forward in the story. “Did they ever become free?”
Biddy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to find out. I can only hope after all they went through that they experienced freedom for some part of their lives. What I do know is that Bridget had four children. Her owner liked her, but he couldn’t resist the profit from the sale of her youngest daughter. Evidently, Darcy, who was my great-grandmother, was very beautiful. Even though she was only twelve years old, she would have brought a very high price.”
Carrie remembered the slave auction she had attended. The most attractive men and women had brought the highest prices. Bile filled her throat as she listened.
Biddy’s voice became flat with a resigned anger. “Darcy had a terrible life. The man who bought her was a very angry drunk. He abused her horribly for almost thirty years.” She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes. “She had four children from him, but all were sold away when they were very young. She had a brief time of happiness when she fell in love with one of the other servants, but he was murdered when he tried to protect her from being beaten by her master.” Biddy’s voice wavered.
“That’s enough,” Faith said firmly. “You can finish this story another time.”
Carrie knew, as much as she wanted Biddy to continue, that Faith was right. Fatigue was written all over the old woman’s face, and her eyes were numb with pain.
Biddy nodded slowly. “It all happened so long ago, but telling it makes it seem like I’m right there with them,” she murmured.
So many questions were churning in Carrie’s mind. She felt desperate for answers. “Can I ask you something, Faith?”
Faith nodded easily. “Go right ahead. I reckon I’ve heard this story enough times to tell it myself.”
“Biddy said Ireland was almost destroyed. If the English were trying to turn it into grand plantations of their own, why would they try to destroy it? It doesn’t make sense.”
Faith scowled. “That man hated everything Irish,” she said fiercely. “Especially because they were Catholic. You see, Reformation had swept through Europe before then. England decided that Protestants were far superior to Catholics. They renounced Catholicism as their official religion and embraced the Protestant religion. He was a very devout Protestant, and very determined that Ireland would be swept clean of all Catholics. He did his best to make sure it happened. He almost destroyed the entire country.”
“He?” Florence asked.
It was the very question burning in Carrie’s mind, but something had kept her from asking it. She didn’t understand why everything inside her was tightening with dread as she leaned forward to hear the answer.
Faith sniffed. “I hate to give the man a name,” she said scornfully. “Lord Cromwell hardly deserves to be remembered.”
Carrie froze, her heart beating wildly as the words floated in the still air. She registered Janie’s gasp, but her mind had gone completely numb.
Biddy was the first to reach out. She grasped Carrie’s hand and leaned forward to stare into her face. “Carrie? What is it, girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Carrie’s eyes moved to meet hers, but she still couldn’t form words. Long moments of silence passed before she could find her voice. “Lord Cromwell?” she whispered. “Lord Oliver Cromwell?”
Biddy eyed her sharply. “Yes. How would you know that?”
Carrie took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. “He was my sixth great-grandfather,” she said faintly.
A shocked silence fell over the room. The only sounds were the clattering of wagon wheels, the shouts of men, and the laughter of playing children drifting in through the open windows.
Carrie stared at the swaying curtains, trying to make sense of what she had heard. Lord Oliver Cromwell had been an almost mythical person in her household. She had grown up hearing his name — Lord
Biddy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been able to find out. I can only hope after all they went through that they experienced freedom for some part of their lives. What I do know is that Bridget had four children. Her owner liked her, but he couldn’t resist the profit from the sale of her youngest daughter. Evidently, Darcy, who was my great-grandmother, was very beautiful. Even though she was only twelve years old, she would have brought a very high price.”
Carrie remembered the slave auction she had attended. The most attractive men and women had brought the highest prices. Bile filled her throat as she listened.
Biddy’s voice became flat with a resigned anger. “Darcy had a terrible life. The man who bought her was a very angry drunk. He abused her horribly for almost thirty years.” She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes. “She had four children from him, but all were sold away when they were very young. She had a brief time of happiness when she fell in love with one of the other servants, but he was murdered when he tried to protect her from being beaten by her master.” Biddy’s voice wavered.
“That’s enough,” Faith said firmly. “You can finish this story another time.”
Carrie knew, as much as she wanted Biddy to continue, that Faith was right. Fatigue was written all over the old woman’s face, and her eyes were numb with pain.
Biddy nodded slowly. “It all happened so long ago, but telling it makes it seem like I’m right there with them,” she murmured.
So many questions were churning in Carrie’s mind. She felt desperate for answers. “Can I ask you something, Faith?”
Faith nodded easily. “Go right ahead. I reckon I’ve heard this story enough times to tell it myself.”
“Biddy said Ireland was almost destroyed. If the English were trying to turn it into grand plantations of their own, why would they try to destroy it? It doesn’t make sense.”
Faith scowled. “That man hated everything Irish,” she said fiercely. “Especially because they were Catholic. You see, Reformation had swept through Europe before then. England decided that Protestants were far superior to Catholics. They renounced Catholicism as their official religion and embraced the Protestant religion. He was a very devout Protestant, and very determined that Ireland would be swept clean of all Catholics. He did his best to make sure it happened. He almost destroyed the entire country.”
“He?” Florence asked.
It was the very question burning in Carrie’s mind, but something had kept her from asking it. She didn’t understand why everything inside her was tightening with dread as she leaned forward to hear the answer.
Faith sniffed. “I hate to give the man a name,” she said scornfully. “Lord Cromwell hardly deserves to be remembered.”
Carrie froze, her heart beating wildly as the words floated in the still air. She registered Janie’s gasp, but her mind had gone completely numb.
Biddy was the first to reach out. She grasped Carrie’s hand and leaned forward to stare into her face. “Carrie? What is it, girl? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Carrie’s eyes moved to meet hers, but she still couldn’t form words. Long moments of silence passed before she could find her voice. “Lord Cromwell?” she whispered. “Lord Oliver Cromwell?”
Biddy eyed her sharply. “Yes. How would you know that?”
Carrie took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs. “He was my sixth great-grandfather,” she said faintly.
A shocked silence fell over the room. The only sounds were the clattering of wagon wheels, the shouts of men, and the laughter of playing children drifting in through the open windows.
Carrie stared at the swaying curtains, trying to make sense of what she had heard. Lord Oliver Cromwell had been an almost mythical person in her household. She had grown up hearing his name — Lord
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