Slave Sisters

(32) Slave Sisters

2nd April, 1805

 “Yer didn’t hurt her . . . did yer?” Victor stood in the corner of the kitchen as I poured him a glass of milk; my hand shook as his eyes stayed fixed on me, making it even more difficult to concentrate. Once I had filled the glass near the top he lay a stretched arm on the countertop; I hesitantly slid it across to him, making sure that our fingers did not touch.

He held the cold drink in level with his chest, one of his fingers slowly sliding up and down the cup.  “Of course not,” he confirmed, bewildered at my accusation. Our eyes met. “I love Jane as much as, and maybe more, than you do.” I stayed silent.

Victor explained to me that, upon leaving the living room, they went to his bedchamber. After checking to see that she was not hurt and then giving her a warning to be careful with her words around Virginia and Judith, Jane started to cry again – at this, Victor supposedly comforted her. Within minutes, she fell asleep on his bed.

“How did yer comfort her?” I interrupted, curious.

“In the same way that I did when she were a baby; I rocked from her side to side.” The image of this made me smile in awe.

“Fank yer . . . fer wha’ yer did,” I gratefully said, “dat was really kind of yer.” My smile faltered. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for others. Judith could have easily punished me instead of Jane; never before had I seen Judith hit her niece in such a way. I still could not understand why Virginia felt the need to provoke the girl’s punishment – was her hate for me so great?

Touched by my compliment, Victor mindlessly smiled. “You seem so . . . tired.” I picked up a rag and began to wipe at the countertop; my fingers clenched harder around my rag, rubbing at a stain that clearly did not exist. Noticing this, he quietly exhaled.

“Woul’ yer like fer me to stop?” I turned around to face Victor, who warily observed my physical appearance – my tattered dress hem, untidy hair, and my tired eyes. “If yer want fer yer mother to sell me, den I can.”

Pause.

“You do not know what you are saying.” His hand reached out to hold my arm, forcing my scrubbing to come to a halt. Surprised at the amount of anger that radiated from his body, I could not help but flinch. “I will not let her sell you – ever,” he promised.

As much I wanted to believe this, I could not. Surely Judith or Virginia would be able to convince Mrs Wicker to, especially in her current state.

“Why –?” When he crossed his hands across his chest, undoubtedly offended by my questioning, I stopped.

Eventually, all I could utter was, “I – I didn’t kno’ yer aunty was like dat.” Thinking back to her reaction to Jane’s reference of me and Tayla made me sick. As if understanding, Victor’s expression softened.

“She is not,” he assured me, “she was . . . only worried, surprised and did not know what else to do at the time; she has been brought up to react to such situations in that way.”

“Yer an’ Jane were as well,” I argued, “but yer still respect me and my sista.” Judith was old enough to think for herself.

“It was for Jane’s own good,” he persisted, “she would be put in more harm if others, such as my mother, were to see Jane treating you so kindly.”

“Because I deserve to be – at least yer sista sees me fer who I really am.”

“Yes, of course, I know that but –” He paused, unsure of what else to say. “You need to trust me, Tamara.”

“Judith wasn’t like dat when she first came,” I continued. I brought a hand over my forehead, slowly rubbing it with confusion. “It’s Virginia, ain’t it? She’s corrupted yer aunty.”

“Please stop,” he pleaded. Victor looked just as puzzled as me. “It is very late; you should go to bed now.”

“As shoul’ yer,” I shot back, putting the rag away. Victor looked away.

“Have you spoken to Jane recently?” I frowned at his sudden query. “I have not been able to.”

“I kno’,” I stated. Turning to face him, my eyes narrowed. Victor frowned. “Why?”

“Virginia has been –” Carefully re-thinking over his words, he cut off the sentence. “You already know that I will not marry her.”

“She doesn’t,” I countered. Victor blankly stared at me.

“Is she the reason why we have problems?” He asked, his expression now filled with pure confusion. “Because –”

“No,” I whispered. Somehow my voice still wobbled with uncertainty. I wanted to take back my words. What if, this whole time, she had been? After all, it was only when she had arrived at the mansion that things had started to go wrong between me and Victor.

“Is it Jane?” Victor pressed, his curiosity growing by the moment. He put down his glass, which had yet to be sipped from.  “I understand . . . how things have not gone to plan.” I felt relief wash over my body at his long-awaited acknowledgement, and I let out a breathless laugh.

Silence came as I waited for him to say more, yet he did not. Immediately, disappointment began to replace my comfort. Where was his apology; his explanation?

In that moment I wanted to hit him for his foolishness – to blame an innocent girl? “I woul’ never blame Jane fer anythin’,” I snapped. Turning my head sideways to face the kitchen window, I deeply stared into the dark night sky.

“Then what is it, Tamara?” Victor took a step forward, desperate. I took a step backwards. A hand clutched at his chest in pain. “Please, Tamara . . . tell me.”

“Why shoul’ I?” I accused.  “Yer shoul’ kno’ it by now.”

If I were to simply tell him the truth I was certain that he would not immediately be able to soothe my emotions nor the situation, in the same way that Tayla would struggle to understand my love for Victor. Yet, if I did tell him, he would at least have more of a chance to reflect on his wrongdoings.

But then what would I tell him? That the promise he had made felt almost worthless? That his actions had made me doubt myself? That he should spend more time with Jane than Virginia? If he were to do that then someone would begin to question his intentions at some point, and our relationship would soon be discovered.

Without Virginia our secret would be near impossible to keep.

“Do you not know how much you matter to me?” Victor questioned. “You are . . .” He continued to speak, yet I struggled to listen.

I came to realise something. Despite my countless assumptions on his feelings for me, Victor had not once declared that he loved, or were in love, with me. Of course he had tried before, but it had not been the best time to tell me and I had not been interested in listening to his words. Right now, I no longer cared whether it was the right moment or not. I wanted to hear him say it. Regardless, were there a reason that whenever I told him that I loved him that he never said the same to me? Surely it was not a coincidence – he must have at least once thought about it. Unless . . .

Surely I had not been living a lie.

Once he were finished talking, I allowed for Victor to plant a soft kiss to my cheek. “I’m tired . . . yer shoul’ be as well,” I quietly mumbled. “Let’s talk another time.” As I was about to leave, Victor held onto my shoulder. When my body trembled I gasped.

“Please do not do this, Tamara.” With no further response, I walked away.

~ 

Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and thanks for doing so; I wish you all a Merry Christmas and  Happy New Year <3 Take care :]