The Tobacco Lords Trilogy

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘He was no use to me. He didn’t save me from anything.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know …’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Her voice flew unexpectedly out of control but she quickly recovered it. She even managed a small smile. ‘Would you like a biscuit or a piece of cake?’

  Every now and again, outside the window, the children’s chatter made a chorus with the chirping of the birds.

  Harding remarked,

  ‘Lunesta and Little Sam seem to like looking after the children, and the children seem to be enjoying themselves too.’

  ‘They can keep them.’ Sitting on the embroidered chair, Regina looked like a painting with her wide-skirted shimmering yellow dress and chestnut hair. Behind her the mahogany desk had a dark red glow that was enriched by a bowl of sweet-scented roses.

  ‘Keep them?’ Abigail echoed. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Bette and Jethro can keep the slaves.’

  Gav smiled. ‘It’s a kind thought, Regina, but shouldn’t you ask Mr Harding’s permission?’

  Harding laughed.

  ‘Do you think I would sit silently allowing anyone to give away my property sir? I certainly would not. Those two slaves belong to your sister and she can do whatever she wishes with them.’

  ‘I wish Bette and Jethro to have them,’ Regina repeated. ‘But only on condition that you never allow Lunesta and Little Sam to be sold separately, Gav. Can I have your word on that?’

  ‘Of course. But, Regina, are you sure you know what you’re doing? Slaves cost a lot of money.’

  Regina shrugged.

  ‘There are plenty of other slaves at Forest Hall.’

  ‘You’re very generous. I appreciate how kind you are to the children. And so does Abigail. Don’t you Abby?’ He appealed to his wife who gave Regina one of her disconcertingly direct stares.

  ‘I hope, Regina, that when you have a child yourself, you will give us an opportunity of doing something for it.’

  Regina avoided the unwavering brown eyes. ‘She knows of my condition,’ she thought. The smug, self-righteous, little bitch. She’s all right. She’s never been trapped. She’s never had to suffer. She’s never been forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. First a doting father and now a doting husband. What does she really know about anything?

  ‘When is the preacher coming?’ Gav asked.

  ‘Later this evening,’ Harding said. ‘But come, finish up your tea and I’ll show you around the plantation, Gav.’

  ‘Great!’ Gav enthused and gulped over what remained of his tea before rising and following Harding from the room.

  He thought the master of Forest Hall was a decent sort, despite his abrupt manner. Probably a strong character like Harding was just the type Regina needed to cope with her strange moods.

  Outside, Harding waved an arm in the direction of the trees.

  ‘There’s too many, too near. I mean to clear more of them. But it’s such a devil of a job.’

  ‘I heartily agree!’ Gav shook his head. ‘Burning’s the only way to make decent progress.’

  ‘I know, but it would be too dangerous so near the house.’

  ‘Yes, I see your problem. They darken the place, though. A pity. It’s a handsome house.’

  ‘I like it. I think your sister does too.’

  ‘Yes, I must confess it’s much too isolated for my taste. But I’m sure it suits Regina very well.’

  They strolled along the path that wound round the side of the house then round the back and along past the outbuildings.

  ‘That’s the kitchen.’ Harding nodded his head towards the first building but didn’t bother to show Gav inside.

  But he did allow him to inspect the storehouses, then the office building and the overseer’s house. From there they crossed the large dirt clearing that fronted the barns and stables and Harding ordered Matthew, the stable boy, to saddle up a couple of horses. Behind the stable was a peach and apple orchard and Harding told Gav that they made a fair amount of fruit brandy. They continued on horseback through a rather wooded area. Harding pointed over to the left through the trees.

  ‘There’s a stream runs behind the outbuildings and all the way along there past the quarters. Further back, where it passes the outbuildings, I had a spring-house built over it. It keeps all the dairy produce fresh and cool.’

  Soon they were passing the rows of huts that made up the quarters.

  ‘You must own a goodly number of slaves, Mr Harding.’

  ‘I haven’t bought as many as some of the plantations I know. But I choose good healthy bucks that breed well. Here are the tobacco house and smoke house,’ he said as they proceeded on their way. Then he waved an arm at the tobacco fields now meandering in all directions and divided by zigzag wood fences. ‘And here is the cause of all our labours.’

  Gav was impressed at the size of the plantation. He realised that there were bigger places along the banks of the James River. Nevertheless, Harding owned a lot of good land. Regina was very lucky to be marrying such a man. As they returned to the house, he couldn’t help remembering Harding’s first wife. He wondered what had happened in the end and when exactly she had died. Since he and Abby had arrived at Forest Hall, Mistress Kitty’s death had only been briefly mentioned.

  ‘I was sorry to hear that Mistress Kitty had died,’ Gav said eventually. ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘She’d been slowly dying for a long time,’ Harding said. ‘I knew she’d never get over that seizure she took in Williamsburg. Regina never lost hope but that was just because your sister is a devilishly stubborn woman.’

  Gav couldn’t help grinning.

  ‘That I must admit, sir. But you will manage her very well, I’m sure.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to.’

  After a pause Gav said: ‘That was a most unfortunate incident in Williamsburg. With Regina and Mistress Annabella, I mean.’

  Harding made no comment and after another pause, Gav remarked,

  ‘Of course, Mistress Annabella had always a wild streak in her character.’

  ‘She had good reason for acting as she did.’

  Something in his tone of voice made Gav flash Harding a curious look, but already the planter had dismounted and his boots were thumping up the wooden outside stairs of the house. One of the slaves met him in the hall.

  ‘Miss Chisholm say to tell you the preacher arrived, sir, and she and Miss Abigail are upstairs gettin’ dressed.’

  ‘We’d better get ready too,’ Gav said.

  Harding shrugged.

  ‘It’s only a simple ceremony. There’s going to be no one here but ourselves.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but women like any excuse for dressing up. It does no harm to humour them.’

  Upstairs in the bedroom that he and Abigail had been given, he confessed to his wife,

  ‘I always thought Regina was a bit of a queer character but there’s something odd about Harding as well.’

  Abigail was putting on her stays and her soft pink breasts bulged up as she tried to tighten them.

  ‘Yes, your sister and that man are well matched. Here, help me with this, Gav. Pull the laces as tight as you can.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Why you want to bother with stays I don’t know. You’ve a perfectly nice little waist without torturing yourself into this.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of looking like a backwoods frump while your sister floats around like an elegant fashion baby.’

  ‘‘Oh, all right.’ He stuck his knee into her back and pulled the laces while she grunted and gasped and wriggled herself up.

  ‘He seems a decent enough sort all the same,’ Gav said. ‘It’s just that he’s got such an abrupt manner.’

  ‘You always look for something good in folk, Gav. I suppose that’s one of the things I love about you. But I can’t be as generous-hearted as you. I don’t like your sister. I don’t like Mr Harding and I especially don’t like this gloomy house. It gives me the creeps. I’ll be
glad to get back home.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’ve taken such a dislike to Regina. Or to Mr Harding for that matter. Neither of them has done you any harm. Quite the reverse. Just look what Regina did today. Have you any idea what two slaves like that would cost? And think what help they’ll be to you back home.’

  Abigail sighed.

  ‘I suppose I am being a bit unfair.’

  He dropped a kiss on her neck.

  ‘Or jealous?’

  ‘Not of their possessions, Gav. Definitely not of that.’ She hesitated, then with some reluctance managed to add, ‘But I suppose you’re right in a way. Perhaps I’m afraid she’ll come between us somehow.’

  ‘What nonsense!’ Gav turned her round and took her in his arms. ‘How could Regina or anyone come between us? You know, for such a sensible woman you do get some idiotic ideas into your head.’ He kissed her long and lovingly. ‘Now finish dressing and let’s go down and see my sister happily married.’

  ‘She doesn’t look very happy.’

  ‘She will be. In her own way.’

  He began whistling a cheery tune as he changed into clean linen and breeches, and finally donned a blue coat with large cuffs and fancy buttons, and a pair of shiny, buckled shoes. He was a pleasant-looking man with hair a lighter, brighter red than his sister’s. His hair was also thick and frizzy whereas hers was smooth and glossy. They both had fair creamy skins but Gav’s face was blotched with many freckles. His eyes were pale grey-green. His sister’s eyes were as vivid a green as any emerald.

  ‘I’m glad you’re not like her,’ Abigail said.

  ‘Abby!’ Gav shouted with exasperation.

  ‘All right! All right!’ Abigail flung up her hands. ‘I’m sorry. Your sister has been very kind and I shouldn’t criticise her.’

  ‘Well, damn it all, will you stop doing it?’

  ‘All right! All right!’ She suddenly laughed. ‘I couldn’t be jealous of the kind of life they lead here anyway. Can you imagine there being any diversion at Forest Hall like everyone enjoys at the settlement? Spinning matches, candle-dippings, quilting parties.’

  ‘Log-rollings, house-raisings, corn-shuckings,’ Gav added with a grin. ‘A spell at Forest Hall is maybe what you need to stop you being so sassy.’

  She knew he was only joking but she had to struggle with herself to prevent an angry reply from escaping. Normally the most even-tempered of women, she found the effect on her of anything to do with Regina disturbing to say the least. She fastened on her petticoats and gown and then stared at herself in the pier glass. Her hair never gleamed darkly like Regina’s. It was wispy and faded in comparison. She had such a plain face too and Regina was so beautiful.

  She sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong now?’ Gav asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ She smiled at him and took his arm. ‘This is Regina’s day and I hope it will be a very happy one for her.’

  7

  ‘THIS is the Reverend Mr Kerr,’ Harding nodded towards the preacher. ‘Reverend Kerr, Gav and Abigail Chisholm.’

  Abigail gave a little curtsy, making her coffee-and-cream-coloured gown billow out.

  ‘I’m happy to meet you, sir.’

  ‘Well,’ said Harding, ‘now that we’re all here, we’d better get on with it.’

  Abigail and Gav stole a glance at one another.

  The preacher rubbed his hands.

  ‘Eh, yes, yes, indeed, Mr Harding. Well, eh, you and eh, the bride stand over here, if you will.’

  Regina wore a green silk gown over wide panniers and a gold quilted petticoat. The green was the same emerald colour as her eyes and a vivid contrast to the long auburn curl that hung over one shoulder. Gold earrings dangled from her ears and she held a fan painted in colours of rich ruby red and purple and gold and green with a carved ivory handle.

  Harding towered beside her, broad-shouldered, and rock-solid in comparison with her creamy shoulders and arms, and the pale perfection of her face with its silky sweep of lashes and small even features. Yet her mouth was tinged with hardness, and an aura of strength about her seemed to defy and compete with his.

  The house was quiet and still as the preacher’s voice droned on. Bette and Jethro had been put to bed for an afternoon sleep. Outside the window insects buzzed continuously.

  The preacher stood with his back to the fireplace and above it the gold-framed mirror reflected the scene. Beside the fireplace, on top of the desk, pink and yellow and white roses sparkled with diamonds of water that had sprinkled over their petals when Melie Anne filled the bowl. A few petals had dropped off and curled wetly on the polished mahogany.

  The room was a bower of shadows, the trees only allowing amber light to speckle in. The tall clock in the corner caught a gleam on its brass face but tick-tocked cautiously on.

  Through in the kitchen some slaves had gathered and were talking in low voices.

  Jenny was whispering.

  ‘ ’Tain’t right so soon after poor Miss Kitty’s dyin’. That poor woman ain’t right settled in her grave. An’ somethin’ happened that night. Somethin’ bad,’ she added darkly.

  ‘Wish you wouldn’t keep sayin’ that,’ Westminster complained. ‘You’re goin’ get us all in a heap o’ trouble with that tongue o’ yours.’

  Old Abe said:

  ‘Miss Kitty was fond o’ Miss Regina an’ Miss Regina was fond of Miss Kitty. ’Tain’t no use denyin’ it.’

  ‘You’re a fool,’ Jenny hissed. ‘You’re gettin’ so old an’ blind you cain’t see what’s stuck up in front of your nose. That red-haired little devil hated poor Miss Kitty, hated that poor woman somethin’ wicked. That devil, she was the death of Miss Kitty, I just know she was. She wouldn’t let me near Miss Kitty’s room that night. And she’d shut the door and Miss Kitty’s door was never kept shut at night.’

  ‘You’re the wicked one,’ old Abe said. ‘Sayin’ such things. I ain’t blind an’ I saw Miss Regina awhimperin’ and aringin’ her hands. That poor gal was agrievin’ for Miss Kitty.’

  Callie Mae gave Jenny a nudge.

  ‘It’s time you watched your tongue in front o’ them saplin’s.’ She nodded towards Lunesta and Little Sam who were sitting together in the corner eating a meal of corn-pone. They gazed big-eyed back at the knot of servants.

  They were thin, gangly children who had never been away from their mother until now. They had lived with her on the Dakwood Plantation until the master there died and his daughter had sold the plantation and most of the slaves.

  Mistress Dakwood had kept their mother to go with her as a body servant to the new place. But she didn’t want them. Their mother had wept and pleaded and they had wept and pleaded but it had made not the slightest difference. They had been separated from their mother and sent to the auction block just the same.

  Now they had been bought by Mistress Regina and sometimes Little Sam ran errands and carried things for her. Lunesta was learning to sew and look after Mistress Regina’s clothes and she also helped her to do her hair. Both children felt shy and nervous in their new surroundings and they were more than a little afraid of their new mistress, although they were thankful that so far she had been good to them. Not good in the same way that their mother had been, not warm and loving and hugging. Not even the soft-talking kind of good. But that couldn’t be expected of white folks. At least not to niggers.

  But Mistress Regina allowed them to sleep in the kitchen, allowed them food to eat, and didn’t kick them about or beat them. Most important of all, she had allowed them to stay together. They were grateful to her for that and felt they owed her a sense of loyalty. Later, going back to the big house after eating their corn-pone, they discussed what they’d heard in the kitchen.

  Lunesta said.

  ‘Ain’t that Jenny wicked, though?’

  ‘She sure is.’

  ‘It’s just terrible how some folks talk. They just open their mouths an’ let any old thing fall out. Lies, lies, lies. Some folks just cain’t hel
p tellin’ them.’

  ‘Like Big Zeph at the Dakwood Plantation? Weren’t he the one? But he didn’t say no wicked things. More like stories. Folks liked listenin’ to Big Zeph.’ He chuckled. ‘Some o’ his lies were awful mirthmakin’.’

  Coming to the end of the short walkway that joined the kitchen to the back, they entered the house. Immediately they arrived in the hall they stopped and stood shyly holding hands. Harding and Regina were saying goodbye to the preacher at the front door. Then Harding returned to the drawing-room. Regina was about to follow him when she noticed them standing in the shadows. She stared at them for a minute and they stared back, overawed by how beautiful she looked. Suddenly she beckoned them to follow her into the dining-room.

  On the sideboard was a dish of vanilla fudge and to their astonishment, she held it out to them. They just stood transfixed, gawping at the sweets.

  ‘Well, go on,’ Regina said. ‘Take a piece each. Take two pieces each.’

  Eyes enormous and whites showing, they stared up at her trying to decide whether or not she was meaning to trick them into doing something wrong just so that she could punish them for it.

  ‘Go on!’ she urged again.

  Apprehensively they both stretched out, plucked at a piece of fudge and, never taking their eyes off Regina, they eased it into their mouths. The taste was sheer delight. Never in their lives had they experienced such bliss. They gave themselves up to the complete concentration of chewing and swallowing.

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ Regina asked.

  ‘Yes, Miss Regina, ma’am,’ they nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘All right, I can’t stand here all day. Take your other piece.’

  They pounced eagerly this time and Little Sam, quite carried away, burst out with his mouth full:

  ‘I just knew you wasn’t wicked like she said.’

  ‘Who said?’ Regina snapped, her manner changing as if a sheet of ice had suddenly hardened between them.

  Both children’s palms flew to their mouths.

  ‘Answer me!’ Regina’s hand shot out and struck Little Sam such a blow across the face it made tears spurt from his eyes.

  He started to sob and to tremble violently and Lunesta grabbed him in her arms and babbled out as quickly as she could: