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Soon afterward, Louella came to my room. She brought a salve with her and put it on my wounds, sobbing at the sight of them herself.
"Poor child," she said. "My poor baby."
"Oh Louella, don't leave me. Please, don't leave me," I begged.
She nodded.
"I won't leave right away, child, but my sister needs me, too, and I got to go."
She hugged me and we rocked on the bed together for a few moments. Then she fixed my blanket and tucked me in. She kissed my cheek and left me. I was still in great pain, but her comforting hands had eased it considerably. Mercifully, I was able to sleep.
I knew there was no sense complaining to Mamma about what had happened. She was there at breakfast the next morning, but she barely spoke. Whenever she looked at me, she seemed on the verge of tears.
She didn't even notice how uncomfortable I was, sitting on my still very sore behind. I knew if I as much as squeaked a complaint, Papa would be enraged.
Emily read her Biblical passages and Papa hovered over the table in his usual Lord of the Manor way, barely casting a glance at me, as I shifted every few minutes to ease the ache. We all ate in silence. Finally, toward the end of our breakfast, Papa cleared his throat to make an announcement.
"Louella has informed me that she intends to terminate her services in two weeks' time. I have had some inkling of this and have already sent for a couple to replace her. Their name is Slope, Charles and Vera. Vera has a year-old son named Luther, but she has assured me that rearing him won't interfere with her responsibilities. Charles will assist Henry with his chores, and Vera will work in the kitchen, of course, and do what she can for . . . for Georgia," he said, shifting his eyes at Mamma. She sat there with more of a silly grin on her face now and listened as if she were just another child in the house. When Papa was finished, he put down his napkin and stood up.
"I have some pressing business problems to attend to over the next few weeks and will, from time to time, be gone for a day or two. I expect we will have no reoccurrence of the problems we had before," he asserted, scowling down at me. I dropped my gaze quickly to my plate. Then he pivoted and left us.
Mamma suddenly started to giggle like a schoolgirl. She smothered her mouth with her hand and giggled again.
"Mamma? What is it?"
"She's gone daft from grief," Emily said. "I told Papa but he ignored me."
"Mamma, what is it?" I asked, far more frightened. She pulled her hand away and bit down on her lips so hard, I saw the skin turn white.
"I know a secret," she said, and glanced furtively at Emily and then at me.
"A secret? What secret, Mamma?"
She leaned over the table, glancing first at the doorway through which Papa had gone and then turning back to me.
"I saw Papa come out of the toolshed yesterday. He was in there with Belinda and she had her skirt up and her pants down," she said.
For a moment I couldn't speak. Who was Belinda? "What?"
"She's just talking gibberish," Emily said. "Come on. It's time for us to go."
"But Emily . . ."
"Just leave her," Emily ordered. "She'll be all right. Louella will see to her. Get your things or we'll be late for school. Lillian!" she snapped when I didn't move.
I rose from my chair, my eyes glued to Mamma, who had sat back to giggle again with her hand over her mouth. To see her this way put a shiver through me, but Emily was hovering over the table like a prison guard with a whip, waiting for me to obey her command. Reluctantly, my heart so heavy it felt like a chunk of stone in my chest, I hurried away from the table, got my books and followed Emily out of the house.
"Who could Belinda be?" I wondered aloud. Emily turned, smirking.
"A slave girl on her father's plantation," she replied. "I'm sure she's remembering something that really happened, something disgusting and evil, something I'm sure you enjoyed hearing."
"I did not! Mamma is very sick. Why doesn't Papa send for a doctor?"
"There's no doctor who can cure what she has," Emily said.
"What does she have?"
"Guilt," Emily replied with a look of satisfaction. "Guilt for not being as devout as she should have been. She knows that her sinful ways and her wickedness gave the devil the strength to live in our home. Probably in your room," she added. "And eventually, to take Eugenia. Now she's sorry, but it's too late and she's gone mad with guilt.
