Passion's Fury Read online

  She paused, then glared at her. “Now I done tol’ you he’s havin’ a good day. How come you wants to go and ruin it?”

  April would not back down. How could she? “Do as I say, Posie. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She hated speaking so sharply, but she was too desperate to argue. “You see that Mandy invites Alton here for lunch today.”

  Posie murmured “Yes’m” and bustled from the room, mumbling to herself.

  April splashed cool water on her face from the porcelain bowl on her dresser, then began to brush her long golden hair. She chose a light green wool dress with a high, lace-edged collar and long, fitted sleeves. Finding a matching ribbon of green velvet, she tied her hair back so that the natural curls fell about her shoulders. Dabbing a touch of cologne about her ears, she looked in the mirror and decided that she looked as mature as she should look for the occasion.

  On her way downstairs, she met Mandy coming up. Her face was bright with excitement, and she spoke breathlessly. “I did what you asked, Miss April. Mastah Alton, he say to give him time to clean up a bit, and he’d be here. He was cleanin’ out stalls, and you know what he smells like!” She held her nose and giggled.

  “Don’t say anything to anyone, Mandy,” April warned. “I want to be the one to tell my father we have a guest.”

  She started on down the stairs, but Mandy made her pause. “He ain’t gonna like it. Not one bit. He’s gonna have a pure fit. Ain’t no stableboy ever set his boots under his table before.”

  She paused to giggle and cover her mouth with her hands before rushing on. “How come you’s sweet on Mastah Alton, Miss April? You could have yo’ pick o’ rich boys. How come you likes him? If you could’ve smelled him a lil’ while ago, you’d know why I think it’s so funny, you likin’ a man what smells like—”

  “Mandy!” April stared at her incredulously. “I don’t care what you think. I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself. I happen to be quite fond of Mr. Mosely, and there is nothing wrong with his being a stable hand. It’s honest work. And speaking of work, isn’t there some you could be doing, instead of tending to my business?”

  Mandy’s eyes dropped. “Yes’m,” she murmured.

  “Besides,” April added, “would you rather I were interested in Graham Fletcher?”

  “Oh, no ma’m!” Mandy’s eyes grew large as she shook her head from side to side. “No, ma’m! I’s scared of that man. I hears things about him. I hears he goes down to the slave shacks at their place and rapes the young girls any time he wants to. They say one was just ten years old. They say she’s gonna have a baby, and—”

  “Mandy, please don’t gossip.” April was losing her patience. The girl was young, perhaps only fourteen or fifteen years old, and while she was fond of her and found her youthful innocence amusing at times, there were other occasions when she was annoying.

  She gave her an affectionate pat on her shoulder and told her to run along. “And I want you to watch that tongue of yours. I don’t like the servants gossiping.”

  April moved on down the stairs and turned to go to the rear of the house and speak with Posie. But his voice boomed out, “April? Is that you? Come in here, please.”

  April stiffened, then walked to the door. She saw him sitting behind his huge oak desk, which was covered with ledgers and papers. He wore a white ruffled shirt, open at the throat. With the intent, concentrated expression on his handsome mature face, it was ludicrous to think him insane. He looked so calm…in complete control.

  He looked up. “April darling, you look beautiful,” he smiled, pushing a ledger aside. “Where have you been all morning? I missed you at breakfast. I’d hoped we could go riding.”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She stepped inside but did not take the seat he gestured to. “There’s so much work to be done around here, Poppa, and you might get stronger if you tried to do a little each day when you’re feeling like it. I’ve been worried about how run down things are getting—”

  “I know, I know,” he said airily, waving his hand as though to dismiss the subject. “But with the war it’s hard to concentrate on everyday things. If I were younger, I’d be out fighting the goddamn yankees myself. Sometimes I think I should join up, anyway. There are plenty of good men my age in battle.”

  “After your stroke, your doctor would never agree to your going off to war,” she said quickly.

  A frown touched his forehead, and his eyes shadowed briefly. “I was upset, April. I became physically ill, and what man wouldn’t? But I’ve told you, I don’t want to discuss it. It didn’t happen.”

  “It did happen, and you aren’t well, Poppa, and you know it. This is one of your good days, and I’m glad, but you have to acknowledge the fact that you aren’t completely well.”

  “I’m fine.” He rose from his chair and walked around to stand before her. “That was a long time ago, and life must go on. I’m going to get things in shape around here. You’ll see.”

  “Poppa,” she pressed on hesitantly. “On your…your bad days, do you remember anything? I mean, I find you sitting in your room, staring out the window like you’re not really here. I speak to you, but you don’t answer me. Do you remember those days? What happens when you seem to be in a fog?”

  “What is this?” he demanded. “You think you’re my doctor, April? What does it matter what I’m thinking then? I told you. Sometimes I don’t feel well. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

  “But do you remember anything, Poppa?” she repeated. “Anything at all about…what you do?”

  He turned away. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you needling me? Have I done anything to offend you?”

  “You think I am my mother.”

  For a moment, he stood frozen. Then he turned slowly, a bewildered look in his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me that I speak to you as though you are your mother? That’s insane, April. You look like her, true. You’re as beautiful as she was, but—”

  “I didn’t mean to bring this up.” April squeezed her hands together to stop their trembling. “I didn’t want to mention it, but it worries me. You aren’t yourself on those days, and you think I’m my mother, and—”

  “This is nonsense.” He turned abruptly and walked briskly to his desk once more and began to shuffle his papers around. “I tell you, I’m fine. I suffered a great shock, but I’ve chosen to forget it. Now let’s have lunch. Later, we can go for a ride. And there will be no more of this kind of talk.”

  The sound of the heavy brass knocker banging on the front door surprised both of them. “I wonder who could be calling at this hour,” Carter murmured. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  April took a deep breath. In the anxious moments while Buford answered the door, she looked at her father through a mist of emotions. She loved him. She respected him. Despite the way he had treated Vanessa, she still loved him. Of late, as he drifted in and out of his stupors, she had come to fear him, even to loathe him. But even so, she knew she did love him deeply, and she grieved over the anguish of their lives.

  Buford appeared in the doorway, looking bewildered and, April thought, also frightened. “It’s Mastah Alton Moseley at the door, suh,” he said with a bob of his cotton white hair. “He say he come for lunch, that Miz April invited him.”

  Before Carter could ask any questions, she told Buford to bring Alton in, then said briskly, “Poppa, I invited him here. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me? About what? I have nothing to discuss with my groomsman. If I do, I’ll go to the stables. Since when do my servants come as luncheon guests to discuss business?”

  April was relieved when Alton stepped into the room. Better to get this over with quickly, she thought frantically, before her father really had time to become angry. “Shall we go into lunch now?” she said before Alton could even step forward to shake the older man’s hand.

  “No, we will not go into lunch now.” Carter sat down behind his desk. Looking directly at Alton,
who stood with his straw hat in his hands, twisting it around and around nervously, he snapped, “What’s the meaning of this, Moseley? My daughter doesn’t entertain hired help, and neither do I.”

  Alton looked beseechingly at April, silently asking what he was supposed to do next. “Go on,” she whispered. “Do it now.”

  “Do what now?” Carter stood, hands clenching the edge of his desk. “I think someone had better tell me what this is all about. My lunch is getting cold while I stand here in front of a dawdling stableboy.”

  “Poppa, will you just listen to what he has to say?” April cried, near tears. “Please?”

  “I’m waiting. And so is my lunch.” To Alton, he said, “If you’re wanting more money, boy, this is a stupid way to go about asking for it. And you aren’t worth it. You’ll never be the groomsman the Taggarts were.”

  “It isn’t money. I’m joining the Confederate Army. I’ll be going off to fight the Yankees soon.” His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he glanced at April in misery.

  “Well, that’s commendable. I’ll have to find someone to replace you, but that shouldn’t be hard. Now we’ll just talk about this later. April and I were planning on going for a ride after lunch. We’ll talk later.” He held out his arm to April. “Now it’s time for us to eat. If you will excuse us—”

  “I want to marry your daughter, sir.”

  Carter whipped his head about to stare at him, then shook himself slightly as he whispered, “I don’t believe I heard you correctly, boy.”

  “Don’t call me ‘boy’!” Alton’s cheeks flushed. “I’m no boy. I’m a man, going off to fight for the South. I love your daughter, and I want her to be my wife. I want to marry her before I go off to war. She can live with my folks, and—”

  Alton was speaking in a rush, as though he would lose his nerve if he didn’t get the words out rapidly. April was watching, trancelike, praying he would say it all in the right way. Neither of them had been concentrating on Carter. The veins in his neck began to throb. His fists opened and closed convulsively. And suddenly the explosion came. He leaped for Alton, knocking him to the floor, his fingers squeezed tightly about his throat.

  “I’ll kill you, you no-good white trash,” he screamed. “No one is ever going to take her away from me, do you hear? And I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

  April screamed as she watched her father choking Alton, pounding his head against the floor. When she was able to will her wooden legs to move, she entwined her fingers in her father’s hair, trying to get him off Alton.

  Buford and another servant ran into the room. “Stop him,” April screamed as she was knocked to the floor. “Stop him before he kills Alton.”

  The two Negroes grabbed Carter by his shoulders and pulled with all their strength, but his grip on Alton’s throat was a death-lock. April could see Alton’s eyes bulging, his face turning color as he struggled to breathe…turning to red…to white…to a sickly blue-gray. And all the while the men were pulling at Carter, begging him to let go, telling him he was killing the boy.

  April, hysterical, glanced around and saw the heavy ledger book at the edge of the desk. Struggling to her feet, she grabbed it, stumbled forward, and began to beat her father over the head again and again, all the while screaming for him to stop. The force was stunning enough that he jerked backward and loosened his hold. The two Negroes yanked their master away, though it took all their strength to restrain him as he struggled with them.

  April scrambled to kneel beside Alton, who lay choking, coughing, clutching his throat. She watched as the color began to return to his face, the deep welts and bruises in his neck turning vivid red. “Alton, Alton, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Dear God, I didn’t know he’d react this way—”

  “I’ll kill you,” her father was still yelling as his servants dragged him from the room. “No man is good enough for my daughter, and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her from me. Do you hear me, you bastard? I’ll kill you.”

  “Buford, have someone ride out and find the doctor,” April called, helping Alton up to a sitting position.

  “Yes’m, I’ll do that,” he yelled, “but you better get Mastah Alton outta here, ’cause I don’t know how long we gonna be able to hold yo’ daddy down.”

  It was true. Alton had to leave at once. Not only the house but the area as well. Posie appeared, wide-eyed with fright, and April motioned to her. “Help me get him out of here. Now.”

  “You’re going with me.” Alton’s arms went about her as soon as he got to his feet. “I can’t leave you here with that madman, darling. Come with me.”

  Pain constricted her heart, as April watched her father being dragged up the stairs like a tantrum-stricken child. “I can’t leave him,” she whispered in anguish. “Not now. Not when he needs me.”

  Alton grabbed her arms, squeezing painfully as he held her so close she could feel the wild beating of his heart. “I love you, April. And I want you out of all this. Everybody’s talking about how your daddy’s turned into a lunatic. Now I’ve seen for myself, and I’m afraid for you.”

  She could not tell him that she shared his fears. At that moment, she was thinking only of how much she loved her father. He had always treated her with love and kindness. He was sick. Could she ever forgive herself for walking out on him? Who would care for him? Buford and Posie and the others would probably run away. They would never remain to care for a man who scared them witless. “Alton, listen to me, please—” she begged, blinking back tears. “I’ll send word to you to meet me somewhere when it’s safe. We’ll talk then. For now, just go. Please, just go!”

  He looked at her searchingly, then nodded solemnly. “All right. For now, I’ll leave. But I’ll be back. And I’ll drag you away from here if I have to. I’m not going off to war and leave you with that crazy man. I know you love him. He’s your father, but damn it, April, you’ve got to think of yourself.”

  His lips came down on hers in a bruising kiss. With hands pressed against his shoulders, she gave one mighty thrust and pushed him back. “Alton, please go! Leave here now, before something terrible happens.”

  She stared at the vivid purple bruises rising on his throat. He whispered raggedly, “All right. But you’ll come to me, April. Promise me you’ll come.”

  “Yes, yes. Anything, Alton. Just go…now!”

  Then they heard it, and they followed Posie’s terrified eyes past the doorway and the stairs leading up. The sound thundered through the great house, echoing, reverberating with fury. “Lorena!” The scream exploded. “Lorena, I’ll kill you if you leave me. I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”

  “Oh, Lordy, Lordy!” Posie covered her face with her apron. “That man done lost his mind. That man crazy fo’ sho’.” She scurried from the room sobbing.

  April faced Alton as he gripped her arms once more. “He’s mad. And you aren’t safe here.”

  “He’s sick. I told you, Alton, he’s sick. Now leave. As long as he knows you’re here, it’s only going to make matters worse.”

  “I’m afraid for you. I can’t walk out of here not knowing what that lunatic is going to do. Go get your things, and we’ll leave now.”

  “I can’t leave him the way he is!” she cried, gesturing wildly. “Can’t you see that? I—can’t—leave—him!” she cried hysterically.

  He stepped back, shook his head, and sighed. “All right. I can’t force you. I leave in a week. There’s time for us to get married and get you out of here. After I’m gone, I won’t be able to help you, April.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “I need time to think. Poppa needs a doctor. I must hear what he says. I promise I’ll send word to you, Alton. Just give me time.”

  He kissed her forehead, then turned and walked out, but she did not miss the flash of anger in his eyes.

  The sound still echoed all around them. April ran her fingers up and down her arms, the flesh crawling.

  “Lorena, for God’s sake don’t leave me. I love you, b
ut I’ll kill you if you try to leave me.”

  Yes, April told herself in silent anguish, Poppa was truly insane.

  Chapter Five

  April looked up from her father’s desk as Posie entered the room, obviously upset. “What is it?” she asked tonelessly.

  “You know what it is, missy. It’s yo’ daddy. He’s just sittin’ up there snifflin’ and a’cryin’ like he’s been doin’ since that fancy doctor from Birmin’ham come down here. Snifflin’ and a’cryin’ and a’talkin’ to yo’ momma.” Posie shook her head from side to side and took a deep breath. “I can’t get nobody else to go in there ’cept Buford. Everybody’s scairt to death o’ him.”

  “He has not been violent for three days now,” April pointed out. “He’s a pitifully sick man. Why should anyone be frightened of him when all he does is sit and cry?”

  “You heard what that fancy doctor said, that he’s real sick, and you ought to send him to that hospital fo’ crazy people in Tuscaloosa.” Posie glared at her accusingly.

  “Dr. Wermer is one of the best doctors in all the state, Posie. It’s true he suggested that I have him committed, but he also said that this might be temporary, because of what happened with Vanessa. I think all he needs is time. I can’t send him off to a place for crazy people when he’s just plain heartsick.”

  Posie snorted. “Then you ain’t scairt o’ him, like the rest of us? You ain’t scairt he’ll hurt you? I reckon it just don’t bother you none a’tall that he don’t even know you no mo’, that he thinks you is yo’ dead momma?”

  “Yes, it bothers me. More than you can know, Posie,” she said wearily. “But perhaps, with time, he’ll come out of it. Right now, I’m bone-tired and I’m going to bed. Would you ask Buford to see that my father is put to bed? We’ll call in all the household servants and talk about it in the morning. That’s all I know to do. Now good night.” And, with a swish of her skirts, she brushed by Posie and made her way out of the room and up the stairs.