‘Regina.’
‘What is it?’ she snapped irritably. ‘How many goodbyes do you want me to say?’
Looking pale and hurt, he hesitated. Then suddenly grabbing her, he hid his face in her neck.
She pushed him away.
‘For goodness sake, you’re always such a baby.’
He flushed the colour of his thick mop of curls.
‘I am not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘I am not.’
She climbed into the open carriage and without looking at him again said,
‘Well, goodbye then.’
‘Goodbye,’ said Gav.
The carriage creaked over the rough earth of the clearing in front of the jailhouse. Then it weaved a path between the stumps and towards the track that led alongside the quarters and past Widow Shoozie’s tavern into the forest. No sooner had it done so than a feeling began to grow in Regina that she had made a terrible mistake in deciding to leave Gav and her job at the store. The feeling terrified her, yet she remained frozen in her seat of the carriage unable even to turn round.
Mistress Harding chattered happily all the way and she wondered how she would be able to stand her for any length of time. Surely her silly talk was enough to drive anyone mad. Her green eyes stole a glance at the older woman. Even on the hottest days Mistress Harding wore a wig decorated by bows or beads or little ornaments or a mantilla of lace. It wasn’t until later that Regina discovered it was because Kitty Harding possessed a thin dusting of hair through which the white skin of her scalp was plainly visible. Feathery lines at her brow and eyes gave her an anxious look when she wasn’t smiling, but she smiled a great deal. She was smiling now and her chatter echoed through the trees of the forest like a strange tireless species of bird.
After a while Regina stopped listening. Occasionally she glanced over at Harding who was riding sometimes further ahead, sometimes at one side of the carriage. She wondered what was going on behind those jutting brows and eyes deep-set like slivers of coal.
When darkness fell, a bed was made for Mistress Harding across the two seats of the carriage and Regina tucked a cover over her before settling herself down underneath, between the carriage wheels.
Harding sat staring moodily into the fire the slaves had lit. He seemed unaware of the howling of the wolves all around. But the slaves were jittery and restless and, although Mistress Harding hid her head beneath the cover, her jerky high-pitched cries of distress could be heard competing with the racket of the wolves for most of the night.
Regina tried not to think of Gav lying alone in the room above the store but all sorts of worries about him came to plague her. Now that he had not her to look after him, would he be all right with Mr Speckles? Would the planters’ sons torment him and bully him? What if he took ill?
Despite the harassment of her thoughts, she sank into a deep sleep and dreamt that Mr Speckles had crept into Gav’s room and Gav had awoken screaming with fear. She jerked awake herself unable to believe for a minute or two that the silver rays of early morning were shimmering through the tops of the trees and that there was no Gav calling her name.
Mistress Harding was dozing and lay with the cover fallen half off and wig askew. From her mouth with its little threads that betrayed the beginnings of wrinkles, a trickle of saliva glistened.
‘Mistress Harding,’ Regina said. ‘Can I help you up? We’re ready to move away.’
She awoke with a splutter and a jerk and with Regina’s help struggled into a sitting position.
‘Oh, oh! Thank you, my dear, thank you. Oh, oh, what a dreadful, dreadful night. I shall be so glad, so glad to get home. I shall be glad too of a reviving cup of chocolate. You shall have one too, Regina. You shall dine with us. Because you are employed as my companion, you shall have the same status as a tutor and live like one of the family. Like one of the family, my dear.’
The carriage jerked and creaked away. Horses’ hooves thudded. All around and above them the forest was rustling and cracking and flapping into life.
Mistress Harding struggled to straighten her wig and they both attempted to tidy their appearance as the carriage swayed and bumped along. Regina felt resentment at Harding for ordering the driver to start off so suddenly, not allowing Mistress Harding or herself enough time to get organised or settled. He was a selfish, insensitive man with never a thought for anyone but himself.
She was stiff and tired and irritable and felt nothing but regret that she had decided to join this ill-matched pair. But then when Forest Hall eventually came into view, she experienced a thrill at the thought that she would be living in this grand place. It was a far cry from the streets and closes of Glasgow where she and Gav had spent many a cold and miserable night with the beggar Quin. Never again would she have to suffer such deprivations. This resolve took shape inside her like a diamond, hard and pure and beautiful. She savoured it as she alighted from the carriage and entered the house side by side with Mistress Harding.
‘Now that we’re home, Regina, now that we’re home, you must call me Mistress Kitty. Westminster, Westminster,’ she called to one of the slaves. ‘Bring our chocolate into the drawing-room. Bring it into the drawing-room before poor little me faints clean away. Oh, oh, Regina, it was a dreadful journey, was it not?’
In the drawing-room Harding went straight to the whisky bottle and poured himself a glass while Regina helped Mistress Kitty off with her cape and passed it to a slave. The older woman flopped into a chair.
‘I do declare, I do declare, that journey will be the death of me yet. The death of me yet.’
‘Oh, be quiet, woman,’ Harding said without looking round. ‘I’m sick of your lily-livered whining. If only you would die!’
Regina’s eye glittered.
‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’
‘It’s all right, my dear.’ Mistress Kitty’s voice was high and quavery. ‘Robert doesn’t really mean it. Not really. He’s such a tease of a man. Such a tease of a man.’
Harding flung a sarcastic glance in Regina’s direction.
‘Don’t you come all self-righteous with me, mistress. You nearly killed the son of a friend of mine. And what did you do in Glasgow, I wonder, to warrant your escape from that place disguised as a boy?’
Regina glowered hatred at him before looking away.
‘Here is the chocolate. Here is the chocolate,’ Kitty cried out. ‘This will help us all into a better humour.’ Gratefully she sipped at hers. ‘Do sit down, Regina. Sit down, my dear. Is that the only gown you have? The only one?’
Regina nodded over her cup of chocolate.
‘Green suits you, of course, and the gown is very becoming, very becoming. But we must find you something to change with. I have so many gowns. Dear Robert is most generous, most generous. You must try them on for size, Regina. We will choose some pretty gowns and petticoats for you. Oh, oh, we will have such fun, such fun. Are you not glad you came?’
Thinking of the gowns and the petticoats, Regina was able to say:
‘Yes.’
19
‘I DON’T care if the Provost of Edinburgh himself attends these Dancing Assemblies. I tell you dancing is a temptation to sin,’ Mr Blackadder insisted. ‘Promiscuous dancing is a seductive temptation to sin, lust and worldliness.’
Annabella groaned and rolled her eyes. Her husband crashed his fist down on the table as if it were the pulpit.
‘Annabella, it’s an incentive to sensuality and the places where they’re held are nurseries of vice.’
‘Oh fiddlesticks!’
‘I’m telling you, mistress.’
‘I know what you’re telling me, sir, and I wholeheartedly disagree with you. I repeat, all the best of society meet at balls and I will be chaperoned by Cousin Kirsty. What harm could possibly befall me? My heart is set on going, Mr Blackadder. I did not suffer that monstrous journey from Glasgow to Edinburgh for nothing.’
He was late enough as it was for his Kirk Assembly, otherwise
he might have prolonged the harangue, but in exasperation and for the sake of peace, especially in someone else’s house, he eventually agreed that she could go.
The narrow lane leading to where the dancing was held was a-riot with coloured sedan chairs and their gaily attired occupants. From tall overhanging tenements people leaned out windows to get a good look, and underneath a noisy mob jostled on the cobbles to witness the fine sight of ladies in richly embroidered gowns and gentlemen in bright silken coats making their way into the close. From there they climbed the winding turnpike stair to the ballroom, the ladies holding their hoops and concentrating on manoeuvring them through the narrow passages.
At the end of the ballroom, under a wall bracket in which a candle flared wildly in the draught, sat the imposing figure of the Lady Directress. It was she who organised and contrived everything and everybody. The ladies gathered at one side of the room and the gentlemen at the other. Eventually the Lady Directress picked out a lady and gentleman to minuet, then another and another, swooping this way and that, making brusque indications with her fan that the ladies and gentlemen leapt to obey. After several minuets were walked with much formality and dignity, all stood ready for a country dance.
Annabella enjoyed the dancing, but she had to admit to herself that the evening was not as good fun as many she had experienced in Glasgow. Here, dignity was rigidity and, although there was much ogling by the ladies and sighing by the men, no conversing or closeness was allowed by the tyrannical Directress.
The ballroom was not even comfortable, with cold air whistling up from the draughty staircase and smoke billowing in from the pipes of the footmen who waited at the entry.
Then, as St Giles’ bells rang out eleven o’clock, the Lady Directress with firm dignity waved her fan, the music abruptly ceased and the ladies and gentlemen dispersed.
Annabella discovered that the gentlemen saw their partners home to their flats and then they adjourned to a tavern for the custom of ‘saving the ladies.’ This meant each man proposing a toast to the lady of his choice. He drank to her beauty and to her glory and to anything else he could think of. He drank vowing to die in her defence and the one who drank most and fell unconscious last was the victor.
In their respective homes the ladies had a cup of chocolate and a gossip before peeling off their hoops and stays and retiring to bed.
It was all rather disappointing and did nothing to cure Annabella’s restlessness and dissatisfaction with life. But she made the best of a few days’ visit to Edinburgh all the same. What she enjoyed much more than the ball was the afternoon she spent at a ‘consort.’ There artistic noblemen and lairds performed Italian sonatas on flute, hautbois, violoncello and harpsichord. Never to her knowledge had there been such an occasion in Glasgow and she looked forward to boasting of the experience to Grizzie and Phemy when she returned home. She had fluttered coquettish glances over her fan at Lord Colington, one of the performers, and later he had given her a very charming bow and presented her with his snuffbox. She had been chatting and laughing with him and having such a delightful interval when it was spoiled by a pert madam with long swinging earrings who claimed him as her ‘dear husband.’
The journey home to Glasgow was not only uncomfortable but depressing. She felt very low in spirits at the thought of going back to the dreary routine of life with Mr Blackadder in his cramped dismal house with its bookcase full of Bibles and religious publications. Unable to make conversation with Mr Blackadder or the servants or even to talk to Mungo, she closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping for most of the way. Although in fact it was impossible for anyone to sleep with the coach heaving and jerking and jarring so much.
As soon as she arrived at the Briggait she went straight to her bed, so heavy was her depression. Lying in the gloom, she listened to the monotonous tick-tock, tick-tock of the clock that stood in the shadowy corner.
Then Nancy’s feet thudded down from the attic room.
‘I’ve put Mungo to bed,’ she said. ‘Can I bring you a cup of chocolate or something to make you feel better?’
‘No, there is nothing here to help my condition,’ she sighed.
‘It isn’t like you to be so downcast. What’s wrong? Are you with child again?’
‘Gracious heavens!’ Annabella cried out. ‘No, I am not.’
‘What ails you then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Will I tell Mistress Griselle and Phemy to call tomorrow?’
‘Yes, they will want to know all about Edinburgh.’
Thoughts of telling her friends about the journey and stay in Edinburgh brightened her a little and when Griselle and Phemy came she appeared her normal, lively self, although Griselle noticed that she looked paler than usual. Her father noticed too when he called later that evening.
‘You’re gey pale and dreamy-looking, Annabella. Are you sickening for something?’
She laughed and gave him a kiss.
‘Papa, Papa, I am indeed.’
‘For what may I ask?’
‘You would not understand. I hardly understand myself. But all the spice seems to have gone out of my life and it is very dull fare indeed.’
‘You should think yourself lucky, mistress. You have a husband who does not misuse you and a bonny bairn.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
‘And you’ve just had a visit to the capital city.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
‘I knew it would do you no good to go there. A turn in the country would have done far more for you. A ride to Port Glasgow would have brought the colour back to your cheeks.’
‘What is there in Port Glasgow, Papa?’
‘It’s a verra nice wee place. All the ships come and go from there.’ He hesitated, then said: ‘I’m riding there tomorrow on business. You may ride along with me if you’ve a mind to.’
She had no particular fancy to see Port Glasgow, but anything was better than nothing to break the monotony.
‘That’s most civil of you, Papa. I will look forward to it.’
Indeed she did begin to look forward to it and early next morning she rode up Saltmarket Street and waved cheerily to her father who was waiting astride his horse with his scarlet cloak billowing out behind him. They cantered off together and soon left Glasgow far behind and were alone in the open countryside. The road deteriorated as they came nearer the port until there was no road at all. Then, after clopping through thick woods, they had to slither the horses down a rough track on a steep hill. From the hill the view was breathtakingly beautiful and shimmering bays and peninsulas and surrounding mountains of purple could be seen.
Port Glasgow nestled down in a bay that was a forest of ships’ masts. Whitewashed houses ran in a semicircle with many closes at the front and gardens at the back. The houses were two storeys in height with high pitched roofs and crow-stepped gables. Behind the houses stretched a building of immense length and Ramsay explained that this was the rope works.
They went to a tavern for a glass of ale with which to refresh themselves and found the tavern busy with sailors and masters of ships as well as local farmers and tradespeople. Supping her ale, Annabella became intrigued with some of the conversations going on around her. Sailors were telling of fearsome adventures aboard ship, of being boarded by swashbuckling pirates, of storms and shipwrecks on tropical islands. Others enthused on the marvels of Virginia.
‘It’s a new world all right,’ someone said. ‘A different world, a fantastic world. Everything is giant size and the numbers of birds and beasts are truly incredible. I tell no lie when I say I have seen flights of birds miles long that blacked out the sun. When such a flight rises in the air it is like roaring thunder.’
Someone else said:
‘There are many great mansion houses along the banks of the James River. Huge places, each with a ballroom, outbuildings and slave quarters. Plantations have their own carpenters, coopers, blacksmiths, tanners, curriers, shoemakers, spinners, weavers, knitters and ev
en distillers. A plantation’s like a complete city.’
Someone else again:
‘There are towns too and the streets are gay with scarlet, gold-laced uniforms and brightly coloured coats, and women’s dresses. And there’s gilded four-wheeled chariots and coaches drawn by four or six horses wearing shiny silver-mounted harness. And they’re driven by bewigged black servants wearing colourful livery. And there’s glass enclosed sedan chairs carried by Negro slaves in splendid uniforms.’
Annabella could see it all. How exciting it sounded. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed.
‘Aye,’ her father said with some satisfaction. ‘You’re more like yourself already.’
She favoured him with a happy smile.
‘Indeed, Papa, I feel prodigiously cheered. I thank you for bringing me.’
‘I have business to speak with the customs officer. He will be arriving soon. Away you go and have a look around. You can meet me later.’
‘Very well, Papa.’
The first thing she noticed was that the streets were infested with hogs and she was reminded of Edinburgh in this respect. But of course the Port of Glasgow was little more than a village compared with Edinburgh. The original village had been called Newark after the ancient Newark Castle. Then it grew to the New Port of Glasgow and eventually became known as Port Glasgow. The castle was a large turreted mansion with crow-stepped gables and cable mouldings and it sat right on the water’s edge.
An exhilarating breeze was gusting her curls about as she cantered along and she could see white horses foaming the water and merrily seesawing the ships. She had never felt so happy and alive for years.
She could hear sailors singing.
‘Now if you want a merchant ship to sail the seas at large,
You’ll not have any trouble if you have a good discharge,
Signed by the Board o’ Trade an’ everything exact,
For there’s nothin’ done on a Limejuice Ship contrary to the Act.
So haul, boys, your weather mainbrace and ease away your lee,
Hoist jibs and topsails, lads, an’ let the ship go free.
The Tobacco Lords Trilogy Page 48