Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

“Always ratcheting up the stakes. Murder. Now a residency clause. I’ll have to see, ’cause you’re in my head too.”

  The minister opened the back door. “This is highly irregular, Thomas.”

  “You can preach at me and this fool all the way to Montserrat. Unless you want me to throw him overboard with everything bound. That might get me free of Miss Doll’s residency clause.”

  Johnson sighed. “Oh, Lord. Thomas, what have you gotten me into?”

  “Minister, keep praying. Miss Doll, close the door behind us.”

  Standing in the threshold, I wished he was the type to kill for me.

  Mamaí came down. “All gone?”

  “Yes.”

  She hugged me. “If Nicholas knows we are here, the better for us to leave. Maybe go to Grenada.”

  “No. I stay for Lizzy. The Coxalls are residing in Roseau the rest of the year. Need to make sure Coxall treats her well, especially after tonight.”

  “Nicholas could come back and Thomas won’t be here.”

  My brother’s blood stained my floor. My nose filled with the scent of the smothering peppermint water that would be needed to clean it. Stomach turning, my hand pulsed. It wouldn’t stop. Everyone who hurt me wanted me to not breathe, to be shaken and quiet and gone.

  No more.

  “I’ll succeed here, Mamaí. Roseau, all of Dominica will know my name.”

  Her hold didn’t slacken. “It’s going to be all right.”

  It had to be. I couldn’t let him win, none of ’em.

  Part Four

  The Loving

  I overcame my weaknesses by claiming theirs.

  Dominica 1785: A Charmer

  I looked down in the cradle at my little girl. Frances Owen was cute, a natural charmer. Her ears were darker, a nice color, like toasted wheat. That would be her color, her complexion, not like my palest children, Catharina and Lizzy.

  Frances had pinkish-brown hands, eyes of yellow topaz, and the cries of a banshee; I loved her, every inch of her.

  Even the cleft in her chin.

  Yet it took all my energy to get to her. Flopped on the floor, I didn’t have it in me to pick her up. Luckily, this sweet little thing lulled herself back to sleep.

  Kitty came into my room. Sat behind me and tugged at my braids. “I should do your hair before it knots.”

  “Sorry, I’m not of any use.”

  “Dolly, you’ve had a baby. Before your confinement, you trained two women to work as housekeepers for new clients while carrying the load of five coconuts on your stomach. You need to rest.”

  I rose up from my crouched position on the floor. “Frances is asleep now. Kitty, my milk isn’t right.”

  “Mama has taken care of that. She has a wet nurse coming.” My sister led dizzy me back to bed. “You don’t have to fret. We’ll take care of everything.”

  “Serves me right, having a baby when I’m old. Almost thirty.”

  Mamaí stuck her head inside. “Well, most don’t make it to thirty.”

  She tucked me beneath the covers and a fine new blanket of silver and blue, one of our mother’s best. “We should’ve saved this to sell in the market. I’m wasting goods. I’m terrible.”

  Mamaí put a palm to my forehead. “You don’t have the birthing fever. This is the sadness, comes sometimes when you have children. The pain mixes things. You will be fine in time.”

  She walked back to the cradle and poked at the covers. “Little Miss Frances has been born free. You did good, Dolly.”

  This one was born free. Maybe I wasn’t terrible.

  My mother sat next to Kitty on the bed. “You going to tell Captain Francis? You gave this child his name.”

  Mother wasn’t sly. She saw the resemblance to Edward and knew what I was doing.

  “Owen saw I was with child on his last visit. That’s why he left quickly. He doesn’t want children. He’s married to the sea. And I don’t want him. Frances is mine. No one will take her away.”

  Mamaí squinted at me. Kitty kept untangling my sweaty braids.

  Yet I heard the roar of guilt welling in my gut. I was guilty. Catharina was two and I hadn’t seen her, knew nothing of her.

  Mamaí touched my brow again. “I’m going to make you some tea.”

  “No one is strong as you, Dolly. Please get better. Sister, you have to.”

  Kitty’s eyes had tears. Seeing me sickly made her scared.

  That was a bad place to be, where your weakness made others weak.

  I pulled her close and held her so tight. “I’ll be fine.”

  Mamaí moved to the door. “Mr. Thomas visited again today. He said Nicholas is gone for good. He’s in London.”

  Was that good enough? I covered my face with my arms. The sleeves of my nightgown fluttered like wings.

  Kitty nudged me, which meant I needed to stop fidgeting if she was going to dress my hair.

  With my braids done, I might try to leave this room. The Obeah shadows and the death masks of Mrs. Ben and Cudjoe haunted my eyes.

  And I was weak, and I didn’t know why, didn’t know how to return to me. I wasn’t ready for a death mask. I had a business to run, money to make, and another child to raise with no father.

  Dominica 1785: A Channel

  I sat in my parlor with Thomas King. He wasn’t an old friend exactly, but he remembered me from Demerara and was one of my first clients for my housekeeping services. Upon arriving in Roseau, he searched for me and came to see me at Hanover Street.

  “Miss Kirwan, I’d heard you’d moved here and have been doing quite well.”

  I nodded and stirred my tea, fingering Foden’s crest. “Business is booming in Roseau as more soldiers pile into Dominica. The demand for reliable housekeepers is high. I employ fifteen now.”

  The man nodded, but I could see him calculating. Four shillings a week, netting three per housekeeper, was a good start.

  “Miss Kirwan, I have a business proposition.”

  What? I set down my spoon and collected myself. “It’s not often a man like you would seek me out.”

  “Well, you’re a good businesswoman. When I saw Cells—”

  My heart beat fast. “You saw him?”

  “Yes, I visited him in London, a few months ago.”

  I tried not to sound anxious, but I couldn’t help myself. “How’s his family?”

  “His wife is still poorly, but his little girl is precious. I’ve never seen a man more smitten by his daughter. He throws a party for her doing the smallest things like sounding out words or walking.”

  My two-year-old Catharina was walking and talking, perhaps reading like her pa. I took this wave of good news. It poured into my chest. It echoed, hitting the bottom of my sorrows.

  “Miss Kirwan, are you all right?”

  “Yes.” I wiped my fingers on a napkin and hoped I seemed calm, not brokenhearted or scared. “It’s good he’s well.”

  “Next time I see him, I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  My false smile must be broken. He looked down and finished his biscuit.

  I leaned in closer. “Mr. King, what can I do for you?”

  “You have a network of clients in Roseau. I have a network of clients with goods in Scotland and England. They want access to sell to the island. I think we can be beneficial.”

  I chuckled. “That word usually means you’ll make more money than the women involved. I’m not the woman for you.” I stood. “It was good of you to stop by.”

  Mr. King didn’t move. He peered over his spectacles. “Miss Kirwan, I understand why you might be skeptical, but I need a trustworthy partner. I won’t risk my clients to anyone.”

  “You’re choosing me because I’m trustworthy. How do I know you are trustworthy? I met you through Cells. You paid your bills on time. Does that make a criteria for trust?”

  “I’m reputable.”

  “You have a reputation. You manned slave boats. Did you ever make your cargo sing on deck?”

 
His face blanked then went orangey red in his cheeks. “I’m a blackguard. I’ve killed a man.”

  Where was he when Nicholas was here? I dipped a lump of sugar into my chamomile tea. “This isn’t helping me today.”

  “I’m trying to change Camden, Calvert and King to do more banking and merchandising, but I have to show successes.”

  “Trading in people and broken lives made you wealthy. I want nothing to do with that. Didn’t Cells tell you my background? I’m recently manumitted.”

  “I wouldn’t bring that to you. None of those deals. I need to prove that money can be made other ways. You can help transform the firm.”

  His face seemed consumed in shadows. Good. Making a fortune stealing proud people should eat him alive.

  “No, thank you. Mr. King, it was nice seeing you.”

  “But you could make money.”

  “I am making money.”

  His upper lip sweated. It was rare to see a man do that. Full damp face, arms wet from exertion under the sun, but that upper lip thing, pure nerves. He was desperate.

  “My references are impeccable.”

  I looked at him and his big words. “You need me more than I need you, Mr. King, and as you said, I’m doing fine.”

  “If you have more goods to sell to your clients of the finest qualities, you’ll do better than fine. You’ll be rich.”

  “What’s in it for you? Never met a man or woman who did something that wasn’t for his purse.”

  His lowered his chin. “Death. I have to do something to right my scales. I built a vehicle on financing. I need a vehicle built on something else, something that doesn’t involve selling humans. I see this now as I see you. I sold humans.”

  “You can quit.”

  “Then nothing changes. But if my partners see that money can be made in other ways, they’ll change. My bishop, Dr. Porteus, he’s challenged my church to cease involvement in the slave trade. He’s trying for hearts. I’m trying for purses. We’ll see who wins more souls.”

  King had some conviction on him. He definitely wanted to prove something. If not me as a partner, he’d find another. Men on a mission did. Goods from England, like the finery Cells brought back, would give me the competitive edge in Roseau.

  “I tell you what, Mr. King. Let me think on this. I’ll be in touch.”

  He stood this time. “Please do.”

  I walked him to the door, but Thomas was there knocking. “Mr. Thomas? Mr. King, this is my solicitor. He’ll be the one to finalize any contracts, if I decide.”

  Thomas wore a big frown. “Yes, Miss Doll.” His tone was sharp.

  King went on his way and my free legal resource came in.

  He looked good. His hair was combed and topped with a brown bicorn hat hosting a copper-colored cockade of ribbons. It was as fine-looking as was his jade coat. His gaze, respectful and heated, already held me close.

  “You’re doing better, Miss Doll. Up to seeing people?”

  “Yes, yes, I am. But having a child is not an easy thing.” It was getting less easy. “Please be seated.”

  He tossed his hat on a chair then stared at me for at least two minutes.

  “Do I look the same?” I touched my cheeks. “I put on some weight.”

  “You were beautiful before. More beautiful now.”

  Such a flatterer.

  That made me want to smile, but I bit my cheeks not to. “What brings you about?”

  He surveyed the room as if trying to inventory things. Same indigo-blue sofa, one additional chair covered in gold tapestry fabric, a gift from the Coxalls. Lizzy and her husband had good taste.

  I hoped it was a sign of mother and daughter rebuilding.

  Thomas didn’t sit. He stared. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “The last contract I made for you was a concubine marriage. I hope that’s not what you want with King?”

  With a shake of my head, I dismissed that. “No. Are you always the jealous sort?”

  “Thomas King is a slave transporter. He’s too old for you, and he’s married.”

  “He came with a business proposition, not the other kind.”

  “Oh.” Thomas gazed at me with that lip-biting smile. “Look, I know this might be an inconvenient time for you, but I have an interest in you. I fear that this condition is not going away. I think we need to do something about it.”

  “Sounds as if you have a problem, sir. I have none except . . .”

  Thomas leaned forward like I was about to share a secret. “What?”

  “I’ll need you to review a few contracts for me. I’ll pay.”

  “You want to use me for my legal opinions. And you wish to pay me in something other than affection.” He put his hand over his heart. “I feel used. That certainly cheapens my declarations.”

  “Then never mind, I’ll ask Mr. Bates.”

  “No. No. Let’s not be too hasty. I’ll work for you. Maybe you can offer incentives.”

  “Inc-cent-whats?”

  Thomas sat close to me. “Incentives are nice things that you do to keep one motivated to serve.”

  “Doesn’t seem as if you need much motivation, not with you sitting this close.”

  “Doll, do you like me, even a little?”

  “You know I do.”

  He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back against the sofa. “That’s good. I’ve never second-guessed myself so much in my life.”

  “I don’t want you guessing anything. I like you. I think you’re a good man.”

  He stood. “I’m back in Roseau for a few weeks. I intend to come and spend some time with Edward. He’s still outnumbered. I heard you had a beautiful baby girl.”

  “Yes. And Edward misses you. Thomas, right now I need a friend, nothing more. I trust you. I trust you with my children. That means more than affection.”

  “Don’t know about that. You’ve never had my affection.”

  “Trust me. I know that we won’t work, Thomas.”

  I followed him to the door. “I like a big family, always craved one. There’s the makings of one here, with me and you.”

  “Thomas, please.”

  He smiled at me. “Fine. A hug, friend?”

  I went into his arms quite easily.

  But that man held me, tight and close, with palms stroking and soothing my back.

  I didn’t know I missed a man’s touch, not till this moment when Thomas wove his fingers in mine and my heart found the rhythm of his pulse.

  Dominica 1786: A King’s Son

  Mamaí stood in my bedchamber making me dress in pink and red. My gown had a festive border of hibiscus flowers at the bodice.

  “Hurry,” she said and fussed with my braids, the curls I wore that framed my face. “No more talk of business.”

  Mamaí walked, swaying like a church bell. She’d finally started to wear the full petticoat, a sage-green dress with beige tunic puffed. This was the fashion of freewomen in Roseau. “Your legal man Thomas keeps reviewing your contracts. Funny the words sound like poems.”

  Well, he did slip in a line or two. The man was sweet and attentive and looking for forever. I was good with today. “He’s away in Grenada. He’ll be gone for a while.”

  Kitty came into the room. She was dressed in a light blue gown of stripes. The overdress was a solid satin of deep indigo. Did Mamaí get her ready to go out too?

  “Sis, you look pretty.”

  “Polk is here in Dominica. We might see him at church tonight.”

  My Charlotte sat at the table where I signed the housekeeping contracts. She added up invoices. She had a head for numbers.

  “Mama,” she said, “we’re doing well this month. We’ll need to hire two more girls.” She glanced at me with an approving nod. “Glad you’re going out.”

  “Mamaí is sending us to church.”

  Charlotte was shy, but she wasn’t stupid. It was Tuesday. There was no Tuesday service at Notre Dame du Bon Port.

&nbs
p; My daughter shook her head and then brought her palms together, steepling her fingers. “I pray that your mood stays lifted.”

  Kitty and I left the house. The night air was hot and sticky. We headed to the shore.

  My sister’s locks had coiled tighter, frizzing in the humid air. Then I heard music. It was fancy, the sound of banjos, a flute, and drums.

  The ground swayed with the rhythm. The sea roared in the distance.

  The salt air smelled good, felt good. The heat felt good.

  I was good.

  “This is not Notre Dame du Bon Port, Dolly. I don’t think Polk will see us here.”

  “When Mamaí made us go, I sent word to his ship. If he can, he’ll meet us here. This is a new church. It’s for the temple of the spirit.” I took my sister’s arm and we danced, danced until my hair fell, danced until my locks were as wild and as puffy as hers.

  It felt good to twirl, to kick up dust beneath my slippers. I was free. Today was the first day I felt it.

  We flopped onto the beach. Sand gathered in our fine skirts, rubbing into our hot skin. “See, we did have church. I found peace by the water.”

  Kitty laughed and pinned up my braids. “This is wonderful. I like this, Dolly. I like you having fun and playing with me.”

  I lifted my sister. The wind swirled about us like fairies cleansing us of sediment. I craved the healing of movement. “We’re not done praying, Kitty.”

  Taking her arm, we headed to the ballrooms by the docks.

  Sailors dressed in sharp red uniforms came in and out of one building. That had to be where the ball was tonight.

  “Miss Dolly, Miss Kitty, is that you?”

  Booming baritone. No one had a bigger voice than Polk. I cupped my eyes until I saw the tallest, blackest man in the world.

  It was him. I waved.

  Dressed in a slate-colored mantle and breeches, he ran to us. Kitty leapt into his embrace. He whirled her around like a rope swing. “Miss Dolly, Miss Kitty, you both look good. It’s been too long.”

  “This is church, Dolly. Dreams come true. My damfo is here.”

  Polk, sweet Polk looked down at my sister with such tenderness. Then he looked at me.