"You cannot, Papa, you cannot! He is a British soldier!"
The still, close air seemed to disappear, leaving the room breathless. Both my parents stared at me. If it had not been impossible, I would have believed my mother's face showed relief. My father's was twisted with pain and rage.
"A soldier!"
"Yes, Papa! It happened while Mama and I were in Charles Town, in May!"
My father pivoted toward my mother. "What were you doing, woman, leaving your daughter to be attacked? Did you not watch her carefully? Where were you when you should have been caring for your daughter?"
"She is a whore!" my mother screamed, "panting after any that will take her!" and my father swung his arm, striking her with the back of his hand, knocking her to the floor.
She turned and looked up at him, pushing herself up with her hands; blood trickled from her nose. I felt my knees buckling, and sank onto the window cushion.
My father strode from the room. My mother got to her feet and followed. I leaned forward, sobbing, covering my head with my arms, my body shaking with horror and remorse. After a time, I returned to my bed, and stared at the branches and leaves of the trees outside the window. There was no breeze and the room was stifling. The afternoon passed into evening. No one came to see me, or to bring me food. My shoulders were stiff, and every movement brought pain. I swore to God that for the rest of my life I would never strike another person.
The night was long and desolate. I slept and woke, dreamed and wept. Dawn brought a rain shower which cooled the air. I sat on the window cushion, staring out at the trees once more.
My father entered the room. I did not look at him; I could not bear to see his eyes. He stood towering over me.
"You shall go to the mountains until after your lying in," he said. "I shall escort you there. When the child is born, it will be adopted, and then you may return home."
I did not answer.
"I will send your maid. You must dress and come down to breakfast."
Still I said nothing. He turned and left the room.
Lily entered shortly. I wanted to hiss at her, like an angry cat; I felt I could kill her for her betrayal of me. I kept my eyes away from her. I needed her to help me dress.