CHAINS TO FREEDOM.✔

Chapter Seven

Mary heard the men's footsteps on the verandah floorboards before the door opened. Tightness grabbed at her chest. Small droplets of sweat appeared on the top of her lip. A sick feeling of anxiety swept through her then was gone. Louis came through the door first. His confident step set her at ease.

"Mary, there are three women. They will be brought here to the kitchen. Aiden and George will take the broth to the men." His voice was assured and firm as he continued, "Alice, see if you can find the women some dry clothes please." He stopped at the internal door. "And Alice, show Mister Pead to his room."

"Yes, Master Louis," both women chorused. Their eyes met each other across the room, they couldn't judge if their master was in a good state of mind.

Pead came dragging the three behind him. "Come on, you lazy cows, get a move on!"

Mary kept her back to the door. She heard the shuffle of chains. The sound scorched her mind.

"Alice, girl! Where do you want them?" Pead demanded.

"On that bench there, Mister Pead."

Pead looked her up and down as he ushered the women to sit. "Looks like you've been a busy girl," he smirked.

Alice ignored his comment, but he continued, "Or perhaps it's Master Copeland who's been the busy one," Pead snickered. "Though I would have thought the fancy ladies were more his style."

Alice burned with hatred. "The Master is not father to my child, Sir. Aiden and I are soon to be married. Now if you'll come this way, I'll show you to your room," she snapped.

Pead laughed again, he received great pleasure from knowing he had angered her.

Mary was left alone with the convict women. She turned to face them. They sat in a line on the bench at the kitchen table. Her heart went out to them. Deep in her soul she was pleased she wasn't sitting beside them. She placed a dish and spoon in front of them then filled their bowls with broth. Mary studied each in turn. She guessed all were younger than thirty, but she had no way of telling. They ate like animals who had not been fed for days. Their standard convict clothes were ripped, muddy and ill fitting. Mary remembered the itch of the fabric, the constant irritation, a slow torture in itself. Their faces were drawn and pale. They looked at her with eyes that were empty and bleak.

"What's ye name?" Mary asked, not to anyone in particular, but as a general question. She wanted to break the silence and put some life into their vacant eyes.

The thin freckled woman answered, "Lucy." She showed a toothless grin. Life's flame flickered just a little. She continued, "Lucy Carter, and this 'ere's Maria. Don't know ta other, she don't talk to us." Lucy paused. "She just yells a lot at Masta Pead and got plenty o' beatings for her trouble. The Masta' done put 'er in shackles."

Maria looked at Mary, her eyes filled with softness. "This here's good broth, mum."

Lucy seemed to take strength from this and decided she would continue. "Ya, reckon I could 'ave some more a yer broff?" Her mouth was full of bread. "I ain't eaten like this since afore I left England, I reckon."

Mary filled their bowls once more. Maria and Lucy grunted their thanks, their mouths stuffed with bread. The third stared into space; her eyes glazed. She ate slowly, seeming not to register Mary or the others.

"Would you like more bread?" Mary offered. The woman looked at Mary as though she didn't understand what had been said. Mary wondered if she didn't speak English. She placed the bread on the table beside her bowl and moved to the wash-stand to watch while they ate. Mary couldn't think of anything else to say and was grateful when Alice returned to the kitchen, her arms filled with clothing.

"I have dry clothes for you," she said looking at each of the women. "When you've finished you can change."

Two pair of eyes looked at her and nodded. Alice looked from them to the third. She stared into her bowl and slowly brought the spoon to her mouth. Alice turned from the silent woman to look at Mary who shrugged before filling bowls with food for the master's meal.

George came through the back door into the kitchen. "Have these women finished eating, Mary? Murchison wants them back with the others."

"Why don't he come imself, then? Why you be doing 'is dirty work?" she snapped.

"Ah, come on, Lassie. You know there are four others out there, the man can't be everywhere, and we have no choice. We're just like them, Mare, except we're not in chains."

Mary hung her head. "I'm sorry, George. They're finished." As the three stood, Mary wished them good luck.

"Thank you," said Maria, sadness in her voice. "The meal was good. It'll keep us going until the next."

Lucy smiled her toothless grin. "It were great."

The third stared at the fire. Mary said a silent prayer for her. When they left the room Mary and Alice looked at each other.

"Ah, well, that's that," said Mary. "I suppose they'll find their end, Alice. But the last, mm...the last. She'll take a lot to bring back. She has nothin' left and what she has is buried so deep, per'aps she won't find it."

Alice nodded in agreement then collected one of the bowls of food and left the room.

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