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"Good. For her first visit, I'll have her bring me the herb, too," she said. "If it works, why not?" she added, which I thought was a strange thing to say. Why would she actually want it? "Now, what about your stomach? I can't tell because of that skirt, but you don't seem to be showing much."
"No. Mama told me she didn't show until she was nearly five months, but I do see a small difference," I said.
She stared at me a moment and then nodded. "I want to see for myself," she said.
"Pardon, madame?"
"I want to see. I have to know exactly what you look like now and as time goes by to do this right, don't I? Take off your clothing."
I hesitated.
"What's wrong? You go parading about in the swamp nude, don't you?"
"I don't go parading about," I said, tears coming to my eyes.
"It's the same thing, whatever you want to call it. Now, just get undressed. I told you, warned you, you would have to be cooperative," she said in a threatening tone. "Either you do what I ask or march right out of here now. Make up your mind."
I swallowed back a throat lump and sucked in my breath. Then, first turning away from those glaring eyes of stone, I lifted my dress over my head. I unfastened my bra and slipped out of my panties. Before I could turn around, her arms came over my head, a tape measure in her hands. She had brought it up with her, planning all along to do this. She wrapped it roughly around my stomach and pulled to take a measurement.
"Turn around," she ordered. I did so and she gazed at my breasts. "You're not normally this big?"
"No, madame," I said. "And the color has changed here," I said, pointing to my nipples. "Darkened."
"Oh?" She studied me with interest. "I'll have to stuff my bra a bit," she mused, and nodded. "Once a week I'll take the measurement of your stomach and adjust my own dimensions accordingly. You can get dressed now," she said.
She waited as I dressed myself and then in a kinder tone of voice she said, "I'll bring you some Charles Dickens with some dinner tonight. The maids are about to begin upstairs and will be working right beneath you, so keep as quiet as possible when you clean. I hope," she added, "that if you do vomit, you do it as silently as possible." She took my tray. At the doorway she turned back to me. "I'll be sending for your mother very soon, perhaps later today."
"Thank you, madame," I said. I couldn't wait to see Mama. Even though I had been here only one night, I missed her terribly.
Gladys Tate closed the door softly behind her and tiptoed down the stairway. I stood there for a moment, realizing that I was trembling, and then I set about cleaning the room and keeping my mind occupied so I wouldn't dwell on this strange, hard woman who would someday soon be the mother of the child I carried.
Gladys Tate brought Mama up to see me after dinner. One look at Mama's face when she came up the stairway and stepped into the room told me she was infuriated.
"You're keeping her up here, in this . . . closet?" she said, turning sharply on Gladys.
"It's the only secluded place in the house," Gladys said, unflinching. 'Tin trying to make her as comfortable as possible."
Mama gazed about the room and then fixed her eyes on my empty dishes. Of course, I wasn't sure if it had been done for Mama's benefit more than my own, but Gladys had brought me a gourmet feast: a bowl of turtle soup, Cornish hen in a grape cognac sauce, sweet potatoes in oranges, and tangy green beans. For dessert, there was a slice of pecan pie. Gladys proudly ticked off the menu, explaining I would always eat what they ate.
Mama's eyebrows rose with skepticism.
"I wish to speak with my daughter alone," she said. Gladys tightened, her mouth becoming a tiny slice in her taut cheeks. She then gave Mama a small smile, tight and cold.
"Of course," she said, and pivoted sharply. She closed the door behind her and descended, her feet barely tapping down the stairway.
"You can't stay here," Mama began
immediately. "This is horrible. I had to sneak up here with her, like some kind of swamp rat."
"It's not so bad, Mama. I'll keep busy and the time will pass quickly."
"I don't like it," she insisted. "You're too much a creature of Nature, Gabriel. You can't be shut up like this."
"I'll manage, Mama. Please. What will be the alternative? These are rich and important people here. They will make me look like the bad one, and the baby, the baby will grow up an outcast. Besides," I said with a smile, "I bet Daddy's already spent some of the money."
"Some? I'll wager he's spent most of it or gambled it away by now." She sighed deeply and sat on the bed. "Look how tiny everything is. What was this room?"
"Her playroom."
