Chapter 13: Alexander, Part 2

Alexander and Eucey knelt behind the wood pile, trying to see the three men.

"Who is it?" Eucey asked. "What are they sayin'? I can't hear."

Alexander motioned her to silence. If they were detected, he'd be sent back inside to find something else to amuse himself with. Slowly, their words filtered to him, and he paraphrased for his friend. "There's father, his friend Mr. Smit, and another man. I don't know him. They're saying something about a massacre" he trailed off and squinted into the night, as if that would improve his understanding.

Eucey waited patiently for more information, but Alexander made the mistake of leaning too far out from the wood pile. Someone pointed in his direction and, though he tried to hide, it was too late.

"Alexander?"

He looked up and found his father peering down at him. "Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing?"

"Sir, Eucey and I-"

His father's face stayed passive, but his tone was severe. "Alexander, have we not discussed your choice of playmates before?"

"Yes?" Alexander answered uncertainly. Perhaps he could say he'd forgotten?

His father cleared his throat loudly and looked at the little girl crouched down next to him. She hid her face with her skirt, as if that would make her invisible. "Go back to the kitchen, child," he ordered. "And Alexander, you will accompany me to the drawing room to see your mother."

The words filled the small boy with an unreasonable amount of dread, but there was nothing to be done except to follow orders. Eucey stood quickly. She curtsied and nodded all over herself before she turned and ran back towards the safety of her mother.

Alexander climbed to his feet and squared his small shoulders in an effort at bravery. "Father, I know Mother doesn't want me to be friends with any of the slaves, but there's no one else to play with. Aunt Torina said-"

His father scowled darkly. "I care not for what your aunt said. You've been warned about appropriate company, before. Now, come."

Alexander trailed behind the three men to the house. They wiped their feet and the two guests took off their hats and traveling coats and left them with Martha. Then, the four of them made their way to the drawing room where Alexander's mother and aunt Torina were already seated. His mother held his baby brother, Tristan, in her arms but, at the sight of guests, she swept to her feet and quickly deposited him in the small rocking crib. She stood in front of it, her wide skirts like an impenetrable wall, her expression hard as stone.

Alexander's father moved to his wife. "We have guests, Jesslynn," he said quietly.

"Yes, I can see that. Some more warning might have been prudent."

Alexander felt their silent conversation; not the words they shared, but the intent. Mother was angry; scared. Alexander wasn't sure what she was afraid of. The visitors? She knew Mr. Smit he'd visited many times so that left the third man, who Alexander didn't recognize. A stranger.

But he didn't look scary. Tall and wiry with dusty blond hair, his eyes held good humor, as his aunt would have said.

His mother, still standing immovable before the cradle, looked to their guests. "Good evening, gentlemen." She eyed the third man suspiciously. He offered her a polite smile that revealed a pair of fangs. The sign that he was one of them; appropriate company.

Yet it didn't make his mother any less afraid.

Mr. Smit stepped forward. "This is Mr. Riley. I can vouch for him."

"Of course." His mother gave a semi-curtsy and, though her shoulders relaxed some, she didn't move. "Welcome. How fair you, Mr. Riley?"

"Just fine, ma'am. And yourself?"

Torina stood and made a show of unfurling her fan, not that it was warm enough to call for it. She smiled at the newcomer, but her eyes danced to the dark haired Mr. Smit. "We are quite well, thank you. Tis a lovely evening." Though she spoke to all of them, Alexander had the distinct impression that her greeting was only meant for the one.

The men made the appropriate replies, and Alexander's father motioned them to be seated, but when Alexander's mother refused to move, the men hesitated to sit, as well.

Nanny Hannah ducked into the room, eyes down, movements stiff and bustling. Alexander could feel her fear as she moved around his mother and fumbled to scoop up the baby. She wrapped him in his blankets and hurried out of the room through the other door, Tristan tucked against her body.

His mother gave a polite nod to the group, then finally took a seat. Moments later, everyone sat stiffly in the ornate furniture. His mother ordered refreshments brought, and welcomed Mr. Smit back from his trip. "What news do you bring?"

The dark haired man cleared his throat. "It is not news for a lady."

Torina pouted prettily behind her beribboned fan. "Oh, come now. I am sure our delicate sensibilities will be able to handle it."

Alexander stood just inside the doorway, mostly hidden by the large potted plant and the heavy curtain. All of the adult niceties bored him. He wished his mother would scold him so he could go find something else to do.

"Perhaps," Mr. Smit agreed. "But there are children present." His eyes met Alexander's briefly, and then moved away again. Mr. Jorick Smit had never been unkind to him, but neither had he been particularly friendly. He was simply there, like the leaves in the autumn or the snow in the winter. There was no malice in him, but neither was there love, just the ever present "there-ness".

Mr. Riley also turned his attention to Alexander. His eyes registered surprise. "Upon my soul, is he?"

Before he could finish Jesslynn was on her feet. She snatched Alexander's hand. "If you will excuse us, gentlemen? Perhaps this is not the place for children." She shot a commanding glance to her husband, then dragged the small boy through the shadowy house and into the dining room.