This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  Julie reeled, and reached out to clutch a bedpost to steady herself as she searched his face beyond the blur of her tears. "What do you mean?" she hissed. "She is going to get well—isn't she?"

  His fingers gripped her arm, and he led her out in the hallway. The doctor cleared his throat and said, "Julie, you're a grown woman, and I think you should be told the truth. No, your mother isn't going to get well. She's going to die. It's her heart, and she's getting weaker every day. All I can do—all anyone can do—is try to make her comfortable."

  With a sigh, he spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Julie, it was the hand of God that brought you back here at this time. I think you'll be able to keep her alive awhile longer. Just do your best to make her happy. Don't let her get upset or worry about anything. Try not to discuss Myles, the war, or anything else that might put stress on her heart. I wish I could say something to give you hope, but I cannot."

  There was a giant roaring in her ears, and she could not hear his words over its sound. She wanted only to be alone, to sort out the pieces, to absorb the harsh reality of the terrible blow she'd just received. Her mother was going to die! And there was nothing anyone could do about it!

  Stumbling along, she made her way to her room and closed the door behind her. The doors to the portico were open, and a cool wind filtered through, making the delicate white curtains billow and float mysteriously about. Sara had turned the satin coverlet back to reveal crisp, clean sheets, but she did not want to lie down. Instead she moved outside, under the curtain of silver stars, to stare into the night and let the silent tears flow.

  Fate had brought her home. Had she been delayed, she might have found her mother long dead, with Virgil in complete control of Rose Hill. No, she thought defiantly, clenching her fists, that wouldn't happen. She could not stop death from snatching her mother from this life, but she could prevent Virgil from taking what her mother had spent so many years building up. It was what her mother would want her to do, and by God, she vowed, she would find a way to stop him.

  Standing there in the gentle breeze, wrapped in the cloak of night, Julie lost track of time. She saw Dr. Perkins leave in his carriage and disappear from view. She was dimly aware that Sara and Lionel turned off the lamps downstairs and retired to the servants' quarters at the rear of the estate.

  It was so hard to believe she was really here, in her own room, after so long a time. But why did it have to be this way? she thought bitterly, angrily. Why did she have to come home to find her mother on her deathbed?

  Finally she turned and went inside, closing the doors behind her. The room was completely dark, and she saw no need to step behind the tapestry-covered dressing screen to remove her clothing. She stripped, moving from memory to where Sara would have laid out her nightgown.

  She was about to slip the garment over her head when a hand clamped her left breast, and at the same time something covered her mouth, stifling her scream of terror. She was being wrestled backwards across the room, toward the bed, and she threw out her arms, clawing, scratching, kicking, struggling to fight and defend herself from the crazed attacker.

  "Julie, stop it...." A familiar voice hissed in her ear. It was Virgil! She stopped struggling, stiffening as he rushed on in hot little gasps: "Don't fight it, you little spitfire. I will make it as good for you as those pirates did. You'll see. Just relax, and I'll take my hand away from your mouth. Don't you dare scream. You mother might hear, and the shock would kill her...."

  When Julie made no move, he flung her down on the bed. She whispered harshly, angrily, "Have you lost your mind, you filthy beast? Just what do you think you're doing? How dare you come here and—"

  He laughed, a deep, guttural sound. "I'm going to show you what it's like with a real man, my love. I'm going to make you moan and groan and beg and plead. I'll make it so good for you, my darling, that you'll want me in your bed every night."

  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 further 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 —-"

  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 t
ry 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 14

  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 my mother."

  "But what are 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?"

  Julie sighed, thinking how that would be one more blow to suffer, leaving all the family heirlooms and her mother's expensive jewelry for Virgil. He'd be left with everything, and she would leave her home penniless and destitute. "I suppose I have no choice. When I leave, it will be quickly and quietly. I won't be packing trunks, Sara. He'd try to stop me if he caught me. He might even kill me."

  Sara shuddered, then asked, "Why don't we start hidin' things?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "A little at a time. We'll sneak things out to Lionel, and he can dig a hole somewhere and bury them. That's what I hear folks is doin' all
over Savannah—buryin' their valuables so if the Yankees come, they can't steal 'em. We'll do the same with all your mama's things. Then you can sneak back and dig 'em up. Won't be nothin' Mastah Oates can do, 'cause once he realizes they is gone, they'll be buried, and he won't know where."

  Julie's heart began to pound with excitement. For the first time in so long she could not remember when, she felt a singe of hope. "Yes, Sara, that's what we'll do. But we'll have to be very careful and take only a few things at a time, so he won't notice anything missing. First of all, we'll start with Mother's jewelry and the small silver pieces." Julie hugged the older woman happily. "Oh, Sara, how blessed I am to have a friend like you."

  Sara beamed. "Shucks, Miss Julie, I couldn't love you more if'in you was my own young'un, but they is something you better know—"

  Julie raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

  "When you go, me and Lionel is goin' too. We ain't staying with that man one day after yo' mama is buried."

  "Sara, I'll give you your freedom today if you want it. That's the least I can do for all your devotion. I can persuade Mother to sign any papers necessary, and you can go on and leave."

  "Oh, no," Sara said quickly. "I don't want to be free of you, and Lionel said the same thing. We'd have run off a long time ago if it hadn't been for leavin' yo' mama alone with that man. And we felt like you and Mastah Myles would come back one day."

  "Oh, Mammy, I love you for this," Julie said fervently and hugged her.

  * * *

  Lionel reported that the coloreds in town gathered by the waterfront and exchanged gossip, and it was common knowledge that Virgil Oates was becoming a heavy gambler.

  On one such night, he got up from the supper table, walked to where Julie was sitting, and planted a moist kiss on her cheek. She shuddered with revulsion, but he merely laughed and said, "I hate leaving you alone, my love, but don't worry. I'll be back."