Blind Beauty and Other Tales of Redemption

by Meredith Leigh Burton

  Bianca relaxed. The family would keep her safe. In return, she would do what she could to thank them.

  Chapter Seven

  Gloria paced in her chamber. Her stomach roiled with nausea. When would she hear the earth’s cry? Would Simon hear it too? He had eaten heartily at supper, even making a point to send his compliments to the kitchen. Gloria had eaten moderately, each mouthful tasting of ashes.

  I am doing this for Edward, she reminded herself. Would the gift manifest itself quickly, or would it take time? Would she become as weak as her stepdaughter had?

  Simon’s familiar knock sounded. Gloria eagerly admitted him. “Are you well, darling?” she asked anxiously.

  Simon frowned. “Of course I am,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He approached her, and they embraced. “Edward’s medicine will be ready tomorrow,” he continued. “Three bottles’ worth. I sold a triple amount of Hart’s Tears today, so I asked the pharmacist to make the medicine even stronger. Edward will be all right. I’ll go to the drugstore tomorrow and collect it.”

  Gloria smiled. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Will he live, Simon?” she whispered. “Please tell me he’ll live.”

  Simon leaned toward her. “I won’t let him die. You know that,” he said. “My treasure, you must trust me.” He kissed her passionately.

  Mabel washed dishes in the kitchen. She wondered where Bianca could be. She was always quick to tell Bianca she must not help her, but, truthfully, she missed the companionable conversations they shared.

  Mabel ceased her work and hung her head. In addition to her worry, she felt oddly fatigued. She had fed Edward supper (a task Bianca usually insisted on performing) and had been weary ever since. A sweet scent had filled the nursery, one that she could not place. But Edward needed sustenance, and she loved him just as much as Bianca did.

  Mother passed by Mabel with a pile of clean napkins. “Your supper’s in the pantry,” she said over her shoulder.

  Mabel nodded her thanks. After she completed her work, she hurried to the pantry.

  “You saw her?” Isaac’s voice trembled. “She’s all right?”

  Mabel turned toward the voices. Mother and Isaac were folding napkins and speaking earnestly. Mabel knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity nagged at her.

  “She’s in Hart Spring,” Mother said. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You will find this hard to believe, but she’s with George’s family.”

  Mabel watched as Isaac bowed his head. “The Creator be praised,” Isaac breathed. “I’m sorry, Priscilla. I had to do it. That woman must be mad. Did she really think I would bring her a child’s liver?”

  Priscilla frowned. “Edward grows weaker every day,” she said. “Mistress is mad with desperation, I think. That pig of a man manipulates—” She turned her face away, raising a hand to cover her scar. Finally, she said, “What animal did you use to fool her?”

  Isaac grimaced. “A deer.”

  Mabel dropped the corn bread she was holding. Her ears rang. No! This wasn’t true! Hart Spring was just a story, wasn’t it? A fairy tale that gave false hope. What had happened to Bianca?

  Chapter Eight

  “Where is she?” Simon stood before Priscilla, his hands on his hips. His face was flushed with rage. “When I summon my daughter, I expect her to come to me.”

  Priscilla looked up from the bread dough she was kneading. “You’d do best to ask your wife, Master,” she said flatly.

  Simon stared at her. “I know she often comes here,” he said. “And have I not warned you repeatedly to send her away when she does? You dare to defy—”

  “I dare nothing. I’m simply telling you the truth.” She bestowed upon him a penetrating gaze. “But you refuse to see anything that doesn’t benefit you.”

  Simon sneered at her. “I could have you whipped for speaking to me in this way,” he said. He gazed pointedly at her scarred face. “But of course you know that, don’t you?”

  Priscilla slammed her fists into the mound of dough. “How could whipping be any worse than what you’ve already done?” Her voice caught in her throat. “You sold my brother on the auction block. You use Bianca until she’s weak beyond bearing. I know it is foolish for me to think I have any right to that girl. After all, why should someone who has given a baby her own milk feel anything for her? You think yourself so superior to me! I have feelings, Master. At least your sister understood.”

  Simon raised his hand as if to strike her. Then he slowly lowered it. A strange smile crossed his features. “My sister was foolish, and you took advantage of that, didn’t you? You don’t think I know that it was she who had the audacity to teach you to read? I could have told my father, you know, but I found other ways to punish you.” He smiled. “I can hurt you beyond bearing. Tell me where my daughter is. I need more medicine for Edward.”

  Priscilla stared at him in shock. “It’s only been a week,” she said. “Surely you have enough medicine to last for at least a month. Isaac drove you to the drugstore only seven days ago.”

  Simon turned from her in disgust. He had to have the jewels. They were the only thing that gave him confidence. For a moment, he thought of his bedchamber and the secret that lay within it. He thought of his sister’s tears.

  “It’s none of your concern,” he said. He stormed from the room.

  Priscilla set the bread to rise and hurried to her cabin. She retrieved her mirror. “Mirror, mirror, gleaming with light, show me the child in his nursery bright.” She knew that something was wrong.

  The mirror glowed greenly, then cleared. The little boy sat amid an array of toys on the nursery floor. He moved a stuffed lion and bear across the floor, roaring, growling, and grinning.

  Suddenly, Edward grew still. He looked toward the ceiling of his nursery.

  A mobile swayed lazily back and forth. The trinket was carved from applewood and depicted a dragon capturing a princess. The dragon’s sinewy tail was wrapped around the princess’ waist. The princess was beautiful. A bejeweled comb nestled in her flowing hair.

  As the mobile swung to and fro, the air seemed to thicken. Edward gazed transfixed at the dazzling decoration. Then he fell backward onto the floor. His eyes closed in sleep. His cheeks flushed with fever.

  Priscilla placed the mirror on the table. What was the meaning of this? One moment, the boy was fine. The next—

  The cabin door burst open. Gloria swept into the room, her eyes wild.

  “You!” She pointed an accusing finger at Priscilla. She was shaking. “What did you do with them? Where are they?”

  Priscilla calmly observed her hysterical mistress. “With what?”

  “Edward’s bottles of medicine. Where did you hide them, you worthless—”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Mistress.”

  Gloria sneered with contempt. “Don’t you? You’ve always thought of yourself as Bianca’s mother. You did this for vengeance.”

  Priscilla blinked. “I love Edward. I would never harm him. The Creator knows I’d love to make you suffer, may he forgive me, but I could never hurt a child.”

  “Then how do you explain three bottles of medicine disappearing? Simon told me only tonight that they were gone.”

  She stared around the makeshift room and rushed to the table by which Priscilla stood. “Are they here?” Gloria frowned as her eyes fell on the mirror. “What is this?” She snatched the looking glass and peered into it. “Is this some trinket you obtained by selling my property? Where’s the medicine, slave? Tell me, or I’ll have you beaten to within an inch of—”

  Gloria’s tirade stopped as the mirror began to reveal a picture. “Simon’s bedchamber? What’s the meaning of this?” she whispered.

  Priscilla cautiously approached the table. “May I see?”

  Gloria sank to her knees, letting the mirror fall from her limp grasp. She began to keen, the sound resembling a tortured animal.

  Priscilla retrieved the mirror. Within its reflection, she saw what she had been
afraid she would see. She tentatively reached for her mistress’ hand.

  The glass showed an opulent bedchamber with crimson hangings and many portraits. One portrait hung at the back of the chamber and dominated all: the picture of an imposing-looking man with a hard face and an upraised hand. Priscilla knew that portrait. The picture depicted Master Simon’s late father.

  As Priscilla stared at the room, the portrait seemed to open like a door. She saw that the picture’s frame was not completely affixed to the wall. A portion could be moved, and the whole picture could then swing outward.

  Behind the portrait, a smaller chamber appeared. A single set of shelves was the only furnishing in the smaller room. The shelves gleamed with the brightness of decorated boxes. The wooden containers were adorned with filigree, but the boxes’ outward adornments were nothing compared to what gleamed inside them. Jewels shone within the boxes, a veritable treasure trove.

  One shelf held only a plain item: a bottle with a skull and crossbones symbol upon it.

  Chapter Nine

  Bianca scrubbed the cabin floor. Annika followed behind her, pretending to clean but really only making sudsy curlicues in the water.

  “I liked your story last night,” Bianca told the girl. She grinned. “That hedgehog sounded like a wonderful pet.”

  Annika laughed. “Prickles was,” she said happily. “Papa was mean to make me turn him loose, though.”

  Bianca shook her head. “Prickles was wild. He didn’t want to live in a cabin. He wanted to be free.”

  Annika sighed. “I would have made him a place outside.” She grinned at Bianca. “Mama and Papa will be home from market soon. I hope the dandy fizz man will be there!”

  Bianca laughed. “You like dandy fizz too?”

  “Yes! It dances, and it makes me burp.”

  “You’re too much, Annika!” Bianca tickled the girl under the chin. Annika squealed with delight. “Now help me cook supper. How do potato pancakes and apple butter sound? I think there’s some leftover chowder too.”

  Annika grinned. “I want the biggest pancake.” The two companions began their work.

  Bianca had been with Annika and her family for only a week, but she felt stronger than she had in some time. Hart Spring was a true sanctuary, and she was grateful to have been led to it. But she often thought of her family across the river. She missed Mabel and Priscilla. She even missed Isaac. And she could not help thinking of Father. What if Edward had grown weaker because of her neglect? He needed her help, and she was hiding away.

  George and Louise entered the cabin. They held sacks of provisions. “Greetings, girls,” Louise said cheerfully. “They had so many things at market today. The cheese lady was there, and—”

  “The dandy fizz man! Was he there?” Annika asked eagerly.

  “You’ll see.” George smiled when he saw the jar of apple butter on the table. “It’s been awhile since I tasted that,” he said. “Didn’t think we had any in the pantry.”

  Bianca smiled at him, and everyone prepared to eat.

  When supper was finished, Louise rose to clear the table. “You girls worked hard all day,” she said. “I’ll clean up.”

  George looked at Louise with a pointed stare. “I shared a story the first night our guest arrived,” he said. “Annika related her tale last night. I think it’s time we heard one from you.”

  Louise sighed. “You’re the better storyteller, George. You should tell it.”

  “She needs to know how we arrived here,” George said gently. “And I think this story is best told by you.”

  “Oh, please don’t think you have to explain,” Bianca said hurriedly. “It’s all right.”

  Louise and George exchanged somber looks. Finally, Louise sat down. “May I relate a tale?”

  Bianca couldn’t help smiling as she joined the family in their responses to Louise’s questions. The ritual was becoming an event she loved dearly, a delightful way to feel as if she belonged and was wanted. She listened as Louise told her story.

  “There was once a husband and wife who worked on the plantation of a kind master and mistress. Well, as kind as people can be who own human beings. They did not whip their slaves, and they sought to make them as comfortable as they could. Anyhow, the wife had been born on the plantation. She had served as wet nurse to the mistress’ youngest son when her own child had been born dead.

  “As the years passed, the plantation fell onto hard times, and the master was forced to make a decision. He needed money to pay mounting debts, so he decided to sell most of his slaves and just keep enough to maintain the plantation. Everyone knew what selling meant, particularly the wife’s husband. He himself had been sold when he was a younger man. Master promised not to split families apart, but auctions were unpredictable. Children were often taken from their mother’s arms, and husbands and wives were often separated, never to see each other again.

  “A week before the auction was to take place, the mistress summoned the wife to her chamber. She handed the wife a pouch of money. ‘I want you to go to the general store for me tomorrow,’ the mistress said. ‘I want you to buy some molasses and coffee.’ She gave the wife a folded cambric handkerchief, adorned with embroidery. ‘Give this handkerchief to the store clerk. It is a gift for his wife. Her name is Janet.’ The wife said she would carry out her mistress’ instructions.

  “The next day, the wife went to the store to purchase the items. The clerk smiled at her kindly. She handed him the handkerchief. The clerk unfolded the cloth. The wife knew it was wrong to look, but she could not resist. She leant forward. On the handkerchief was an embroidered picture of two clasped hands, the hands of a man and woman. Their hands rested on the majestic crowned head of a hart. What could this strange picture mean? The wife wondered.

  “The clerk looked at the wife. ‘There is a place called Hart Spring where slaves have found freedom.’ He smiled as he stroked the delicate handkerchief. His voice grew soft. ‘I can drive you and your husband to the river in my carriage, but you must cross the river yourselves. I will have a lantern and will remain on that side of the river to see you cross safely. Do you want to go there?’

  “The wife was shocked, but hope filled her heart. She felt the familiar stirring in her belly, the reminder that her child was growing within her. Her child could be born free. There would be no danger of the auction block.

  “She raised her head and smiled at the clerk. ‘I accept your offer of assistance,’ she said.

  “All went according to plan. That night, the general store clerk came to the plantation with a sack of coffee that he claimed the wife had forgotten. The husband and wife met him a stone’s throw away from the plantation, and he drove them to the river. They crossed the river safely and have lived in Hart Spring ever since. Their little girl was born five months after their arrival.”

  Louise nodded, indicating that her story was done. The family thanked her for her tale, and she thanked them for listening.

  After a moment, Bianca asked, “Do you think the mistress and the store clerk were punished?”

  Louise bowed her head. Finally, she said, “I do not know, but I think it wouldn’t have mattered to them if they had been.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “Some people are born with courageous spirits. They’ll help those in need for common decency’s sake. One day, I would love to give my mistress this.” She withdrew a handkerchief from her tunic and unfolded it. “I made this myself.”

  She handed the handkerchief to Bianca. On the delicate cloth were embroidered three doves. They were not caged. Beneath them stood a hart, his head held high as a regal king. He appeared to be watching the doves’ joyous flight of freedom.

  Bianca smiled. She rose to her feet and gave Louise a hug. Then she turned to George. “I’m sorry you were sold when you were young,” she said softly.

  George nodded. “I have to remind myself that mysterious things happen every day,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps my sister will find me one day.” He laughed.
“Priscilla’s quite tenacious. If anyone can find freedom—”

  He broke off as he beheld Bianca’s shocked face. He smiled at her. “Thought you’d recognize that name,” he said.

  Chapter Ten

  Mabel was preparing Edward’s supper. The boy was so weak he could barely lift his head. He could only manage small sips of broth. Even so, he needed as much sustenance as possible.

  Mabel lifted the tureen and slowly walked to Edward’s nursery. She opened the door and went inside. Edward lay on his bed. He was very still. Mabel’s heart skipped a beat. Was he—No, Creator be thanked! He was breathing.

  Mabel hurried to the bed and lifted the child’s head. “Wake up, Master Edward. You need strength,” she said soothingly. “It’s vegetable broth.” She spooned soup into the child’s mouth. Most of it dribbled down Edward’s chin, but he managed to swallow a few drops.

  CHING! CHING!

  Mabel looked up. A strange decoration hung from the ceiling. It swayed back and forth. A princess writhed in the coils of a dragon. The comb she wore swayed with the movement of the decoration. The dragon and the princess were entwined in an eternal dance. Their gyrations created a strange, hypnotic music. As the comb swayed in the princess’ hair, Mabel noticed that tiny rivulets of crimson billowed in the air and dispersed, similar to the way dandelion seed was borne upon the breeze. Was the ceiling in need of dusting? A faint fragrance filled the room. The scent was indescribable, a mixture of apples and vanilla.

  “Do you like it?”

  Mabel spun around, the tureen wobbling in her hands. Master Simon had entered the room without her hearing him. “It’s custom made,” he continued. “I bought it from a travelling peddler. It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

  Mabel cleared her throat. “Yes, Master. I-it’s lovely.”

  “Indeed.” Simon’s smile broadened. “You’re Priscilla’s daughter, aren’t you?”