room.
“Bring Isaac to me,” Gloria ordered. “I must speak with him.”
Chapter Four
The day began like any other. Bianca helped Priscilla assemble breakfast. Then she helped Mabel with the laundry. Of course, both Priscilla and Mabel told her not to help, but she had ignored them. Laundry was tedious, for each article of clothing and piece of linen had to be scrubbed repeatedly. The lye soap burned the hands and brought tears to the eyes.
“Mabel, do you ever feel—” Bianca was at a loss as to how to phrase her question. Ever since her visit with Stepmother, a feeling of disquiet worried at her soul like a dog at a bone. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”
Mabel looked up from the sheet she was scrubbing. Her sweat-soaked face wore a frown. “Every day,” she said stiffly. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered. I feel like a piece of yarn that might break, like I’m being pulled in two directions. Father only summons me once a month, and I feel so tired after he does. But I love to see him. Stepmother only summons me to scold me. I only feel happy when I’m with all of you. But Stepmother said something mean yesterday.” Bianca lowered her head. “I don’t want to tell you what she said.”
Mabel’s face hardened. “I can guess,” she said. She sighed and turned to Bianca. “Mistress, you know you don’t belong among us, don’t you? You’ll only cause yourself trouble. Why do you keep coming back?”
Bianca sighed. “Because all of you make me feel welcome.” She resumed her work. “Do you remember apple butter day last year?” she asked wistfully. That particular day always heralded fun for the slaves, for there were games and a picnic. The usual routines were set aside.
Mabel laughed, her features relaxing. “Next time, I’ll beat you in the potato sack race.” She laid aside the sheet and retrieved another article from the tub of water. “Do you remember the cakewalk? I know Isaac cheated.” She laughed.
“He wouldn’t!” Bianca said with a shocked gasp.
Mabel snorted. “ ‘Fly Along My Dovekin’ isn’t played that fast. Didn’t you see him watching my mother? He wanted to make sure Mother stayed inside the circle and didn’t step on the edge. She’d have been out if she had. Don’t you remember how proud Mother was when she won the spice cake? It’s her favorite.”
Bianca laughed. She remembered Isaac’s callused hands as they strummed the banjo and his weathered features that had smiled. He rarely played music or smiled, so that memory always made Bianca happy. “Priscilla sang that day,” she said softly. “Her voice sounded so pretty.” Bianca remembered the song:
Across the dividing river,
Amid wildflowers’ golden gleam,
Lies a land bought by brutal means,
A land where we will go.
Bianca allowed the words of the song to fill her mind. They were mysterious, and she did not know what they meant, but they gave her comfort. She began scrubbing another article of clothing.
“Mistress Bianca?” Priscilla entered the washroom.
Bianca raised her head, shocked to see Priscilla’s face. She was frowning, and tears shone in her eyes. “What is it?” She hurried to Priscilla’s side.
Priscilla smiled wanly. “Isaac wants you to go with him today. He’s selecting a pony for the stable. Mistress Gloria has given her permission. She said it was her final indulgence and that you must enjoy it.”
Bianca gasped with excitement. “Really?” Another outing on the same week as the summons from Father? She looked at Priscilla’s sad face, and suddenly her happiness evaporated like melting ice cream. “What’s wrong?”
Priscilla shook her head. “Nothing, my dove,” she said. “Go on out to the stable, now. He’s waiting.” She gave Bianca a quick hug. Bianca felt a cloth-wrapped bundle being placed in her hands.
“Provisions,” Priscilla whispered. She hugged Bianca tighter.
“You’re shaking.” Bianca grabbed Priscilla’s arm. “Please tell me—”
“Go.” Priscilla thrust Bianca away, hastily turning to conceal her tears. “I’ll tell you tonight during our lesson.” She fled the room.
Bianca turned to Mabel. “I don’t understand,” she said.
Mabel shrugged. “Mistress probably yelled at Mother again. You know how it upsets her.”
Bianca nodded. “Why don’t you ask Isaac if you can come too?” she asked hopefully. “We could ask him to stop by the general store on the way home for some—”
Mabel shook her head. “I have to finish this washing,” she said glumly.
Bianca sighed and nodded. Work always came first. She left the washroom to journey toward the stable.
Isaac ran his hands along Conrad’s feet. The horse’s shoes were worn, but they would suffice for the journey. He blinked rapidly as he saw Bianca hurrying toward him. “Morning,” he said, managing a smile.
Bianca approached, her eyes shining. “Hello, Isaac. Thanks for asking me along.”
He nodded. “You’re always asking about the ponies at the stable yard. I thought you’d like to help me select one.”
Bianca jumped up and down with excitement. “I hope they have a chestnut one,” she said eagerly.
Isaac laughed. “Don’t count your chickens,” he said gruffly. “Come now. We’d best be going.” He gestured to Conrad. “You’ll ride behind me.” He assisted Bianca onto the horse’s back and mounted himself. “Did Priscilla pack you a lunch?”
Bianca nodded. “Can we stop at the general store for a dandy fizz on the way back?” she asked.
Isaac did not answer. After a moment, Bianca repeated her question.
“We’ll see,” Isaac said shortly. He pressed his heels into Conrad’s sides, and the horse began to move. “I used to take you on rides when you were no bigger than a fledgling,” he said.
Bianca looked at the man’s weathered face. Faint memories stirred of glorious rides that took her breath away. She always felt like she was flying. “Did Father ever let me ride with him?” she asked.
Isaac frowned. “Not very often,” he said. “He’s a busy man, Mistress Bianca.”
She lowered her head. “I was just thinking,” she said. “I remember darkness and the smell of earth. It was cold, and I remember being on a horse with Father. We—”
“Stop talking about him!” Isaac said harshly. He yanked Conrad’s reins, and the horse tossed his head in agitation.
Bianca flinched as if she’d been struck. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just—”
Isaac looked at the stricken girl, his face sorrowful. “Forgive me, Mistress Bianca. I didn’t mean to yell,” he said wearily. “You just don’t understand. Your father is not—” He turned away and focused on guiding Conrad through a tangle of undergrowth. “So, do you feel stronger after the other day?”
“Yes,” Bianca said, frowning at the abrupt change in subject. “It was just the usual weak spell. I have to learn to conserve my strength.”
Isaac frowned. “It wasn’t the usual weakness, Mistress Bianca. You fainted. And I don’t think conserving your strength has anything to do with it. Seems to me that the weakness isn’t your fault, contrary to what someone might want you to think,” he said gruffly.
He continued guiding Conrad and did not speak again. He was not given to speaking as a general rule, so Bianca was used to his silences. She relaxed as Conrad continued cantering through the springtime landscape.
By midmorning, Bianca began to notice something strange. Trees surrounded her, and the temperature had fallen slightly. As they rode through the wood, the trees arched over her head in a graceful canopy. Silence surrounded her. Only the clip-clop of Conrad’s hooves were discernible.
“Isaac, is the stable yard near?�
� she asked.
“We’ll reach it by early afternoon. We’ll eat before we arrive there,” Isaac said.
After another hour or so of riding, Bianca was fidgeting uncomfortably. “I-I need to, um—”
Isaac nodded. “We’ll stop in a moment.” He spurred Conrad on. Even Bianca could tell that the horse was tiring. She noticed that Isaac gripped the reins in an iron fist.
Soon, the cheerful chattering of water filled Bianca’s ears.
“Here,” Isaac said, finally allowing Conrad to stop.
Bianca surveyed her surroundings. They had emerged in a sunny glade. A river bubbled just to the right of them, and wildflowers bloomed in abundance. Isaac turned to her. “Go do the necessary,” he instructed. “Then we’ll eat.”
Bianca smiled at him. “It’s beautiful here,” she said as she dismounted from Conrad’s back.
Isaac nodded. “My daughter and I used to come here,” he said, a faint tremor in his voice. “Go now. I have to see to Conrad.”
Bianca walked a stone’s throw away in order to find some privacy. When she returned, Isaac was sitting on the grass eating a sandwich.
He turned to her. “I have sardines,” he said, smiling faintly. “Would you like one?”
Bianca grimaced and shook her head decisively. “No thank you,” she said haughtily. “I have my own lunch.” She laughed as she opened the bundle of provisions. So much food for such a short journey!
As Bianca ate, she became aware of a strange noise. SNICK! SNICK! She turned toward the sound. Isaac was standing facing a tree, his lunch forgotten. He held something in his hand, something he was running along the tree’s trunk. She saw that he was shaking, and tears were coursing down his cheeks.
Blind Beauty and Other Tales of Redemption Page 10