Six years in the fifty years, two years to the fifthiet year
When i was a child, my mama used to sing me a poem when i woke up from the nightmares. She'd wipe my sweat and brush away the hair sticking to my face.
These hands
have subdued stubborn jungles
unmasked fertile groves
and plumbed the seedful promise
of loamy plains
The hands
calloused like a tortoise shell
have tended tendrils, joyous,
in their leafy dance
on the spine of stakes
hoed heaps clean
unearthed the venom of wayward weed
-she'd pull my hair playfully and smile down on my giggling face-
These palms
have lost their lines
to the mahogany handle
of a thousand machetes
the finger crooked by constant clutching
-'like you know who', she wiggled her brows at me and i laughed, 'daddy'.
'Ahh you said it not me'-
These hands
ha
Six years in the fifty years, two years to the fifthiet yearWhen i was a child, my mama used to sing me a poem when i woke up from the nightmares. She'd wipe my sweat and brush away the hair sticking to my face.These handshave subdued stubborn junglesunmasked fertile grovesand plumbed the seedful promiseof loamy plainsThe handscalloused like a tortoise shellhave tended tendrils, joyous,in their leafy danceon the spine of stakeshoed heaps cleanunearthed the venom of wayward weed-she'd pull my hair playfully and smile down on my giggling face-These palmshave lost their linesto the mahogany handleof a thousand machetesthe finger crooked by constant clutching-'like you know who', she wiggled her brows at me and i laughed, 'daddy'.'Ahh you said it not me'-These handshave crad
Chapter NineCome on Abigail, why are you dawdling'?'I'm not '!'Yes you are''Are not'!'Are too'!'Are not'!'Are too'! Abigail opened her mouth to respond and i quickly injected in. 'Look, you're doing just that by sitting down there and arguing with me. Now we really do need to go, Mrs Stanley needs-''I know, i know, but i don't feel like shopping' she flopped back on her bed, lying on her back with her arms spread up.'Why ever not'? I sat by the edge and played with the skirt of her gown. 'It's always so rowdy with people every where-''But that's your elements'!'And the place carries and awful odour''Ahh, so it's the smell', she wrinkled her nose up in the air.'You could just endure it a little, couldn't you? And anyway, we're not going to the worst parts of the market'.'Yes we are, you know we are' she harried. 'There'd
I must include, though, that this part of my life i am about to recount is of some shame to me. Of course i had not been born with a fountain of wisdom but i had acted imprudently in the situation.When i arrived, i, instead of going to Abigail's room to give her the flowers- of whence i had been originally headed to until i heard voices in the drawing room, crept in that direction.'Darling, i believe we've talked about this before, Abigail is of age now to be courted', i heard Mr Stanley Jr say. 'I know, i know John'. Mrs Stanley assured. 'But you promised she could be given the chance to court the city gentlemen'.'Darling' Mr Stanley said, 'John and i talked about it. How do you think of Abigail going to stay London, say in about four month's time'?'What! So soon? I'd have to send a telegraph to my father. She would stay with my father won't she'?'Yes we were pending on that'. I gasped. Pending on it? They wanted
Days past, four months was drawing near and summer was here. Which meant traveling was a lot easier than in winter.If hadn't mentioned it before, the Stanley had a large plantation of grains, but not only that, they also cultivated cotton. Summer also meant harvest and so many of my days were taken up in either of the fields. This certainly explained why the Stanley's and others like them, felt the need to buy a lot of slaves. But i didn't know how i felt about that now; if u blacks were meant to work in the fields and houses as servants and do other strenuous works, why then had the Stanley father and son, and mother of course, chosen me as an abigail for their Abigail?The sun beat down on us, soaking into my dress and heating up the threads that made up my cotton dress. Was i getting more brown? I always had a light skin completion which had mayhap gotten lighter before from frequently staying in doors more
Abigail's excitement had finally rubbed off on me. We were on the last leg of Devon and although i was a separate coach with the luggage, i couldn't help the excitement rolling off me with every bump the coach made.Devon, if i had not mentioned this afore now, was the county we lived in and was now leaving behind. Mrs Stanley and Master Stanley Jr were lord and lady of Devon and Master Stanley, Sire. That meant Abigail was a lady, which we all knew but oft did not use, preferring instead to address them or refer to them as Master, madame and miss. But as London drew closer to us or we to it ada nail to magnet, it was soon to come to my realization that such tittles were not to be ignored and that London was not only the place to send Abigail off into matrimony, there was more to the story.London loomed up ahead of my horizon, finally. After i had bid my family and friend a fare-thee-well, we embarked on&nb
'Good bye mother. I can't believe you are already leaving, we haven't even seen half of London yet. Why? There is the-'Mrs Stanley let out a breathy laugh, interrupting Abigail's prattle. 'Oh Abigail, i believe we had stayed here enough and you'd have enough time to see the whole of London, just not with me.' She took a hold of her daughter's cold hands in her gloved ones and squeezed them. 'Take care of yourself. And you to papa', she moved to kiss Mr Maxwell's weathered cheek. 'Oh yes dear. It really is a pity to see you all go so soon'. And then he smiled what was to be sadly.Mrs Stanley moved to say goodbye to her sister and Abigail to her father and grandfather.Soon they were bundled comfortably in the warm interior of the stage coach and we waved goodbye as it rolled away till it made a bend and we could not see it again. It was as i watched the tail of it disappear that i did wander about Mr Maxwell's strange smile. The tip of his mouth ha
I had pictured Marquess Montclair to be a black haired devil with a mischievous smile. Moreover, that was exactly how his friend, Viscount of Bart, Viscount Neville looked; his black hair was brushed- or gelled-, to perfection, no single strand out of places, his lips curved in a mischievous tilt as he appeared to listen with rapturous attention to what Abigail was saying to a small group of the crowd around the table, him included. But as I moved around replaying glasses and plates, I noticed that his eyes kept wandering down her cleavage. Despicable, I concluded.Marquess Montclair, on the other hand, had ruffle wavy blonde hair that looked as if a hand had run through it many of times. The chandelier above illuminated his hair making it look like a halo around his head. His head was bent as he muttered something in low voice to an elderly man sitting by his side - whom I recognized as Mr Nelbet, a business associate of Mr Maxwell and oft came to tea-, who roared with laught
I woke up with a start and sat up straight on my bed. It couldn't be, could it?.My room was still covered in pools of darkness but I knew it would be filled with daylight soon. I got down, made my bed; straightened my blanket and puffed the pillow. Dressed in the dark and stepped out to the servant's wash room which was thankfully not in use. I stepped out of the wash room and my day began.All morning, i was not myself. When I heard a deep voice, I jumped,when I heard heavy foot steps coming my way I swerved around only to see a male servant walking by. 'You're acting very strangely today'. Stated Abigail in the presence of lady Georgiana and her abigail, Gloria, a slim girl in her twenties with long black hair like her mistress and barely there eyebrows - I always knew there was something odd about her face. We were up in the solar where Abigail and lady Georgiana were engaged in a compilation embroidery making.'It's the nerves my