The Tobacco Lords Trilogy

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ Nancy groaned. ‘Your chocolate. I forgot.’

  ‘I am not surprised,’ Annabella said, eyeing the man who by his plain dress was not a gentleman but uncommonly handsome all the same. The man gave a small bow.

  ‘It was my fault, mistress.’

  ‘Of that I have no doubt,’ said Annabella. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Morgan West.’

  Nancy said, ‘He’s a farmer. I’ll bring your chocolate through now.’

  ‘Make sure you do,’ Annabella said. ‘I wish to talk to you.’

  She felt uncommonly disturbed. Nancy and she had grown up together and, although their personalities often clashed, there had always been some sort of bond between them stronger than the usual mistress-servant relationship. Often they giggled and gossiped together like old friends. She was hurt that Nancy had never mentioned this Morgan West. Yet she knew that Nancy could be very deep and secretive. It was time the candles were lit but she felt too fluttered to search for the tinder-box. Pacing about in agitation her hoops bounced against the chairs and made the curtains fly to one side as she swept past.

  ‘You sly wretch!’ she burst out as soon as the servant entered.

  Calmly Nancy laid down the cup of chocolate and lit the candles on the mantelpiece. They quivered feebly through the gloom.

  ‘I was going to tell you when things were settled.’

  ‘Were you indeed?’

  ‘Things aren’t settled yet.’

  ‘Pox on you. I am mightily distressed.’

  ‘I wouldn’t leave until you got somebody else.’

  ‘Huh! I wouldn’t allow you to.’ She swished across and picked up the chocolate.

  Nancy left, closing the door quietly behind her. Annabella remained, blinking at the candle-flame.

  27

  ‘PLEASE,’ Regina said in a low voice. It seemed as if Harding was taking a fiendish delight in tormenting her. More than once during these past months he had gone to the store and refused her permission to go too. He no longer even allowed her to accompany him on his visits to Williamsburg. Day in and day out she was imprisoned with Mistress Kitty. Time was passing and she had to speak to Gav and discuss their plans. ‘I must see my brother.’

  ‘Your duty is to stay here and look after my wife.’

  ‘The Negroes dote on your wife. The only danger to Mistress Kitty while I’m away would be from them fussing over her too much.’

  She was tempted just to leave for good but restrained herself from any such rash action. In the first place she had nowhere to go. For all she knew there could be another servant sharing Gav’s room by now and anyway, she had no guarantee that Mr Speckles or anyone else would give her shelter. Not that she wanted to be in the position of having to ask Mr Speckles or anyone for help. She did not trust anyone.

  ‘And it’s only for such a short time.’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ he agreed at last.

  Her relief was intense and she could hardly wait to set off on the journey. They took the carriage to collect the supplies but Old Abe drove it and she and Harding rode their own horses.

  The settlement was the same as she remembered it. Its log cabins and church and tobacco sheds squatted between stumps. The large clearing in front of the gaol was just as lumpy and dusty, and from the gaol came sounds of moaning and wailing. The windowless store hadn’t changed either, or the wharf jostling with tall delicate masted ships. One of the ships was a man o’ war. The other was The Glasgow Lass.

  Inside the store a Negro slave was polishing the counter. Another was sweeping the floor. A lanky white lad with hair tied tightly back was serving a customer.

  ‘Is Gav upstairs?’ she asked him.

  ‘Don’t know, mistress.’

  Although the place looked much the same, there was a strange, unwelcoming atmosphere about it. She didn’t feel at home. She was an outsider. But then she had never felt at home anywhere since her mother disappeared and she no longer belonged at Tannery Wynd in Glasgow.

  She went upstairs to the counting house where she found Mr Speckles bent over a ledger, his hair like tangled straggles of greasy wool. But there was still no sign of Gav.

  ‘Where’s my brother?’ she asked.

  Mr Speckles’ eyes seemed more furtive and evasive than ever.

  ‘Eh, I think he’ll be eating his food along by the creek.’

  She hurried downstairs again without another word. Gav and she often used to go and sit by the creek and somehow it pained her to think of him being there without her. Panic twitched behind a stiff face. Had her brother been unhappy and lonely? How could she have stayed away for so long? She would never forgive Harding for not allowing her to come sooner.

  At last she saw him come strolling through the trees. How tall he looked. Quite a young man. He still had his stock of red hair and freckles but his plumpness had hardened into muscle.

  ‘Regina!’ he yelled when he caught sight of her. And before she could say anything, he had rushed at her and was hugging her off her feet and making her laugh and choke for breath.

  ‘Gav, you fool, let go of me.’ Then suddenly she saw the girl. ‘Who’s that?’

  Grinning happily, he turned round.

  ‘Abigail, this is my sister, Regina. Regina, this is Abigail. It’s so good to see you, Regina. Don’t you look grand? Are you married yet, eh? Has some wealthy planter snapped you up? You certainly look prosperous. Doesn’t she look splendid, Abigail?’

  ‘I like your gown,’ Abigail said. ‘I don’t suppose Gav will ever be able to afford to buy me gowns like that. But Í won’t mind. As long as I have him.’

  Gav was gazing at Abigail with great pride and joy. Regina’s mind fuddled. Who was this girl with the plain face and the strong will behind the candid brown eyes?

  ‘Gav, I must speak to you. I’m not here for long.’

  ‘Of course. Go ahead. I’ve lots to tell you too. Oh, it’s so good to see you again, Regina.’

  He linked arms as they walked towards the store. Abigail on one side of him and Regina on the other.

  ‘Alone,’ Regina said.

  ‘Oh, it’s all right to talk in front of Abigail. We’ve no secrets from each other.’

  Abigail released his arm.

  ‘That’s right. Gav and I are very close. But I’ve work to do. So I’ll leave him alone with you for a little while.’ She smiled. ‘But only for a little while.’

  Gav laughed and pretended to aim a punch at Abigail’s chin.

  ‘I can’t get rid of her at all. She sticks to me like a leech. It’s terrible.’

  ‘Tell your sister about our plans, Gav.’

  ‘Which ones? We’ve got so many.’

  ‘Tell her, Gav.’ Then to Regina: ‘Goodbye, Regina.’

  After she’d gone, they went up the stairs to Gav’s room.

  ‘I share this with Tom now. Did you see him down in the store?’

  Regina’s eyes tried to convey the anguish she felt.

  ‘He’s a nice lad,’ Gav went on. ‘We get on well together. Many a good laugh we have over a game of cards. He tries to cheat but I’m too clever for him. Of course Tom just does it for fun. He’s really very honest …’

  ‘To hell with bloody Tom,’ she suddenly burst out.

  Gav looked taken aback.

  ‘Why did you say that? He’s never done you any harm.’

  ‘What about our plans? Your indenture will soon be finished.’ Gav hesitated.

  ‘You still feel the same then?’

  ‘Of course I still feel the same. Why should I feel any different?’

  ‘Oh, hell, Regina, you’re a beautiful woman. You’re bound to get married sometime. It’s a miracle you’re not married already. Women are so scarce here, even if you were as ugly as sin the chances are you’d be married. Surely you haven’t been passing up chances because of our silly childish talk.’

  ‘Silly childish talk?’

  ‘If you buried yourself away in some isolated
little patch of land, you’d never get married. You’re far better where you are, meeting people at balls and things.’

  ‘I don’t want to get married.’

  ‘Regina, you’ve got to be practical. Who’s going to support you for the rest of your life? Who’s going to feed you and clothe you—not just this year or next year but when you’re old?’

  She stared at him speechlessly.

  ‘I know you have a few gold coins and pieces of jewellery hidden away, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough, Regina. It won’t look after you for the rest of your life. It won’t even give you the kind of security you imagine you need.’

  ‘I thought … I always thought …’

  Gav sighed and put an arm around her shoulders.

  ‘I know what you thought. And of course I’d never see you homeless or starving. All I’m saying is there’s no need for that. It’s natural and proper that you should get married and have a husband to provide for you. Just as it’s natural and proper that I should get married and provide for my wife.’

  ‘Abigail?’

  ‘Yes, I’m going to continue working in the store. I’ll clear a bit of the forest over there and build a cabin and plant enough corn and vegetables and herbs to feed us. We’ll have a good life and be happy. I know we will. Abigail’s father is going to help by making us tools and cooking utensils. He’s a wonderful man, Regina. What a size he is and as strong as an ox. I often help him at his forge. It’s a lot harder work than in the store, I can tell you.’

  Face lowered, Regina began fumbling in her purse. Eventually she brought out a gold coin.

  ‘Take this, I hope it will be of use to you.’

  ‘Regina!’ He hugged her with gratitude, but she pushed him away.

  ‘I must go now.’

  ‘So soon? Surely not. You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.’

  ‘No, I’m going to the tavern. It’s time you were back at work.’

  ‘Then, I’ll see you tomorrow before you return.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But Regina …’

  She walked away leaving him helplessly shaking his head. Outside she mounted her horse and rode it towards the path through the trees that led past the slave quarters to the tavern. She seemed to be dangling over a precipice, not knowing how to hang on, not even knowing what to hang on to.

  The tavern was a two-storeyed wooden building set in a clearing at the crossing of two tobacco roads just beyond the cluster of huts where the Negro slaves lived. It looked a dull and desolate place with black tree stumps strewn about it and tall trees crowding menacingly close. But smoke was curling up from one of the chimneys and when she drew nearer, she heard laughter and shouting.

  Inside sailors were having a carousal. Some were crouched over tables. Others were sitting or lying on the floor. One had a parrot perched on his arm. A skinny dog rooted about.

  Shouts and thumping of fists on wood started up when they saw her, and as she crossed the crowded room to talk to the Widow Shoozie, one seaman lurched across her path. She pushed him aside and he fell against a chair, upturning it with a clatter as he landed on the floor.

  ‘I am with Mr Harding,’ she told the widow, ‘and I wish a room at once.’

  The old woman hesitated but only for a moment. Nervously she curtsied,

  ‘Yes, mistress. Follow me, mistress.’

  Once alone in the room, Regina shut and locked the door. She would make Harding pay for her accommodation. The other gold coin in her purse would not be so carelessly given away. She regretted giving one to Gav. Why should she give him anything? He was no better than any other man. He had betrayed her. He had ruined her life. Hatred sucked the blood from her veins, leaving her dizzy. She stumbled across to the bed and collapsed on top of it. She clenched her fists. She buried her face in the pillow. She couldn’t understand what had happened. How could Gav desert her for this girl he’d only known a comparatively short time? This stranger.

  She and Gav had been like one person all their lives. How could he not want her any more?

  Memories of their childhood together came hurtling towards her like daggers in her back. Dusk sank into darkness but she did not stir to light a candle. Drunken noise swelled and receded downstairs, slurred voices and sleepy song. Occasionally the parrot squawked.

  Then silence blanketed down only broken by the clicking of crickets and the distant howling of wolves. Slowly darkness faded into light. The forest began chirping and twittering. Still she lay, rigid as in death, until eventually there was a pounding on her door and Harding called:

  ‘Are you in there?’

  With difficulty she moved.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’re ready to go.’

  When she opened the door he stared at her curiously.

  ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What’s wrong then?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

  He hesitated, then shrugged. She followed him downstairs and they mounted their horses and rode away and never once spoke again during the long journey back to Forest Hall.

  ‘Regina.’

  It was the first word Mistress Kitty uttered. It rolled around like a too large ball writhing and swelling her mouth. Again she fought to push it out,

  ‘Regina.’

  ‘Good,’ said Regina. ‘You’re improving.’

  Another desperate struggle produced,

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘There’s no need to thank me. I’ve only done what I’ve been paid to do.’

  Kitty Harding shook her head.

  They were sitting outside, Kitty like a wooden timber doll, Regina leisurely wafting a fan from side to side.

  ‘I think you should exercise your bad arm and leg more,’ Regina said. ‘It would surely be more strengthening than the bleeding the doctor does. At the rate he’s going, you’ll soon have no blood left.’

  Kitty tried to smile. She was touched by Regina’s concern for her. No invalid could have a more capable and conscientious nurse. Indeed, the care Regina took of her went far beyond the call of any sense of duty. If the girl had been her own daughter, she could not have been more kind and attentive. She loved Regina almost as much as she loved Robert and, strangely enough, she had come to feel as sorry for the girl as she did for the man.

  Deprived of speech, her other senses seemed to have sharpened and she knew that Regina was being more and more troubled by an attraction for Robert. There had been times when she had witnessed Regina’s distress at its most acute. She had seen the burning cheeks, the anguished eyes, the pulse beating fast in the creamy throat. There had been other occasions in Robert’s presence when she had noticed Regina’s cold mask slip. Robert had not been aware of the passion in the green eyes on those occasions when they had burned hungrily over him. He had been smoking a pipe, or reading a book, or writing a letter, or perhaps walking from the room. The look only lasted a few seconds and always came furtively when Robert’s attention was safely turned away.

  Kitty sighed to herself as she looked across at Regina who was absently fanning herself and gazing unseeingly towards the forest. Regina kept insisting she hated Robert but, poor, bewildered child, it was obvious that she not only admired but passionately desired the man. Kitty felt a pang of guilt. She had been the cause of Regina coming to Forest Hall and therefore being put at risk. Robert was much older than the girl and she had not detected the slightest sign of any emotional attachment on his side. Of course, men never fell victims of their emotions in the same way as women. They had physical needs which included the need of a woman’s body. But they could fulfil that hunger in the same way as they devoured a meal. Afterwards they were able to forget the woman as easily as they forgot the meal, until the next time they felt hungry. That’s how Harding was.

  Guiltily she gazed at Regina again. Knowing that she was not fit enough to supply Robert’s physical needs, had her real reason for bringing Regina to Forest Hall been simply to supp
ly that need? But she had never wanted the poor child to be hurt. No, not even deep in her subconscious mind had she wanted that. Yet she ought to have known that Regina would grow to love Robert. Wasn’t he the kindest, handsomest, most wonderful of men?

  Regina was thinking of the state of Mistress Kitty’s health. It was now a constant source of worry to her. Not because she particularly cared for the woman, but the fact had to be faced that if Mistress Kitty died, Harding could, and no doubt would, dispense with her services. Then what would she do? Where would she go?

  Her eyes slid round to the white pillared house. If only she could have a place like this for her very own. It was in surroundings like these that she now felt she belonged. Yet what Gav had said was true. For some time she had suspected that her cache of gold coins alone would not be enough to fulfil her dreams. Her money plus Gav’s land and Gav’s help in building a house and planting and selling a tobacco crop could have created a potentially prosperous situation. But without Gav it was useless. She could buy a few acres but who would help her to work it? Or she could buy a house in Williamsburg but how could she clothe herself? How would she eat? As Gav had reminded her, it wasn’t just the present time she had to think about. It was the rest of her life.

  A cool breeze rustled her gown and switched her attention back to Mistress Kitty.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  Mistress Kitty nodded at the same time as trying and failing to say:

  ‘A little.’

  Regina jumped up, calling to one of the slaves.

  ‘Joseph! Help Mistress Kitty back to her bedroom.’

  At first she tried to encourage the older woman to walk a few steps on her own. But Mistress Kitty was far too feeble. Her legs, like wisps of cotton thread, did not have enough strength to support her unaided.

  Once Mistress Kitty was settled back in bed again, Regina collected her cloak and left the house. It was her habit to get away on her own as often as possible. She cut round the side of the house, passed the outbuildings and the quarters, and walked along the path through the woods to the fields. Some of the fencing skirting the fields looked like rows of witches in tortured positions. It had been made with black tree stumps dragged from the ground by oxen and turned upside down so that their broken-off fang-like roots seemed to be twisting round each other in a grotesque dance.