Page 86 of The Unforgiven
FORTY-FOUR
For the next few days, Mammy allowed Madeline as little contact with the child as possible. She kept him in her own cot and took him away as soon as Madeline fed him. Mammy referred to the baby only as “the boy” and refused to engage in any conversations about a future in which Madeline got to be his mother.
Madeline still felt exhausted and bruised, and her body did things she hadn’t expected it to. She’d thought that giving birth would be the end of her ordeal, but she’d been wrong. Her breasts were engorged with milk and painful to the touch. She’d even had a touch of fever when the milk started to come in, and sweat so profusely that Mammy had to keep washing out her shifts and handing her clean ones before they even had a chance to dry out. She was still bleeding, and her belly felt like a sagging sail after the wind had died, leaving the fabric to hang limply off the mast. Mammy said her body would return to normal, but it needed time, and the help of a tight corset.
“No, Mammy, not yet,” Madeline pleaded. “I can’t bear it. And it’s too hot.”
Mammy shook her head. “You want to get your figure back or not?”
“Yes, but I’m still so uncomfortable.”
“No one said birthing children was a comfortable business,” Mammy countered. “The sooner you back to normal, the sooner you can go.”
But Madeline didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay. The thought of never seeing her son again filled her with such unbearable pain that she pushed it away, again and again, refusing to even picture a future in which he wasn’t with her.
“Mammy, let me hold him,” Madeline pleaded, but Mammy refused.
“It’ll only be harder to let him go.”
“Mammy, please.”
“He ain’t yours to hold,” Mammy reminded her cruelly.
Madeline turned her face to the wall and wept. She knew Mammy was only trying to protect her, but her heart longed for the child, and her arms stretched out to him whenever Mammy brought him for a feeding. Madeline studied him as he suckled at her breast, his cheeks puffing out in a way that would have been funny if it didn’t break her heart to know that once Sybil learned of the birth, she’d never hold her baby again.
Madeline secretly named him George. She hated George for abandoning her, but she still stubbornly believed he had loved her. He was just too weak to stand up to his grandmother, who’d dominated him all his life. Madeline would see George once she went back to the plantation, and then all would be resolved between them. They would not be lovers again, but perhaps they could still be friends, and maybe he would allow her to be a part of their son’s life. He had the power to do that, surely.
Sybil came three days after the birth, alerted by Joe, who had visited every other day over the past two weeks to check on Madeline. Mammy had sent him away with strict instructions not to say anything to Sybil until after the baby came. She hadn’t wanted Sybil anywhere near Madeline during the birth. She couldn’t do much to help her granddaughter, but she could help her in this. Birthing was a harrowing enough business without someone hovering nearby, ready to snatch up the child as soon as it came into the world, and Madeline needed a few days to recover, and to come to terms with what was about to happen—not that she ever would.
Seeing the baby and holding him in her arms had undone all the careful work Mammy put in, talking to Madeline and trying to get her excited about the future she could build for herself away from Arabella. But Madeline was like any other woman, besotted with her newborn child, and utterly ruled by her emotions. Had shenot cared for George, it might have been easier for her to turn her back on her infant, but Madeline loved George with all the innocent passion her still-childish heart could muster and believed that somehow he would make things right despite evidence to the contrary.
Mammy and Madeline were sitting outside, the baby asleep in Mammy’s arms, when Sybil arrived. He was completely unaware of anything but his own needs, which at that moment were all happily fulfilled. Sybil’s expression softened for a brief moment as she beheld her great-grandchild. Perhaps he reminded her of George when he was an infant, or perhaps she was relieved to finally have the heir she’d prayed for. The future of the plantation was secure, so she could rest easy and enjoy the fruits of her labors.
“Well done, Madeline,” Sybil said. “He’s a fine boy.”
“What now, Madame Besson?” Mammy asked, staring Sybil squarely in the face.
Sybil looked from Mammy to Madeline, as though gauging the level of hostility before replying. “You two will remain here until Madeline is fully recovered. You will bind Madeline’s breasts immediately to stop the milk. Once she is ready, she will return to the plantation and accept a proposal of marriage from Gilbert Montlake, who’s been eagerly awaiting her return. A house in New Orleans has been rented, and Madeline will reside there, with myself as a chaperone, for the duration of the engagement, which will be mercifully short. If anyone questions this arrangement, we will simply tell them it’s more convenient to plan a wedding in New Orleans. After the wedding, which will be lavish, Madeline will move in with her husband’s family, as is proper. During her sojourn at Arabella, she will have no dealings with either George or the child. George has already agreed to these terms, as has Amelia. Madeline, I’ll need your word that you will honor these conditions.”
“And if I don’t?” Madeline asked. She felt Mammy tense beside her, but she couldn’t help her defiance. Her whole life hadbeen laid out for her, all the players given their lines, and the stage set for the final performance—her wedding to Gilbert, who had about as much sense as a lamb being led to slaughter.
“If you don’t, you will be cast out without a penny to your name. Do you find that alternative preferable to a life of luxury and comfort with a man who adores you?”
“He hardly knows me—the real me,” Madeline retorted.
“All a man needs to know when getting married is that he’s anxious to bed his bride, and believe me, Gilbert can’t wait to get you in his bed. His father made sure he’s well prepared for the occasion,” Sybil added with a knowing smirk.
“You mean he’s been taking him to brothels, and partaking himself,” Madeline stated. “I wonder how Mrs. Montlake feels about that.”
Sybil’s eyes widened in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with a man satisfying his needs, Madeline. You will learn to turn a blind eye, as all wives do.”
“You mean as you did,” Madeline taunted. Some inner voice told her to be quiet, to apologize, but she couldn’t stop. She was shaking with helpless rage. If she didn’t say something now, her baby would be lost to her forever. This was her only chance, her only hope. She knew she had no right to insult Sybil. Sybil wasn’t the one who had lain with a married man and borne his child. She was only trying to protect the family and offer Madeline’s child a brighter future, but Madeline was so overwhelmed by her emotions that she couldn’t and wouldn’t think straight.
Sybil stared at Madeline, her mouth opening in shock as her gaze turned to Mammy. Sybil looked murderous but didn’t say a word. Instead, she held out her arms.
Mammy handed over the baby with some reluctance. “He’ll be hungry soon,” she said.
“I’ve already found a nursemaid for him. She’ll be honored to suckle Miss Amelia’s son,” Sybil replied. Madeline’s anger was all bluster, as far as Sybil was concerned, and she chose not to engage in an argument that she’d felt she already won.
