Aside from the men sat an elderly matron in a lone chair to the left; quiet in observance.
It was Father Hannah who stood, calling him forward.
There was a table present that Quinton was to stand behind, facing them, and over to the far right, a single chair.
“Dr. Caine, to the table please, and the Negro – the chair there – is for her.” He pointed toward it.
Realizing the gravity of their situation, Suga rushed there, keeping her head down the entire time, silent as a mouse and just as frightened as one, she sat with eyes on her tightly balled hands. Quinton dare not look her way, but kept his eyes straight ahead; he was deliberately arrogant before them.
Once they were in their places, father Hannah proceeded, “Are you sir, aware of the reasons we’ve summoned you here today? What charges you face?”
Crossing his arms as if standing before those beneath him, he returned, as if bored by it all, “I’m sure, I’ll find it rather intriguing.”
“Dr. Caine, in England, I’m certain your cockiness is well received, let me assure you, here it is not! Such airs do nothing more than rile those who sit in judgment of your crime.”
“I’ve committed no crime for any of you to be in judgment of; I find these entire proceedings ludicrous.” He returned.
“That remains to be seen.” Father Hannah continued.
“Yes, so it does - what false witness has come forth and what claim have they made?”
“This gathering has been commissioned by us; you will remain quiet as we proceed in the manner for which we’ve organized it. Therefore, let your silence be your counsel until you have been given permission to speak, is that clear?”
“I do speak English, rather clearly – therefore, I must also hear it and thus comprehend it.”
Suga thought she would faint clean to the floor, ‘Lord God, what is he doin’, he gone get us hanged!’
With nostrils flared, the clergyman drew in a deep breath to gather his wits; once he felt back under control he went forward with his questions.
“Is it true, that you – almost two months prior received a servant girl, a Negro in order to assist with settling in here?”
“That is true. Just so happens to be, the young woman I was instructed to bring with me. Why – what do you know, there she is, sitting in absolute fright, for doing nothing more, than the job she was given.”
Father Hannah turned red, feeling his anger grow under Quinton’s condescension and sarcasm. One of the men coughed over a barely concealed eruption of mirth, while Bancmen’s eyes narrowed. Father Hannah continued. “You sir, will not stand before us, haughty in your snobbery! This is a court, and you will conduct yourself with the utmost respect before it.”
“Very well, your honor – please – list my crimes will you.”
“I assure you, we will – as there appears to be a couple of them. Shall we begin with the first?”
“And that would be?”
“We have reason to believe, that you sir, are a spy.”
“WHAT?! Whose insanity has caused them to mutter such an outrageous lie?” Quinton sputtered in disbelief, “Have you all taken leave of your senses?!” he blasted, “What would I possibly have to gain by taking part in such a fool-hardy occupation! From the moment of my taking a place within this community I have done nothing more than practice medicine and do research! To give aid to those in need; where in that do you find reason to accuse me of such a crime?!”
“What else would an Earl, pretending to be a doctor, be doing here? No servants to treat? No farmers on your land?”
Quinton sighed, he needed to calm himself and answered simply, “If you must know – I found myself bored with it all. I am young, I sought adventure, and found myself here; up until this event, I was rather taken with this community and its people. Lest you forget, I have not been here more than three months and have done little else but run to the aid of all who were in need. If I might remind you…” He turned to Henry Bancmen, “… one of those patients has been your mother, whom I sat in attendance to, day and night, administering to her, successfully - is that - not so?”
Bancmen was silent as he gave his nod.
“Perhaps that was the device you used to gain our trust?” Father Hannah went on.
“How very convenient her timing then, perhaps she too is a spy, in cahoots with me! Perhaps she was not sick at all, merely faking it to make me look good.” He fired out, glaring from one man to the other, his bold stare settled on Bancmen, “And – I might further add, at no time had I asked for a coin – as an Earl, I am not in need. If I remember correctly…” Quinton wasn’t completely crazy; he knew to be careful with how he implicated the slave trader, “… you knew that I was a man alone, struggling and you sent the girl to me to give aid – which she has. Now, I am to stand accused of crimes that neither of us is guilty of?”
“Why are you here?” One of the other men asked.
“Why are you here!?” Quinton turned the question on him, “Perhaps, in truth, you are the spy, and I am being used-…”
Thrusting up from his chair to his feet James Armfield bit out, “That is absurd!”
“Yes! And I find it as absurd for me, as it is for you! If I am guilty of a crime, make it one which has some standing, some validity – but nothing so ridiculous as that!”
“Why did you not identify yourself from the very beginning upon settling here?” Armfield asked.
“My identity has been known from the beginning, it is my title that I cared not to share, for what good would it serve me, here?” Each of the men colored red at the truth in his words. “Furthermore, if that title was tied to spying – why in God’s name, would I use it in sending a missive? I thought spy’s had secret codes and other such?!” He argued his case once more looking from one man to the other and then, finalizing his argument against spying he stated, “The using of my title in the missive was nothing more than customary etiquette. I daresay something you seem to know nothing about!”
James Armfield, with his face flaming, took his seat, leaving Father Hannah to carry on, “Very well – that aside, there is the matter of the girl. Where – exactly does the girl reside?”
“With me.” Quinton answered immediately.
“You are a bachelor sir.”
“She is a young Negro servant; in some places she would be called a slave.”
“While true – she is a female nonetheless. You are a man; it is frowned upon and strictly forbidden to have such an arrangement. Why do you not at the end of your day, send the girl on her way?”
“On her way to where exactly? She is without a home, without family; would you have her sleeping in a barn – open to any sort of dangers? What good would she be to me then?”
“What good is she to you now?”
“She is my assistant in research – helping me to prepare necessary medicines to treat different maladies, such as the many patients you have interviewed may have suffered from.”
“If their statements have a thread of honesty, you will have been informed of that already. That aside, there is the matter of domestic chores I cannot be bothered with; my studies are no longer impeded with my residence falling down around me; thus, more for the servant girl.”
“Very well, at the end of the day, send the girl back to Mr. Bancmen, he as a married man with household with servants, could no doubt find a place for her.”
“The girl would be of no use to me there, I have been training her - I cannot do so if she is running back and forth between my dwelling and Mr. Bancmen’s – there is much for her to learn – much for her to do. She has a room of her own and a bed there of her own. Once more, ask Erwin Murray, he came in and constructed her room himself. And her training, once again, ask any of those I am certain you questioned, she has a skill for healing-…”
Cutting him off, Father Hannah brought the focus back, “You sir – are a bachelor, she is a female – the rest does not matter – might I suggest you ma
rry.”
“I have no room in my life, for a wife – if I did, I would have done so with one more suitable to me, back in England.”
It was a deliberate insult; the five were immediately offended by his comment.
“Are you saying, there are none here, good enough for you?”
Quinton stood with his heart pounding, praying as he cocked a haughty brow; which only riled them all the more.
“You – how dare you! My daughter is more than good enough! It is you, who is not worthy of her, or any woman here for that matter – you and your stinking elites!” Richard McKinney spat, thinking about how his daughter Clarice longed for him, asking for permission to call on him – it simply was not done, he had forbidden it, now – he was glad that he had saved her from the humiliation.
“Let us all please stay focused on the matter at hand. It is an easy enough solution; I will have the girl back.” Bancmen spoke up to break the tension in the room.
“I’m sorry, the girl is my servant and I will continue on as I have done, for there has been no crime committed.”
“So you say sir!” McKinney hissed, angry at having his daughter devalued by the man before him.
“The girl is untouched! She is as she came to me.”
“That can be proven easily enough.” Father Hannah interjected, and looking at the young woman, who sat quietly before them, said. “Check the girl – we will have proof of the matter now.”
Quinton felt his stomach tighten with the thought of such an indignity forced upon her, but it could not be helped – there was no way around it. He forced himself to stare straight ahead, daring not to look her way.
Suga glanced up with wide eyes towards Quinton, he looked completely bored by it all, with his eyes towards the men who faced him.
Without ceremony, the much older woman, tromped her way across the distance between them and upon reaching Suga, grabbed her by the arm and snatched her from the seat, practically dragging her to a side room, shoving her through the door, she slammed her against the nearest wall. As if she were on a farm checking one of her livestock, she hitched up her skirt, ripped her bloomers open and shoved her hand between her thighs, “Spread your legs girl, now!” She bit out nastily. With little choice, frightened into silence, Suga spread her legs and closed her eyes to endure being probed to the woman’s satisfaction. When done, she used the inside of Suga’s skirt to wipe her hands on.
“Well I’ah’be, so ya’are. Back outside with’ya – sit down.”
Head down once more, Suga rushed back out the door and sat down, her face on fire from humiliation; she did all she could to tune out all that was happening around her. She thought about her mother and all that she’d gone through. She thought about the other slaves, young women like herself, her sisters and all that they’d gone through too, wishing she had never met nor been given to Quinton Thaddeus Caine. His misleading kindness, fairness, difference made her soft, made her lower her guard, made her think such nonsense that she was truly, as good as anyone else – because he made her feel that way.
But that day, what had been done to her – that was the truth – she was nothing but a fool in believing things just might be better for her.
Quinton blocked his mind, dare not look her way – he dare not feel what just happened to her – he must at all cost, close his heart to what she was feeling, or else lose all that he’d gained so far. He stood arrogant and cocky, in disdain of them all – despite the lump in his throat. The lady walked to the front of the table, “The girl is untouched, a virgin.”
Chapter VIII
It was clear the men were surprised.
They all nodded that she was done and could leave. She turned eyeing Quinton up and down with disdain, “T’huh – no man thee, wat’ - does it fail ya’ – limp aye?” Her vulgar referral to his manhood sent the other men into laughter, causing Father Hannah to shout, “Out with you and such talk!”
“I’m goin’ and thinkin’, it ain’t only thee bloods that’s blue!” She spat out before heading for the door, leaving the men once more filled with mirth at Quinton’s expense. She departed, eager to tell what she knew; that in truth, the girl had not been used – and it was obvious, the doctor was a bore and an impotent fop – an English snob – not an ounce of a virile male about him.
Returning to his act of snobbery, Quinton ignored their laughter and the woman’s comment, stating, “There! As – I – said – I have been wrongly accused on both counts! Falsely accused of being a spy, falsely accused of committing fornication!” Quinton eyed each man, “Well? I think it is fair to say, we should be dismissed immediately!”
“Regardless of all that has been disclosed, you cannot return to the previous living arrangement - …”
“I bloody well can! The service I provide alone should be enough to give me this special privilege!”
“No man is above God’s law!” Father Hannah rebuked him.
“Have you been listening? The girl is vital for my studies, vital to the administrations of all here!”
“I care not what the girl does; you will not keep her and live in sin!”
Snarling with disdain, Richard McKinney spoke up, “You need the girl so badly for your studies, fine – bloody blue-blood – marry her – or else release her back to Bancmen!”
The other men gasped and then, as it occurred to them what it would mean for him; shame, embarrassment, certainly something to bring one of the gentry down from their precious high horses, they began to nod their heads in agreement, “Aye – I second it!”
“Aye, third – one or the other!”
“You’ve all gone mad!” Quinton protested.
“Aye, I agree – marry the wench, or send her home with me.” Bancmen smiled cunningly; like the others, he had little tolerance for bluebloods other than what he could sell to them. It still did not sit well with him, how the man scorned him, looked down on him that day upon granting him the gift of a slave girl, now – he understood why.
He was of the aristocracy.
Quinton made sure to look stunned, his eyes going from one to the other, “Surely you jest! Do you know who I am?”
His words, spoken with haughty superiority nailed the coffin shut - each man before him went from suggesting it, to insisting upon it, in fact, Bancmen stated, “Come now Dr. Caine, we as gentlemen all know, there are more ways in which to commit fornication, perhaps you have committed an act even more despicable – one not so easily spotted…” He let the idea of possible sodomy drift as if a hint to what may be.
“You…” Quinton bit out, turning red, very much aware of what he was hinting at.
“Careful, be very careful, either be charged with fornication by sodomy…” Father Hannah crossed himself and did a prayer as if he stood before the devil himself as Bancmen continued to explain his options… “…as well a charge of spying … or …”
“You know that is a lie!” Quinton fought to the end.
Bancmen smiled, “…or… give, the girl, your name - Earl of WhistHirst.” Quinton stood as if steam rose from him, in fact, holding his breath for the right effect, as if what they suggested was beyond what he could stand. All five men sat with a feeling of complete elation, for once, looking down their noses at someone whom they felt represented all of the elite class they’d escaped from – coming to this new land, where now, they stood as law of the land. “We’re waiting…”
“What – little – choice – have I?” Quinton slowly bit out, glaring and breathing harshly through his narrowed nose as if fighting not to explode.
Father Hannah opened his book where all matters were recorded and began entering into it the date, time and the marriage between the Earl of WhistHirst – Quinton Thaddeus Caine and...
“The girls name?” he asked, of course speaking to Quinton, who refused to talk.
Laughing, Bancmen supplied her name, “Suga – Suga Caine I presume.” He couldn’t stop smiling.
Father Hannah continued on to fill it
in completely, making sure to note before her name, ‘Free Negro Servant girl, Suga Caine’ and then turned the book to Quinton, “Sign it – here – now!”
“This – is not – done.”
“This day, to you – it will be done, God’s will – be done! Sign it, now.” They all waited.
Finally, having held out enough, Quinton charged to the table and signed it with his elegant scrolling signature. They each took it and signed it as witnesses to the marriage. “Now the girl – here wench – you can sign your name can’t you?”
Suga looked up at the men before her. Quinton standing before their table, the other men standing behind the table, each looking her way; she hadn’t a clue of what they wanted from her.
“Well wench? Can you?”
“Can I – what sa’?” She asked timidly.
“Sign – your - name!” Father Hannah growled impatiently.
She didn’t know what that meant, why they wanted her to sign her name, but stood, nodding, “Yes sa’, I can – I can sign my name.”
“Hurry about it then, right here, sign it.”
With her heart slamming, she tried to keep her eyes off of Quinton, because he wasn’t the same – she was confused. She walked forward, and reached out for the quill.
“There, sign your name right there!” Father Hannah pointed to where she was to sign. She leaned over and carefully, with buried pride, showed them that she could sign her name with Suga and went to stand away, when Quinton nudged her impatiently, “The rest of it, hurry, I’ve had enough of this – Caine – Suga Caine!” He ordered gruffly.
Being subjected to him speaking to her in such a tone, hurt her feelings, she didn’t get it, turning away; she bent back over it, dipped the quill and finished it, signing her full name, as Suga Caine. Standing, she gently laid the quill down – backing away, unsure of what was expected of her next – she’d spent the entire time all was going on, off into another world, mentally escaping the one she felt trapped in.
The Fancy Page 9