AFTER THE ENDLESS Bible reading, prayers, and hymns, and after the feast of wild turkey stuffed with apples and walnuts, Peter and Finn pushed the benches against the walls. James and Michael folded the trestle table. Once the floor was cleared, Jack played a jig on his wooden whistle with Tom accompanying him on the spoons, slapping them against his thigh. Reclining in his chair, Nathan smiled expansively and raised his hand as though in benediction. "Ah, let there be music. Let there be joy."
In recent weeks, he had recovered his health and high spirits. It seemed that the prospect of future grandchildren had aided his recovery. May tried not to blush when he peered hopefully at her waistline.
"I never imagined such merriment, sir," she said, pouring him another mug of cider.
The Irishmen performed the dances of their country, showing off their fancy footwork. Nathan clapped in rhythm, as did May, seated beside Gabriel, who did not clap along. His gaze was heavy-lidded. It appeared he had been forced to watch this spectacle too often. She wished she knew what to make of his moods. For about three weeks he had been happy and affectionate, doting on her, but lately he had gone sullen. Still, he had given her a pair of doeskin slippers, soft as butter on her feet. She tried to catch his eye and make him smile, but his gloom was too much for her to bear on this of all days. So she sidled over to Adele.
The girl fingered May's sleeve, marveling over the delicate embroidery. For Christmas, May had decided to wear her wedding gown, the finest thing she possessed. Adele had threaded green ribbons in her hair and curled her locks with iron tongs. The girl wore a band of dark gold velvet around her throat. May had found the velvet ribbon in her trunk. No doubt Hannah had tucked it in as a surprise, but the color suited Adele better. Instead of her usual workaday smock, Adele wore May's russet Sunday gown from home. They had taken in the seams and shortened the hem. The dress transformed Adele from a child to a young woman, the fitted bodice showing off her slenderness. Adele kept looking down, smoothing the skirt with her hands. May imagined how the full skirt would swirl out if Adele allowed one of the men to give her a turn around the floor.
"Do you dance?" she asked.
Adele shook her head.
Nathan laughed. "In this house only the men have ever danced. Adele refused every invitation."
The girl did not smile.
May touched her hand protectively. "Leave her in peace, sir." She whispered in Adele's ear. "But the music is cheerful, do you not think?"
She clapped her hands to the thunder of dancing feet. It was intoxicating to watch the men leap so high that their heads nearly touched the ceiling. They, too, were decked out in their best—Nathan had given them their new clothes for the coming year. She and Adele had sat up late stitching the breeches and shirts. Of all the dancers, James was the most graceful and jumped the highest. His eyes kept meeting May's. She had to blink and look down to her lap lest she give herself away.
Glowing with exertion, he stepped forward and bowed. "Will you dance, Mistress Washbrook?"
Did he presume too much? She turned to her husband. "Mayhap Master Gabriel wishes to claim the first dance."
Before the boy could protest, she pulled him to his feet. They had a turn around the floor, her steps weightless in the new slippers, but Gabriel dragged his feet like an old gelding. Had no one ever taught him to dance a simple reel? "This way," she tried to instruct him, but it was hopeless. When the song ended, he threw himself back on the bench and looked as miserable as ever. Did he expect her to placate him by forgoing the dance altogether? They had little enough festivity in this godforsaken place. She certainly wasn't going to allow him to spoil her Christmas.
When in a pleasant temper, Gabriel could be so sweet, and as long as he remained sweet, she enjoyed giving him pleasure. It was a comfort, after all, to share a bed with another body, to stroke his smooth chest in the dark, feel his heart beneath her hand. But her husband did not move her the way James did. If she wanted to conceive a child, she needed a lover who could stir her passion to its depths. A man and not a boy. She would not allow herself the humiliation of a barren marriage.
Her duty to her husband put behind her, she let James take her hand. Tom played a fast tune. The room blurred as James swung her in his arms until she was weak with laughter. How she longed for him. In dark midwinter with snow on the ground, it was difficult to find a place for their trysts. Lately they met in the tobacco barn. Afraid that someone might burst in, they had taken their privacy by lying together in an empty hogshead. Dancing with him, she struggled not to kiss him with her cider-sweet mouth.
Beaming at them both, Nathan clapped to the tune, which went faster and faster until she was too dizzy to stand. James's arm around her was the only thing that kept her upright as she panted.
"Not fair to keep the lady to yourself." Patrick took her hands, his eyes traveling over her bosom. In the wild dance, she had lost her neckcloth. While they danced to a slower tune, he gripped her too tightly, but she was too happy to care. Then Peter cut in. Since she liked him better than Patrick, she smiled and watched the color spread over his cheeks.
"Happy Christmas, Mistress Washbrook," he stammered. Laughing, she looked at Nathan. "Do you wish to put a stop to this, sir?"
"Christmas only comes once a year," he replied, raising his cider mug. "For one night, let us be merry."
After she had danced with Peter, James claimed her again. He turned her around and around. As they spun, the faces of those watching seemed curiously disembodied. Nathan grinned and drank his cider. Adele gazed at her with solemn eyes. Then Finn led her in a country jig. Clumsier than his brother James, he kept stepping on her feet. She danced with James, Peter, and Michael in turn until her hair came loose from its ribbons and combs. When Patrick tried to cut in, she pulled away and called for James.
She danced with all the men except the musicians and Nathan, who shook his head and sighed about his age. The time had come to give her attention to Gabriel again, see if she could coax him out of his sulk, but his spot on the bench was empty. He was nowhere to be seen.
***
Head ducked down to shield his stung face from the wind, Gabriel labored uphill, his dogs racing around him. The declining sun cast a bloody shimmer on the snow. With each step, he sank to his knees. No one had seen him slipping out of the house, least of all his wife. That was the measure of how insignificant he had become. He had not been able to stomach another second of watching her dance with the men, with her head thrown back in delight, face and bosom flushed. Dancing in the slippers he had made her himself. If he confronted May, she would merely fix him with her big blue eyes, smile her false smile, and tell him not to worry his head about a thing.
He wasn't man enough for her. His father had always told him he wasn't man enough. James, Father's favored one, had stepped in to take his place. He hated his father for the way he had sat there and cheered her on while she floated in James's arms. It wouldn't surprise him if they had Father's blessing.
He was nothing, nothing. Neither his father nor his wife would deign to treat him as anything more than the muck beneath their feet.
Stopping to catch his breath, he watched Rufus, the top dog, wrestle one of the younger dogs into submission. Each animal fought for its position in the pack, and so it was, too, with men and women. James had bested him. Rather than be at the bottom, he preferred to break away from them all, become the lone wolf. He pushed onward, determined to reach the top of the hill, the stand of poison ivy, glittering with frost. The little clearing with the beech tree at its edge where it had happened, where James had propped May against the tree and taken her standing up, as if rogering some harlot. Shaking with rage and cold, Gabriel unsheathed the knife from his belt. The last rays of sun glanced off the blade as he drove it home.
Cast out of his home on Christmas Day. They had robbed him of his bachelorhood, his innocence, his wife, but they wouldn't take these woods away from him. They would not dare to sully his last refuge. He carved the letters of his name into the bark to prove that he still existed. Gabriel. He would mark this place, claim it as his own, his lawful inheritance. The trees would remain long after Father passed on, his name engraved on them. The Gabriel woods. The forest would remember him even if everyone else dismissed him.
The New Year brought a blizzard and a snap of deep cold. Midwinter was the worst time for tempers, all eleven of them cramped together, the servants' quarters having no hearth. Some nights the Irishmen slept body to body in the attic, where they at least had the heat from the chimney. Adele slept on a pallet near the fire.
On Sunday morning, everyone crowded around the table for morning prayers. Though Adele and the Irishmen were Catholic, Nathan would tolerate no papist nonsense. Everyone must sit with clasped hands while he read from the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer.
The Christmas festivities already seemed like a distant memory. On this cold January morning, May could see her breath inside the house. She wore her dress of blue worsted wool, two underskirts, her scratchy wool stockings, a neckcloth with a woolen shawl over it, and a linen cap. Though she had chosen her clothes for reasons of warmth rather than modesty, she imagined she must look every inch the sober Puritan goodwife.
Adele squeezed onto the bench. Because she was from the Sugar Isles, winters were particularly hard on her. While the Irishmen complained of the heat in summer, Adele shivered through the cold months, teeth rattling, as though the chill would do her in. She wore the Sunday dress May had given her, with two shawls wrapped around her.
May struggled not to doze as Nathan read a long passage from Proverbs.
As snow in summer and rain in harvest, so honor is not fitting for a fool.
Like a flitting sparrow, like a flying swallow, so a curse without cause shall not alight.
A whip for the horse, a bridle for the donkey, and a rod for the fool's back.
Head bowed, May made herself stay awake by thinking about spring, when she could plant the seeds Hannah had given her. Her attention wandered down the table to James. Their eyes met for an instant before she lowered her gaze to her clasped hands, her work-worn fingers with the dull gold wedding ring.
Across from her, Gabriel had fallen asleep. May tried to nudge his foot under the table before his father noticed, but it was too late. Nathan stopped reading and struck his son's shoulder. May averted her eyes. She did not want to see the look that passed between father and son.
When the prayers and Bible reading were over at last, May and Adele laid the table and served sausages and Sunday chicken with fried corncakes, onions and turnips, cider, and a steamed pudding made of cornmeal and cherry preserves. Adele held the trenchers and May dished out the victuals. The best and biggest portions went to Nathan, as master of the household. Eyes watering from the hearth smoke, she saw only too late that she had given James a portion equal to Nathan's—something the other servants did not fail to notice.
Looking at James's trencher, Patrick said something to him in their native tongue that made James's face go red. James said something back. Then he said in English, "Mayhap you wish to trade portions."
Patrick said something else in his language, to which James replied swiftly. Leaping off the bench, Patrick dragged James away from the table and struck his face, bloodying his nose. Before May could even think to scream, James struck back, hitting Patrick in the belly so hard that he writhed on the floor, clutching himself and howling.
In the silence that followed, Nathan was too stunned at first to react. James's face was a mask of fury, fists still clenched. Then Nathan got up from his chair. With a shaking hand, he seized the bullwhip off its hook. Adele covered her face and cried. Even Gabriel went pale. May trembled when Nathan roared. Could this be the same man who had wept in her presence that day in November, allowing her to glimpse into the secrets of his heart?
"How dare you desecrate the Sabbath! How dare you strike blows in my house!" He turned to May and Adele. "Take the trenchers. If there is no gratitude amongst this lot, let all seven of them go hungry this day."
"But sir," May said, "only two have come to blows. Why must all of them be punished?"
"Silence, woman!" Nathan held up the whip. "Don't you dare speak against me."
May's face burned, but her eyes stayed dry, even as Adele sobbed. The very sight of the whip seemed to send the girl into a panic. May took her arm and led her to the other side of the table.
"Hush," she whispered, touching her face.
Methodically they took each of the male servants' trenchers and scraped the food back into the pots. May wondered if it would spoil. Maybe there was still a way she could smuggle it to them without Nathan knowing.
Meanwhile Nathan had donned his cloak, then marched Patrick and James outside. Barking out orders, he made Gabriel and Jack accompany them.
"What will he do?" May asked Adele. The girl only cried. She turned to Finn. "What will he do?"
"Go to the window, Mrs. Washbrook, and see for yourself."
May looked out to see Nathan lead the men to what she had always assumed was a hitching post. Only now did she discern its true purpose. Nathan's raised voice penetrated the closed window and door. At his orders, Gabriel and Jack stripped off the two men's shirts so that their bare backs twitched in the cold. They bound their hands to the post. Nathan unfurled his bullwhip.
May wrenched the door open. "Master Washbrook, no!" Of course, it was a master's right to chastise his servants if necessary, but a bullwhip was too cruel. Surely a birken rod would suffice. A well-placed blow with a bullwhip could kill a man. She dashed out the door, set to throw herself between Nathan and the men, when Adele and Finn grabbed her and dragged her back inside.
Finn placed himself in front of the door. "If you try to meddle, he will whip you, too."
Adele seized May's hand and guided it down the back of her dress, over the raised skin that crisscrossed her shoulder blades. "Once he whipped me. I have the scars still. He whips his own son."
May swallowed a cry. Adele was so small, so tiny. How had she survived the bullwhip? And Gabriel—she had never suspected Nathan could treat his son that way. No wonder Gabriel always kept his nightshirt on—he was too ashamed to reveal his naked back.
Nathan whipped Patrick first. When the singing crack of the whip landed on his back, Patrick screamed like a woman. Adele quaked so hard that May put her arms around her. The whip kept cracking. May saw the muscles bulge in Nathan's neck. She had never dreamed he possessed such strength. Or cruelty. Gabriel doubled over, vomiting in the snow.
"Mistress Washbrook, if you please." Finn looked as though he were struggling not to cry. "After the flogging, they will need you to clean their wounds. You must wash them and wrap them in dressing."
"Have we any bandages?" she asked Adele.
The girl nodded and rummaged through the dresser.
Meanwhile Patrick's back ran red. Nathan moved to the other side to whip James.
"This is madness." May tried to edge past Finn out the door, but he took hold of her wrists.
"No," he said. "You must stay inside."
"Please tell me what words sparked this brawl? What did Patrick say to your brother?"
The boy's cheeks went blotchy. "I would rather not say, mistress. Such words are not for a woman's ears."
She grasped his arm, making him blush even more. "Please." She shuddered as they listened to James cry out in pain. "If it concerns your brother, I must know."
Finn pressed his lips together before he spoke. "Patrick said to James, 'Not only does the master favor you indecently, but now the mistress as well.'"
May raised her hand to her mouth. Adele appeared at her side with an armful of bandages. Though they had been laundered since their last use, old bloodstains still marked them.
***
Adele prepared a kettle of warm water. May packed her basket with bandages, a cake of soap, and a washing rag, then climbed to the attic, where the whipped men lay prone on their pallets. Patrick's back was far more ravaged than James's was. The pity welling up inside her nearly made her forget that she detested the man. Patrick flinched at her touch and spat on the floor.
"There are words for women such as you," he muttered. But in his chastened state, he didn't appear to have the courage to tell her what those words were.
***
That night in bed, Gabriel whispered in her ear, "On your account, the men come to blows and suffer the whip. Are you pleased with yourself, May?"
"Stop it," she begged him.
"What sport you play, woman! You think I am too blind or stupid to know your tricks?" He gripped her shoulder so she couldn't pull away. "You've sported with James like a mare in season. Well, now that he's had his whipping, all because of you, I hope he goes off you. Mayhap he has come to hate you. Mayhap the very sight of you will gall him like spoiled meat." His words rang out like a curse that would come true to the word. They turned her bones to ice.
It took her last strength to push him away. Rolling to the edge of the bed, she drew the bedclothes over her ears, but she could not keep out the sound of Nathan's choked weeping.
***
Each evening that week, May climbed to the attic to rub James's and Patrick's wounds with bear grease. James no longer smiled at her. When she looked at him, his face closed and his eyes went blank. Had he really come to hate her, then? How could his love simply vanish out of her life?
"My dear," she whispered, kissing him when no one could see. "Beloved." She would dash herself against the stones at the creek bottom before she let Gabriel's curse come true.
***
Adele took to her pallet with a terrible cold, leaving Finn to help May carry creek water to the house so that she could wash the soiled bandages. Each of them bore two buckets as they trudged up the path side by side. Their breath floated out of their mouths in the bitter air.
"Sometimes," said Finn, "I do have nightmares of whippings. When I awake, I have secret thoughts of us rising up against the master. I know it is a sin," he added forlornly.
"It must be hard to forgive him," she said quietly, "for what he has done to your brother."
"He has whipped all of us at one time or other. There is always some transgression."
They had nearly reached the house when Finn set his buckets in the snow. He took her buckets and set them down as well.
"You will try to protect us, won't you, mistress?" He pressed her hand, loosening something inside her. She thought she would cry. "We were praying that you could make him softer."
"I will try," she said bleakly. "I promise you that."
***
In the following weeks, she did her best to soften up Nathan. In March, when the snow had melted and wild anemones pushed their way out of the mud, she gave him the most softening news of all. She was pregnant. In spite of James's whipping and Gabriel's curse, in spite of all the trials and misfortune, she had succeeded in bringing forth this miracle, which she prayed would redeem her. By October, she reckoned, Nathan would finally have his heir.