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"Umm," she said, nodding skeptically. "We'll see.

"Fifth, amusements. There are some books in the closet. You're welcome to play with the games, of course. I understand you weave and embroider, so I will bring some of that up to you. There can be no radio, no Victrola, for obvious reasons.

"Last, every Thursday night, my maids and my butler have the night off and leave The Shadows. I will come up to fetch you and you can come down to stretch your legs and eat dinner in the dining room. You can, if you wish, walk about in the rear of the house. I do have some field workers living nearby, but I'm not worried if they see you occasionally during the first few months when you won't show as much. Toward the second half of the pregnancy, however, you will not be permitted to go outside, even at night. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

I gazed around. "What if I need something during the day?"

"You'll have to wait until I can safely come up here," she said.

"I don't like this any more than you do," she continued. When I didn't reply, her eyes became glazed with fury.

"How do you think I feel housing the woman my husband made love to in the swamps, the woman who hosts his child, the child that should have been my child, in my body? What do you think it will be like for me sleeping beneath you and gazing up at the ceiling every night knowing you're here?"

"I'm sorry, madame, but this was your idea and--"

"I know it was my idea, you little fool, but that doesn't mean I have to like it because it was mine, does it? I was just smart enough to think of a way out for everyone." She pulled her head back. "Does your mother appreciate whatI'm doing, too?"

"She understands," I offered.

"Umm. She understands? Well, I don't, but I'm not a traiteur. I'm just a. . . an abused wife." She sighed. "I'm tired," she said. "This has been a terribly emotional and draining day for me. I will bring you something to eat late in the morning after the maids have served us and cleaned

up the kitchen and moved on to other parts of the house. If something prevents that, you'll just have to be patient, and don't, whatever you do, try to find out why I'm not here when I said I would be. Be smart enough to figure out that something serious is preventing it at the moment.

"This all requires great cooperation on your part to work," she explained. "I assure you, if it fails, it won't be because of something I've done."

"I'll do my best, madame."

"Your best might not be enough. Do what I want," she corrected.

"I will try."

"Yes, try," she said, twisting her mouth. "It's so much easier to conceive a child, isn't it? You just lie back and the man puts his hardness in you and grunts his pleasure."

"I didn't just lie back, madame," I retorted.

She stared at me with that wry smile.

"I'm telling the truth. I was raped!"

"It's not a big secret around here that Octavious is not a man of great strength. My father chose him, trained and schooled him in our business, prepared him to be my husband. He was afraid I wouldn't find a decent enough, proper man, so he found one for me.

"He arranged for our courting and practically dragged us both to the altar. Octavious is a meek individual. I find it hard to believe that he could force himself on anyone, even a supposedly helpless young girl.

"But whatever happened, the damage has been done, and once again, I had to come up with a solution to a problem."

"You should never have married a man if you weren't in love with him, madame," I criticized, my anger and indignation fueling my courage.

Her smile became crooked and mean as she shook her head.

"You young girls today amuse me. You go to picture shows and see all these movie stars in their dream romances and think that can be you, too. You think you'll meet a man and suddenly there will be music and you'll skip off into the sunset together. Well, life isn't like a movie. It's real and in the real world, people are brought together for more practical reasons, and even if there is love in the beginning, it doesn't last long.

"Are your parents still in love?" she asked disdainfully. "Do they still cherish and adore each other until death do them part? Well? You're not answering me," she said before I could take a breath.

I sucked in air and straightened my back the way Mama often did. "Not everyone has a perfect life, madame, but you began yours believing it wasn't perfect to start. You knew and yet you did it. That," I said firmly, undaunted, "was your mistake."

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