Shattered Moments (13 page)

July 1626

Virginia

Genevieve threw off the bedclothes in frustration, wishing she could take off her shift and lie naked on her narrow cot, but that was out of the question.  She was hot and unable to settle down.  The window was open, and a cool evening breeze stirred the curtains and filled the small attic bedroom with a smell of grass, earth, and a slightly stagnant odor coming from the pond, but she felt as if she were on fire, either with shame or desire, she couldn’t quite figure out which. 

At twenty-
five, she was ripe for marriage, as Uncle Alec liked to point out, but she’d never known anything that resembled attraction.  She’d met plenty of men, especially since crossing the Atlantic and settling in Virginia, but none of them ever stirred any deep feelings. She had an eye for beauty and could appreciate an attractive man, but that was as far as it went.  None of them ever touched her heart, or made her long for a brush of the hand or a sweet kiss. 

Cameron was the first man she’d ever encountered who stoked these feelings in her, making her yearn for physical contact. 
Is that what married people felt for each other?
she wondered. She frequently saw signs of affection between Uncle Alec and Aunt Valerie, and Lord and Lady Sheridan; a warm hug, a kiss, or a look of such naked intimacy that it made her blush more than any physical gesture.  They loved each other, and the rest came naturally, or so she assumed.  She always thought that married people had relations only in order to procreate, but she’d since learned that wasn’t the case as the thin walls of the house could attest.  Genevieve had been embarrassed by what she heard, but Minnie just giggled, fanning herself with her hand as she rolled her eyes in mock ecstasy.  “Oh, I do hope I find me a man who can make me sound like THAT!” she said on occasion, making Genevieve smile at her lack of inhibition.

Genevieve
had to admit that she had been very naïve before coming to live with her newfound family.  She knew the basic facts, but her life had been sheltered and secure, undisturbed by anything untoward until she’d met her cousin Louisa.  She still thought of her often, wishing that she had lived despite her many sins.  Louisa couldn’t help who she was, any more than most people could help their own flaws.  Watching her had been an education in itself.  Seeing one so young so aware of her sexual attractiveness and using her feminine wiles to get what she wanted was almost a talent, one not to be discounted, especially in a time when women obeyed the men in their lives and did as they were bid, whether it be fathers or husbands.  Louisa might have gotten away with her plotting had she managed to survive Tom’s birth and the subsequent plague that claimed the life of the man who loved her so blindly. 

Genevieve often wondered if Theo had ever realized Tom wasn’t his, or had he gone to his grave believing that his wife loved him and presented him with a son and heir, a sacrifice
which cost her life? 
Poor Theo
, Genevieve thought,
he didn’t deserve the cruel fate that befell him
.  She could rationalize God punishing Louisa for her transgressions, but why Theo?  What had he done other than be loyal and loving, making a desperate attempt to save his son before succumbing to the plague and dying at twenty-one?  He’d be happy to know that Tom was alive and well, as was Elsie, who came running to Uncle Alec with baby Tom when Theo sickened with the plague. 

Genevieve and Elsie had shared a cabin on the crossing with nothing to do but talk for hours on end during the endless days at sea
, and the dark nights when the ship was tossed on the waves like a toy; just barely managing not to get engulfed by the monstrous waves that pounded the hull and threatened to tear it to bits, sending them all to a watery grave.  Genevieve had never been so scared, but Elsie was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, her upbeat attitude a wonder considering the life she’d led.  She looked younger than her years, her bouncy blonde curls and wide blue eyes at odds with the experiences that led her into service.

Elsie made Genevieve realize that although she’d known terrible loneliness and uncertainty, she’d never known true
hardship; the kind that comes of extreme poverty and hunger which gnaws at your insides day and night making you wish you were dead.  Elsie had known that kind of poverty growing up in Southwark, and she told Genevieve of winter days when she huddled in her threadbare shawl, her teeth rattling with cold as she begged on the streets in order to feed herself and her siblings.

“But what of your parents?” Genevieve asked, shocked that children would not be cared for by their
elders.

“Oh,
Mam died years ago, and Da went to sea, working on a merchant vessel.  It came into port from time to time, but by the time he came home, he’d spent most of his wages on drink.  There wasn’t enough to last for more than a few weeks.  I’d take in sewing, do some cleaning, and help out at the pub to earn money, but poor people don’t pay other poor people to do their dirty work, do they?”  Elsie shrugged her thin shoulders as if that bit of wisdom should be obvious.

“I could
have made some money whoring.  There were plenty of men at the local taverns who were only too eager to pay, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, not yet.  Once you go down that road, there ain’t no coming back,” she announced, rolling onto her belly on her narrow berth.  “I wanted the first time to be for love.”

“And was it?” Genevieve asked, eager to hear the story.

“I’m not all that sure that it was love, but it felt good all the same.  So handsome he was, my Bill.  He was a sailor like the rest of them, and he turned my head with words of love and the money he spent on me.  Other girls want ribbons and trinkets, but all I wanted was food.  He bought me hot pies and even got me some sweeties.  Oh, they were so good I can still taste them now, melting on my tongue, sweetness filling my mouth until I thought I must be in heaven,” she whispered, a smile on her face.  “I meant to share some with the others, but somehow there were none left,” she confided with a guilty giggle.

“What happened to him?”

“Oh, the same thing that happens to all sailors.  He got me full in the belly and left me with nothing but promises.  I never saw him again.  He might have tired of me, or drowned off some foreign shores, but all I knew is that he never came back.  I thought that’d be the end of me.  I finally did some whoring then.  Not like I had much to lose.  I was already with child, so not like I could get pregnant twice, and I needed the money. I only took one or two a night, just enough to survive.  My sister was barely eleven, and I didn’t want her doing it, did I?” 

Elsie sat up as Tom began fussing in his hammock, ready for a feeding.  She unlaced her bodice and put Tom to her breast,
holding in her breath as he latched on, sucking furiously as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“What happened to your baby, Elsie?”

“Thank God he was stillborn.  I couldn’t manage to support another child, not without a husband.  But the good Lord in his infinite wisdom gave me a way to support myself.  I could now hire myself out as a wet nurse.  I managed to save a little money before the babe came, so I bought a secondhand gown and shoes and went across the river to look for employment.  I’d heard that fine ladies don’t suckle their babies, but hire other women to do it.  I found a job and was able to support my brother and sister while living in the lap of luxury.”  She switched breasts and leaned back against the wall closing her eyes with fatigue. 

“Do you know what the best thing is about being a wet nurse?” she asked, her eyes still closed as Tom continued to drain her breast.  “The absolute best thing is that you always get enough to eat.  You’re feeding their baby, so they want you well-nourished.  I got to eat hot food every day, and even
got a pudding from time to time, or even a fruit.  It was bliss.  I got to share a room with the baby, so I had my very own bed with clean sheets and a chamber pot that I didn’t have to share with no one, or go out to the privy on those frigid nights when it felt like your arse might freeze as you’re doing your business.  Once the baby was weaned, I got the job with Lord Carew.  He was a nice man, he was, and so kind to me.  He just wanted his little mite to be happy and healthy.  I still say a prayer for his soul every night before I go to sleep.  To lose your wife, and then die yourself within a few months — such a tragedy.”  Tom finally fell asleep, his mouth releasing Elsie’s nipple with a pop as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, sated and drowsy.  He’d need another feeding in a few hours, but for now, Elsie could get her rest. 

“How long will you keep doing this?”
Genevieve asked, trying not to stare at Elsie’s swollen breasts, the white skin lined with blue veins that looked like rivers on a map, her nipples sore and cracked from so much nursing.

“Oh, I’ll do it as long as the milk keeps coming.  It’s a small price to pay for living in comfort and security, and knowing that my brother and sister are fed and warm.  They’ll be old enough to fend for themselves soon, and I must see to my own future.  I hear there are lots of men in the colonies who are looking for wives.  Maybe I can find a good man and suckle my own babies for a change, but until then, I hope the milk flows like a river,” she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, her bodice still open and her full breasts already starting to leak milk again.

Genevieve’s mind turned back to Cameron. She wished she could talk to Elsie about him, but she’d left the plantation after Tom was weaned, taking a position with a family in Jamestown.  They still saw each other from time to time, but not on a daily basis as they used to, and Genevieve missed Elsie’s counsel.  What would she make of her rendezvous with Cameron?

The meetings had been completely platonic until that last one when he leaned in and kissed her, turning her world upside down.  She’d often envisioned being kissed by a man, but she always thought that she would pull back in revulsion.  She felt anything but disgust when Cameron’s lips brushed her own.  She wanted more.  She wanted him to pull her close, to wrap his strong arms around her
, and keep kissing her until all thought fled from her mind and she felt as if she were drowning in sensation, desperate for more. 

Genevieve thought he shared her feelings, but his rejection had been unexpected and hurtful.  She could understand his explanation, but logic wasn’t strong enough to overpower her feelings.  They had met two hours ago, just as
darkness was settling over the plantation, and everyone was indoors finishing their supper and getting the children ready for bed.  She left by the back door, heading to the pond in the hope that he was there, waiting for her.  Genevieve’s heart thundered in her chest as she saw a flash of white on the opposite side of the pond; Cameron was there, waiting.  He smiled cautiously as she approached, his head cocked to the side and his eyes full of something that didn’t look like joy.  She sat down, sliding a little closer than usual and hoping for a kiss, but Cameron moved a few inches away, his face suddenly serious.

“Miss Genevieve, I was hoping to see y
e tonight, but I feel I must apologize for my behavior.”  He looked contrite, watching her face with apprehension.

“
What do you mean?” she asked, her insides suddenly quivering with fear.  He was sorry, and he came to tell her as much.

“I had
nae right to behave as I did, and I hope I dinna offend ye.”  Genevieve reached out for his hand, but he drew it back, clasping his large hands in his lap.  “I had nae right,” he repeated.

“But I wanted you to,” she whispered, shamed by her brazen admission.

“I wanted to also, but it was wrong.”

“It can’t be wrong if we both wanted it,” Genevieve protested, trying to understand. 

“I’m a slave, Miss Genevieve.  Your uncle is a kind and generous man, but I’m still his slave.  I belong to him, and he can do with me as he pleases until my contract is up.  And even then, I will be nothing; I will have nothing but the clothes on my back.  I have naught to offer ye, and I have nae right to even speak to ye, much less dare to touch ye as a man might.”  He sounded angry, his breath coming fast and hard.  “I have nae right,” he repeated again, as if trying to convince himself.

“You are not a slave,” Genevieve protested.  But he was.  She knew the way other plantation owners treated their men
; they beat them, and starved them, and few of them reached the end of their indenture without their body or spirit unbroken.  Uncle Alec was a good master, but in the eyes of Cameron, he was still his master.

“Why do you come and meet me then?” she asked, the hurt obvious in her voice.

“I meet ye because when I’m with ye I feel like myself again.  I forget for a short time that my life is no’ my own, and fool myself into thinking I have a choice.  Then I go back to my pallet and remember the reality of my situation, and I want to die.  Mr. Whitfield is a saint among men, but I’ve been treated worse than an animal in Scotland and on the crossing, reminding me that I’m nothing and my life means nothing.  My only value being the price I would fetch on the market.  I’ll work hard and work off my purchase price so that I can be a free man in six years.”

“What will you do once you are free?” Genevieve asked, fearing the answer.

“I will work until I can earn enough money to return home.”

“I thought as much,” she said, rising to her feet, her heart aching with a sense of loss.  “We won’t be meeting again, will we?”