Read Online The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) by Tracey Bateman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracey Bateman
Ads: Link
house--had been completely unwarranted. For once,
he was as innocent as a newborn babe. He’d been faithful for a year. But no
amount of explaining had sufficed. He frowned into the dark room. Lexie could
have been with him right now, keeping herself occupied during the day while he
worked, and keeping him occupied at night. Instead, she’d chosen to leave. Had
chosen not to believe him.
His mind conjured up the wet form of Ella--warm,
and willing to share more than tea.
With a frustrated growl, Andy flung back the covers,
switched on the lamp beside his bed, and grabbed the next diary. As he skimmed
through the pages of Cat’s anguished words, anger rose in him at the account of
Henry’s brutal beating after he caught her in the barn with Thomas. And he had
resumed his rapes of the poor girl. As a cloudy dawn slowly pushed back the night,
all thoughts of the temptation down the hall were swallowed by Madeline’s
words.
Georgia, September 1861
Cat’s child has been born.
“She’s paid back what she took,” Henry
said when he laid his son in my arms this morning. Henry’s breath smelled of
brandy, his eyes bloodshot from drunkenness. I have never understood the depth
of his agony over losing our baby so long ago, but in that simple sentence, I
finally understood what I have been too blind to see all these years. Henry
doesn’t blame me. He blames Cat. A little girl who only
wanted to play with a doll. That is the reason he has poured his hatred
into making her life miserable. Her misery is complete, for he’s taken the
child she bore him and has given him to me to raise as
my flesh and blood.
Camilla is fit to be tied and
understandably so, for Henry Jr. will inherit Penbrook House and the lands.
Camilla will be given a dowry and the money I have for her from my own inheritance.
This infuriates her.
Mrs. Penbrook has vowed she will never
acknowledge the child as her grandson, but I know she would rather pretend the
boy is mine than to bear the humiliation of her ladies’ society becoming aware
that her son is raising his illegitimate Negro son. With Mr. Penbrook lying in
his grave, no one will protest for long and Henry’s plans for his son will
prevail.
I will never forgive myself for being
unable to stop Henry from sinning with Cat. Nor, I fear, will I ever be able to
forgive Henry. I despise him with every breath in my body for his betrayal. I
bear the poor girl no ill will. A slave has no power over her master.
I have insisted Cat at least be
allowed to be her son’s nurse. I will obey my husband’s wishes and raise young
Henry as my own, but I will not deny Cat access to him. And praise be to God, Henry has agreed to this.
Chapter Four
Georgia, December 1861
“Oh, Mother, don’t they look
just marvelous?” Camilla’s face glowed as Toby pulled the carriage to the edge
of the road and allowed a company of home-guard soldiers to march past. They
stepped together without one break in formation--each confederate soldier as
skilled in marching as the most highly trained West Point cadet.
Madeline had to admit they
were a magnificent-looking bunch, though she prayed diligently that they would
soon cast off their uniforms and return to the duties of husbands, fathers,
sons, and brothers.
Though the war had yet to
claim the lives of any of the boys in the Penbrooks’ circle of friends,
Madeline knew it was only a matter of time, if the fighting did not end soon.
And her heart broke for the mothers whose sons were spoiling for the chance to
thrust their swords into the battlegrounds of Virginia.
“Camilla, dear, do not crane
your neck, please.”
Madeline observed her
daughter as the carriage lurched forward once again. Tendrils of her chestnut
curls sprang loose and fanned her flushed cheeks. At barely fifteen the child
was enamored of the men in uniform, and they were equally taken with her.
“Did I see Randall Jones
marching with those men?” Madeline asked.
he was as innocent as a newborn babe. He’d been faithful for a year. But no
amount of explaining had sufficed. He frowned into the dark room. Lexie could
have been with him right now, keeping herself occupied during the day while he
worked, and keeping him occupied at night. Instead, she’d chosen to leave. Had
chosen not to believe him.
His mind conjured up the wet form of Ella--warm,
and willing to share more than tea.
With a frustrated growl, Andy flung back the covers,
switched on the lamp beside his bed, and grabbed the next diary. As he skimmed
through the pages of Cat’s anguished words, anger rose in him at the account of
Henry’s brutal beating after he caught her in the barn with Thomas. And he had
resumed his rapes of the poor girl. As a cloudy dawn slowly pushed back the night,
all thoughts of the temptation down the hall were swallowed by Madeline’s
words.
Georgia, September 1861
Cat’s child has been born.
“She’s paid back what she took,” Henry
said when he laid his son in my arms this morning. Henry’s breath smelled of
brandy, his eyes bloodshot from drunkenness. I have never understood the depth
of his agony over losing our baby so long ago, but in that simple sentence, I
finally understood what I have been too blind to see all these years. Henry
doesn’t blame me. He blames Cat. A little girl who only
wanted to play with a doll. That is the reason he has poured his hatred
into making her life miserable. Her misery is complete, for he’s taken the
child she bore him and has given him to me to raise as
my flesh and blood.
Camilla is fit to be tied and
understandably so, for Henry Jr. will inherit Penbrook House and the lands.
Camilla will be given a dowry and the money I have for her from my own inheritance.
This infuriates her.
Mrs. Penbrook has vowed she will never
acknowledge the child as her grandson, but I know she would rather pretend the
boy is mine than to bear the humiliation of her ladies’ society becoming aware
that her son is raising his illegitimate Negro son. With Mr. Penbrook lying in
his grave, no one will protest for long and Henry’s plans for his son will
prevail.
I will never forgive myself for being
unable to stop Henry from sinning with Cat. Nor, I fear, will I ever be able to
forgive Henry. I despise him with every breath in my body for his betrayal. I
bear the poor girl no ill will. A slave has no power over her master.
I have insisted Cat at least be
allowed to be her son’s nurse. I will obey my husband’s wishes and raise young
Henry as my own, but I will not deny Cat access to him. And praise be to God, Henry has agreed to this.
Chapter Four
Georgia, December 1861
“Oh, Mother, don’t they look
just marvelous?” Camilla’s face glowed as Toby pulled the carriage to the edge
of the road and allowed a company of home-guard soldiers to march past. They
stepped together without one break in formation--each confederate soldier as
skilled in marching as the most highly trained West Point cadet.
Madeline had to admit they
were a magnificent-looking bunch, though she prayed diligently that they would
soon cast off their uniforms and return to the duties of husbands, fathers,
sons, and brothers.
Though the war had yet to
claim the lives of any of the boys in the Penbrooks’ circle of friends,
Madeline knew it was only a matter of time, if the fighting did not end soon.
And her heart broke for the mothers whose sons were spoiling for the chance to
thrust their swords into the battlegrounds of Virginia.
“Camilla, dear, do not crane
your neck, please.”
Madeline observed her
daughter as the carriage lurched forward once again. Tendrils of her chestnut
curls sprang loose and fanned her flushed cheeks. At barely fifteen the child
was enamored of the men in uniform, and they were equally taken with her.
“Did I see Randall Jones
marching with those men?” Madeline asked.
Similar Books
