Lynna's Rogue (Curse of the Conjure Woman, Book One)

by Kitty Margo

The sight of Magnolia House nestled among the fresh spring greenery brought a loving smile to Lynna’s lips. Sitting on a stump by the side of the woods fragrant with pine, cedar, oak and magnolia trees, she was lost in thought until Suzanne’s rather unladylike bellow from the balcony shattered her reverie. “Lynna, would you be a dear and come up here, please?”

  Leaving her daydreams of a land far away, Lynna walked the short distance to the house wondering what Suzanne wanted this time. She paused inside the door where the bright morning sun reflected the labors of the household servants who had waxed and buffed the floors until they shone.

  Running her finger along the edge of a polished, carved oak table she knew there was not a speck of dust to be found. If there was, the person responsible for leaving it would have to deal with the wrath of Jasmine, self proclaimed ruler of dis heah roost, and none of the household servants relished that prospect.

  The focal point of the house was the gently curving staircase. Rich mahogany banisters wound endlessly upward, past a shining crystal, wedding cake chandelier with hundreds of candles, imported from China. To the right were twin parlors of gold and rose.

  After dinner the ladies would be escorted to the rose parlor for tea, while the men enjoyed their cigars and brandy in the gold parlor.

  Lynna had seen it all hundreds of times, yet she never failed to be amazed by the beauty and simple elegance of the house each time she entered. It was worlds apart from her home, the fortress like Chateau in Paris.

  Home. The thought brought scalding tears to her eyes. Was her father still alive? If so, why didn’t he send for her? Or, better yet, why didn’t he come for her himself?

  In three years she had not received a single letter, if indeed any had been penned, and she had dutifully kept her promise not to contact him for fear of discovery. It was proving to be a promise that tormented her and was becoming more difficult to keep with each passing day.

  Had her beloved father simply forgotten that she even existed?

  Had he moved on to live his life without her, sending her thousands of miles away to live in a tiny cottage with her aunt Judith simply to be rid of her? But the one question that she had pondered over and over in her head until it ached was why had he not sent funds to make their lives easier as he had promised?

  “Lynna! For heavens sake, how long does it take you to climb a simple flight of stairs?” Suzanne’s irritated voice drifted down the mahogany steps.

  Snatching up her skirts, Lynna tried to hurry, she really did, but thoughts of the Chateau brought heartache and worry over her father. This set off a chain reaction. Her eyes filled with tears, her heel caught in the hem of her dress, and she tripped halfway up the stairs.

  “Lynna!” Suzanne’s shrill voice vibrated through the house, sending the upstairs servants scurrying lest they fall victim to her foul temper.

  Suzanne’s bedroom was a lovely shade of robin’s egg blue. A massive four poster bed surrounded by a sheer lacy canopy graced the center of the room. Beside the bed a pair of Chippendale wing chairs stood on either side of a piecrust tea table. On the other side of the room was a full length cheval glass in which Suzanne currently stood on a stool admiring herself while a young Negro girl fanned vigorously with a peacock feather.

  Lynna’s aunt Judith was on the floor at her feet attempting to pin the hem on Suzanne’s gown, which wasn’t an easy task due to her constant preening. As Lynna entered the room, Suzanne spun around to face her, almost falling off the stool, which would have thrilled the Negro girl immensely. With a look of stern vexation, she asked, “Lynna, whatever took you so long? My goodness, but you certainly do dawdle. Why, I… never mind.” Suzanne’s mood could change swifter than most women could change their bloomers. “How do you like my gown? Is it not positively divine?”

  Lynna had to admit that the gown was most becoming. Cut from light turquoise watered silk and fashioned with a low pointed waistline back and front, the full skirt was embroidered with dozens of tiny rosettes. Rosettes that Suzanne hardly noticed, while Lynna and her aunt had spent endless days and nights stitching the tedious handwork. A delicate row of fine lace edged the daringly low cut bodice with three rows of the same lace falling from the back to form a short triple cape.

  Judith was the seamstress for Magnolia House, a position she had held for many years. And over these years, she had stitched clothes for Silas and Mary Fletcher and their two sons Samuel and Daniel, on the rare occasion when she wasn’t sewing exclusively for Suzanne, their spoiled only daughter. Lynna and her aunt shared a small cottage on the plantation grounds.

  “It really is beautiful,” Lynna had to admit. “But then, all of my aunt’s gowns are.” If the truth were told the gown would rival Lynna’s own gowns back home, made by the finest dressmakers in all of Paris. Gowns that mice had most likely built nests and were raising their offspring in by now.

  “I agree. But this gown is special, for no one could fail to notice me when I wear it.” Suzanne released a quivering sigh and absently curled a lock of hair around her finger, softly whispering, “Not even Captain Joshua Jordan.”

  Once again, as it did each time Suzanne breathed his name, Lynna’s heart set up a noisy clambering in her chest. Clutching at her bodice with trembling hands she glanced up, surprised that the others in the room didn’t hear the clattering racket behind her breastbone.

  If Suzanne ever found out the truth about what had transpired between Lynna and her magnificent Captain Jordan, not only would her shame be almost unbearable, but Suzanne would be livid and possibly have murderous intent. Hiding her blazing face behind her hands, Lynna prayed that this infatuation, as the majority of Suzanne’s obsessions were, was short lived.

  “Do you not agree, Lynna?” Suzanne huffed out a breath when she was forced to repeat her question.

  What? “Oh, yes… certainly,” Lynna stammered. “He cannot fail to notice you in such a marvelous gown.”

  Lynna had heard little but the praises of Captain Jordan since last Christmas when Suzanne had met him at a ball while visiting her brother in Charleston. She wished desperately to warn Suzanne, to tell her what a vile, wretched, black hearted womanizer the sea captain truly was. But she could not.

  To confess to her horrible blunder would bring humiliation and scorn to herself, and possibly loss of employment for her aunt. If Suzanne ever found out the truth, Lynna knew her revenge would be swift and she wouldn’t care who she hurt in the process. Therefore, she could only listen as Suzanne prattled on and on about the sea captain with the raven locks and dashing good looks.

  A man Lynna remembered all too well.

  The Negro girl, with perspiration dripping from the tip of her nose and with a riot of colorful braids sprouting in all directions, undoubtedly shared Lynna’s sentiments. When Suzanne spun toward the mirror and the Negro girl was facing her back, her eyes rolled toward the heavens.

  Her actions caused Judith to move very close to the hem of Suzanne’s gown to keep from laughing and sucking a mouthful of pins down her throat. Surprisingly, and to their astonishment, Suzanne suddenly dropped her favorite subject and moved on. “Now, for the reason I summoned you. Lynna, be a dear and undo my fasteners.”

  “What?” Lynna’s defiant stance with her hands planted firmly on her hips almost betrayed her true station in life. “You called me up here just to unfasten your gown?” A quelling glance from her aunt ceased her impending rebuke. No one must learn the secret of her birthright that only she, her aunt, and Joshua Jordan shared.

  A withering look in Suzanne’s eyes begged the question; And what would be the error of my ways if I had? Must I remind you that you are both employees of my father and reside in a cottage graciously allocated by him?

  But instead, for reasons that altogether eluded her, Suzanne chose not to speak her mind. She simply was not feeling argumentative today. “Of course not, silly goose. I would but ask you to model this gown for me. If I see it on you, I can form an image in my mind
of the accessories that would best offset the gown. You know, pretend you are a dressmaker’s dummy.” Giggling at her own rare attempt at humor, Suzanne stepped out of the gown, admiring her slim figure in the mirror while Lynna disrobed.

  The soft folds of expensive silk fell caressingly around Lynna’s body. Closing her eyes, she released a contented sigh, marveling at the long forgotten feeling of expensive material against her skin as her aunt moved behind her to fasten the gown.

  Judith tugged, pulled, and shifted to no avail. “Lynna darling, you seem to have….um…. expanded in certain areas. For the life of me I cannot seem to get the gown fastened. Why, up until this summer I used the exact same measurements when sewing for the two of you.”

  Judith peered over Lynna’s shoulder to see a mortified Suzanne, her face flaming at the sight of Lynna’s bosom spilling over the low cut bodice. She had insisted the gown be cut daringly low, but witnessing the sight of Lynna’s overflowing cleavage only served to infuriate her.

  The Negro girl’s fanning increased a degree as she savored the high and mighty Miss Suzanne’s burning cheeks and flaming neck. Suzanne most thoroughly enjoyed humiliating others, yet it was a rare occasion indeed when she received the same treatment in turn.

  Witnessing the rush of blood to Suzanne’s upper extremities and the rage glistening in her eyes, Lynna quickly removed the gown, spreading it carefully on the bed. “It looks much better on you, Suzanne.”

  “Of course, that goes without saying,” Suzanne snipped, studying Lynna with narrowed eyes and several unkind thoughts. True, Lynna’s measurements had blossomed in the past year whereas her own had remained virtually the same. The girls were a study in contrast.

  Lynna’s hair was the color of spun gold. The sun’s rays shining through the open balcony doors added a glowing luster to her soft, golden, waist length mane. Suzanne’s hair resembled a raven’s wing, so black the same sun reflected gleaming blue highlights.

  Their eyes were no less different. Lynna’s eyes were shimmering pools of summer sky blue crystal that changed with her every emotion. They sparkled like brilliant diamonds when she was happy, shone sadness in their glistening depths, and snapped with defiance when angry. Suzanne’s eyes were brown with green flecks, admittedly not one of her best features.

  Both girls had been blessed at birth with the pearly white skin so cherished by Southern women. They protected their skin from the ravages of the sun with parasols, hats, sunbonnets, and nightly applications of buttermilk. Although the vast majority chose to avoid the sun entirely, as did Suzanne, venturing outside only in early morning or late evening.

  A wicked and triumphant glow spread across Suzanne’s pretty features. Lynna may be more generously endowed, that was painfully obvious, but she could tell by the girl’s reddening nose and cheeks that she had been outside again, dreadfully unprotected from the harsh rays of the sun. Be patient, she thought callously. A few more days in the sun and the careless girl would have skin like the darkies.

  Feeling much better, Suzanne thanked Lynna graciously for her assistance, and still in her chemise, climbed into bed for her afternoon nap, thus dismissing them.

  No sooner had Judith closed the door than Suzanne’s head filled with the remembrance of strong arms crushing her against a hard, lean body and soft, sweet lips lowering to hers. A shiver passed over her even though the afternoon heat was atrocious.

  Sleep was a long time in coming as a pulsating, persistent ache settled into a tight knot of desire in the sensitive spot between her thighs and she reached to remedy it.

  Lynna headed to the river for a cooling swim before supper, with thoughts of Joshua and Suzanne, together, filling her head. Passing between the cotton fields as she walked down the dirt road, she watched as the slaves hoed the grass from the sturdy young cotton shoots, several waving a greeting. Her heart turned over for them.

  Mosquitoes swarmed around their heads and they constantly swatted flies as sweat rolled from their dark glistening bodies. They worked so hard, yet received little reward for their backbreaking labor other than food, shelter, and a new set of homespun clothes twice a year.

  The life of a slave was a life of unending torment and brutality. Yet there was not a slave at Magnolia House who did not count his blessings and feel fortunate to belong to Silas Fletcher. They knew all too well the conditions under which most slaves lived, or merely existed, on neighboring plantations and the inhumanities they suffered daily.

  Nine years was the average life expectancy of a field hand. And since international slave trade had been abolished and no more slaves could be legally shipped in, worried plantation owners with large cotton fields to be planted and picked urged their slaves to breed like flies in order to keep their supply of young, hearty workers replenished.

  Lynna could only pray that in death these people would find their much deserved rest under the caring hands of their true master.

  Silas Fletcher was a much kinder slaveholder than most of the landed gentry. True, his slaves worked as hard as any. The fact that Magnolia House was one of the most productive plantations in the South, producing a bumper crop of cotton annually was proof of that. The outstanding difference was that Silas treated his slaves as human beings, instead of mindless working chattel without a single thought of substance.

  Children could be seen scattered throughout the fields carrying buckets of cold well water to the thirsty laborers. At midday they were permitted to find a shady spot to rest and eat at their leisure of a meal consisting of fat back, hominy, and cornbread. Silas Fletcher believed a decent meal not only appeased their appetites, but also gave them the needed energy to return to the fields.

  Unlike on some plantations, the slaves at Magnolia House were an orderly lot with the occasional troublemaker being sternly disciplined by the black foreman Jopree. He had worked on other plantations and was quick to remind them that their circumstances could be much, much worse than they were now.

  Albert Morehead, who owned a neighboring plantation, often lectured Silas against feeding his slaves a heavy noonday meal. “You keep feeding them like that and they will become so fat and lazy that you won’t get a decent day’s labor out of them. Just feed them enough to keep them from starving to death, that’s what I do.”

  Darkness was falling over the plantation when Lynna arrived back at her aunt’s cottage. While helping Judith shuck corn for supper she couldn’t resist asking about Suzanne’s new gown. “Is there an occasion for the new gown, or did she simply open her chifferobe and discover an empty space?”

  “Oh, there is an occasion.” Judith grinned. “Suzanne is returning to Charleston to visit Samuel, yet again. She explained to her parents that she wished to spend some time with her brother and her adorable niece Bethany Breanne, and naturally they agreed without question. But we both know that Suzanne cannot long tolerate Samuel’s daughter, or any other child for that matter. Alas, we know the true reason behind her visit.”

  “Oh, yes,” Lynna gushed, affecting Suzanne’s simpering whine. “Captain Joshua Jordan. Why, how could I possibly evah forget him?”

  She would remember the heartless scoundrel until the day she drew her final breath.

  “Precisely.” Judith laughed. “As you know, she was simply devastated last winter when she failed to add him to her collection of beaux. But I must confess that I’d like to meet this paragon. The first man I’m sure who has ever successfully resisted Suzanne’s abundant charms.”

  Lynna was confident that Joshua had long since sampled whatever charms Suzanne had to offer, abundant or not. The same man who had stolen her virginity and taken her on a round trip journey to hell and back when she had been convinced that she carried his child, and he had refused to marry her.

  Suzanne could have the despicable rogue, with her blessing.

  Two days later Suzanne floated down the steps in a snug violet traveling outfit. Her hair was swept off her neck under a matching sunbonnet, the brim pulled low to protect
her face from the morning sun. The carriage was piled high with numerous trunks and hatboxes, more than she could possibly require for a short stay in Charleston. Even given the fact that she changed her dress three or four times daily there was still an excess of baggage strapped to the top of the equipage.

  It crossed Lynna’s mind that Suzanne was planning an extended visit this time and scolded herself for being pleased at the thought.

  Hugging Lynna excitedly, Suzanne whispered in her ear, “Wish me luck,” and was in the carriage before Lynna could summon a reply.

  Lost in thought, Lynna recalled Suzanne’s parting words. “Oh, Lynna, this is going to be the most memorable trip of my entire life. Joshua is coming home, you see. His father had that awful accident, well, actually it was a rather fortuitous mishap for me since Joshua is returning to oversee the plantation. In fact, he should be back home at Sea Grove by now.”

  How could Suzanne be pleased over the fact that a man had lost both his legs? Her appalling lack of compassion for anyone other than herself never failed to astonish Lynna. “Give my love to Samuel,” Lynna called in a determined effort to distract Suzanne from her unending discourse about Joshua. Unfortunately, her ploy failed miserably.

  Suzanne’s excitement continued to bubble forth as she motioned for Lynna to come closer. “Lynna, I have a confession to make. For the first time in my life I am truly in love. I intend to become Mrs. Suzanne Jordan, wife of the esteemed Captain Joshua Jordan, in the not too distant future. I cannot wait to see your face when you meet him for the first time next month when you all come to attend my darling niece’s birthday celebration. Why, he is just too handsome for words and filthy rich as well.”

  Lynna and her aunt would accompany the Fletchers to South Carolina to visit Samuel and his family, but she had no intention of going within a mile of Captain Joshua Jordan while she was there. She had pasted on a fake smile, eager for Suzanne to close the carriage door and be on her merry way.

  And, rest assured, Suzanne.

  He knows me… intimately.

  Chapter 13