Soon to be published!
Bare Breasts and Cannon Balls
Chapter 2
I Become the Heir
It
was a beautiful early April day. The sun was shining through the pale
green leaves onto shoals of bluebells that looked like water flowing between
the tree trunks. I was busy at my play and didn't see Papa ride up. When
I looked up at him he seemed a giant to me, silhouetted against the light
as he bent down to enter the low doorway of our cottage. He came inside
and handed me a flat parcel which I received with delight, for in the
past he had often brought me wonderful presents.
My
favorite had been a sturdy little rocking boat painted a rich marine blue
with a scallop of white waves on the side . I t was completed by a minuscule
triangular sail, which I could lower or raise by tugging on a cord when
the watery deep of my imagination threatened to engulf my vessel . A nother
time he brought me a pretty little knife that slid in and out of an ivory
handle in a cunning way.
That
day I opened the flat parcel to find inside a complete set of boy's clothes.
Mama seemed surprised at first, but when I looked pleadingly at her, she
came over to me and helped me put them on. They were much finer than my
own clothes of homespun and rough worsted. I pulled up the long stockings
and struggled into the tight buff doeskin trousers that fitted like a
second skin. There was a linen shirt like Papa's with a high soft collar
and a deep ruffle down the front, and a buttoned waistcoat of buff doeskin
with a striped green silk lining and four pockets. I slipped my hand inside
one, running my finger tips along the smooth lines of the striped silk
lining.
Papa
stood with his back to the chimney and looked down on me. Then, as he
turned towards Mama, a little muscle in his cheek started to tremble.
He had a handsome face that some thought superficial. The eyes, perhaps,
were too protuberant, the jowl overlarge, but it was a generous face set
above a generous, slightly fleshy body. He was proud of his slim hands
and feet, choosing gloves and boots of the finest leather to set them
off. My hands and feet were large even then, which later would help in
my dissembling.
"It's
the child, Sarah, . . . I am determined to raise her at Homefield as my
own. My plan is to disguise her as a boy. She will become my nephew, Adam,
my protege. There are still those in the village who remember when you
left with an infant girl child, but I think none will connect my nephew,
Adam, with that girl!"
Mama
looked at me in my beautiful new clothes and she looked around the room
with a frown. There was nothing wrong with our cottage, with its well-swept
brick floor and cozy chair pulled up before the fire, but I suppose she
remembered the comfort and elegance of Homefield. I suppose she wanted
me to be free of the restrictions that kept her from living there. I imagine
that to her a life lived as a male seemed a safer and happier choice,
for why else would she have given me up so readily?
"Am I to understand that if she is raised as your nephew she will be made
legal heir to Homefield and its surrounding property?"
"That
is my intention. . . indeed, it is my hope that soon we will all live
together at Homefield, but you must trust me to make these arrangements
as I am able."
Her
reply was simple. "I have never obstructed, thee, John, and I won't begin
now."
Papa
let out a whoop, snatched me up under one arm and carried me outside to
where the pony stood, tied to the gate. Then I saw her. I knew she was
mine! How could such joy be contained?
She
was little and bright with a white star blazed on her brow. "Merrylegs,
Star, Twinkle!" She nuzzled my face and I dissolved in an ecstasy of love
and possession. A pony! He lifted me up on her back and, gathering her
reins, placed them in my hands with a look of pride.
"Twinkle, Star, Merrylegs!" I murmured the names and leaned forward to
rub my face against her warm neck. It seemed we melted together. I perched
confidently on her back in perfect comfort. Mama came out with a bundle
of my things tied together. I imagine that she and Papa must have conversed
for a time, but as to what was said I cannot remember.
She
hugged and kissed me. "Goodbye my darling Anne, goodbye my poppet."
Was
she crying?I
think I kissed her, too, but mostly I was filled with excitement. I remember
Papa next to me on his big Irish mare and me on fat, frisky Merrylegs
bouncing along the lane with the sun shining through the transparent spring
leaves and the shimmering seas of bluebells. From then on I was Adam Bonney,
nephew and heir to John Bonney.
Now
it was my Papa who came to my room when I awoke from a night fright with
the blue white light of the moon shining its path across my bed linen.
It was he who comforted and rocked me, calling me a little man and telling
me not to weep. In truth, I am not often one for weeping, though I still
awake sometimes at night wondering where and who I really am.