Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (32 page)

“I can’t live without you,” I thought I heard
him say while undressing me.

Patrick, is it really you?
my mind
asked.
Have you regretted running from me all along? Do you love
me after all?

If I wanted to throw my arms around him and
savor his embrace, I couldn’t. As I tried to kiss his wet lips in
return, my body was incapable. Instead, I lay helplessly as he made
zealous love to me while I slowly faded away into a weighty and
bizarre sleep - the kind where dreams never exist.

Morning came and went, but I wasn’t aware of
it until I was violently shaken awake. I desperately tried to fight
my lingering fatigue and headache by sitting up and blinking the
sleep away from my eyes.

“You get up this instant!” Eugenia demanded.
“You have missed your morning studies!”

“I’m sorry, Eugenia. I will get dressed right
away.”

“You will not be served any food for three
days because of your indolence. And if this ever happens again,”
she said through gritted teeth, “you will be whipped. Do you
understand me?”

“Yes, Eugenia,” I sighed.

“I will let Warren know. It’s a good thing
you decided to remain shut away on your own accord. Perhaps you are
coming along. After all, this is all for your own good. Fasting
will also help God forgive you. Makes him see that you will
sacrifice your own happiness as repentance for your many, many
sins. And,” she added before marching out. “You look quite bloated
lately. You could stand to lose weight. I will have Abigail change
your diet as soon as you are allowed food again.”

It was difficult to shake the sluggishness
that lingered for most of the day. I remained in bed reading,
instead of sitting in the chair beside the closed-off windows. I
hadn’t expected to see Warren that afternoon, so when he came in, I
wondered what he wanted.

“Eugenia instructed me not to bring any food
up to you, but I did anyway,” he said and held out a few biscuits
and a piece of corn pone held in a cloth.

“I will do as Eugenia ordered,” I stated and
went back to reading.

“You were crying out last night,” he said. “I
was walking by and I couldn’t help but hear.”

“I was crying out?” I asked, then suddenly
remembered my strange dream, which I hadn’t recalled until Warren
triggered my memory.

“I wanted to come in and see if anything was
wrong, but I had turned in the key to Eugenia already. She has me
give it to her every night. She must think I would do something
inappropriate,” he said uncomfortably and swung his eyes away.

“Of course she would think that. And so
should you. I am a product of the devil, Warren. Hasn’t Eugenia
told you?”

“Told me? No. And it doesn’t matter, Amelia,
I don’t…”

I threw my book at him and screamed for him
to get out, causing the food to fall onto the dirty floor. Warren
went to pick it up.

“Stop trying to help me. I don’t need you. I
don’t need anyone. I don’t need food. I only need God and his
forgiveness.”

I quoted a part from James 1:12-16, “My
brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into diverse temptations;
Knowing this that the trying of your faith worsen the patience. But
let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and
entire, wanting nothing.”

Warren was once again resigned and kindly
placed my book beside me on the bed. He left, beaten and battered
by my verbal attack.

I lay back, confused and frustrated. I tried
desperately to remember the details of my night, but it was all a
fog. I could only remember certain bits and pieces of my peculiar
delusion. I wanted to curse myself for allowing Patrick back into
my thoughts. He didn’t deserve to be there. Patrick left me; he
turned his back on us after promising me his unconditional love. If
he hadn’t forsaken me, I wouldn’t have run off and straight into
the arms of Perry Montgomery. And even though I didn’t regret our
painfully brief marriage, I was suffering all too much with
heartache and an ill-omened pregnancy. How could I ever learn to
trust a man again? Then again, did I ever want to? Only harm came
from falling in love. It happened to Mummy, Mammy, me, and even
Eugenia. We were all abandoned by the men we loved and devoted
ourselves to, whether by choice or by death. Either way, we women
were the ones to suffer. For that, I refused to love again. Not
that I would be granted such an opportunity before my impending
death in a matter of months. I was in no way worthy of ever being
loved, I told myself.

The hours crept by excruciatingly slowly
during the next few days. My stomach grumbled and screamed for
food, and it was all I could do to concentrate on my reading. My
mind wandered, my thinking was obsessed with thoughts of food. I
nearly regretted telling Warren not to steal me food. But when I
heard his footsteps occasionally passing the attic door, as much as
my stomach tried to override my resolve, I stayed true to my
determination to fast.

By the last day, I was too weak to read and
purely miserable. All I could do was lie on the bed, listening to
the rain. It had been raining all day, and the dampness crept into
the mansion. All I had was a light quilt; all other linens had been
stripped when I was first brought back home. Then I reminded myself
that I didn’t deserve to be comfortable. If I hadn’t been tricked
by the devil, I would never have been in such a predicament. I was
shamefully sinful, and my suffering wasn’t ever going to end,
especially since I was tormented with recurrent intimate dreams of
Patrick, Warren, and Perry as the next few weeks went by. The
dreams were almost always the same, except I didn’t always know who
was seducing. I usually imagined it to be Patrick, through in my
state of confusion, almost as if I was half asleep, at times it
would start out as Warren and then his face would slowly transform
into Perry’s. The next day, it was always difficult to make sense
of the night before. I began to dread the nights, and I felt as if
I were the devil’s prey all over again; he was seducing me into
lusting after men.

I gradually came to realize my delusions or
dreams, whatever they were, always came soon after I finished my
late evening meal. The food wasn’t always the same, but it happened
only on the nights that Warren brought me my meal. On the rare
occasions when Mammy delivered my plate, I never had those crazy
dreams or felt tired and drained all the next day. I wasn’t sure
what to think, but I decided one night to not eat the food Warren
brought to me.

I sat waiting for Warren, reading as usual.
He came on time, predictably at nine thirty.

“Hello, Amelia,” he greeted me. I customarily
refrained from greeting him. He put the tray down. “I hope you
sleep well. I will be going to Savannah early in the morning. Leave
your tray, and I will take it when I come with your morning meal. I
need to get to bed.”

“Have only Mammy bring my food from now on,”
I replied, taking him by surprise.

“Eugenia won’t allow that. Besides,” he said
before he departed, “Hattie is sick again, and your mammy is
tending to her.”

I stared down at the food, my instincts
telling me not to eat or drink anything Warren gave me. I needed to
see if I was dreaming or if something very sinister was happening
to me. I dreaded the thought and hoped I was wrong. Only time would
tell, and I waited in bed, pretending to sleep . . . waiting,
waiting.

~ ~ ~

I heard the grandfather clock from downstairs
chime twice. I was still awake, barely blinking at all. Two o’clock
passed, then three. I was becoming groggy and almost too tired to
stay awake when I heard the key unlock the door.

I snapped my eyes closed and held my breath,
waiting anxiously on edge for him to draw near. All those hours I
lay awake, trying to prepare for what to do if he came to my room,
yet when he came into the bed, I was seized with fear.

At first Warren rested beside me, merely
caressing my hair. The attic was pitch black, and I knew he
couldn’t tell that I was wide awake and very afraid. All those
weeks he had been coming to me and I had been unaware of what was
really happening to me, oblivious to the truth, and shockingly
taken advantage of. I never suspected Warren could do such a
thing.

“You have the softest hair,” he murmured as
he brought the ends to his face. I swallowed hard; my breathing
became quick and shallow. I gripped onto the pillow, trying to find
the courage to confront him as his fingers traveled slowly down my
back and reached my bottom.

“I love being with you, Amelia. Even if this
way is the only way. I wish you would love me,” he whispered, then
put his hands on my waist, turning me so he could begin undressing
me, when I let out a scream. Warren gasped and slammed his hand
over my mouth to muffle my panic.

“Don’t scream. It’s me, Warren!”

I bit his hand, pushed him back, jumped out
of the bed, and then quickly went for the matches. Warren rushed
up, but without being able to see where he was going he tripped and
fell. With trembling hands, I managed to light the candle.

The room lit up just as Warren approached me,
and then he suddenly stopped. Warren looked me over, and it was
only when his eyes fell onto my newly protruding belly under my
chemise that I realized he would know. My mind scrambled to take
control of him. “I know what you’ve been doing to me!” I shouted.
“Look what you’ve done! I’m carrying your baby.”

I took a chance, thinking that all the times
he came to me he had never noticed my belly, for when I was lying
down, the bulge remained low and unpronounced.

Warren was in complete shock. He stood there
stunned and speechless. I took my plate of food and threw it at
him.

“You disgusting pig! How dare you put
sleeping medications in my food to make me sleep and then come to
me? You raped me!”

He began to pace back and forth, frantic
now.

“It’s not that way. You make it seem so sick.
But it’s not. I came to you because I love you. I made love to you!
It wasn’t rape!” he said and rushed me. “We can get married. We’ll
tell Eugenia and she will agree. I will make you an honest woman.
You must agree now.”

Warren was desperate. However, I was not
going to marry Warren Stone, and I let him know in no uncertain
terms. “I want you to tell Eugenia you’re leaving Sutton Hall for
good.”

“What!”

“If you don’t, I will tell her about your
amnesia and all your lies. I will tell her how you’ve raped me. No
doubt you took her sleeping powders. I will tell her you stole from
her as well.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“You’re not thinking clearly. Once she finds
out you’re with child, you will never see the light of day. I am
your only hope.” He tried to hold me, but I hit his chest hard.

“You are no hope!”

“I’m not leaving,” he said defiantly.

“If you tell Eugenia I’m carrying your baby,
I will tell her all about your lies.” I stood resolute, determined
not to let him see my fright or my mortification at what he’d done
to me. “And she will most likely have you hanged.”

He appeared to think hard.

“You will not come to me anymore, for I will
scream rape for all to hear. You stay away from me, Warren Stone.
You tell Eugenia you can’t bring me my food anymore. Tell her it’s
because you fear my wicked ways. She will believe that. Do you
understand?”

Warren signed and lowered his head. “I am
truly ashamed. I’m very sorry.”

“You should be. Never forget how much I hate
you, even if I am carrying your baby,” I lied. “For it’s not the
fault of this innocent child it has a repulsive father.”

My words were a dagger to his heart.

“You will never claim this baby as yours. It
will be an Arrington, whether I die giving this child life or not.
It will never bear your name or know you as its father.”

“How can you be so cruel?” he mumbled with
tear-filled eyes. “All I asked is to have your love.”

“You didn’t ask; you took what wasn’t
rightfully yours. For that, I hope you burn in hell.”

“All right. You will see nothing of me
again.”

“Good riddance!”

As soon as he was gone, I fell apart. After I
became physically sick, I fell back onto the bed. During all those
weeks of confusion, I had believed my mind was becoming unhinged
and my soul was trapped by the devil. Instead, it was Warren who
infringed on my privacy and violated me. In every way.

Eugenia came early that morning after I’d
slept for only an hour. I had dressed in time for her arrival,
covering my condition with my newly-altered dress. I attempted to
compose myself and put on a good appearance. I was hoping she
wouldn’t notice much of me.

I stood at attention as she wandered in with
a letter in her hand. Eugenia scoped the room, picked up my book,
and gazed at it, then put it back down. I was nervous, and my heart
fluttered madly, fearing she would find something or that the
letter she was holding would reveal Warren’s betrayal.

Finally, she stopped, spun on her heels, and
said in a cool, icy tone, “Warren Stone has left Savannah. Do you
happen to know why?”

I hesitated before answering, not knowing if
she really knew the reason and was just pretending not to.

“He left me a letter. Shall I read it aloud
to you?” It wasn’t a question. She didn’t wait for an answer. I
held my breath while she read his letter.

“Dear Mrs. Arrington. I thank you and your
family for your extended hospitality. At this time, I feel I need
to move on and search out my regiment, as my duties to serve the
Confederate Army have been long awaited. My reasons for such
hesitation came from my feelings for Amelia. I have loved her since
the moment I laid eyes on her, yet she feels nothing for me. I have
confessed my affections for her, asked for her hand in marriage,
yet she has rejected my proposals time and time again. I fear I
have no other choice than to move on and return to my prior
obligations.”