Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  Then he moved away.

  “Cells, is that what you’ve been afraid to tell me, that you want me? Afraid that I didn’t want you, too?”

  “No. I know I’ve turned you to me. But I’m older and allegedly wiser. You don’t trifle with a friend, no matter how dear the woman.”

  “At least you see me as a woman.”

  “Goodness. Yes. Your beauty is beyond compare. But your spirit and drive is a flame. I’ve tortured myself wanting to be burned.”

  I wrapped my arms about his neck, reaching to capture his height, his heart, but he patted my hands away. “What I want is not good for us. You have dreams. I do, too. I could be a leader of this colony. I want power to match my wealth.”

  “You can’t have that and me?”

  “Men with Black wives or concubines don’t gain power. Black doesn’t gain power. It’s a target. That’s why the rebellions fail. The British, the Dutch, the French—all believe the same.”

  “Being with me means you don’t get your dreams? I didn’t think I was more powerful than you.”

  He bit his lip and looked away like the rain was more interesting than the passion in my eyes. “Dolly, I have to consider things long term. How does anything benefit me . . . or you?”

  “You need to know what’s in this for you to give in to desire? Lack of sleep is not a benefit.”

  “I don’t sleep now.” He sighed, his hands reaching for mine before he slapped them to his sides. “I need you to understand. And I don’t want to push you away.”

  No. He’d just walk away.

  “I’m lonely, and it’s raining outside, and I have visions of touching you through the night. Clagarnach is Irish for the pounding of a storm on the roof. It’s a lonely sound unless shared by two.”

  He ran his finger along his cloth buttons. “I know me. My wife said I was selfish, that I didn’t think about the ways I hurt her. Dolly, I don’t want that with you. You’re the one bright spot in a great deal of darkness. My one best decision was to bring you here. We’ve been friends a long time. Desire will ruin it. Sometimes friendship is more.”

  He used a lot of words to say he wanted me, that he didn’t want me, and that he was white and I wasn’t.

  I knew it.

  I knew from the beginning. He was of one world and until I made my fhortún, I wasn’t allowed. I’d always be looking and serving. Those weren’t my dreams.

  The sharp knot in my stomach didn’t care much about his arguments. Yet I couldn’t move from him. If I took a step, I could touch him. Like shaking a burning log or those cannon blasts, embers would fly.

  “I’m going away. I have things to attend to.”

  “What? Where?”

  “To England and Scotland. I’ll return in a year.”

  “A whole year without you.”

  He picked up my palm, kissing it, then each knuckle. Those lips were soft and warm, tightening that knot inside me. Something would burst. Didn’t want it to be my soul.

  “When I return, if I’m in this same place of wanting you badly, needing to savor the taste of you, then politics be damned.”

  “Then I have to be in this same place, too, waiting on you?”

  “It’s selfish. I know. Much is at stake.”

  “Like what?”

  His mouth opened, then his lips pressed closed. Something, some secret, was on his tongue. He looked at the rain and gripped his collar. “I need to be sure. You too. Seventeen, after all you’ve been through, is still young.”

  Eighteen to his thirty years would make things different? “Planters marry off their virgin daughters at fifteen. Colored girls have to wait for a kind lover? Sounds like you’re testing my feelings.”

  “I’m testing me, Dolly. All the calculations and sacrifices I’ve made to secure my position can’t be undone by a scrawny miss.”

  “Not scrawny. And you’re calculating all the time, nor stiff either. You dance well enough when you’re not politicking.”

  Something was hurting him. I saw it in his eyes. This was my chance to help him, to show him I could save him from these burdens. I stroked those buttons of his nightshirt. “You’ll be everything that you want. You’ve made a name for yourself in Demerara. You’ll be an adviser to the commanders or whoever leads the colony.”

  He clasped my hand, pressing it into his chest. “What gives you such confidence?”

  “I overhear them speaking of you at your parties. And Mr. Foden thinks the world of you.”

  Cells’s smile faded. “Foden thinks the world of you. He’s in love with you.”

  “I hope he isn’t the only man.”

  He chuckled with me, but I had begun to understand my power. Men, all men, saw something in me that they needed to possess. I’d only started to learn what I needed. “Foden’s a nice old man, older than my father, but at least he’s around.”

  “Foden would marry you and pay whatever you needed to free your family. I can give you the money, too.”

  “I have to earn it, or I’ll just be an agent. An agent ain’t free. Working for you and Foden has made a way for me to do it myself. You need to know I want you for you, not your means.”

  “You could be with Captain Owen. He has made no secret of desiring you.”

  “I’m not that little girl you befriended. I’m a grown woman. If I want companionship, I can get it.”

  He drew me close. His heart beat fast. The rhythm between us built again. “But you haven’t.”

  “I haven’t wanted anyone but you. I will have my own, independent of you. Your rum money can’t last forever.”

  “Bite your tongue, Dolly.”

  I wouldn’t back down from these feelings, and if he were going, I wanted him to remember why he had to come back.

  Reaching up, I touched Cells’s lips, traced the top and the bottom. The tender flesh went pink, then reddened like a red rose when my pinkie lingered.

  His intake was sharp. He pressed a kiss to my palm, then to my wrist.

  “It’s raining, Coseveldt. The children are sleeping. We’re two adults, awake and restless.”

  Drawing his head to mine, I tasted that mouth I teased.

  Wanting all of him and needing no other woman or his dreams to take him away, I wrapped my arms about his shoulders. His palms lifted me high, sliding about my hips, dividing my layers of petticoats. He found my thighs, all my hidden curves.

  The taste of him, rum and molasses was good. The pressure of his kiss was wonderful. His hold was tight, perfect.

  Gobbling air, he set me down. “No, Dolly. No.”

  He wiped at his face. He was red, painted by my passion.

  “Dolly. I have to take care of things. Then, if . . . when I come back, we can give in to these feelings.”

  “Dolly?” My sister’s voice. Kitty stood at the door.

  “Sis. Don’t be scared.”

  Cells schooled his face like nothing had happened, like nothing had changed. “I leave in the morning, Dolly. Polk’s taking me to the docks.”

  I hugged Kitty, putting my face into her braids. Her scalp smelled of coconut oil. “I’ll be here a year, no more.”

  That was bold to say, but he had to know I wasn’t one of those women who’d wait forever. And I wasn’t Mamaí forced to let Pa into her bedroll.

  “Take care, Dolly.” His bare feet slapped away.

  I had a piece of his heart. I knew it. I gripped it in my hand. Didn’t know if I’d have to give it back.

  Demerara 1774: New Day

  Mr. Foden had his spectacles on his nose in his huge poster bed. He’d finally drifted to sleep. I ran my polish cloth over the indentations carved in the walnut frame, something he’d imported from Europe.

  Putting the rag in my pocket, I went to the silver service on his bed table. Heavy and solid, the filigreed metal was etched with a design of roses. I slipped my thumb along the initials at the bottom.

  “You’re smart enough to read better than you do.”

  “Takes
a lot of concentration. Don’t have time for all that. I’ve learned to manage.”

  He reached for my hand, and I gave it to him. He wasn’t ashamed of things I didn’t know. I understood many words, though most looked like squiggles, but I could read and write numbers.

  Foden made my math sharper. He taught me about contracts and how to make sure they were good. He was better than my pa to me. Foden was my dearest friend.

  “You need to rest, sir. You’ll get over this cold and be ready for the harvest.”

  He sighed long. “I’m not afraid to die because I’ve lived. And don’t fret about me. I have a lot more living to do. And I have plans for you, more bookkeeping. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded and picked up the tray. Easing out of his bedchamber, I took the service to the kitchen, to the servants who would watch him through the night.

  With all my chores done, it was time to head to the Hermitage. The walk was an easy one. I did it twice a day and enjoyed my best thinking along the route.

  The Demerari River stirred today, kicking up a soft breeze that cut through the heat. These layers of petticoats and the stays and chemise under my tunic added to my misery, but these were the clothes that freewomen wore. I’d earned the money for all of us. My family would be free. Mr. Foden would negotiate it. I’d ask him next week.

  My pulse ticked up. It had been four years since I left Montserrat. I’m sure I could see Pa and not crumble. Nicholas, too . . . with Foden or Owen with me. They were dear men. Their attention kept my mind from missing Cells.

  A year, one month, and two days had passed since he left.

  We were done. Once free, I’d move forward. Sweet Captain Owen might be the one. If he weren’t blond or told stupid jokes, he’d definitely be the one. His sad humor might be forgivable if he read like Mr. Foden.

  I liked a man who read as much as I liked them smart. I wanted to learn. Cells wasn’t the only smart man.

  Demerara’s sun cooked the dirt under my sandals. The light wind lifted the red dirt, and the grit tickled my feet as it flitted over my toes.

  The clip-clop of horse hooves sounded behind me.

  A carriage slowed, then stopped beside me. It was Polk. “Miss Dolly, can I give you a ride to the Hermitage?”

  “My feet won’t turn you down.” I climbed in and pulled out the fan Cells sent six months ago. The lacy thing moved the air, keeping my layers of shifts from sticking to my skin.

  Polk was an interesting man. He was free, freed for almost twenty years, and had worked for Cells almost as long. He had free sons and daughters who were artisans and blacksmiths.

  “Miss Dolly, you determined to move out to Mr. Foden’s?”

  “Yes, Polk. I think I’ve used up enough of Cells’s kindness.”

  “I don’t know, Miss Dolly. He can be awful kind. How is Mr. Foden? I heard he’s been sickly.”

  “Better. A little nursing and hot soup seemed to set him right. He wants a full-time housekeeper.”

  “You could be that at the Hermitage.”

  “Replace Mrs. Randolph? Never?”

  “You got that right, Miss Dolly. It would just be nice to have you and the children and Mrs. Randolph.”

  I breathed a heavy huff. “Nice doesn’t last.”

  My friend frowned something awful. I didn’t like a sad Polk. I leaned forward and tapped him with my fan. “Mr. Foden has taught me more about working a ledger.”

  “You’re going to have your own, Miss Dolly. Haven’t seen someone work this hard, but you need to slow down. Between cleaning the Hermitage, caring for Miss Kitty and Miss Charlotte, and taking care of Mr. Foden, that’s too much. You need more fun.”

  “Ah, Polk, who needs fun when there’s money to earn?”

  “Still think you need more fun, Miss Dolly.”

  He stopped at the front of the Hermitage’s grand porch. Another carriage was in the drive. Portmanteaus were on the porch.

  “Polk?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mr. Cells came back today. He sent me to pick up a few things from the docks and then to hurry you up.”

  My heart wasn’t supposed to race like this. “No. No. No. Polk, you should have warned me.”

  “Sorry, Miss Dolly, but he pays me. And Massa Cells gave me a shilling to keep it a secret.”

  “I’d give two for the truth.”

  He started laughing and adjusted the straw hat on his head. “I wouldn’t take your money. And I need him to convince you to stay. You and Cells need more fun. He’s waiting for you in there.”

  Holding my breath, I leapt out then marched up the steps. My plans weren’t changing ’cause Cells done slunk back.

  I picked up my long papaya skirt that belled out around me and went inside.

  Chatter came from his study.

  From the door, I saw him sitting at his desk. His head, with that thick black hair, was down in a book. Charlotte was on his lap and Kitty at his feet. A pile of new books lay on his desk. The gilded spines glistened next to his hat, the black tricorn I missed every day and every night.

  The hat my little girl looked for each time she passed this room.

  The missing hat made Kitty cry for weeks.

  The thing had returned to upend my world.

  “Mama!”

  Charlotte hugged Cells then ran to me. “Papa Cells is back.”

  “Papa?” I wanted to scowl.

  He had to know it, for he offered me the sheepish smirk he had sometimes. “Kitty, why don’t you take Charlotte and go play with the gifts I brought you. I need to talk to Miss Dolly.”

  “Don’t untidy that room. It won’t be ours much longer.”

  Kitty frowned big. “Dolly says we have to leave. And you’ve just come back.” My sister put her arms about Cells’s neck.

  That meant a lot. She didn’t trust men. She’d grown comfortable with Polk and Cells.

  I tried not to grit my teeth. “Kitty, take Charlotte and go.”

  “Papa Cells, you stay?” My daughter had tears in her eyes.

  “I will, darling.”

  Oh, the smooth man must’ve been here working them for hours. He wanted us to be here. He’d decided.

  My sister took Charlotte and fled. Maybe she saw the tightness in my face. I was no hummingbird or swallow when I was mad.

  Cells left his chair. He had a little tan from his travels. The cut of his coat was different, a little straighter, fewer pleats. His light blue waistcoat had a sheen, and was that silver thread about his buttonholes?

  His pantaloons were his customary cream.

  He stopped in front of me. “Dolly, I’m glad you are here. I’ve—”

  “We move out at week’s end. Mr. Foden wants a live-in housekeeper. The pay is good. He doesn’t mind children.”

  “I just returned.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I thought.” He rubbed at his neck. “Have I lost your love?”

  “Love? Didn’t know you cared for me like that. My feelings sure didn’t stop you from leaving.”

  “It made me come back, Dolly.”

  I lost a bit of my anger at his repentant tone, but not all. “Well, let’s see how long you stay.”

  When I turned to walk away, he grabbed my hand. My fingers curled to his as his palm wrapped about mine.

  “I had to do some things, Dolly. Things to finish. I did that, and now I’m back.”

  “You left me once. I’m not prepared to depend upon you again.”

  I sounded brave, but my fingers were still locked in his, still feeling the warmth of his skin, the thudding of his pulse.

  “Dolly, we can move forward.”

  That wasn’t good enough for me now. With a hard shake, I freed my hand then stepped into the hall. “I need to make sure Charlotte’s not too upset. She missed you a great deal. I don’t want her confused or reaching for something that’s not true.”

  It took everything I had to walk away, to leave a man who sounded like he wanted to love me. A
s Mamaí could attest, just ’cause a man was here today, that meant nothing tomorrow.

  Demerara 1774: New Care

  I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. I wriggled my tired limbs, but the will to move abandoned me. My foggy head could do nothing but turn deeper into the bedclothes.

  Tuesday night, Wednesday, and Thursday, Cells, the great politicker, let everyone in Demerara know he’d returned by holding dinner parties.

  The past three days, I rose early to polish the new silverware, a luxury of four-tine forks. Four, not three. In the afternoon, I’d run to Foden’s to take care of his needs, then come back, wash away my perspiration, and get ready to serve.

  I hadn’t seen my bed or my girls since the wee hours. It made perfect sense not to leave this room . . . ever.

  “Dolly, you have to get up.”

  That was Kitty, trying to shake me awake.

  “Friday, Dolly. You have to work then take us to the Anna Catharina Plantation.”

  Hot and achy with everything hurting, I had no strength to rise. Part of me wondered if I should go to the sick house, but that was for slaves in the field. Where did those not technically free go?

  Kitty poked my cheeks. “You look awful, Dolly.”

  Charlotte still slept. I didn’t have the energy to touch her or push her toes from my knee.

  “Kitty, go tell Mrs. Randolph. I don’t feel well.”

  My sister leapt off the bed and I shut my eyes.

  When my eyes fluttered open, Cells hovered over me.

  “Yes, Kitty, she does look ill.” He put the back of his hand to my forehead. “You are burning.”

  “Mr. Foden must truly be sick this time.”

  “Well, you can’t take Kitty and Charlotte over there. They can’t get ill.”

  My throat burned. I coughed and watched Cells’s scheme. I didn’t have the strength to fight. “Next week then. I’ll be better soon enough.”

  “Well, Dolly, I intend to make sure you are well. Now that I’ve returned, I’ll see to it personally.”