Simply Anna

by Jennifer Moore

  “Are you ready, my lord?” Tom said.

  Philip looked up to see that the overseer had already mounted his horse. He pulled his hand from Anna’s and hurried into the saddle, unlatching the strap he’d fastened over the horse pistol. The weapon—even as awkward and heavy as it was—made him feel less vulnerable.

  He glanced to Anna. She stood with her arm linked through Betty’s, and the women watched the men ride toward the main gates. He couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest at Anna’s concerned expression, and he wondered again, Who is she?

  ***

  Philip and Tom kept up a good pace, not only because they were nervous about whom they might encounter on the road, but they needed to reach any possible survivors and get to Port Antonio and back before dark. Tom had left orders for a cart to follow them as soon as the animals could be harnessed in order to return with any wounded or deceased workers they might encounter.

  There was no question as to where the shipment had been attacked. Not three miles from Oakely Park, the road curved, and a thick copse of trees provided limited visibility. Evidence of the strike was all around them—broken tree branches, a cart that had smashed a wheel, a dead mule. But it was the sight of the lifeless bodies that turned Philip’s stomach. The workers, riding or walking next to the carts, had obviously been taken completely by surprise.

  He and Tom dismounted and began the gruesome task of retrieving the remains of his workers. Most were young, some only children. None had survived. Philip retched into the undergrowth. He recognized the man who had offered him a drink after they’d repaired the hospital wall. This man had a daughter. Philip’s eyes stung.

  They lifted and moved the bodies to the road, arranging them as respectfully as they could, and waited for the cart to arrive. As Philip looked at the row of workers his throat constricted, and he brushed his sleeve across his eyes.

  “Don’t worry.” Tom leaned his back against the broken cart and crossed his arms. “It is only one shipment. We’ll make up the damages by expanding our planting field next season.”

  Philip stared at the man. “Do you honestly think I am worried about the blasted sugar when my workers have been murdered?”

  Tom shrugged. “Not a problem, my lord. The slaves will be even cheaper to replace than the lost barrels.” He shook his head. “The mules are the biggest loss, but we can find more.”

  A rush of anger made Philip want to plant his fist in the overseer’s face. “Mr. Norton, there are twenty-four people dead.” He bit off each word. “Twenty-four people under our care. Twenty-four people massacred defending another man’s—MY—property.” Philip breathed deeply in hopes of calming himself and sparing Tom from becoming the recipient of the rush of anger that shot through his veins. “How can you be so cavalier about barbarity?”

  “But, my lord,” Tom spoke slowly as if he were speaking to a child, “they are only Negroes.”

  Spots of red burst in front of Philip’s eyes. He thought of the smiling girl whose father would never return. He seized Tom’s collar and shoved him forcefully against the cart.

  “My lord . . .” Tom raised his hands, palms out, and looked at Philip as if he had gone completely mad.

  Philip shoved him again and stormed toward his horse, mounting in one swift move. “Remain here until the cart arrives and help load the remains. When you arrive at Oakely Park, you are to relieve the workers from their duties today to bury and mourn the dead.”

  “But, my lord, it is early yet. We’ll lose a half day of labor . . .” Tom’s voice trailed off as he raised his gaze to Philip’s.

  “I will continue to Port Antonio alone.”

  “Are you certain, my lord?” Tom said in an unconvincingly concerned voice.

  Philip turned his horse and urged it to a gallop. The pounding of the animal’s hooves mirrored the turmoil inside him. This situation, this tragedy, his people, his sugar, his overseer. He had never been so completely furious as he was now at Horace Braithwaite. Even his brother and Jacqueline’s deception paled in comparison. Philip felt violated. His property had been stolen, his people killed. And all because he had injured a loathsome man’s pride.

  Philip knew Anna would be disappointed, but he would not rest until he saw Horace Braithwaite hanging from the gallows, or even better, impaled by Philip’s own sword. He never thought of himself as a man who would be driven by revenge, but today, the game had changed.

  Chapter 11

  Anna sat next to Betty in the hospital, not wanting to leave her friend and hoping she was providing some sort of comfort.

  The day had given Anna much to ponder. She’d learned from Betty that Horace Braithwaite was the former overseer at Oakely Park whom Philip had dismissed the day he arrived when Horace lashed a slave girl. Anna listened to the horrible story, her stomach clenching in repulsion for Horace Braithwaite and her heart growing light as she heard of Philip’s heroism. She had suspected he was a kind master, and Betty’s tale confirmed it. Betty told Anna that the rations and the working conditions had improved immensely since Philip had arrived. Although the law allowed it, he firmly forbade corporal punishment of any kind. The workers were loyal to him, Betty had told her.

  While they sat in the hospital, Ezekiel had burst through the door, his face wet with tears. Betty had spoken to him in the pidgin language Anna could not understand and took him to the back room to see Malachi, even though the man still slept.

  When they returned a few moments later, Anna did not ask Betty or Ezekiel about his reaction. She knew the boy to be sensitive and kind. Perhaps he became upset anytime someone was injured, but her instincts told her there was more. She studied the pair as they sat, unspeaking. Betty nervously wrung her hands. Anna was saddened to see her friend so worried. She wished she could think of comforting things to say but decided to allow Betty to speak first if it was what she needed. Until then, Anna hoped her presence offered some support.

  Suddenly Ezekiel’s head jerked up, and he stood, moving to the open door. He motioned for them to join him.

  When Anna peered outside, she saw that Mr. Norton rode ahead of a slow-moving cart and stopped in the road in front of the slave’s cabins. People hurried from the houses. She followed Betty and Ezekiel down the road toward him.

  By the time she reached him, he had dismounted and was speaking with Betty. From what Anna overheard, Philip had ordered a reprieve from the worker’s duties in order for them to care for their dead. She moved to follow Ezekiel toward the cart, but Mr. Norton hooked his hand into her elbow, stopping her, and then moved to block her view. She’d only caught a glimpse of dark limbs piled on top of each other.

  “You don’t need to see that, Miss Anna,” Thomas said. He turned her by the shoulders, leading her away from the cart and the slave village, toward the Great House.

  Anna glanced back once and shuddered at the sight of a limp form being lifted off the cart. She took the overseer’s arm and continued up the lane.

  Questions tumbled through her mind. What had happened? How many people were dead? Where was Lord Philip?

  Mr. Norton cleared his throat, and Anna realized he’d spoken while she was contemplating. “I’m sorry, sir. What did you say?”

  He placed his hand over where hers rested on his arm. “I wondered if you might take tea with me. It feels like the entire plantation is deserted, and I wouldn’t want you to be afraid, alone in the Great House.”

  The emotional day had left Anna feeling drained, and she wanted nothing more than to take a nap. “I shall not be afraid, sir. And Lord Philip will return soon, will he not?”

  Tom’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and Anna wondered if she had only imagined it. “Lord Philip is likely still in Port Antonio speaking with the constable. I do not think he will return for quite a while.”

  This time she was certain she saw displeasure in the man’s eyes and wondered if something had happened. “I am very tired, Mr. Norton. It has been a long day for both of us. I do th
ank you for your invitation. Perhaps another time would better suit?”

  “As you like, Miss Anna.” Tom nodded curtly and left Anna at the Great House entrance. She had plenty to think about as she made her way up the stairs and changed out of her filthy gown. It was merely hours earlier that Anna had thought the iguana lizard to be the worst thing she would ever encounter, but she had been proven wrong. Twice. The moment her head touched the pillow, the physical and emotional strains of the day overcame even her most valiant efforts to contemplate the extraordinary happenings, and Anna slept.

  ***

  Anna awoke in the dark. She felt for a moment that she was aboard a ship and even thought she could feel the rocking of the waves beneath her. She tried to see more of the memory, for she knew that’s what it was, but it was simply a dark, swaying room. Anna assumed it would flutter away as the others had done, but it remained in her mind. And even though it was hardly anything, her hopes rose. The knowledge that there was something before, that she was from somewhere, that she had truly lived a life lit a small spark in the recesses of her mind, and she touched on the memory again, delighted that she could do so at will.

  The events of the day moved to the forefront of her mind. Had Lord Philip returned? What had he discovered? Was he safe? She hurried from the bed and lit the candles in her room, lifting the candelabra and shining its orb of light into the dark hallway. She passed Lord Philip’s bedchamber and saw that his door was open and he was not inside.

  She stepped down the stairs, lighting the sconces on the wall as she went so the house wouldn’t be dark when he returned. While she stood in the entryway contemplating whether she should go outside to the kitchen building to find something to eat or wait until the morning, she heard a thump from the drawing room. Perhaps Lord Philip was already home.

  Anna walked down the hallway, anxious to tell him about the sliver of memory and to hear what had happened in Port Antonio. She stepped into the drawing room and found the source of the noise. Lord Philip sprawled in an armchair fast asleep. A glass tumbler lay on the heavy carpet where he must have dropped it.

  Anna set the candelabra on a table and picked up the glass, tapping the carpet with her fingers to make sure nothing had spilled.

  In the flickering light, she studied Lord Philip’s sleeping face. The lines she’d seen around his eyes at the hospital and the tightness of his mouth were gone. He appeared unconcerned and carefree, almost childlike. She wondered if this is how he must have looked before taking on the responsibility of the plantation. What drives a man to leave a life of ease for one of hard work and worry?

  She thought for a moment about waking him, but he looked so peaceful. She hurried up the stairs, took a blanket from his bedchamber, and returned, placing it over him. She moved an ottoman close for his legs then grasped a boot with both hands, tugging until she pulled it free, nearly toppling backward. She repeated the procedure with the other boot.

  Anna studied him again, remembering what Betty had told her about how he treated his slaves and thinking how he’d stopped work at Oakely Park to give the laborers time to mourn their dead. She knew the way he managed the plantation was singular for a slave owner, and her chest warmed with an immense feeling of pride and gratitude. Lord Philip was a good man.

  Once Anna had done all she could think of to make Lord Philip comfortable, she lifted the candelabra and turned to leave the room. She paused and reached a tentative hand to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Good night, my lord,” she whispered.

  His hand darted up and caught hers.

  She gasped. “Lord Philip. I thought . . . Were you awake this entire time?” Heat flooded her face, and she jerked her hand away.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “I had the most enchanting dream.”

  Anna whirled and stomped out of the door. Her flush spread over her entire body in a burning layer of humiliation.

  Lord Philip caught her on the stairs, darting past and turning to block her way. “Anna, please stop.” He sat on the steps in front of her, so that they faced each other.

  “It seems I’ve no choice, my lord.” She pressed her balled fists on her hips and looked in every direction but at him.

  “Please, Anna, do not be angry. I dozed in my chair and awoke to find you tugging off my boots. If I’d have let you know I was no longer sleeping, I fear I’d have missed out on the most pleasant thing that’s happened to me in weeks.”

  Anna scowled dramatically. “I should have grabbed your shoulders and shaken you as you did to me in the hospital.” She cocked a brow. “I, however, know how unpleasant it is to be awakened in such a manner and chose to be compassionate.”

  He smiled. “Leaving me in that chair all night after hours in the saddle would have been the farthest thing from compassion.” He pressed his palms into the small of his back, stretching to the side. “My back already hurts like the dickens.”

  At the reminder of his hard day, Anna’s anger softened. She sat on the stair next to him. “I’m afraid I have a policy to assist only one unconscious man to a bed per day, and as you know, my quota was filled this morning.”

  Philip laughed, but the lines returned around his mouth, and his eyes lost a bit of their sparkle. “We both had a trying day, I’m afraid, Miss Boot-Removal-Service.”

  Anna felt a rush of heat at the tenderness in his voice. Even when horrible things were happening, he tried to lift her spirits. She shifted on the stair so that her knees faced him. “Did you speak to the constable?”

  Philip’s eyes tightened. “I did.”

  “And will he . . . ?”

  “He will not help us. I also spoke to the colonel in charge of the fort. With the Spanish invading Hispaniola, the soldiers are to remain on alert and are unavailable for local law enforcement.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek. “Especially when the only witness is one black man.”

  “But all those people . . .” Anna’s eyes burned at the injustice of it all.

  “I know, Anna.” He blew out a breath. “The constable was much more interested in the number of mules and the quantity and contents of the barrels than the people who were killed.” He brushed a tear from her cheek that she had not even noticed. “We will figure something out. Perhaps I can appeal to the Governor-General of the colony.”

  Anna nodded. She didn’t know what to say. How could the senseless murders of so many people be ignored?

  He pushed his fingers through his hair. She could see that the deaths and the refusal of the constable to assist him weighed heavily on him. He had not even mentioned the loss of his sugar, which would impact him financially as well.

  Philip scrubbed his hands over his face, and his eyes widened as if he suddenly remembered something. “Tomorrow”—he reached into his waistcoat and checked his pocket watch—“oh, it is tomorrow. I did not realize it was so late.” He put away the watch. “I have invited our neighbor John Stapleton and his daughter, Clarissa, for dinner tonight. I am sorry I did not have an opportunity to tell you earlier, but I would be very happy if you would join us.”

  Anna looked at her hands resting in her lap. She’d come to love the isolation of Oakely Park. The idea of being introduced to strangers, having to explain her memory loss . . . She pushed aside her worry. Lord Philip had been the perfect host, and if she could repay him in some small manner by joining him for dinner, it would not matter if she were uncomfortable for a few hours. “Of course, my lord.”

  “The Stapletons know of your . . . memory impairment.” The side of his mouth lifted again, and she knew he was teasing. “Do not be worried. And the day after our dinner party, Tom and I are riding to the coffee farm location in the mountains. Will you join us?”

  Anna smiled, and her spirits lifted. “I would love to.”

  He leaned back and stretched his arm across a stair. “I knew you would.”

  “I remembered something tonight,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Philip’s eyebrows lifted. “That is th
e first bit of good news I have heard all day. Do you want . . . is it something you wish to share?”

  “It is not much. I remember lying in the darkness, and I know I am at sea. The boat rocks back and forth—and that’s all. Not a very interesting memory, but I am certain it’s real.”

  He studied her for a moment, perhaps waiting for her to say more. She could not read his expression. “Maybe your memory will return in small pieces. I do not know. But perhaps this means it is not lost for good.”

  Anna nodded. “That is exactly what I thought. I hope this is just the beginning.”

  Philip’s expression was strange. He had seemed happy for her, but the smile on his face was strained somehow. She looked at him again and saw his brow furrow, just for a moment, and wondered if she had imagined it. Anna decided the day had been extremely difficult, and she could hardly expect him to be overjoyed with a strange bit of someone else’s memory.

  Chapter 12

  Anna gazed at her reflection as Betty carefully pinned up her curls. Her hair pulled on her tender scalp, and she winced.

  “I be mo’ gentle, miss,” Betty said, loosening the pins. She stepped back, and Anna turned on the dressing table chair.

  “Thank you, Betty.” Anna slipped on her evening gloves, pulling them past her elbows, and stood to study herself in the mirror. Aside from a bit of redness on her cheeks from her sunburn, she looked fully recovered. When she’d seen the new gown, it had taken her breath away. The embroidery on the bodice and the lovely salmon-colored silk that hung in gentle folds to the floor . . . It was magnificent, and Anna felt like a princess.

  “You are very beautiful tonight.”

  She smiled at Betty. “Thank you for your help. I know you must hurry to finish supper on time. Thank you for performing lady’s maid duties in addition to everything else.”

  Betty took her hands. “You and Lord Philip are de good people. Don’ forget it when you wit’ de others.”

  Anna squinted her eyes and opened her mouth to ask what Betty meant, but the housekeeper shook her head and hurried out of the room. Anna did not want to dwell. It was obvious that Betty didn’t care for the Stapletons, but it was just one evening, and Anna could endure a few hours with unpleasant people if it was what Lord Philip wanted. The new dress didn’t hurt her confidence either.