Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  He was making grunting sounds in anticipation, and she could tell by his fumbling movements that he was hurriedly getting out of his clothes. She rolled to one side and was on her feet, scrambling away from him in the darkness.

  “Don’t you play games with me, Julie.” He spoke as though addressing a child. “We must be quiet, you know. Now come over here. Don’t make me search for you in the dark.”

  She did not reply. Instead she was taking tiny steps, silently moving toward her little desk which sat against the wall on the opposite side of the room. If Sara had not rearranged anything, the silver-handled letter opener would still be there, the tip as sharp as a knife and just as deadly.

  “Julie, I’m warning you. If I have to raise my voice, I will. I’ll tell your mother you coaxed me in here, that you still wanted me even though I married her. I’ll say you were angry, jealous. She’ll have an attack and die, and her blood will be on your hands. Now, I’m giving you a chance to cooperate and enjoy all that I want to give you.”

  She took a few more steps, slowly, cautiously. Reaching out, she groped for the desk but felt only air. It must be farther away.

  “Julie, I can order you to leave Rose Hill, you know.” His voice grew louder and she tensed, fearing that her mother would hear, for she had always been a light sleeper. When he spoke again, she knew he was closer…coming after her.

  “I’ll tell people you went into a rage when you learned I married your mother, and I sent you away to keep you from causing trouble and upsetting her. And where will you go? Back to those savages of the sea? What can they give you except animal lust? I’ll give you security, a roof over your head—”

  Her fingertips touched the polished cherrywood, and frantically she ran her hands across the surface, groping for the letter opener. Where was it? Oh, God, please don’t let Sara have moved it. She never rearranged things. But it had been so long. Perhaps Sara had put it in a drawer…

  And then she touched it, but her fingers were shaking, and instead of grasping the potential weapon, she knocked it to the floor. Dropping to her knees, she felt about, her fingertips fluttering, seeking, her whole body quivering with terror.

  “Julie, I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to punish you. I’m going to take you to that bed and be very rough with you. I won’t try to give you pleasure, but I will take mine. I’ll spread your legs, and then I will—”

  She tried to shut out the sound of the filthy, obscene descriptions. He was a madman! A fiend! And oh, what a front he had put on for them, pretending to be so aristocratic, such a polished, refined gentleman!

  She touched the letter opener. Her fingers closed about the heavy, ornately designed handle. Squeezing it tightly against her bosom, she whispered as loud as she dared, “Don’t come any closer, Virgil, or I’ll kill you—”

  “Kill me?” He laughed shortly. “Oh, Julie…”

  She felt his hand groping for her in the darkness, and she slashed out, then felt the point of the letter opener strike flesh, puncture, stab…

  With a cry of anguish he leaped backwards, smashing into something. “You bitch! You dirty little bitch! I’ll get you for this. You’ll see! You’ll pay—”

  He stumbled across the room, groping for the door. Julie heard it open and close, then quickly yanked open a desk drawer, reaching inside for the sulphur matches. She struck one, then moved to the oil lamp on the desk. Soon the room was bathed in a warm, mellow glow.

  She ran to put on her gown to cover her nakedness, then padded quickly to the door and flung it open, the letter opener still held menacingly in her hand. She was listening for any sound that might tell her that her mother had heard Virgil’s cries and awakened.

  The hall was dark, silent, with only a thin shaft of light coming from Julie’s open doorway. She could hear no sound. But then she saw the blood…bright red droplets forming a path down the hall leading toward Virgil’s room. Turning, she saw more stains on the rug in her room.

  There was a lock on her door, but she knew it could be easily picked. As a child, Myles had done so many times in order to get into her room and mess up her toys and other possessions just to be pesky, as brothers can be. Quickly she dragged a heavy chair across the floor and placed it in front of the door. Should Virgil try to break in, she would hear him. And God forgive her, but next time she would send that letter opener straight into his evil heart.

  She lay down on the bed, breathing raggedly. First thing in the morning, she thought quickly, she would have Sara get the bloodstains off the rugs before Dr. Perkins came. Virgil would make up some story, she knew, to explain his wound.

  Her mind was whirling. What if she had killed him? What explanation could she have given to her mother? It would kill her mother if she knew the truth. Julie had to protect herself against him, but she could not take his life—at least, not while her mother lived. And she really didn’t want to kill anyone anyway, not if she could defend herself in some other way.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth. Her weapon was tucked safely beneath her pillow. Visions of Myles floated before her, and she thought how he would know what to do. He would not allow her to be harmed. He would not let Virgil hurt her mother or take control of Rose Hill.

  And then her thoughts drifted to Derek…his gentle kisses, bold caresses…his strength and warmth. It was his face she envisioned last, before sleep finally carried her away to peace.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Julie spent her days sitting beside her mother’s bed, ministering to her needs, reading to her, doing everything possible to make her comfortable. Her mother had bad days, however, when she would sleep almost constantly. Julie would awaken her periodically to patiently spoon Sara’s special chicken broth through her lips, trying to keep her thin, frail body nourished.

  Often she would ask Julie whether there was news of Myles. Tears would fill her eyes each time she was told there was none. And she wanted to know about the war, whether the South was winning. Julie told her only what she wanted to hear, never disclosing news of a battle or skirmish where the North had claimed victory.

  One evening her mother seemed stronger than usual, and she asked to be propped up against her pillows into a sitting position. Julie thought it unwise but did not want to argue. Despite her illness, her mother still gave evidence of being stubborn. How Julie wished she could use some of that will to overcome her failing heart.

  Her mother spoke in a hoarse, rasping voice, each word obviously an effort. “I…I’m so terribly sorry…I didn’t have…the ransom…that you suffered so—”

  Julie patted her hand, so white against the sheet that they almost blended into one lifeless color. “Mother, you mustn’t dwell on that. It’s over, and it wasn’t so bad, really.”

  With a wan smile, her mother murmured, “Your Captain Ironheart, did you fall in love with him?”

  Julie felt her cheeks flush. More and more, lately, as she tossed and turned and tried to sleep, ever alert for any sound that might mean Virgil was trying to break into her room, her mind filled with thoughts of Derek and the moments they had shared. “No, I did not fall in love with Derek,” she answered finally, turning away, not wanting her mother to see her face. “I don’t even know if he’s alive.” And she told of his fate.

  “That’s terrible.” Tears slipped down her mother’s sunken cheeks. “I’m so sorry, dear. Maybe he did make it to shore. I pray he did.”

  “He treated me kindly, under the circumstances. But can we talk of other things?”

  “No…” She was straining to speak once again. Raising a skeletal hand to clutch Julie’s arm, she whispered, “I must tell you what…happened. Virgil was furious…said he would help me with the ransom if I married him…claimed it was me he loved all along…said he wouldn’t have you after…”

  Her voice broke. Julie hastened to tell her it wasn’t necessary that she explain. “Let’s don’t talk about it, please.”

  “I must.” She stared up at her daughter with
beseeching eyes. “I have to tell you. He—he said he didn’t want you…that he knew what they probably did to you. I had no choice but to marry him, Julie. I was desperate. I had…no one. Please understand—”

  “Mother, I do understand, and I wish you wouldn’t talk about it anymore. You should think only of regaining your strength and getting well so you can once again run Rose Hill. You’ll make it as profitable and strong as it once was. I know you will.”

  “No…I’m not going to get well,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know that…as well as I do. Virgil will take over. Don’t…don’t marry him, Julie. I know he’ll ask you. He lied to me. He still wanted you…only married me to get my land. He was a fake. I found out he had lied…about everything…shortly after we married.”

  “Don’t worry, Mother. You’re going to get well, and besides, nothing could make me marry Virgil. And who knows? Once you’re well and back on your feet, perhaps the two of you will be quite happy.” The smile she forced to her lips was shaky. She hoped it looked real. She couldn’t let her mother know what a real monster Virgil was. This was not the time to worry her with such matters.

  Her mother turned her face to the side, pressing her cheek against the satin-covered pillow. “I was wrong…to ever want to marry him…even to save Rose Hill. What will Myles think when he hears?”

  “He’ll understand, as I do. He’ll be back one day, and you can tell him yourself. But please rest now. You’ve talked more today than you have since I’ve come home. I can tell it’s worn you out. Let me lower your head so you can take a nap before supper.”

  Her mother nodded, too tired to protest. Julie tucked the lace-edged coverlet under her chin. She was asleep at once.

  Sara had been sitting quietly in a darkened corner of the room, and she followed Julie out into the hallway. “She just ain’t gonna get no better, is she, missy?” she asked fearfully, knotting the hem of her apron in her hands. “She’s gonna die. I just knows she is.”

  Julie swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “Yes, Sara, she’ll die, but we want her death to come as painlessly as possible. That’s why we must do everything we can to make her comfortable and happy.”

  Sara glanced about suspiciously, as though she expected to see Virgil lurking about, eavesdropping. She spoke so low, Julie had to strain to hear her. “He don’t do nothin’ to make things easier fo’ her. That’s fo’ certain. I hear him talk ugly to her lots of times. I think he wants her to go on and die so he can take over. I wish Mastah Myles was here. He’d put a stop to it. I knows he would. He’d fix him for botherin’ you too.” Her chocolate eyes blazed angrily.

  “He hasn’t bothered me since that first night, Sara, except to whisper filthy words every chance he gets. Don’t you worry about me. You just take care of Mother.”

  Sara shook her head fearfully. “He’s gonna try again. I knows it, and you do too. He’s still mad about you stabbin’ him. He ain’t forgot it.”

  “I’m on my guard. Be sure of that.” And she gave Sara what she hoped was a reassuring hug.

  That night her mother was quite nauseated, and Julie sat with her till very late. Finally, when she felt her mother would rest and not awaken anytime soon, Julie returned to her own room, bone tired.

  She pushed the chair in place in front of the door, but she did not bother to light her bedside lamp. She undressed, pulled on her gown, and lay down on the bed, glad that for once, sleep would probably come immediately, as she was exhausted.

  Something awakened her. She sat straight up, darting frightened glances about in the darkness. Then she turned to reach for the letter opener which she kept beneath her pillow. But it was not there! Frantically her hands went under the sheets, the bedcovers, scrambling in search of the weapon.

  Then her blood turned to ice as she heard the soft, evil laugh. Something smacked across her face before she had time to scream, and scream she would have, from the very depths of her soul, even forgetting about waking her mother. Julie was being forced back onto the bed, and realized dimly that one of the satin pillows was being mashed against her nose and mouth, muffling any sounds she made.

  “There’s no weapon for you tonight, my love,” Virgil was grunting, tearing at her gown with one hand while he held the pillow in place with the other. “Tonight I’m going to take what I’ve been dreaming of for so very long…”

  She kicked out at him, but he was straddling her with his heavy thighs, weighting down her legs so she was unable to move. She felt his swollen organ thrusting at her, and then he penetrated, and she screamed against the pillow as the pain ripped all the way up and into her belly.

  “…told you I’d be rough if you resisted me,” he panted, pushing himself in and out. “Oh, this is good, Julie…so good. It was worth waiting for…”

  The pain subsided as his strokes slowed. She forced herself to try to stop screaming, for blackness was beginning to inch its way into her consciousness, suffocating her as she struggled to breathe. Sensing her surrender, Virgil relaxed his hold on the pillow, allowing her to gulp in sweet, precious air.

  “You make a sound and I’ll smother you next time, you hot-blooded wench.” He lowered his head, biting down on one nipple, and she clamped her teeth together to hold back her cry of agony. Suddenly he lifted his lips from her breast and made a whimpering noise, as though he, too, were fighting to hold back a scream. His movements turned to quick, pounding thuds, and then he was slumping over her, panting heavily.

  He lay there for long moments, whispering how good it had been, how much better it would be next time, because he would not have to hold her down. “You know when you’re beaten, don’t you? You know I’ll take you anytime I please! I would’ve been back before now, but there’s a black wench I’ve been taking my pleasure with every night. Only she ran away, and I decided I’d kept you waiting long enough…let you think you had the upper hand. Only now, you know who owns you, don’t you?”

  He raised the pillow and released her, snapping, “And don’t scream now, or so help me, I’ll gag you and beat you within an inch of your life. One day, when I’ve got you off somewhere alone, I’ll make you pay for stabbing me. But don’t try my patience. I’d just as soon see your simpering mother die anyway, so I can be rid of her.”

  Julie could only lie there, stunned, her body burning with pain and humiliation. Never had she hated another human being more. Never had she wished to take a life as she did in that moment. But she was powerless to do anything except lie before him, vulnerable and submissive.

  Finally he moved off the bed, and though she could not see his face, she knew he must be smiling in triumph. “Tomorrow night and the night after, do not put a chair in front of your door, for I’ll be back, sweet Julie, to do with you as I please. And remember, one word of protest, one finger lifted in defense, and I’ll see to it that your mother knows all about us. The sooner I see her in her coffin, the happier I’ll be.”

  Venomously Julie spat out the words she could no longer hold back: “One day, you contemptible savage, you’ll answer for this!”

  Chuckling softly, he left her.

  Julie lay there for a long time, crying until her head ached as much as her abused body. There was nothing she could do, not as long as her mother lived. She couldn’t run away and leave her at the mercy of that man. And she would do nothing to hasten her mother’s death, for then Julie would not know another moment’s peace. No, she would have to endure Virgil’s depravities and lust as long as her mother drew a breath. But then, by God, if she had to in order to escape, she would kill him!

  Sara saw the bruises the next morning as she helped Julie with her bath, and she covered her mouth with her hands and wept out loud. “Lord, dear Lord. I knowed he was gonna do it. I knowed it. He been stealin’ down to Sara Jane’s at night, and he near ’bout killed her, and she run away. I should’a knowed he’d try again with you…”

  Julie winced with pain as she sank down into the tub of hot, soapy water. Virgil’s long
nails had scratched her in many places, and now the wounds were stinging. “Sara, I hate your having to know about this, and I wouldn’t have let you see me this way, but I’m too weak to bathe myself. You mustn’t say a word about this to anyone, do you understand? I’ll deal with it myself.”

  “Oh, no’m. I wouldn’t say nothin’. You knows that. But what you gonna do? If your mama finds out, it’ll kill her. I knows it will.”

  “She isn’t going to find out,” Julie snapped.

  Sara gently rubbed her back with a sponge. “How you gonna keep away from him? He’ll be back every night.”

  “I could move into Mother’s room, but he’d order me to come out, saying if I didn’t, he’d make a scene. He’s made it quite clear he hopes she’ll hurry up and die, and he has no qualms about hastening her last breath. I suppose there’s nothing I can do.”

  “But what you gonna do when she dies?” Sara cried. “You gonna let that man have Rose Hill?”

  “The day my mother is buried,” Julie replied quietly, “I’m leaving here. Virgil can have Rose Hill. If Mother knew the truth, that’s what she would want me to do.”

  “But what about Mastah Myles?”

  Julie squeezed her eyes shut as pain moved through her at the thought of her brother. “I don’t know, Sara. I haven’t made plans about that yet.”

  Sara was quiet for a long while, then, as she was drying Julie with a soft towel, she said, “Miss Julie, you gonna go off and leave that man with all your mama’s nice things?”

  “What things?” she replied absently, her mind burning with anger and fear over the suffering she would have to endure in the days and weeks to come…for as long as her mother lived.

  “She’s got a lot of silver. And what about her jewelry? She’s got diamonds and gold. Them things is worth a lot. You gonna just leave them? You think she’d want him to have them?”