cut, sure as yours. So me wan’ payment for taking you.’
Caroline suddenly pulled July roughly to stand her in front of Godfrey. ‘Tell him, Marguerite, tell him I am quite forgot here and need to get to town.’
She shook July so briskly that Godfrey said, ‘Leave her, missus. Let her go.’
‘Then are you ready to lift my belongings on to the gig and take me into town?’ she demanded.
And Godfrey said, ‘Of course.’
Caroline pulled upon her skirt to compose herself and said, ‘Good,’ as Godfrey carried on with, ‘Soon as you pay me, you may be on your way.’
‘Get up, get up!’ Caroline jumped twice in her fury. ‘Do as you are bid,’ then made to strike Godfrey with her closed fist. But Godfrey seized both her wrists with so tight a grip that the missus’s face contorted into a wince. Her mouth fell open in wordless agony as Godfrey raised himself from the chair. As he stood higher, he bore down upon the missus’s wrists until the pressure of the pain impelled her to kneel in front of him. As the missus, overwhelmed by him, went limp upon the ground, Godfrey let go her wrists.
July made move toward the missus, but Godfrey shouted, ‘Stop!’
He sat once more, and began playing with his fingernail, while Caroline Mortimer, quivering at his feet like a fish newly landed from the water, slowly lifted her head, wiped her snivelling nose upon the back of her hand, and quietly asked him, ‘How much?’
No, Godfrey decreed, her house girl Marguerite could not accompany Caroline Mortimer upon this journey into town. Why? Because Godfrey said so. And, oh yes, a point the missus must remember, her house girl was not named Marguerite—her name was July. Three times, Godfrey made Caroline speak that name. July giggled the first time of hearing the missus commanded to say it, but then bit her lip and looked to her feet when Godfrey insisted the missus repeat it into July’s face, louder, and then louder still.
And the gig with the chestnut horse that Caroline requested for her carriage was waved away by Godfrey, who decided that the mule and cart would do better and called Byron to bring that contraption around instead. When ordering the missus to lie herself down in the back of the cart, the missus had asked Godfrey, ‘Is this necessary?’ He did not reply, but the vicious eye he turned upon her, gagged her as sure as if he had clamped his hand across her mouth.
‘Bring a blanket to cover the missus,’ Godfrey requested of July. No, not the one from her closet, but the old one which was used in the kitchen and . . . well, get the dog off it then. The missus and her belongings were lying, hid under the stinking cloth in the cart when, in a muffled squeak of sneezing and snivelling, Caroline complained of extreme discomfort to Godfrey. But mounting the cart with a youthful bound, he merely bellowed on the whining white woman to hush up and remain as still and silent as death.
‘Move along,’ Godfrey commanded the mule. But the sleepy beast did not obey until it felt the crack of a whip upon its back. ‘Move on,’ Godfrey called, as the mule began to clop a slow progress away from Amity.
And if July had known then—as Godfrey, straight-backed atop the cart, slid that lumbering buggy along the path into the pink-purple mist of the morning—that she would never see Mr Godfrey again, then perhaps—oh, reader, perhaps—July may have raised her hand to wave him goodbye.
CHAPTER 12
OH, WHAT A HUSH did settle upon that house. With no missus nor massa within it the wooden planks of the floor did stretch and yawn, as no heavy foot was about to pound them. The chairs did breathe a sigh, for no fat-batty was about to crush them. The moats of grime that swirled within the gleams of sunlight floated softly down to rest. And, no longer required to look their best, the drapes at the windows drooped.
July slid the length of the polished floor within the hall upon her dirty apron. She had never before reached so far in one glide. She thought to call Molly to witness this daring . . . but stopped. For with Godfrey away, looking upon mischief other than hers, if she kept far from the kitchen and the gaze of Molly’s good eye then, at that moment, she was free.