Captive Innocence

by Fern Michaels

  Her train of thought was broken by the entry of four little Indian girls, ninas, carrying pails of steaming hot water. One of the girls removed a screen from the far corner of the room and pulled out a large tin tub. The little girls poured the steaming water carefully into the tub and left the room. In a few moments they were back again with more water.

  “Very good, ninas,” Royall said approvingly as she rummaged in her carryall for the decanter of bath salts and poured in a generous amount. As she started to undo the bodice of her dress, four solemn pairs of eyes watched her. Royall looked at the little girls and felt momentarily unsure of what she was to do next. Surely, they didn’t mean to help her!

  “All right, ninas, you may leave. I’ll call if I need you.” No one moved. Evidently they didn’t understand English. Now what do I do? she wondered. No one was going to watch her bathe, little girls or not!

  She took the girl closest to her by the arm and ushered her to the door. The other three stood rooted to the floor. The child by the door had tears in her great black eyes. “What did I do?” Royall wailed.

  Solemn eyes looked at her. One plump little girl raised a fat finger and pointed to the girl by the door. “You no like?”

  Royall was shocked. “Of course I like her. I just want to take my bath in private!”

  “We help,” the plump little girl giggled.

  “But I don’t need any help.”

  “We help,” the girl repeated stubbornly. The children advanced toward the frustrated Royall. The child by the door stood mute, tears streaming down her face.

  “All right, come here,” Royall smiled. “You can help too.” The child rewarded her with a bright, toothy smile.

  Before she knew it, Royall’s clothes were stripped off and she was submerged in the water. She was soaped and scrubbed till her skin tingled. The plump little girl attacked the golden tresses. “Pretty,” she stated, the others nodding happily as they continued their vigorous scrubbing.

  Royall wondered how long the bath ritual was to continue. “Lord a mercy!” she muttered, parroting Mrs. Quince’s favorite expression.

  Her exclamation made the girls giggle; evidently they were familiar with the lady.

  The first little girl held up her hand and said, “You wait; we bring more water.” Royall sighed; where could she go in this condition? She smiled wanly at the girls as they trotted from the room. Fervently, she hoped the water was for rinsing and not more soaping. She looked at her rosy skin and winced. “I must manage to get a softer bath brush!”

  The door opened, and giggling ninas carried the pails into the room. They looked at Royall sitting in the tub, covered with soap lather, their bright, dark eyes glittering in merriment. Apparently this is the part they enjoy best! Royall thought.

  One of the children made a motion for Royall to get onto her knees so that they could pour the water over her. “When in Rome, et cetera,” Royall muttered. She did as instructed, and as she felt the first torrent of water, she heard one of the girls giggle at her repeated exclamation, “Lord a mercy!”

  Royall choked on her laughter at her own expense. Soon she was toweled dry, her long hair wrapped in a turban. Her skin felt tingly and renewed. Suddenly, the plump little girl had a jar in her hands, and she watched in fascination as each girl helped herself to a portion of the thick, fragrant lotion.

  “Oh, no!” Royall cried. What was the use, they would have their way. She let the girls rub her legs and arms. When they made a motion to remove the towel, she clutched it like a lifeline.

  The plump little girl looked at Royall, her dark eyes dancing. “Lord a mercy,” she chanted. Evidently this was her battle cry. Royall gave in gracefully.

  Soon the girls had her dressed in a light, yellow-sprigged dimity that somehow was miraculously free of wrinkles. She was then ushered out to the wide veranda and gently placed in a rattan chair. The turban was removed from her head, and the girls stood like bright, precocious squirrels. They cocked their heads first to one side and then to the other. They appeared to reach some sort of agreement, for the plump child took the brush and started to brush out Royall’s damp hair.

  As soon as it was free from tangles, they sat down at Royall’s feet and looked at her expectantly. Royall felt perplexed as she looked at the children helplessly. The plump one seemed adroit at reading her mind. She looked up at the sun and then pointed to Royall’s hair.

  “Oh, I see. You want my hair to dry and then you will fix it. Very good,” she laughed. She wondered how she would look when these small children finished with her. Possibly better, she thought as she remembered their experienced fingers when they bathed her.

  “What are your names?” she asked. At their blank expressions she pointed to herself and said, “Senora Banner.” Then she pointed to the girls.

  “Nessie,” said one, the smallest.

  “Rosy,” announced another, the one with the great black eyes.

  “Blodgett ... no! No! ... Bridget,” corrected the tallest child.

  The last, the plump one, announced, “Moriah.”

  “What strange names for Indian children. Where did you get those names?” Royall asked, smiling. Moriah giggled, and Royall gave it up. However was she to communicate with these children?

  When her hair was dry, Moriah jumped up to brush the long golden strands. She stood behind the chair while the others sat crosslegged in front of Royall. The little vixens, Royall thought. They’re the approval committee, and they take their job seriously. From time to time they squinted and nodded, mostly in the affirmative. Moriah kept up a running report and the girls again nodded. Nessie, the smallest, ran to get the hand mirror. “You see?” asked Moriah proudly.

  Royall looked at her reflection. She was amazed at the artfulness the child had exhibited. The light golden tresses were piled high on her head with a single curl falling over one shoulder. At her ears, tiny tendrils of curls were permitted to escape the pins.

  They awaited expectantly for her reaction. She smiled and repeated their names. “Lord a mercy,” she laughed and embraced the children. Unnoticed, Elena had entered the room and now watched the scenario on the veranda through icy, green eyes.

  With a loud clap of her hands the housekeeper dismissed the now subdued children. They scurried from the room, but not before the jolly, pig-tailed Moriah turned her head and gave Royall a precocious wink. Royall could not believe her eyes and had to stifle a laugh at the little Indian’s defiance.

  “How old are the children?” she asked the housekeeper.

  “They are ten years old, Senora Banner. Were they satisfactory?”

  “Most definitely. They’re very experienced for girls so young.”

  “I have trained them myself,” the housekeeper said coldly. “Master Jamie is waiting for you on the east veranda. The Baron and Carl are out on the plantation. They asked me to extend their warm welcome.” If possible, the cultured, musical voice was more aloof than before. “We dine at half past eight, Senora Banner. Dress is formal.” She glided from the room with a grace Royall envied.

  Royall followed the housekeeper down the hall and out to the veranda.

  “You must be Mrs. Banner! I’m Jamie Newsome,” he said, bowing low.

  “I’m happy to know you,” Royall said, returning his smile. “I’ve come a long way to meet you.”

  He rose to full height. Handsomely tall and of muscular build, he was an impressive figure for a young man barely in his twenties. His blue eyes smiled into hers and he impatiently brushed back a lock of springy, fair hair from his wide brow.

  “It’s my pleasure to have you here. May I call you Royall?”

  “But of course. And I’ll call you Jamie. Let us sit. I’d like you to tell me about the plantation,” Royall said, seating herself on a rattan chair. “Why is it that you’re not out on the plantation with the other men?”

  Jamie looked momentarily angry. He became engrossed in rubbing the thumb of his left hand between the index and middle finger,
and then he pulled himself to attention. “Father wanted someone from the family to be here to welcome you and to show you around on your first day,” he said offhandedly. “Besides, they’re dealing with the rubber merchants today and father didn’t want me aro—” Suddenly, Jamie flushed and changed the subject. Royall pretended not to notice the slip of tongue. Jamie then spoke of the plantation and the changes that had come to pass since he was a child. “Every year we have more rubber and better markets,” he said. It sounded as though he were repeating a much learned school lesson.

  Royall spoke of the Indian girls and asked Jamie how they came to have such Christian names.

  “That is Father Juan’s doing. He’s a missionary and he has converted most of the Indians around here. Christian people, Christian names,” he shrugged. His eyes sparkled as he spoke. “They’re wonderful,” he smiled, “quick, bright, and eager to please. Especially Moriah. She’s a quick little bird, isn’t she?”

  Royall thought back to the precocious wink and agreed with Jamie.

  “How many Indians are there on the plantation?” she asked.

  “Over three hundred, and about half as many Negroes.”

  “Do all the plantations have that many workers?” Royall asked, avoiding the word slave.

  “Some have more. Sebastian Rivera has, in all, only one hundred. Somehow he gets more work out of the one hundred than we do with the three hundred we have,” he said frowning. “Of course, you must have heard he gave his slaves their freedom. I am sure Mrs. Quince must have told you,” he smiled.

  Royall nodded. “Has the Baron considered doing the same?” she asked.

  Jamie looked shocked. “He says he gets no work from them now. What would they do if they were given their freedom?”

  “How long does he think he can hold off?” Royall questioned. “Mrs. Quince tells me it’s only a matter of time until slavery is totally abolished, if Princess Isabel has her way.”

  “She never will!” Jamie roared, startling Royall to silence. Noting the shocked expression on her face, he continued in a quieter voice that he visibly struggled to control. “At the moment we’re having a little trouble with our slaves. We hear they’re planning an uprising. But we hear that very often. Sometimes I think they spread the rumor themselves just to irritate the Baron. Especially when we have a large shipment to get out to the rubber traders.”

  Royall glanced at the table next to Jamie. “How beautiful,” she said, admiring an array of wooden soldiers.

  “They’re collector’s items,” Jamie said proudly, handing her one of the brightly painted figures.

  Royall admired the artistry. and commented on the fine detail. “How many do you have?” she asked.

  “Seventy-six in all,” Jamie told her. “I hope to reach one hundred one day soon.”

  “I’ve never seen such fine soldiers, even in the States. You must be very fond of them,” Royall said.

  “I am, Royall. They’re my most treasured possessions. I’ve been collecting them since I was a small boy.” Quickly, he changed the subject. “Would you like to take a walk through the garden before the heat gets unbearable? Later, after lunch, I’ll give you a tour of our Casa Grande.” He extended a long arm and helped Royall from the chair. They walked down the steps, the perfume of crepe jasmine heavy in the air.

  Royall expressed delight over the abundance of sweet-smelling, lush flowers. Jamie explained how difficult it was to keep the jungle from creeping up to the door. “The lawn gets shorter and shorter every year,” he laughed.

  Within an hour the heat and humidity reached a soaring point, and Royall felt light-headed.

  “We had better go back,” Jamie said, noticing her pallor. “I shouldn’t have kept you out so long. You have to get used to the heat gradually.” Royall secretly felt she would never grow accustomed to this strange land, as she walked behind Jamie on the narrow footpath.

  Settling themselves in a dim, cool room of the Casa Grande, Jamie rang for Elena and requested cool drinks. Royall sat and rested her head on the headrest behind her chair. It appeared to be a conservatory of some sort, and she promptly asked Jamie what the room was used for.

  “It used to be what my mother called her morning room. We moved her spinet in here after she died. Mostly, it’s never played. I come here sometimes just to see if I can remember her. She died when I was two years old,” he explained. Royall felt puzzled at the quick, choppy way he spoke.

  Royall asked no more questions as the housekeeper offered her a tall, cool-looking drink. She tasted it, and her mouth puckered. “What is it?”

  “Lime and papaya juice. We find it an excellent thirst quencher.”

  Royall agreed. A trifle tart for her taste, but she supposed she would get used to it. “It’s so pleasant here in the house,” Royall remarked. “What a contrast to the heat outside.”

  “That’s because the walls are more than a foot thick and the roof is tile. Would you care to see the rest of the Casa Grande?”

  When Royall nodded, Jamie jumped to attention, ready to guide her.

  The Casa was laid out in the shape of a U; the building surrounded a small courtyard paved with cobblestones and artfully landscaped with tropical shrubs and trees. Throughout, the furnishings were baroque in style, embellished by touches of gilt. Royall found she was appreciative of her room with its simpler Regency furniture. The Baron’s taste was much too ostentatious for her liking. Jamie pointed out different objects, and she carefully complimented them, seeing how he was enjoying his role of tour director. As they circled back to the morning room, he remarked, “It’s almost a perfect copy of the original, down to the details.”

  “What original?”

  “The original Casa Grande. Grandfather lived there. When he died it burned to the ground. Father had this one built soon after. The first Casa was about a mile from here. Father didn’t build on the old foundations because he felt it advantageous that we be closer to the river.” His speech about the old Casa was spoken as though he were reading it from a Cook’s Tour pamphlet.

  Lunch was served in a cool, dim room in the back of the house. Royall was surprised at the quality of the fine English china, and commented on it.

  “It was my mother’s,” Jamie explained. “We have many fine pieces, as you will soon see.” The lunch was light and pleasant. A sweet salad of guavas and oranges with pineapple, then some thin slices of cheese with wafer-thin slices of bread and another glass of the lime-papaya juice completed the meal. Jamie escorted Royall to her room for the siesta and told her he would join her for tea at four and promised a horseback ride later.

  Royall lay down with the thought of resting only. Soon her eyes closed and she was sound asleep. The oppressive heat had had its effect and enervated her. She woke drenched to the skin. Quickly, she shed the damp clothing and made a mental note to remove her outer clothing when she next took a siesta. Changing into a light riding habit, she entered the conservatory where she had promised to join Jamie for tea. As she neared the door, she heard a low-voiced conversation from within and was about to retrace her steps when she heard her name mentioned.

  “Your father won’t like it if you take the Senora riding. You know he doesn’t approve of your horsemanship, Jamie.”

  It was Elena. She sounded quite bossy and even petulant. “Why not wait till Carl returns and you can go together?”

  Royall stood quietly, listening shamelessly.

  “I’m sure, Elena, that Royall is an accomplished horsewoman. You don’t have to worry that she’ll fall from her horse. I’ll watch over her,” he said coldly. Royall thought that with such a blunt statement the housekeeper would have considered herself dismissed, but she continued to argue the point, her voice lowered, musical cadence gone.

  “If you disobey your father again, Jamie, I fear he will not order the new soldiers for you,” she said firmly.

  “Then I’ll order them myself. I’m no longer a child, Elena, as you well know. I intend to keep my promise
to take Royall riding after tea. See that you fetch it immediately,” he ordered imperiously.

  Royall felt it was time to make her presence known. She retreated a few steps and stepped heavily on the tile floor, her heels making a clicking sound.

  “I hope I’m not late, Jamie,” she said, entering the room. The austere housekeeper glanced at Royall with hostility as she left the room. She returned almost immediately with two fine cups, a pot of tea, and a tray of pastries.

  “I think it’s a little cooler, don’t you, Jamie?” Royall asked.

  “Yes, it usually starts to cool off around tea time. It’s the best part of the day.”

  Royall had two cups of tea and several of the flaky pastries. Jamie seemed to have an insatiable appetite. He continued to eat pastries until the plate was empty. He smiled sheepishly at Royall’s look.

  “They’re my favorite,” he remarked, then burst out laughing. His laughter was contagious, and Royall joined him.

  “But not too good for the waistline,” she said playfully.

  “That doesn’t worry me,” he smiled again as he finished his fourth cup of tea.

  “Is that your favorite, too?” Royall asked with humor. He nodded happily as he set his cup down and stood up to shake the crumbs from his trousers.

  Royall followed him through the kitchen area and walked out into the pebbled courtyard where two saddled horses stood waiting. Jamie helped Royall mount and they set off, Jamie in the lead.

  Royall rode a dappled gray, and Jamie a high-spirited chestnut gelding. He seemed to ride with ease. She wondered vaguely at Elena’s warning him against disobeying his father. It had sounded like a warning. Suddenly, Jamie veered to the left and reined in the startled gelding. He dug his heels into the flank and the animal reared and pawed the air. Jamie continued to pull on the reins, and the horse fought all the harder. Royal felt frightened. There didn’t seem to be anything on the ground to startle the horse. Jamie freed the reins, and the horse quieted as he pawed the ground and nickered softly.