Page 25 of The Unforgiven
“Grandmamma won’t have it.”
“But why?” Madeline exclaimed.
“There’s history there, little one.”
Madeline started, now wide awake. “History? They knew each other before?”
“Of course. Where do you think Mammy came from? Your father took her with him when he left. Your Mammy has family here—two sons and their wives and children. They haven’t seen each other since Mammy left, but I’m sure they’re happy to be reunited at last.”
Madeline swallowed down nausea. Mammy had lied to her. She knew all about Daddy’s family. She knew about the plantation and had lived here before. Mammy had children that Madeline knew nothing about, children she’d never thought to mention, not even today when Madeline had poured out her troubles to her. Madeline felt sick at heart. Did everyone always lie and deceive?
“And what about Tess?” she demanded. “Did she come from here as well?”
“No. Your father must have purchased her after he left.”
“George, what did my father do?” Madeline asked, her need to know now driven by anger. “Why was he cut off by his family?”
George shook his head. “I don’t know. I was very young when it all happened, and no one would have told me the truth anyway. I just know that he was cast out and told never to return. No one spoke of him again. I asked my father, but he told me I was better off not knowing. And Grandmamma will take the secret to her grave. She’s a proud woman, and couldn’t bring herself to forgive Uncle Charles, not even after my father died, leaving no one to run the plantation. She managed everything until I was old enough to take the reins. She put her heart and soul into this place, so I can’t openly defy her.”
“She holds me responsible for my father’s actions,” Madeline said, her tone bitter.
“She doesn’t hold you responsible, but you are a reminder of something she’d rather forget. And perhaps, in some small measure, seeing you has made her question her judgement.”
Madeline doubted it. Sybil Besson didn’t seem like a woman who ever questioned her own judgment, only that of others.
“I know I’m young, but if I had a child, I can’t begin to imagine what he’d have to do to have me cut him out of my heart this way,” Madeline said.
“You are right, you are young. There are things you don’t understand, little Maddy.”
His use of her pet name startled Madeline. No one had ever called her Maddy except her parents. It was special, and private, but it would be rude to correct him.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep.” George leaned over and kissed Madeline on the forehead, the way her daddy used to do. “Sleep well.”
George pulled back the mosquito netting and adjusted it so there were no openings, then picked up his candle and left the room as quietly as he had come.
FOURTEEN
APRIL 2014
London, England
Gabe shut his laptop with the air of a man who’d just moved mountains. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d rearranged several end-of-term meetings, locked in three guest lecturers to take his classes, and booked a flight to New Orleans. The Institute of Archeology directors would not be happy with him for taking two weeks off so close to the end of the school year, but Gabe had decided it was more important for him to be with Quinn. She’d sounded emotional on the telephone when she’d told him about meeting her father and brother, and now she was already immersed in the story of Madeline, thanks to an ivory fan Seth had given Quinn as a gift.
Whether Madeline had anything to do with Quinn remained to be seen, but the fact that the girl didn’t seem to appear in any family records or old photographs was enough to arouse Quinn’s curiosity, and in turn, Rhys Morgan’s. Quinn had decided to extend her stay in Louisiana by a fortnight, and last Gabe heard, Rhys was waiting on approval from the powers that be for his request to send a camera crew to New Orleans to film Quinn’s quest for her family history. And if anyone could smell a good story, it was Rhys Morgan, damn his overly sensitive nose.
Gabe’s initial reaction didn’t do him any credit. He was annoyed and upset with Quinn’s decision to extend her visit. This trip should have taken a few days, but she’d already been in Louisiana for nearly a fortnight, and would be staying for another fortnight to complete her research and the filming for the program. Gabe wanted her back. He was being selfish; he’d realized that after a night out with Pete and a conversation with his mother, who always put things in perspective, offering him a surprisingly unbiased point of view. She never took his side simply because hewas her son. She just gave him her honest opinion, as did Pete, whose take on things had evolved over the course of his twenty-year marriage to Brenda. So, perhaps, it was really Brenda’s opinion that Gabe was hearing, but it didn’t matter. All three of them were right.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable?” Pete McGann had asked him over a pint at their favorite pub. “This is important to her. After all these years, Quinn can finally put a name and a face to the people who brought her into this world. She’s an archeologist, a historian; she needs to know her own story above all else.”
“That’s a very astute observation, Pete,” Gabe had conceded, “and I completely understand Quinn’s need to discover something of where she comes from, but I would just feel better if I were there with her.”
“She’s a big girl.”
“She’s a big girl who loves taking unnecessary risks.” Gabe hadn’t told Pete about Quinn’s run-in with Robert Chatham at his Edinburgh hotel. Her lack of judgment on that particular occasion still rankled him, and frightened him as well. Quinn had managed to get away from Chatham, but things could have easily gone the other way. She could have been badly hurt, both emotionally and physically, and the repercussions would have been even more severe had Robert Chatham turned out to be her biological father. That scenario didn’t bear thinking about, especially since Quinn’s unplanned pregnancy was a direct result of that encounter and their subsequent row. Gabe still felt a pang of remorse when he recalled that night, and his own carelessness the following morning, but he couldn’t feel regret about the baby. His heart fluttered with joy every time he thought of “the little bean” and he couldn’t wait to hold the child in his arms and finally see its sweet face.
Pete had looked at Gabe and burst out laughing. “I’ve known you since uni, mate, and I’ve never seen you like this. You are like the proverbial caveman who wants to drag his woman by the hair into his cave.”
Gabe had set down his mug and stared at Pete. Did he really come off as some testosterone-driven Neanderthal? “I’m just feeling a bit overprotective. She’s alone and pregnant, Pete, in a place where she knows no one.”
