“Those men that done that weren’t Henry.”

“They was him. When he comes taking what ain’t his and moving on, it’s them all over again.”

Chapter 47

Maple

Now that Master Thomas is on the mend, Sarah’s got to split her time between checking in on him and her regular work, but really she spends it between moping and fretting. When I fix a pitcher of lemonade for Miss Martha and go to carry it across the yard, who do I see still sweeping the back porch, slow as a snail on sand and barely looking at what she’s doing? I already caught her twice poking around the coach house, pining for that blacksmith like a pet dog waiting at the gate for its master. That girl’s the most shameful creature I ever seen.

I suck my teeth and pass her by, dipping down into the carry-through and up the cellar stairs into the house. Miss Martha sits in her drawing room, flipping through the same book of poetry she been picking up for weeks.

I set the tray down and pour the lemonade.

“Thank you, Maple. Just what I need.”

“You look plum worn out, Miss Martha. You feeling all right?”

“It’s this suffocating heat. And to think we’ve still got August to get through. It’s going to be unbearable.”

“Just summer, I suppose,” I say, though I been wiping sweat from the back of my neck all day. “You sure you ain’t sick?”

“My feet are bursting out of my shoes.” She twists her body sideways and swings her legs up on to the settee. “Rub my feet, will you, Maple?”

I swallow the smart-mouth answer I want to give her and bend over her feet, taking off her silk shoes. Her ankles are big, and her feet are swollen. I rub them as she sips her lemonade.

“Feet like this and tired as you’ve been, could be you’re with child.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sure it’s just the heat.”

“Momma was always the best one to have around when somebody was carrying. Maybe your daddy would let her come here early.”

“Early?”

“You know. Before he pass on and leave everything to you,” I say. “She could help you get through your time. And Rose could come over to care for it when it comes, like I did with you. Wouldn’t that be fine? Almost like a tradition.”

“It’s a lovely idea,” she says, “but I’m not having a baby.” She props up on her elbow. “I know what you’re doing, Maple. I told you to wait until I inherit Belle Grove. You’ll all be together soon enough. Except Freddy, but that’s his own fault.”

There’s no guile in her face, so I know Master ain’t told her. She don’t know that “soon enough” is much too late, and if Master Nathaniel has his way it could be never.

“Not so hard,” she says, kicking at my hands.

I unclench my fingers from around her feet and start up again with gentle kneading.