The men came out; tea came out; Aunt Grappit poured. Neville handed the cups with what struck Amity as rather nervous desire to please, seeing that China had the sugar she wished, and bringing a small table to stand beside her and hold the cup.
Charles said nothing but looked extremely thoughtful. Grappit had recovered his self-possession and indeed seemed obscurely pleased. He even went so far as to suggest, smiling, that China walk to the gate with him. “A little fresh air before retiring,” he said and offered his own lanky arm.
China yawned. “But really, Uncle—”
“Nonsense, go on, child. I vow I’d walk, too, if I could after such a dinner,” Aunt Grappit said quickly.
Charles gave China an odd glance as if debating something within himself but then shrugged. “I’ll say good night,” he said and kissed her lightly, bowed to Aunt Grappit and Amity, and left the lounge. China, looking as if there was no way out of the trap, took Grappit’s arm.
Amity said her good nights, which neither Neville nor Aunt Grappit seemed to hear, and went to her own room.
She was about to blow out her candle when China tapped on the door and without waiting for a reply came quickly into the room, cautiously closed the door behind her, looked at Amity and giggled. She wiped her eyes and sank down, bubbling with glee, into the big chair. “Guess what! A declaration in due form! Your Uncle Grappit!”
“Uncle Grappit!” For a second a mad notion of dalliance on Grappit’s part struck Amity.
“Oh, I don’t mean for himself! Lud, Amity—” China choked with laughter. “What would he do with Aunt Grappit! Plunk her in the sea with weights tied to her? Small loss if he did—”
“Who then? Neville?”
“Neville, of course. It was all in great form, I assure you. That’s why the men stayed so long in the dining parlor. He spoke to Charles first, that is, Grappit did. Asked for my hand, all very proper. Then he spoke to me—took me for a walk—oh, lud, I shall die.”
“Why didn’t Neville speak for himself?”
China went off into fresh giggles. “Uncle Grappit said that as my guardian he wished to tell me that Neville had asked for my hand. He spoke to Charles because Charles was my brother and Charles told him that I must make my own decision. Uncle Grappit said it was a delicate situation, I would understand that. He said Neville wished to marry me—”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, lud, Amity! I told him it was too soon! I am so new a widow.”
She giggled again but Amity sobered. “You’ll be a rich widow if the courts give you Mallam Penn.”
China’s blue eyes, suddenly shot her a shrewd glance. “The courts will give everything to Jamey. That’s the British way. I’ll get a pittance, if that. Bah, I can do better than Neville. He hasn’t a shilling to his name!”
“But Jamey—if you married Neville, he would be Jamey’s stepfather. Uncle Grappit—”
“I can see through a hole in the wall as fast as anybody! Uncle Grappit is setting himself up as guardian or trustee or—lud, Amity, his hands are grasping for the penn and Jamey!” She glanced in the mirror though and smiled again. “Not that it wasn’t done with all respect and courtesy. He said so lovely a woman and so young and—and—” Her lips firmed. She gave herself a little nod in the mirror. “I can do better than Neville. That is, when the time comes, of course. As I told your uncle, I am so new a widow—”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said that was why he spoke so soon, for Neville. He said times were dangerous. He said that I need protection.”
“How did you leave it?”
“How do you think? I didn’t say yes, certainly, but”—she giggled again—“I didn’t say no, either!”
“Why not?”
“Good heavens, Amity! Why make things uncomfortable? Why make an enemy of Uncle Grappit? And besides—oh, I’ll keep Neville on the string. Why not?”
“How long?”
China’s eyes flashed. “Till something better comes along! Be sensible! A woman must think of these things. I’ve a long life ahead of me and I want a comfortable life. I’ll never meet any man worth having in Jamaica but I’ll wait. And meantime your Neville can dance attendance if he likes.”
There was something in China’s airy confidence which touched a chord of uneasiness in Amity. She said slowly, “Uncle Grappit is a hard man to deceive.”
China giggled again at some recollection. “If you could have heard him. So certain that I would snatch at marriage. Why, you’d think he was doing me a favor! Oh—I forgot. Uncle Grappit told me to keep this secret.”
“But everybody knows! Neville, Charles, Uncle Grappit—certainly Aunt Grappit!”
“Well, then, I suppose he meant a secret from you!” She giggled again and fluttered away but cautiously, poking her curly blond head out the door for a quick look down the corridor before she crossed lightly to her own room, gave Amity a laughing little wave and closed it.
Amity laughed a little, imagining the scene as China described it—Uncle Grappit marching along in his flapping white linen, proposing marriage for Neville.
But she was uneasy, too. If China could see through a hole in the wall, so could Grappit Certainly he had acted with rapid decision—once he saw that Neville was on the verge of engaging in a flirtation with Hester which could conceivably weigh strongly against him in China’s favor. China wouldn’t care to take the leavings of her servant maid.
Gradually, though, another and very comforting realization struck her. Since Uncle Grappit’s declared aim was a marriage between Neville and China, then certainly Grappit had not gone out and cold-bloodedly shot Lawyer Benfit in order, as Charles suggested, to destroy proof of Amity’s marriage.
Why, in truth, she couldn’t have done Uncle Grappit a better turn than to marry Simon and thus, because Simon was what the English court would call a rebel, disqualify herself as a claimant to Mallam Penn.
Listening to the din of the night her thoughts went across the sea. She could see Simon standing before the fire at home, in his blue and buff uniform, she could see him standing beside her on the dark wharf in Savannah and then vanishing at once into that darkness.
A maid aroused her so early that the room was not yet light although birds were rustling and twittering outside the windows. The maid had chocolate on a tray and said that Massa was waiting for her in the lounge.
“But it’s still night!” Amity rubbed her eyes and then stared, for the wall opposite was alive with tiny gleaming lights, like fairy candles.
The maid saw her stare and chuckled. “Fireflies, lady. They go when full light comes.”
From the maid’s attitude there was no haste about Grappit’s summons. Yet she wondered about it and took her time to brace herself for a coming struggle, sipping the chocolate, listening to the birds, and watching the flashing, tiny gleams of the curtain of fireflies. In all likelihood he intended to bring up the subject of Hester’s dismissal again.
When at last, dressed and fully awake, she made her way to the lounge Grappit was annoyed. “It took you time enough, Niece.”
“It’s still night, Uncle.”
“It is nearly dawn.” He put down an empty cup, wiped his pale mouth, and Amity saw that his mood was conciliatory. “You must see the plantation—I should say the penn—and the early morning hours are cool. Also we must have some private conversation. Last night you spoke to me rather sharply about that girl, Hester. You reminded me that I am not master here. I am prepared to overlook that. I see that you have a misunderstood me. I am the head of the family. It is only my clear duty to care for you and China insofar as my abilities permit. But only as long as you require it.”
Fair words, Amity thought; they sounded rehearsed.
She made no reply and he went on smoothly, “This is a very rich property. Indeed, I was amazed to discover how rich it is. During my short stay here I have been at some pains to inform myself about the penn. I am delighted to put such information an
d experience as I have at your disposal. An inexperienced young woman would find it difficult to grasp details of management.”
Fair words, but actually true words, she thought grudgingly. He said, “Here is a hat for you. The sun will grow very hot.”
He gave her a wide-brimmed straw hat, tied with a black crepe ribbon. She went with him along the lounge and out the back door.
The house itself still lay quiet and asleep, but there were lights from another, small house, connected to the big house by a trellised passageway. “The cookhouse,” Grappit said.
The maid who had talked of the obeah woman and a coming storm was wrong. It had not stormed during the night and the dawn sky was a clear lemon color. The mountains were deep blue. A long penetrating wail rose from somewhere, startling her. It shrilled through the valley, echoed off-key but sweetly against the blue wall of mountains.
Again he informed her. “The conch shell. They blow it for rising—meals, an alarm, anything. They say it can be heard at a considerable distance.”
It had been then the conch shell which had roused her the previous morning and she had thought vaguely of a hunting horn, far away and off-key. Beyond a cluster of huts, laborers were already streaking toward sheds, mill, canefields, their red and yellow and green and purple clothing dulled by the misty dawn.
“We can talk for a moment here,” Grappit said and led her to some chairs of a heavy wood, weather-stained and wet with dew. He wiped one ceremoniously for her, with a great, figured bandanna. He settled himself in the other. They were in a grassy enclosure, shaded by bamboos which looked silvery in the dawn, and great trees. A sagging fence, laden with flowering vines, divided it from a bare space, which extended back toward the clusters of cabins and sheds.
“Now then, Niece, first, the girl Hester.”
“We can’t send her away, Uncle, just because Neville—”
“Neville has nothing to do with it. She is obviously unsuitable to her place. However, I spoke in haste last night, as you did, Niece. She is an impudent, insolent wench but I can see your point and I admit that it is fair. We’ll eventually find her a place and get rid of her. It is not important at the moment. The second point is this. By your father’s will you are the rightful owner of this entire estate—a rich one, Niece, a rich one. Far richer than the estate in America. Yes, I was surprised.”
She found her voice. “Then you’ve seen my father’s will?”
“Oh, yes. That was why I was in Spanish Town the day you arrived. The will was found among your father’s papers after his death. Very properly the—they call him Custos of the parish, I don’t know exactly what his duties are, but apparently this was one of them—the Custos of the parish entered it in chancery court for registration and to hold pending the end of the war or the arrival in Jamaica of the claimant to the estate. You.”
So her father had not altered his will. “Are you sure there was nothing said of China and Jamey?”
He made a church of his fingers and waggled the steeple. “Nothing of Neville either, but I didn’t expect that although—well, well, that’s the way the will stands. You are the sole legatee. That is—” The steeple stood still. “That is, aside from this claim of yours to have married Simon Mallam.”
“Claim—but I did—”
“A rebel, a traitor—”
“An officer in the Continental Army!”
“A traitor,” he said. “Yes—a very rich property. It would seem a pity to give it up to—a boy of five, wouldn’t it, Niece?”
She looked at him now with sharp attention. “Jamey is my father’s son. Jamey and China, too, have their rights.”
“A pity,” he said softly. “China—so lovely, so charming—she’ll wed again. Jamey, a boy of five—”
“Uncle, what are you getting at?” she said bluntly.
“I’m merely stating facts. Your father wished his property to go to you. I’m sure he trusted your good sense and affection. He expected you to take care of your brother—and your stepmother, as long as she might require financial aid. It would seem very sad if you renounced not only such a rich estate but your father’s declared wishes. By our laws a woman’s property belongs to her husband. The British court will never permit such an estate as this to go to a rebel. Or a rebel’s wife.”
“I understand that. But it should go to Jamey and China. That is fair—”
He turned to look directly at her, his pale eyes utterly astonished. “But you can’t mean that, Niece! All this estate—all this money. Why, you can’t throw it away like an old shoe!”
“It’s fair. Jamey—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Anger flamed in his face. “You’d give all this to a five-year-old child—just like that—when you could keep it all for yourself. Oh, I grant you, you should take some thought for the care of your young brother, but to give it all up! You are talking nonsense.”
“Perhaps we have different views of money, Uncle,” she said dryly. “In any event I have no choice. I am married—”
“Oh, but that—so easy. We needn’t tell anyone of this marriage you claim.”
“You’ve used the word claim twice, Uncle. My marriage is a fact.”
“Well, then—there are ways—yes, ways—”
“What do you mean? Annulment? Divorce? A clever lawyer! I’ll have nothing of the kind. It was all legal and proper. Mr. Benfit wrote a letter to you explaining it. He told China to explain—”
“Letter? I saw no such letter and it would mean nothing if I had. China’s explanation, as you call it, was hysterical, childish! No, listen to me, Niece. I think of you as my dearly loved daughter.” His words were flowing, smooth as oil. His first appeal had been, clearly, the appeal which would have carried primary importance with him, money. When that failed, he was changing course. “As a daughter,” he repeated. “So therefore I would advise you thus. Wed Neville.”
So China had not deceived him, not for an instant, with her airy postponement of decision, her graceful protest that she was too new a widow, her intention to say neither yes nor no, but keep Neville dangling.
No, he had seen straight through that and, during the night, changed his plans.
Astonishment, anger and laughter welled up in her at the same time. “Neville!”
“He is a good match for any woman,” Uncle Grappit said judiciously. “Handsome, a gentleman and your cousin. A sensible arrangement.”
“It is preposterous! What effrontery!”
“Mind your language, Niece!”
“Last night you were hot for him to wed China. She refused so now it’s me. No, thank you, Uncle! And you forget that I am married and—”
“I see that China told you. I might have known it. China is not to be trusted. I hope you’ll remember that, Niece.”
“She made you no promise.”
“That is quite beside the point now.” He was in a frozen rage, though, and she knew it. “I’ll put the situation clearly to you. Marriage to Neville would settle everything. He is a Loyalist, no problem there. If you should continue this—this stubborn opposition, then I have only one course—an onerous task indeed. One I should wish to avoid. But my duty.”
Suddenly, for no real reason, she wished she had not angered him. “What is that?”
“Why it is clear. I shall be appointed guardian and trustee for the boy, and China. Naturally then I shall take them both home—”
“Home—”
“To England, where else? It will be difficult for me, at my age, to bring up a small child. Especially one of Jamey’s willful nature. But”—his mouth twitched—“I daresay I can do so. It’s only a question of the stronger will. Of course, this means that you will be separated from him. It’s a pity,” he said, half smiling, “that China is such a silly mother. She has no great affection for her child. But then it will make it easier for me to control the child, bring him up with such severity as he unhappily requires.”
“You wouldn’t take him away�
��”
He rose. “You’ll need time to think this over, Niece. I am in no haste. Now I’ll show you the penn—”
“I’ll not let you take Jamey. And I’m married to Simon. But I wouldn’t wed Neville even if—This is a threat—”
“An ugly word, Niece. A cruel word. I’ll overlook that, too. When you’ve given this some thought you will understand that your father’s death has placed a very heavy responsibility upon me but I intend to discharge it. Ah—” he said with a quick-drawn breath.
She followed his pale eyes. Beyond the vine-draped fence a few rangy turkeys were straggling awkwardly along. One of them gave a startled squeak, stiffened and fell over in the dust. “A scorpion,” Grappit said. “Or a centipede or a tarantula.” He didn’t lick his lips; he only smiled a little. “You see, Niece, it is well to take care.”
9
HE STRODE ALONG AHEAD of her, his baggy white linen ghostly. Was it another threat?
No, he wouldn’t put a scorpion or a tarantula in her bed. It was a butterfly, Neville, he wished to put in her bed—or China’s, or wherever money made a third occupant, she thought with an inward catch of unsteady laughter. But her knees were shaking all the same.
She could imagine too clearly the kind of upbringing Jamey would get in Grappit’s hands. She knew, too, that the law would be on Grappit’s side. There was nothing she could quote, nothing she could show as proof that he was no fit person to bring up Jamey—with the severity Jamey’s “willful nature” required.
At the same time she knew instinctively that she must not show her terror; he would take it as a sign of weakness and strike the harder, as a bully does.
She forced herself to walk along steadily, look and listen as he told her of the penn, meet his own chilly politeness and, with as chilly politeness, ignore the words that had passed between them, as completely as he appeared to do.
Enemy in the House Page 8