Daughters of the Summer Storm Frances Statham (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📖

me, Maman, I am not feeling well. Please give my apologies to them."

Eulalie walked swiftly toward her daughter and with a worried glance, took in the girl's pale face, her trembling hands. "What is the matter, Souci?"

"I think I should not have walked so far this afternoon."

Eulalie reached out to help her daughter up the stairs, but Marigold shook her head. "I can manage alone, Maman. You need not neglect your guests because of me."

"Shaun is hardly a guest, mon enfant. He is your husband. I am certain that he will be distressed, as I am, that you are not feeling well."

Marigold went to her room and when she reached it, she tore off the green cape and the crepe dress and removed the brocade ribbon from her hair. Taking the unflattering old woolen robe from the armoire, she slipped into it and then climbed into bed. Suddenly cold, she began to shiver. But she did not call for a servant to light the fire. Later, when Shaun and Docia had gone—

So he was still seeing her. Perhaps it was just as well then. If he still wished to marry her, it was not too late. Marigold would give Shaun his freedom. It had been a mistake to marry him so hastily. She should have known he would resent the child.

Marigold didn't know when her love for her baby had begun to develop. Certainly she hadn't felt it at first, not even when Feena had talked with her about it. It could have been in the mine—when she had thought the baby was going to die with her. Yes, she supposed that was when she first began to feel the gradual acceptance that she was to be a mother, and the protective feeling for her child.

Cedar Hill was her baby's inheritance. But could she bring herself to go back there? To rear the child where she had been so unhappy?

Marigold closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Later, when she awoke, she heard the fire crackling in the hearth and felt the warmth in the room. Someone had come in while she was asleep, and she was grateful.

Shaun leaned over to put another log on the fire and, seeing him, Marigold frowned. "I thought you had gone," she said.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you."

He came to her bed and stared down at her. "Marigold, I want to apologize for my behavior this afternoon. I don't know what came over me." His emerald eyes showed pain, and Marigold, seeing this, sat up.

Her voice was distressed. "We should never have gotten married, Shaun. But it isn't too late to do something about it. I'm sure it can be annulled, especially since. . ."

His eyes kindled in anger, negating any pain that she had seen. "You expect me to leave you, now all of Charleston knows why we got married so suddenly?"

"I don't understand, Shaun."

"Don't act the innocent little girl, Marigold. Didn't you tell Docia the child is mine—not Crane's?"

Marigold blushed. "Is that what she told you?"

"Docia doesn't discuss such delicate matters with me. She merely repeated what you had said to her mother, and a few days ago Fess Henley took me aside and said I had done the honorable thing. So you see why it is impossible for me to back out now. No, my girl. You are married to me, regardless of the way you feel. And we will stay married."

"I am sorry, Shaun."

"So am I."

35

Down to the falls of Hitû they went—as Ruis had promised—to view the special offering by the slaves to the "mother of rivers and waters," the goddess, Iemanjá.

It was New Year's Eve, and Maranta and Dona Isobel rode in the palanquin, while Ruis and Vasco were on horseback.

Maranta was surprised to see Vasco astride a horse. The entire time she had lived on the fazenda, she had never seen him attempt to ride. He must have practiced without anyone's knowing, except for Patû. He would have needed the Indian's help in getting into the saddle and being strapped down.

Vasco handled the horse well. Over the past months his arms had become powerful—not unusual for one who had lost the use of his legs. Riding directly behind him was Patû, as always, silent and enigmatic.

The terraced slopes were lit by torches at various points along the way. And the pathway was crowded. It seemed that nearly all the slaves were taking part in the ritual. Maranta looked back toward the fazenda. Naka and a few Indians had remained behind at the plantation house to watch over little Paulo.

Maranta was uneasy about leaving the baby. But, of course, it would not do to take him out into the night air. He was safer with Naka in the nursery.

Speaking to Dona Isobel, Maranta said, "Have you seen this ritual before?"

"Many times, Maranta. Even though it's quite pagan, it's a beautiful sight, especially when the candles and flowers are carried over the falls. And it is even more breathtaking in Rio by the sea, with the white sand and the snowy tablecloths covered with colorful gifts. Perhaps you will have an opportunity to see it sometime when you visit the royal court." The roar of the falls grew louder, making conversation difficult.

A large canopy had already been spread on the bank overlooking the falls. It was a pavilion suitable for a king, set up for their comfort, with cushions in place.

Deeming it rude to stare, Maranta did not watch as Patû helped Vasco from the horse. She took her place in the pavilion and turned to watch the slaves gathering.

The women, dressed and decorated in their finest clothes, laid out their gifts upon the banks. As they began to sing and to chant and move in rhythm to the chanting, the sound rose over the noise of the falls.

Staring at the foaming waters that rushed to cascade down the steep ravine, Maranta said, "The falls look extremely dangerous. Has anyone ever gone over