at him bleakly. "Don't you mind?" he asked hoarsely.
Jason shook his head. "If she carryin' another black man's chile, ah kill her. Yore chile is different, Mast' Nick."
"Good God in Heaven, tell me how," Nick said, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility.
Jason explained. "When a black woman has a white man's chile, it sets her above the rest. She gets respect. It sets her apart-- marks her as special."
Nicholas shook his head. "Forgive me, Solange. I never meant for this to happen, believe me."
Solange said simply, "Ah prayed ah would have yore chile. It a great honor. But ah don't love you, ah loves Jason and we wants to be married."
"If you wish to marry, you have my blessing. I will always provide well for my child. I think you are better off here Solange, for the time being. This winter we'll have time to start building Jason a large cabin at the plantation, so that you can be together."
Nicholas didn't go to the Planters Inn at Church and Queen Street. Instead he found himself knocking imploringly on Lady Margot's front door.
Her smile was eager and welcoming when she saw the magnificent figure of Nicholas on her doorstep.
He hesitated, which was most unlike him. "Maggie, I'm sorry to barge in unannounced, but I need someone to talk to."
"Darling Nick, it's my pleasure. Do come in and tell me whatever is wrong." She took his hand and led him into the drawing room. She poured him bourbon and branchwater and joined him on the love seat.
"I've done something shocking," he said.
She put her fingers to his lips, "Ssh, the drink first," she soothed.
He drained the glass and set it aside. The silence stretched out and the room was filled with the heavy, slow ticking of a grandfather clock. Finally she said, "Did something go wrong with the crop? Did you lose money at the Cotton Exchange?"
He laughed shortly. "No, no. This has nothing to do with business. Everything has gone extremely well in that direction."
"Start at the beginning," she prompted.
"Yes. Well. There's not that much to tell really. The day I bought my slaves, I purchased a black girl."
Her eyebrows went up.
"No, no, I didn't buy her for that; at least I don't believe so. She wasn't even particularly beautiful, but she held herself so proudly, I couldn't bear to leave her there for men to examine and degrade. I wasn't being particularly noble either, Maggie. I felt stained, damned, if you will, buying human flesh, so to absolve myself in a token fashion, I bought her to free her."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "That proved more difficult than I thought, as is often the case in this world of ours. Freedom frightened her more than slavery did, so I took her on as my housekeeper. That night she came to me, and I selfishly indulged myself. It only happened once." His eyes showed their misery. "She's carrying my child."
Maggie was relieved. She thought he'd committed murder at the very least. "Nick, most men wouldn't acknowledge such a thing after only one time."
"Maggie, I'm not most men," he said quietly.
"I know that, Nick. In the South the majority of white men father children with wenches. It's simply accepted as a way of life."
"I have no qualms about acknowledging the child, and it surely goes without saying that I shall give full financial support. The thing I have difficulty with is knowing I'm responsible for bringing a half-caste child into a world where it's certain to meet pain and suffering," he said softly.
"Nick, we are all certain to meet that, sooner or later."
He smiled slightly. "You're right of course. Thank you for listening to me moan. I don't usually."
She moved closer and bent her lips to his ear. "Come to bed. Everything will seem brighter in the morning." What woman could sleep under the same roof and not long to share your bed?
"You go ahead up, Maggie. I'll just have a smoke in the quiet and join you shortly." He turned out the lamps and sat in the dark. The tip of his cheroot glowed in the
Jason shook his head. "If she carryin' another black man's chile, ah kill her. Yore chile is different, Mast' Nick."
"Good God in Heaven, tell me how," Nick said, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility.
Jason explained. "When a black woman has a white man's chile, it sets her above the rest. She gets respect. It sets her apart-- marks her as special."
Nicholas shook his head. "Forgive me, Solange. I never meant for this to happen, believe me."
Solange said simply, "Ah prayed ah would have yore chile. It a great honor. But ah don't love you, ah loves Jason and we wants to be married."
"If you wish to marry, you have my blessing. I will always provide well for my child. I think you are better off here Solange, for the time being. This winter we'll have time to start building Jason a large cabin at the plantation, so that you can be together."
Nicholas didn't go to the Planters Inn at Church and Queen Street. Instead he found himself knocking imploringly on Lady Margot's front door.
Her smile was eager and welcoming when she saw the magnificent figure of Nicholas on her doorstep.
He hesitated, which was most unlike him. "Maggie, I'm sorry to barge in unannounced, but I need someone to talk to."
"Darling Nick, it's my pleasure. Do come in and tell me whatever is wrong." She took his hand and led him into the drawing room. She poured him bourbon and branchwater and joined him on the love seat.
"I've done something shocking," he said.
She put her fingers to his lips, "Ssh, the drink first," she soothed.
He drained the glass and set it aside. The silence stretched out and the room was filled with the heavy, slow ticking of a grandfather clock. Finally she said, "Did something go wrong with the crop? Did you lose money at the Cotton Exchange?"
He laughed shortly. "No, no. This has nothing to do with business. Everything has gone extremely well in that direction."
"Start at the beginning," she prompted.
"Yes. Well. There's not that much to tell really. The day I bought my slaves, I purchased a black girl."
Her eyebrows went up.
"No, no, I didn't buy her for that; at least I don't believe so. She wasn't even particularly beautiful, but she held herself so proudly, I couldn't bear to leave her there for men to examine and degrade. I wasn't being particularly noble either, Maggie. I felt stained, damned, if you will, buying human flesh, so to absolve myself in a token fashion, I bought her to free her."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "That proved more difficult than I thought, as is often the case in this world of ours. Freedom frightened her more than slavery did, so I took her on as my housekeeper. That night she came to me, and I selfishly indulged myself. It only happened once." His eyes showed their misery. "She's carrying my child."
Maggie was relieved. She thought he'd committed murder at the very least. "Nick, most men wouldn't acknowledge such a thing after only one time."
"Maggie, I'm not most men," he said quietly.
"I know that, Nick. In the South the majority of white men father children with wenches. It's simply accepted as a way of life."
"I have no qualms about acknowledging the child, and it surely goes without saying that I shall give full financial support. The thing I have difficulty with is knowing I'm responsible for bringing a half-caste child into a world where it's certain to meet pain and suffering," he said softly.
"Nick, we are all certain to meet that, sooner or later."
He smiled slightly. "You're right of course. Thank you for listening to me moan. I don't usually."
She moved closer and bent her lips to his ear. "Come to bed. Everything will seem brighter in the morning." What woman could sleep under the same roof and not long to share your bed?
"You go ahead up, Maggie. I'll just have a smoke in the quiet and join you shortly." He turned out the lamps and sat in the dark. The tip of his cheroot glowed in the
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