The art of deception. She wore looser dresses, complained of back pain to justify her more cautious demeanor, and avoided any situation that might expose her to suspicion. But secrets have a way of revealing themselves. Maria, the domestic slave in charge of washing Isabella’s clothes,
She began to notice irregularities. The young woman’s period clothes didn’t appear to be washed. Month after month, Maria, a mother of three, immediately recognized the signs. One morning, while Isabelle pretended to be sick in her room, Maria lay down with a cup of tea. “Moiselle’s mother, Isabelle,” she said.
in a low voice, “but I know what’s happening to her. Isabella’s world stopped. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Maria.” “Miss, I’m pregnant. I know how to recognize the signs.” Maria’s eyes filled with compassion and terror.
Who is the father? Isabella couldn’t answer. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as Maria sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, my child,” Maria whispered. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” Maria has become the unwitting confidante.
