Free The Color Of The Soul (The Penbrook Diaries) by Tracey Bateman Page A

gaming houses on the seedier
side of town, but since she would rather die than admit she knew of such
places, she had never confronted him about his return to gambling.
    The following morning, he
was in good spirits, so Madeline could only conclude he had not lost. For that
she was grateful.
    “Mother?”
    Madeline opened her eyes, then quickly shut them again as the sun’s blinding rays
stabbed like knives into her sockets.
    “We’re home, Mother.”
    Madeline groaned in
response.
    “Is she all right, Camilla?”
Even with her head spinning, Madeline couldn’t help but warm to the care in
Cat’s tone.
    “Miss Camilla. And I don’t know.”
For once Camilla’s acid tone smoothed to concern.
    “I’ll be fine, girls. But it
hurts too much to open my eyes in the sunlight. Will you help me to my room?”
    “What should we do, Cat?”
    “Take that arm, and I’ll
take the other. We’ll support her as she steps down. You don’t have to carry
her, just guide her.”
    Madeline winced as her
daughter’s fingers sank into the fleshy part of her upper arm.
    “Gently!” Cat scolded.
    “I am being gentle.”
    “No, you are not.”
    “Girls, please do not
argue.”
    “I’m sorry, Mother, but she--”
    “Yes, Miss Maddy,” Cat
murmured. “We’re sorry. Step down, now. We won’t let you fall.”
      Maddy allowed herself to be led inside and felt the girls guide her toward the stairs.
    “What is this?”
    Cringing at the sound of Henry’s
clipped voice, Madeline opened her eyes to greet her husband. She nearly cried
out as the light stabbed at her once again.
    “Mother is ill,” Camilla
explained, “and we are helping her to her bed.”
    “Another headache, Dearest?”
Sarcasm laced his words.
    “I’m afraid so.”
    He seemed to soften at her
gentle response. “Move away,” he instructed Cat, who still clung protectively
to Maddy’s arm. “I’ll carry her up.” He gave Cat a shove toward the stairs. “Go
feed my son. Cook used up all the sugar in the pies for the Christmas dinner,
so there was none left to make sugar water. Naomi has been trying to get him to
suck on a soaked rag, but he won’t take it. He’s been squalling for an hour and
driving the whole house to distraction.”
    “Yes, Mister Henry,” Cat murmured,
and headed up the stairs, taking two at a time.
    Swung up into strong arms,
Madeline closed her eyes once more and leaned against Henry’s shoulder. For a
moment, she could almost pretend he was the same man she had lived happily with
for the first six years of their marriage. But after he tenderly laid her on
the bed, the memories were shattered by a stark reality as he climbed in next
to her and buried his face in the curve of her neck. She moaned as his passion
grew and her stomach rebelled against his brandy-laced breath.
    “I’m sorry, Henry.” She
rolled from his touch and grabbed the chamber pot in time to prevent herself
from vomiting all over the bed or floor.
    “Is this what we’ve come
to?” Henry exploded, shoving himself from their bed. “My attentions cause you
to be ill?”
    In misery, Madeline retched,
unable to answer until she was weak and spent and lying back on her bed,
pressing a handkerchief to her lips.
    “My illness has nothing to
do with you,” she said with a weary sigh. “I don’t know why these episodes
come. Had I that knowledge, I would do everything possible to prevent them from
interfering with our intimacy.”
    He gave a short, mocking
laugh. “One body is as good as another, Maddy . Cat’s
for instance. I’m sure she’s missed me since Henry Jr. was born.”
    “More likely she feels the
same contempt I feel for you at this instant, Henry. Leave the child alone.
Haven’t you hurt her enough?”
    “Hurt her?” Henry came close
until he lay inches from her. “What better position could Cat have than to be
nurse to my only son? And if she bears me another, so much the better for her.”
    Opening her eyes, Madeline
couldn’t keep