The Curse at Rose Hill

by Camille Oster

  “Uh,” Emmeline said, feeling put on the spot. “I suppose I got offered a position and came for it.”

  “Oh, an opportunist. Tend to go as quickly as they come. Better than the despondents?”

  “Despondents?”

  “Those coming here thinking the streets are lined with gold, only to find hard work is required. Quickly become despondents.”

  “I see. Truthfully, I am not sure I am ambitious enough to place myself in either category. I simply responded to an offer that sounded exotic and exciting.”

  “An adventuress.”

  “Hardly. Participating in a lovely party like this is probably as exciting as my month gets."

  "If you think this is a lovely party, you really don't get out much. This is dull compared to some evenings around here." His eyes traveled to the men in the cards room. "People do find ways of keeping themselves occupied. On such a small island, it’s easy to become bored."

  "There are parties like this often?"

  "There are parties like these every night. Not all quite as respectable. This is the Caribbean, after all. It does tend to attract the rough and tumble."

  It wasn't the first time someone had mentioned that there was an unsavory element here. In fact, everyone she'd met had said so. "I have been warned that there are a few people here seeking their fortune."

  "Yes," he admitted. "Perhaps most people. The Caribbean attracts all sorts. But you are in good hands with Mrs. Thornton. The Thornton family has always been very respectable. As opposed to some," he said more quietly, his eyes shifting to the dark-haired man sitting at the card table. Lord Cresswell turned to notice the attention and gave a quick nod to Mr. Chiswick, which was more acknowledgment than showing any affection. Lord Cresswell’s eyes momentarily flicked to her before returning his attention to his companions.

  "I suppose this is the place where old feuds run deep," she said absently.

  Mr. Chiswick chuckled. "Some of these families have been here for a hundred years. Old grievances tend to keep alive in places like this. I don't know if it's the heat that makes passions run high, or the type of person this place attracts. But there are secrets and skeletons in every closet. Mark my words. And titles do not necessarily guarantee good character. Sometimes they make people think they can act any way they damned well please, like to cause trouble wherever they go. Some you should definitely stay away from."

  Seemed the Caribbean was more colorful than she’d believed when she'd accepted this assignment. It also seemed that quite a few people disliked Lord Cresswell. A fair few ‘old grievances’ seemed to have him at the center.

  Chapter 6

  It didn't take long for them to return to Plymouth. In fact, they were on the way there the very next day for the midmorning service that Mrs. Thornton attended every Sunday. As it was Sunday, the work in the fields had ceased for the day. A day of rest for everyone.

  It seemed they were not quite as isolated as Emmeline had thought. This was the third time this week that they were going to Plymouth. Again, they rode in silence, the landscape holding Mrs. Thornton's attention the entire way.

  "I suppose when we get back," Mrs. Thornton said, "you can read to me for a while."

  Emmeline was surprised. It was the first time the older woman had specifically asked her to perform her role as companion while at home. "It would be my pleasure," Emmeline replied before the pervasive silence enveloped them again. Was it normal to feel so very uncomfortable around her employer? In everything, Emmeline felt as if she had done something wrong, was a disappointment.

  The church turned out to be a stately building, white with a large spire. The bell rang brightly as they approached and people milled around with a multitude of carriages. It appeared this service drew attendants from all over the island.

  A Reverend Magnus was the archdeacon of the island and he seemed a kindly man with gray hair. As they lined up to enter the church, he stood at the entry and greeted everyone arriving. Most of the people attending the service were finely dressed. There were a few who were from more humble situations, but not as many as Emmeline had expected. But then as most of the inhabitants of the islands were Irish, they wouldn't be attending the Anglican church. Likely there was a Catholic Church somewhere nearby, but Emeline hadn't seen it yet.

  The inside of the church was cool and a row of pews in dark wood ran along the length. It was a familiar sight, seeing the church. It was a comforting thought. No matter where she went, the churches were the same. This was a familiar environment and she always knew what to expect.

  She had never sat in the front row, though, the space reserved for dignitaries. It only went to show the esteem that the people of this island had for the Thornton family. Emmeline felt conscious that there were some people watching her, no doubt curious about a new addition to the congregation.

  The reverend started the sermon and Emmeline listened. Mr. Magnus spoke of riches and the temptation it presented to any man of good character. He also spoke of hard times and how they were a test of character, a test of faith, that we should not fear the difficulties that God had put in our path.

  The man spoke for a while and it was a pleasant sermon. Mrs. Thornton fell asleep at one point and Emmeline had to gently nudge her awake. When he paused for a moment, she looked around, trying to see if she recognized some of the faces in the crowd. She saw Mr. Chiswick and smiled when he nodded at her. It seemed she already had one acquaintance. He seemed like a very nice man. Well, he was the only person she had talked to at the party the previous night.

  Who wasn't in attendance was Lord Cresswell. His dark curls were nowhere to be seen seated within the pews. From the way he spoke, he was most definitely English. There were still a few of the finer families in England that were Catholic, but somehow she didn't think he was. More likely, he simply didn't attend Sunday service. Perhaps that was part of the reason why Mrs. Thornton disliked him so much. Mr. Chiswick had also implied that he had a more 'undeserving character.'

  The service ended and everyone rose. Emmeline had to wait while Mrs. Thornton spoke to some of her acquaintances. By her body language, Emmeline could tell that Mrs. Thornton didn't want her to participate in the discussions, so she stood back and watched the people streaming out of the church.

  Mr. Chiswick approached her. " I see you made it all the way from the Thornton plantation. Rose Hill, I believe it's called."

  "That is correct," Emma said. "There are roses planted around the house."

  "This is not a great climate for roses."

  "Only some varieties survive here, I understand." The roses were well tended. Gardeners were maintaining them every day, which suggested Mrs. Thornton valued them considerably.

  "The most hardy tea varieties, I suppose. A description that is true for most other species on these islands. Will you be attending any more evenings in the coming week?" he asked.

  "I'm afraid I can't say just at this point," she admitted. Mrs. Thornton decides on the invitations and she didn't share her thoughts about it ahead of time. Emmeline was simply told to prepare to go out. Again, Emmeline felt that their relationship had not hit the necessary stride for good companionship.

  "Well I hope to see you soon," he said. “I’d better go. There are some things I must see to today."

  He gave her a quick bow and kissed her hand before taking his leave. Emmeline blushed at the touch. It wasn't common that gentlemen kissed her hand back in Boston. Mostly, perhaps, because she'd spent the majority of her time with twelve-year-old girls."

  Mrs. Thornton was still chatting, so with bonnet in place, Emmeline wandered outside the church, where the archdeacon was speaking to a pair of elderly sisters.

  She saw Mr. Hart standing farther away in discussions with a man. She hadn't seen him in some days, and hadn’t known he'd be attending today. He certainly hadn't traveled with them that morning, and must have ridden here on his own.

  He noticed her attention and came toward her. "Miss Durrant," he s
aid with it quick bow. "I hope you enjoyed our service today. Our Reverend Magnus does like the sound of his own voice."

  Emmeline smiled. "There's always a familiarity with Sunday service, isn’t there? I find it soothing in times of change."

  "The basics I suppose are the same everywhere. You are, of course, still adjusting to arriving at our lovely, green island. The reverend tends to be moderate in his views as opposed to the kind who sees hellfire and damnation everywhere. In a place like this, a more circumspect man is perhaps needed."

  Emmeline knew the hellfire kind. There was one particular priest in Boston who was exactly that type. Everyone was sinful and they were all going to hell but the most pious amongst them—and even they were at risk. She had noticed that he tended to alienate much of the congregation, while inspiring fervent loyalty in a few. Luckily not all churchmen were that way and she was glad to hear she wasn't going to be subjected to such sermons for the near future.

  "We did not see you on the road this morning," she said.

  "Saturday nights, I tend to spend in town," he admitted, looking a little sheepish.

  "Of course. I hadn't realized."

  "As you can imagine, it gets very isolated out at Rose Hill. Saturday evenings I tend to prefer the company of other people."

  "Naturally. I understand there are many diversions in town."

  As for isolation, he was obviously susceptible to it. In her time at Rose Hill, he had never been invited to dine at the house. She blushed at the idea that they discounted his presence, but then it wasn't her place to determine the kind of relations Mrs. Thornton had with the people managing the plantation.

  Although everything was new and curious to her, she feared feeling the isolation like he did. Unlike him, she would never be free to seek entertainment in town, fully reliant as she was on Mrs. Thornton. He took his leave and walked away from the church just as Mrs. Thornton was coming out. She spoke at length to the reverend before she was finally ready to leave. Joseph was waiting by the carriage not far away. Most of the gathered carriages had left by the time they were ready to go, so they avoided the grappling to get clear.

  *

  Emmeline spent two hours in the afternoon reading to Mrs. Thornton. It was a French book of seventeenth-century plays. They were interesting stories and Emmeline did enjoy them, but her voice weakened toward the end. She left when Mrs. Thornton had fallen asleep in her chair. Quietly, she walked out, trying not to disturb the woman.

  For a moment, she stood on the veranda, breathing in the perfumed air. This time of day, it was too hot to spend time outside, so Emmeline found a chair from where she could simply sit and watch. There was no one working the fields today and the whole plantation seemed eerily quiet.

  Where did they go when they were not working, she wondered. She knew the slaves had their cottages not far away, down a path through some trees to where the sugar mill was. She had never gone there, but all days, except today, they carried their harvest there to be processed into sugar. She had seen the burlap sacks full of sugar that were then taken by cart down to the port.

  Emmeline sat for a while before returning to her room to read prior to supper. At Rose Hill, she often felt as if she was continually waiting for something—waiting for supper, waiting for Mrs. Thornton, waiting for new orders.

  Joseph was already in the dining room when she arrived, but Mrs. Thornton had yet to make her appearance. As opposed to the others, Joseph didn't seem to get any time away from his job on a Sunday. Mrs. Thornton depended on him for everything, it seemed. He was there first thing in the morning and last thing at night, always tolerant of Mrs. Thornton's often insensitive statements. The relationship between slaves and their… masters wasn't something she'd had a great deal of experience with, and she was glad for it. Boston was quite staunchly against slavery. Technically, it wasn't abolished, but it had been some generations back since there had been any slaves within the community. It embarrassed her to think that it hadn't initially occurred to her that there would be slaves here when she accepted this position, which seemed an extraordinary oversight as the entire economy of the Caribbean ran on the toil of slaves. To her, the ownership of slaves didn't fit well with the values she had been raised with, or those exalted by the church.

  "Do some not have an opportunity to go to church?" she asked Joseph as he waited for the mistress of the house.

  "Oh yes, miss. There is a church for the colored people nearby, but at the moment, it has no churchman."

  "Oh?"

  "We had Reverend Tillsome," he said quietly, "but he is gone now. Not everyone liked him. There hasn't been anyone sent to replace him yet, so not much of a service just now."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. How long ago was that?"

  "Two years now."

  "Two years?" Emmeline said with astonishment. "Surely it can't take them two years to find a replacement."

  Joseph looked around, seemingly uncomfortable. "The good reverend upset some people, had views not everyone agrees with. They fear they will get someone like him. Perhaps they think better to not get anyone at all."

  "An abolitionist?" Emmeline whispered.

  Joseph gave the tiniest nod.

  This was interesting, Emmeline thought. An abolitionist had been preaching at the local church and had been removed. It seemed the topic of abolition was alive in these parts—quelled more like."Did Lord Cresswell ever attend that church?"

  "No. Some people don't go to church here. Some go to church in different ways."

  She didn't exactly know what he meant by that remark, but she didn't have time to question as Mrs. Thornton arrived, looking flustered.

  "All this heat. I swear it is getting worse. Are the windows all open, Joseph?"

  "No madame," Joseph said. "I have closed them all."

  "Good," she said and sat down. Joseph served them the soup course which was made of shellfish and cream. Like most others she'd been served, this dish had flavors she was unfamiliar with, herbs she didn't recognize, but it tasted very nice. Fish was again served as the main course and it was prepared beautifully. They certainly ate well.

  They ate in silence and then retreated to the parlor, where Emmeline was handed a small sherry in a carved crystal glass. "This comes straight from Portsmouth," Mrs. Thornton said. Taking a sip from her glass. Emmeline savored it. Truthfully, sherry wasn't to her taste, but she wasn't prepared to refuse her employer's hospitality. "My Philip imported a great deal for us," she continued, sitting down on the sofa with a groan. "Philip was quite the connoisseur."

  Emmeline heard something rhythmic in the background, but she didn't know what it was. For a moment, she wondered if it had started raining again, perhaps a soft shower.

  Mrs. Thornton frowned deeply. "Those damn drums," she said ominously. "Joseph," she called. "Joseph!" she called again when he didn't turn up immediately.

  Eventually he appeared. "Yes, madame?"

  "Can't we do something about those damn drums?"

  "They are simply enjoying the evening," Joseph said.

  "You know full well that is not just simple enjoyment. They are doing all sorts of unspeakable things," Mrs. Thornton accused as if Joseph was responsible.

  "Would you like me to go speak to them?" he asked.

  The woman seemed to consider for a moment, her eyes darting and her hands wringing in her lap. "No," she said after a while. "I will speak to Mr. Hart in the morning."

  With the bow of his head, Joseph backed away and closed the door to the parlor as he retreated.

  Emmeline wasn't quite sure what she'd just heard or observed. What exactly did those drums signify? Mrs. Thornton was clearly distressed by them, and by the look of her, there was something fearful about them.

  Awkwardly, Mrs. Thornton rose from her chair. "I'm going to retire," she said quietly, looking deflated. "I suggest you do the same. Don't go outside tonight. Evil is afoot."

  Mrs. Thornton walked out of the parlor and Emmeline was left still holding he
r drink in her hand. What did she mean evil was afoot? Was that what the drums signified, some kind of evil? She sought Joseph’s eyes, but he revealed nothing but patience.

  Rising from her seat, Emmeline retreated to her room. Her shutters had been locked in place, but she could still hear the drumming in the distance. It didn't seem to be coming closer, which was perhaps encouraging. Mrs. Thornton had also not wanted Joseph to go there, to ask them to stop. What did that mean? Why would she not want Joseph to go there when he had offered to? Perhaps this was related to whatever Mrs. Thornton feared after dark.

  The drums continued well into the night as Emmeline lay in bed and eventually fell asleep to troubled dreams where she was running for her life.

  Chapter 7

  The sun made the shutters glow in the morning. The darkness and concern from the previous night wiped away by bright sunshine. A warm breeze and sweet scents met her when she pushed the shutters open. Absolutely everything looked exactly as it should be, which made Emmeline wonder what had really happened last night. Mrs. Thornton had been fearful, almost shaking in her concern, although Joseph hadn't particularly been, as far as Emmeline could tell. Then again, what did Joseph show in his expressions other than continual tolerance?

  The previous night had left Emmeline shaken. She didn't understand what had happened, what Mrs. Thornton had been so fearful of. It obviously had something to do with the slaves as Joseph had offered to walk over to their cottages to talk to them.

  It felt as if there was something important that no one was mentioning to her. If there was danger here, she needed to know about it.

  The sense of unease didn't let up as she dressed and left her room. She stayed a little closer to the house than normal, but from what she could see, nothing looked out of place. Whatever danger there had been, it must have passed.

  The heat was building up quickly and Emmeline had to retreat into the house again. Mrs. Thornton still hadn't risen. Hunger was starting to nip at her, but she would wait. Joseph would bring her breakfast if she asked, but she still felt it was her duty to wait for Mrs. Thornton, who clearly hadn’t been truthful when she had exalted that she was an early riser. Maybe that only counted on Sundays.