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I went back to the kitchen floor and scrubbed the rest of it. I knew I had been working for hours in the kitchen because when I stepped out again, the sun was nearly directly above. I dumped the dirty water and turned to get my boiled things.
But the cauldron was gone! All that was left were the smoldering embers of the dying fire. I hurried down the steps and looked everywhere for signs of it, but all I saw was Luther coming around the far corner of the barn carrying a shovel over his shoulder as if he were a soldier carrying a rifle. I called to him, but he went into the barn and pulled the door closed firmly behind him.
Furious now, I went back inside and charged through the kitchen and the dining room, but I saw or heard no one.
"Miss Emily!" I called at the foot of the stairway. I listened. She didn't reply. I called again and then peered into the library which was just across the hall.
The drapes over the tall windows were open so I could see the shelves of books, the large desk and wooden file cabinets, a long table and chairs. There were paintings on the walls, one over the rear of the desk. It was a portrait of Emily, Charlotte, and Grandmother Cutler's father. I saw clear resemblances in the eyes and forehead. He stared down with the same arrogant air, his shoulders firm and his head high and slightly tilted in a condescending manner. He looked violently angry to me. I embraced myself and backed out of the doorway and right into the silently waiting Miss Emily. I jumped and cried out before I realized it was she.
"What are you doing? Why are you shouting? You should be starting on your wing of the house, not wandering about like this," she admonished.
"What did you do with my clothes?" I demanded. "That pot is gone."
"Do I have to keep repeating myself? I told you it was all being purified. Now, it has been taken to the second step."
"Second step? What does that mean?"
"It has been buried," she replied coolly.
"Buried!" So that was why Luther was carrying a shovel, I thought. "You buried my things? Where? Why? This is insane!"
"How dare you?" she snapped, her shoulders rising. Despite her slim torso, she looked formidable, as vicious as a buzzard. I had to step back. "You stand there critical of me," she said, lifting her long arm and pointing her witchlike crooked finger in my face. "You dare to reprimand and reproach me. You who stand in such disgrace with your stomach loudly announcing your sin. Don't you know that only he without sin can cast the first stone?"
"I'm not saying I'm pure and good," I cried through my emerging tears, "but that doesn't mean you have a right to torment me."
"Torment you?" She looked like she was going to break into laughter. "It is you who are tormenting me and the other members of the family. I have been willing to help you through this iniquitous time. I have opened my home to you and have assured my sister I will provide for your needs and you accuse me of tormenting you."
"You're not providing for my needs," I bawled. "I want my things back," I cried. I couldn't stop my sobbing.
"You don't know how ridiculous you look," she said. "All right," she added after a long pause. "After the earth has absorbed the taint of evil, I will see to it that Luther brings you those garments. Now get back to work. You need to work, to build your resolve; your castle of righteousness must be fortified against any more incursions by the devil."
She started to turn away.
"But my other things . . . I've got to call to see what's happened to them. I don't even have a comb for my hair now," I said, holding up the knotted strands.
"There is no sense in calling," she replied with an alarming calmness in her voice.
"Why not?"
"Because I have instructed that those things are not to be sent here until after you have given birth and you will leave. It was enough I had to deal with what you brought on your back."
"But . . . how could you lie to me? Everyone's lied to me," I added, realizing the truth.
"Everyone's lied to you?" She started to laugh. "What do you call what you've been doing? Now stop whining and do what has to be done. You must show some forbearance. Surely, you possess some grit. From what my sister has told me, the Cutlers all come from a strong stock."
"I don't have any Cutler stock," I muttered, but as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. Her eyes widened.
"What? What did you say?" she demanded, stepping toward me again.
I felt myself begin to shiver. I had never seen a face so filled with both fire and ice. Her eyes flared, but her expression was so cold. Who knew what other horrors she would design for me if she knew the truth of my birth? I thought.
"Nothing," I said quickly.
She fixed her eyes on me, her gaze so intensely penetrating, I had to turn away. Each second ticked by with the boom of thunder. My heart pounded against my chest.
"Just finish your chores," she finally spit and pivoted again to march away. My thumping heart slowed, yet my skin felt clammy and the hair on my neck still bristled. I thought about turning around and running out. But penniless, with nothing but this ugly hospital gown on, where would I go? There wasn't anything to do but wait for an opportunity to leave, I thought. As soon as she did return my things, I would find a way to Upland Station and try to call Daddy Longchamp. Surely, he would find a way to help me.
Despondent and defeated, I returned to the kitchen to get the pail of water and soap and the brush and then climbed the stairs to begin work on the filthy and dusty wing of the great house.
