The Unforgiven

by Irina Shapiro

  “Did you hear me?” Sybil demanded. “You delivered half the children on this plantation in your time, so I must rely on your knowledge. I can hardly call Dr. Holbrook, given the circumstances.”

  “Yes, madam,” Mammy replied. “Right away.”

  Mammy took Madeline by the arm and led her into Sybil’s bedroom. Madeline didn’t notice anything except the sea-green bed hangings, which made her feel like she was drowning. She felt sick to her stomach, and terrified of what this examination would yield.

  “Lie back, child,” Mammy said softly.

  Madeline obediently lay on the bed and allowed Mammy to push up her skirts and pull down her pantaloons. She was embarrassed, but Mammy seemed very matter-of-fact and talked to her softly, telling her to relax. Madeline cried out as Mammy slid her fingers inside her and felt around before removing her hand and palpating Madeline’s stomach. Mammy’s eyes were moist with tears and her hand shook as she wiped it on a towel after completing the examination and they both walked back into the parlor.

  “Well?” Sybil demanded.

  “’Bout three months gone,” Mammy said.

  Sybil nodded and turned to look at Madeline. “You will begin to show soon, and I won’t have scandal tainting this family. Not again. You two will go to a cabin in the bayou and remain there until the child is born. Everyone will be told that you went to visit with your mother’s relations in Charleston.”

  “My mother had relations?” Madeline asked, brightening.

  “No, you dimwit, that’s just an explanation for your absence. Your Mammy will deliver the child. She’s good at that,” Sybil added bitterly.

  “What will become of it?” Madeline asked, realizing for the first time that an actual living child would be the result of this catastrophe.

  “It will be taken from you and given to George and Amelia to raise as their own. And you will not breathe a word of it to anyone.”

  “I need to speak to George,” Madeline cried.

  “George is gone.”

  “Gone where?” She felt desperate now, cornered by this cold woman who couldn’t spare Madeline an ounce of compassion in her hour of need.

  “George has gone to fetch his wife home, and beg for her forgiveness. He will be back after the New Year, by which time you’ll be long gone, off to South Carolina to visit with your loving kin,” Sybil added, her tone dripping with sarcasm and chilling Madeline’s blood.

  “And what will happen to me after the baby is born? Will I be allowed to come back?” Madeline asked. Would she be expected to remain in this house with George and Amelia, and her baby? If she had felt lonely and unwelcome before, this would be so much worse. George would denounce her, Amelia would despise her, and Sybil would never truly forgive her for her fall from grace. The thought of living that way brought fresh tears to Madeline’s eyes.

  “Gilbert Montlake is smitten with you. A month after you give birth, your engagement will be announced and you will marry shortly thereafter. You will leave this house and never return. Do you understand? You will never be alone with George again, and you will never see your child, except perhaps on social occasions. Thankfully, Gilbert is too innocent to suspect what you’ve been up to, and if you’re convincing on your wedding night, this episode need never come up again.”

  “But I don’t want to marry Gilbert,” Madeline protested. “I don’t love him.”

  Sybil looked like she was about to chastise Madeline for her stubbornness, but seemed to reconsider. She leaned back against the chair with a sigh and allowed her shoulders to relax, as if she were tired.

  “We’ll discuss the marriage at a later date. Gilbert might lose interest in you while you’re gone and meet someone he likes better. Life can be unpredictable that way. Don’t distress yourself. It’s not good for the child, and the baby should be your first priority right now. You will be quite comfortable at the cabin, and Joe will bring you supplies every week. It will all be all right, Madeline.” Sybil sounded almost maternal. Her voice had softened and her face relaxed into something resembling concern. “You just look after yourself. This baby is precious to us all. He’s the next generation.”

  “It might be a girl,” Madeline retorted, just to be defiant.

  “It might, but she’ll still be a Besson, which is what matters. Now, go back to your room and get some rest. You look ill.” Having dismissed Madeline, Sybil turned her attention to Mammy. “You will go to the cabin today,” she said, her voice edged with steel again. “It must be prepared for habitation, since it hasn’t been used for some time.”

  The look that passed between the two women could have frozen Lake Pontchartrain over, but Madeline hardly noticed. She felt too shaken and dejected to care.

  “Take what you need and tell no one,” Sybil continued. “Just say you’re accompanying Madeline to South Carolina. Joe will bring her by the end of the week. Now, get out. Both of you.”

  “Mammy,” Madeline began once they were alone in the hallway, but Mammy shook her head in dismay and walked away, leaving Madeline completely alone.

  Chapter 35

  May 2014

  London, England

  Gabe experienced a flutter of nervousness when he finally heard Quinn’s voice. He felt guilty as hell for avoiding her calls these past few days, but every time he picked up the phone to call her, he wound up putting it down again, unable to tell her what had been going on for fear of bursting into tears like a child. After the initial shock, the death of his father had hit him like a steam train, and he’d needed a few days to lick his wounds. He was still at the start of the grieving process, but at least now he could be honest with Quinn without upsetting her more than necessary and making her worry about him. There were other things he needed to discuss with her, and he wished he could put off that conversation forever. He’d turned her life upside down when he discovered the existence of a daughter he never knew he had, and now, with his father gone, he had to ask Quinn to deal with yet another life-altering situation.

  “Where in blazes have you been?” Quinn demanded. She was understandably angry, but Gabe also heard relief in her voice. “Are you all right, Gabe? I was so worried.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gabe replied. “I tried to call. Several times, in fact, but I just couldn’t seem to find the strength to tell you the news.” He tried to sound calm, but the tremor in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Gabe, for God’s sake, just tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me. Is Emma all right?”

  Gabe cursed himself for a fool. He hadn’t wanted to upset her and now she was close to tears. “Yes, Emma is fine. Quinn, my father suffered a fatal heart attack. We buried him on Friday.”

  Gabe had been expecting words of sympathy, but what he got instead was a stunned silence. He could hear a sharp intake of breath as Quinn processed the news.

  “Quinn?”

  “You buried him on Friday?” she finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t think to call me? You didn’t think I would get on the next flight home to be there to pay my respects to your father, whom I’d known for years and cared about? You didn’t think I should be by your side to support you and your mother in your loss?” Quinn demanded, her voice trembling with hurt and disbelief.

  She sounded so wounded that for a moment Gabe actually forgot all about his own grief and focused on Quinn’s instead. All his reasons for not calling her seemed ridiculous and he now realized how callous he’d been to leave her out. He’d wanted to protect her, but instead had made her feel like an outsider, whose presence was optional rather than as necessary to him as the air he breathed.

  “Quinn, I’m so sorry,” Gabe pleaded. “I wasn’t thinking. It all happened so quickly. One minute the doctor said he was on the mend, and the next he was gone. We came to the hospital to find his bed empty. He was already at the mortuary, lying on a slab, like a piece of meat. They referred to him as ‘the body.’” Gabe nearly choked when he uttered the words. He had
n’t realized how profoundly the term had affected him. “We weren’t there when he passed. He was all alone.”

  Gabe angrily wiped away the tears that snaked down his cheeks. He’d promised himself that he’d remain in control, but here he was, blubbering like an idiot.

  “Oh, Gabe,” Quinn breathed, her own anger forgotten. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there for you. I can’t begin to imagine how devastated you must have been.”

  “I was always closer to my mother,” Gabe confessed. “I kept my father at arm’s length. He was so old-fashioned and set in his ways. I didn’t think he could ever truly understand me or see my point of view, but now that he’s gone, I realize how unfair I was. It would destroy me if Emma felt that way about me. I wronged him, Quinn, and now it’s too late to make amends.”

  “Gabe, your father loved you, and he knew that you loved him. He wasn’t an easy man to talk to, and yes, he was set in his ways, but he was raised during a different time, when people weren’t as open about their feelings and needs. He didn’t parent you the way you parent Emma, but then again, most people of his generation didn’t.”

  Gabe used the back of his hand to rub at his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose he did. He never hugged me or kissed me when I was a child. He thought it inappropriate. Instead, he’d pat me on the head, or clap me on the shoulder and call me a ‘good lad.’ He was proud of me, though. He told my mother.”

  “Of course he was proud of you. You are the perfect son.”

  “Hardly. I had a child out of wedlock with a woman I barely knew. In my father’s eyes, that was shameful,” Gabe said softly.

  “Gabe, your father lit up like a Christmas tree whenever Emma walked into the room. He doted on her, and she made his final months so much more rewarding. She might not have come about in the way your father expected, but she was a gift, and he treated her as such.”

  “He was worried about our baby being born a bastard,” Gabe confessed, cringing at the word.

  “Was he really?” Quinn asked. She sounded incredulous. “We will get married eventually, but now it won’t be next month. We’ll have to wait until after the baby is born, maybe even until next year.”

  “Quinn, he would have wanted us to marry. That was part of the reason my mother wanted to have the funeral as quickly as possible. She wants the wedding to go on as planned.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Quinn replied. “You father died a few days ago, and your mother is in mourning. How can we possibly go on as if nothing has happened?”

  “We can’t, but maybe we can just go to a registry office. We can have a party later, after the baby is born.”

  Gabe heard Quinn’s sigh of resignation. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we will do.”

  “Would you be all right with that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, sounding as if she’d just agreed to march to the guillotine.

  “There’s something else, love,” Gabe said, bracing himself.

  “Oh?”

  Gabe sighed. There was no turning back now. “We might have to move to Berwick.”

  “What? Why?”

  “My mum can’t handle the house on her own, and she will go mad living there alone.”

  “Do you think she might agree to sell the place and move to some nice, modern flat in the heart of Berwick?” Quinn asked carefully.

  “Not a chance.” Gabe had suggested that exact same thing, but Phoebe was adamant about staying in her husband’s ancestral home. “The de Rosels settled on that bit of land right after the Norman invasion and have remained there since. My mother would see it as the ultimate act of betrayal to sell the lot and move to some flat. She says it’s my birthright, and she wants our son to be the next lord of the manor.”

  “Right.” Quinn said. “But what about your job? And mine? What about our homes?”

  “I can find another job. And we can keep my London flat, so you can stay there when you need to be in London. It’s too small for a family anyway. We’re bursting at the seams already, and once the baby comes…”

  “Yes, I’ve thought of that,” she conceded. They would have to move sooner rather than later.

  “There are ten bedrooms at the manor house. Just think of how many children we can have,” Gabe said, smiling at the possibility.

  “Is that your invading ancestor speaking through you? You want to keep me barefoot and pregnant for the next decade?” Quinn joked.

  “Hmm, the thought is strangely appealing,” he replied, making her laugh.

  “What about my house?” Quinn asked.

  Gabe knew she loved her little converted chapel. It was her home, her sanctuary, the one place where she felt completely at peace, even when she was alone. “That’s up to you, but you won’t have much use for it once we move. The four of us can hardly fit into one room.”

  “In the Middle Ages, there’d be a dozen of us, and we’d have all our domestic animals living indoors with us,” Quinn replied. Only a fellow historian would see the humor in that, and Gabe chuckled at the image that sprang to mind.

  “We can try it out, but I don’t think the reality would be nearly as ‘glamorous’ as the fantasy. So, you would consider moving?” he asked carefully. “Mum would love to help us with the children. It would give her something to do to keep her mind off Dad.”

  “Gabe, if we have to move to Berwick-upon-Tweed, then we will move. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to sell your ‘ancestral stronghold.’ Hey, do you think they buried any treasure or the bodies of their enemies on the property?”

  “Anything is possible. They were a bloodthirsty lot. We can start digging anytime you like,” Gabe promised, enjoying the banter. He felt lighter than he had in days, and it made him hope that in time, he would learn to live with his loss.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Imagine if I were marrying an accountant,” Quinn quipped. “My life would be so dull.”

  “Good thing you’re marrying a college administrator then. Imagine the adventures we shall have,” Gabe replied, making her laugh. “If you prove yourself worthy, I might even trust you to file some budget reports.”

  “You’re all heart, Dr. Russell.”

  “I am, and it belongs only to you,” Gabe said simply. “Are you feeling well?”

  “I’ve actually felt a bit off, so Kathy—that’s Seth’s ex-wife—took me to see a friend who is an obstetrician. She said all is well,” Quinn assured him. “She did a scan and I saw our baby. It’s so perfect, Gabe. I think it was waving at me. She asked if I wanted to know the sex.”

  “Did you find out?” Gabe asked, trying to keep the pang of hurt out of his voice.

  “No, of course not. I wouldn’t want to find out without you there.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Can you forward me a picture of the scan?” he asked, desperate to feel a part of what Quinn was experiencing.

  “Of course. It’s a bit blurry, but you can see still it,” she replied. “And you can’t guess at the sex because it has its legs crossed, the little devil.”

  “I don’t want to know the sex.”

  “Neither do I. Everyone says it’s a boy anyway.”

  “Who’s everyone?” Gabe asked. Only his mother had tried to guess the sex of the baby, as far as he knew.

  “My grandmother,” Quinn replied, her tone becoming heavier. “She has Alzheimer’s. She was lucid the first time I met her, but couldn’t remember me when she saw me again on Saturday.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. At least I got to speak to her once. It felt surreal, knowing I’m directly linked to this little old woman of whom I knew nothing my whole life. Even being with Seth is still strange.”

  “Quinn, when are you coming home?” Gabe hated the desperation in his voice, but he missed her the way an amputee missed a limb.

  “I’d get on a flight tomorrow if it wasn’t for Rhys,” Quinn complained. “Jason forwarded the footage we shot, but Rhys has a few requests and w
ants us to get more coverage of the bayou and the slave quarters.”

  “How do you feel about the episode focusing on your family’s past?”

  Quinn was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I want to resurrect Madeline. I still don’t know what became of her, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t live happily ever after. On the other hand, it feels awfully personal. Even though I’ve just found out about this branch of the family and have no real connection to the South, I feel strangely responsible. It shames me that my American ancestors owned slaves.”

  “Quinn, during that time many Brits owned slaves as well. It was a different world, so you can’t take their transgressions upon yourself. It’s history, and it’s up to you to tell it. That’s what we do as historians.”

  “Easy for you to say. Your whole ancestral line is nauseatingly heroic,” Quinn replied, only half-joking.

  “Hardly. I have no doubt that my ancestors raped and pillaged with the best of them. That’s what conquering armies did, after all.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Look, I’ve got to go. Jason is picking me up in a few minutes and we’re off to the swamp again. That place scares me. It’s like entering some cursed kingdom that’s been slumbering for hundreds of years, but it’s not really asleep, just pretending, and waiting to pounce when you least expect it.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak this way about any other place.”

  “It’s otherworldly, especially at twilight.”

  “Don’t get all fanciful on me, Dr. Allenby. Just finish the assignment and come back to us. We miss you.”

  “I love you, and miss you. Give my love to Emma. I can’t wait to see her.”

  “I will. I love you, Quinn.”

  Gabe disconnected the Bluetooth and fixed his eyes on the road. All in all, the conversation hadn’t gone as badly as he’d feared. Quinn was well, if a little spooked and homesick, and not completely averse to moving up north. And the baby… Gabe couldn’t wait to meet his child. Quinn had been hardly showing when she left, but he hadn’t felt the baby move, so on some level, it still didn’t feel quite real. He wished he’d been there for the scan and seen the little one with his own eyes.