Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  It’s dangerous to confide in someone who’s rooting for a worse lot than their own.

  “Enough of me, Henny. There are more difficulties with Mr. Sala?”

  Shrugging, she stood and turned to the window. Tears stream her face. “He drinks too much.”

  “Men tend to do that, Henny.”

  “He stays out late gambling.”

  “Fools tend to do that.”

  “Grandmama, I think he’s been unfaithful.”

  “Oh.” I peer down at my saucy scarlet scarf and slide the knot away, draping it respectfully about my shoulders. “Keep talking, Henny. I’m listening.”

  “Doesn’t Augustus know I have the opportunity to be admired, but I stay home with our children?” She rakes her hands in her hair, mussing the curls. “I don’t know what to do.”

  I knew she was too young to be settling for Sala, Augustus Sala, the first man to pay her attention, but who can tell a fool in haste about love and life.

  Dominica 1787: A Kindness

  My Lizzy and her husband stood outside of Mr. Bates’s office. The new baby, Jane, wrapped in one of Mamaí’s blankets, slept in her arms.

  I cradled my largest sack.

  “Here, Grama,” she said to me.

  I set down my heavy bag and took up the precious babe.

  Pink fuzzy little creature with eyes of brown and curly black patches on her head. Jane looked like Lizzy when she was a babe.

  My daughter and Coxall were much in love, even giggly.

  I was happy for her, and this warm little body snuggled in my arms. My stomach swooshed.

  “Mama, is there anything wrong? Charlotte’s message sounded dire.” Lizzy put her hand on mine. “Is something wrong about our paperwork? Is this baby not free?”

  “No, child.” I offered her little Jane. “This beauty is free as an oriole, a wondrous bird of flight. I need help. It’s time for a solicitor to handle my money and investments.”

  Coxall held his finger for his daughter to catch and hold, maybe forever. “I thought Mr. Thomas does that.”

  “He’s away in Grenada doing his business. This is my money and my investments. I need it controlled by me with instructions I think are right and rightly done.”

  “Mama, you’ve dealt with Mr. Bates before. Why are we here?”

  I lifted my big sack. “Lizzy can read the documents and make sure what it says matches my intentions.”

  “Then why did you ask for my husband?”

  “To look pretty, Lizzy.” I laughed and latched my hand to his arm. “They don’t cheat men easily, especially not a white one. Three signatures are enough for one person to tattle. Coxall, you are important to my process.”

  “Ma’am, I understand your logic. But how do you know I won’t cheat you, being I’m a man and all?”

  I adjusted my crisp hat, a sleek pouf with an ebony ribbon. “One. ’Cause you come from money. You’re used to it. A couple of zeros won’t make you change.”

  Looking up into his amused face, I felt good enough to say the rest. “Two. You love my daughter and this little girl. You’re going to make it a point that her mother isn’t a victim. You’re as good as one of mine, Coxall. Let’s put your privileges to work.”

  My son-in-law nodded and held the door. “Shall we, ladies?”

  I walked into the offices of Brayshaw and Bates with poise, leveling my shoulders.

  “Mr. Coxall, what brings you all here?”

  Mr. Lionel, the clerk who met me at the manumission, didn’t look at me. He addressed my son-in-law, as if Lizzy and I weren’t there.

  With a cough, I directed his eyes. “I came to see Mr. Bates. I need to hire him directly.”

  The man flipped open a notebook. “What for?”

  “I need to set up accounts.”

  “We don’t—”

  I took the heavy sack and dumped the gold and silver onto his desk. “This is not all. I have much more.”

  Mr. Lionel’s eyes darted across the room. “Stay here.”

  The fool took off running and disappeared into a room.

  He returned with Mr. Bates. The man looked at the money. Even picked up a sovereign among the glittering doubloons and bit it. Then he and the clerk started counting.

  After thirty minutes,

  “Miss Kirwan, this is almost five thousand pounds.”

  “It’s four thousand two hundred and five pounds and four shillings.”

  “You know your shillings.” Bates took a handkerchief and wiped at his mouth. “I didn’t know you were doing this well.”

  He saw me now and I didn’t mention the bags in my trunk at my town house. “I know you managed Mr. Foden’s accounts. He trusted you. I hope I can trust you.”

  “Yes. Yes, you can. I’ll draw up papers. They’ll be ready for you tomorrow.”

  With a shake of my head, I started collecting my coins. “I need it done today. My son-in-law and daughter are busy people. Or should I follow Mr. Thomas and do business in Grenada?”

  “No, no, Miss Kirwan.” Mr. Bates jerked the clerk by his collar. “Get everyone working on documents for Miss Kirwan now.”

  Mr. Bates took my arm. “This way, ma’am. You can sit in my office until we have everything done.”

  “I’ll want a receipt, I don’t want to be cheated.”

  His face looked a little green, and his cheeks squished up. “We are a respected firm. We’d never do that.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And we don’t need to count. If you said it’s four thousand two hundred and five pounds, then that’s what it is.”

  “And four shillings,” Coxall said. “Four thousand two hundred and five pounds and four shillings.”

  Bates bowed like I was royalty. “Yes, Miss Kirwan. This way.”

  He took us to his office. This was different from the room with the big table. His desk was fancy, made of polished zebrawood. Big gilded books lined bookcases on either side.

  Mr. Lionel ran in with a stack of documents. “Here you go, sir.”

  “Mr. Bates, are you sure your help is honest?” I squinted at him after cooing at Jane. “Sure, they don’t cheat customers?”

  “Lionel here is a good man. All my people here are respected.”

  “Interesting. Mr. Lionel. He looks like a man who cheats. Maybe he has a brother?”

  I tossed the other bag from my sack onto the desk. It landed with a squish. “These wouldn’t be his, then. That man had a little accident. Accidentally castrated himself ’cause he did wrong to a friend of mine. I’m supposed to, ummm, return his sausages on her behalf.”

  Mr. Bates dropped his quill. “How is that an accident?”

  “I’m not sure. The story’s confusing, something about a woman in a brothel.” I nodded my head. “Well, here, with my apologies.”

  “No, ma’am, that won’t be necessary.” He motioned to his clerk to move my bag of bloody sausages, but the man looked ill and ran from the room.

  Coxall moved the bag to the edge of Mr. Bates’s desk, then took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his palms. “Get Miss Kirwan accounts in London. She’ll need ready letters of credit to present whenever she travels.”

  I remembered Pa trying for letters of credit. He could never get them.

  “Those will take a little longer, Mr. Coxall.”

  I fingered my bag with the sausages.

  “But we’ll hurry it up.” The man began marking up the pages.

  “Mr. Bates, I want three witnesses on all my documents just like the manumission paperwork.”

  “That’s not necessary, ma’am.”

  Coxall leaned forward, like those men in Cells’s study when they tried to make a point. He tapped the desk. “My mother-in-law thinks it necessary. Mr. Bates, it must be done.”

  Mr. Bates nodded and kept writing.

  And I couldn’t help but smile inside. I’d done this without Thomas. “Last, I need to work on a will.”

  Lizzy looked at me with fea
r in her eyes, but I patted her arm. “I have to make sure everyone is protected. The family I fought for needs to survive me. If not, my work is in vain.”

  She clasped my elbow. “Nothing you’ve ever done was in vain. Only a fool would question.”

  Within her strong hold, I felt her strength and her belief in me. That made my eyes weak. Our Saturday breakfasts had brought us together.

  By the time everything was finished, the sausages stank.

  But the paperwork was right.

  This had to be my finest day, and it was possible because of my family. All my living and fighting wasn’t in vain. I had to keep remembering this during the birthing pains and the sadness that followed.

  Dominica 1787: Lost Hope

  I was right, but this time I hated being right.

  Thomas would leave today. He’d be gone for months, not weeks.

  I’d hidden my growing belly and pretended to be sickly, to cut him off from my bed.

  He frowned at me as he packed his portmanteau. “This is just for a little while.”

  I nodded and smiled, lying with my lips. “You do what you must.”

  His sigh sounded like ashes coming down from the cones. “Doll, if the situation were reversed, you’d do the same. Nothing ever stopped you from perfecting your business.”

  That wasn’t true.

  I could harlot my housekeepers. I didn’t. Some hired out their enslaved to whore because it was big business. Wrong is wrong.

  “You’re acting like this is forever. I have to do my part to protect my investments. Much is at risk.”

  “Don’t look back, Thomas. Don’t blame me for you missing your chance.”

  He mussed his hair, then slicked it back. “You’re making this hard.”

  “Thomas, how many ways do I have to say go?”

  He put on his jade jacket. The silver buttons I stitched jingled. “You could say you love me and you understand. That you’ll not make me feel guilty for making my dream happen.”

  Didn’t agree to anything, just gave him his satchel. “Stay safe.”

  “Don’t have faith in me? I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Then you and I will get on the Mary and go to Grenada. You’ll meet my father.”

  “I can’t leave my family.”

  “I’m your family, too. When I return, I want you to start acting like it. Believe in me.”

  I held my arms over my stomach, clasping my elbow like it was chain mail, to keep my baby from upset and my glass heart from chipping more. “Be safe.”

  He put his hands to his hips. “You stubborn woman.”

  I wasn’t stubborn; I was Pa’s word, bogán. A spineless creature unable to tell Thomas how much I needed him, how much this baby did.

  “Doll, I’ll be back a success, and you and I will have that trip. Then you will tell me how proud—”

  “I am proud of you now. Don’t you know?”

  His eyes closed. “I need to be proud of me. You can’t be everything, not my heart and the only successful thing in my life.”

  Thomas needed this. My fears of being alone, of birthing this babe alone, none of that was enough to stop him. He’d gotten me closer to my dreams. I should be woman enough to smile and let him go in peace.

  But I didn’t move.

  He trudged to the bed and took my face in his palms. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to go? Say it now.”

  I couldn’t show him what was to come. My gaze soared through him away from the sadness that followed every birth and my new fear of dying, dying alone.

  “Doll?”

  The words our baby and I love you were on my tongue, burning like lava. “Thomas, I can’t think of a reason to keep you here when you don’t want to be.”

  His gaze lifted to the ceiling. “Fine.” He kissed my brow, picked up his portmanteau, and satchel. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He headed out of the room.

  I heard his good-byes to Edward and more promises to Charlotte and Mamaí, even a loud kiss to Frances.

  The final slam of the outer door vibrated all the way to me.

  Closing my eyes, I whispered my farewell, whispered my hopes he found what he needed.

  My stomach retched, and I vomited and vomited again.

  On the floor, I loosened my corset and took my first full breath in weeks.

  Then I flopped onto my empty bed.

  I cried, then lied to my soul. Everything would be fine. I was such a lying bogán.

  Dominica 1788: Lost Soul

  I sat in front of the cradle holding my baby, but inside I felt nothing. Born at the end of the old year, her birth should be a sign, a celebration. Months of carrying her, of talking and encouraging her in the womb left me barren, no more words for her, no song, not even my hymn.

  The birth pains were as hard as the rest, but this time I knew I’d die.

  Didn’t know if that would be a bad thing.

  Lizzy and Charlotte could take my place. Charlotte had become an exceptional businesswoman.

  I tugged at my empty breasts. Again the milk hadn’t come in right. Mamaí hired out for my babe.

  I was an utter failure. A bad sow. My hungry baby, Eliza, suckled, clamped on good to my breast, and I could give her nothing.

  My mama came into my room. She had a tray, probably more stew.

  How can you eat when you can’t feed your own child?

  “Dolly, feeling better? The birthing fever just broke.” She peeked at my little girl. “Eliza is a beautiful little girl. She sleeps good. Look at that head full of hair.”

  I nodded and crawled back into the bedsheets.

  “I’m going to take Eliza to my room, Dolly. You hear me? I want to make sure she’s safe.”

  I knew what she was saying, but she should know I’d hurt myself before my babe. I closed my eyes, nodding like a fool.

  It was dark when I opened my eyes again.

  But I wasn’t alone.

  “Thomas?”

  “No. Me, Kitty.”

  She lit a candle.

  Her face seemed older. Wide topaz eyes were inches from me. She looked scared. I hadn’t seen her like this in a long time.

  Yet I hadn’t been this scared, frightened of living, since the rebellions.

  “You need to get up. You need to go check on your baby.”

  “Can’t you see about her, Kitty?”

  “I have, Dolly.”

  “You should be her mother, Kitty. You can be good to her.”

  “Dolly, you don’t mean that. But who couldn’t be good to Eliza? She’s perfect. The fattest little cheeks ever.”

  The birthing sadness had me. I couldn’t get out of this hole. I was trapped in the cobbled well in the square.

  Kitty pulled me into her arms.

  I cried. She cried.

  “Sis, watch over Eliza as if she’s yours. You protected Lizzy long ago. Do that again for Eliza.”

  “Dolly, don’t die on us. You have to eat. You have to get out of this bed. Mamaí is sad for you. She wants to send for Thomas.”

  “No.”

  “He always makes you laugh. He’ll be happy to see this baby.”

  He’ll look at me and my lows and steal her away like Cells. This time, I wouldn’t blame him. “I’m no good for anyone.”

  She took the old rosary from my bed table and slipped it in my palm. “You’re too hard on you. You always have been too hard.”

  “Someone should be.” I rolled the beads between my fingers. I clutched these during the birth pains to focus, to pray.

  “A little food. You need to eat. Drink water?”

  No one could understand the darkness that kept calling. If I were quiet, maybe it would slip away. “Just need some time.”

  “We need you. Your Charlotte needs you.”

  “What’s wrong with Charlotte?”

  “At church, she caught the eye of a Fédon.”

  “The brothers from Grenada? They own a big plantation and transport g
oods to and from here and Trinidad? Those planters?”

  “The same. She likes him, Dolly.”

  My little girl was in love?

  “She needs her mama to help her like you helped Lizzy.”

  Coxall was all Lizzy’s doing, but I did protect her.

  My sister jumped into my bed and began brushing dust from my braids. “I’ll wash and oil this straw and get you good as new. Maybe Polk can come back and take us to church again. I like Polk.”

  Kitty probably wasn’t talking about Notre Dame du Bon Port. She wanted to go dancing at the mulatto ball. I chuckled at the notion and how it felt cleansing. “My swallow. You bless me, Kitty.”

  I held on to my sister. Her heartbeat, it was normal and right and true.

  I prayed I’d come to myself.

  For my family needed me, like I needed them, too.

  Dominica 1789: Lost Peace

  I bounced Eliza in my arms. Sitting in my bedchamber, I held this little girl. Sleepy tiny eyes with silvered speckles swimming in topaz finally closed. The wet nurse said her suckle was strong.

  Looking at my little girl, I felt more love than loss. My sadness had started to break, but it was a battle to get out of the bedclothes.

  “Eliza, Mama’s going to get better. You’ll be proud of me. I have to go do something for your big sister, Charlotte.”

  What was I going to do without my dear girl running my business, stepping into my sandals to keep things running?

  Gently, I placed Eliza in her cradle, tucked her in blankets. “You sleep, little one. I will be good for you again.”

  Tipping down the hall, I heard Charlotte and Mamaí giggling. Another blanket was being constructed, this one of purple and yellow linen strips. No osnaburg.

  My daughter draped a net-like cloth over her head.

  “That’s like a veil,” I said. “Such a beautiful bride you’ll make.”

  Her face bloomed like pink hibiscus. “Thank you, Mama. Glad you’re up.” She slid her pretend veil to the sofa. The burgundy tapestry of the pillows looked good behind the mesh. “Ready to look at the ledgers?”

  “Later. Let’s talk of the Fédons. If we agree on things, they are free coloreds and Catholic. Charlotte, you could have a church wedding.”