Wild Lord Taggart

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “Give me yer hands, chil’.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Circe held out her hands and held her breath, wincing as the woman firmly grasped both of her hands in her long, spindly fingers. She dipped the soap in the water then worked up a lather. Circe let out a whoosh of air as the soap and washcloth together irritated her cracked and sore hands. Fresh tears stung her eyes as the old woman methodically removed debris and made sure each hand was clean. When the old woman was pleased with what she saw, she rinsed and dried Circe’s hands, then she picked up the first bowl, plunked it on Circe’s lap, and forced her hands beneath the water. She opened her mouth to scream in pain, but the sound died in her throat. Surprisingly, whatever was in the water cooled and soothed her hands after the initial shock.

  “Keep ‘em there til I tell ye t’ take ‘em out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The old woman tossed the dirty water out beside her and it was quickly soaked up by the sandy ground. She bent over, picked up her bowl of snaps she had been working on when Circe walked up, and methodically continued preparing them. Circe watched her for several minutes, fascinated by how quickly those thin, gnarled hands worked. She was also soothed by the song the woman was humming.

  “What is your name?” Circe asked curiously.

  “Why do you need to know, chil’?”

  “Because I can’t keep thinking of you as old woman,” Circe answered bluntly.

  “I s’pose ye could since that’s what I am,” she cackled. “’Sides, ye know my name already. I saw’s ye come around here with Samson.”

  “He said your name is Granny Mabel.”

  “He’d be right.”

  “That is all? Nothing else?”

  “Don’t need t’ be nothin’ else when that’s who I am,” the woman said almost like a riddle.

  “Are you everyone’s grandmother?”

  “It shore ‘nuff seems like it,” Granny Mabel said with a chuckle. “What else did Samson say?”

  “That I should stay away from you.”

  “Hmph. The boy’s scared o’ me. Good. He thinks he’s cock of the roost. He needs to be scared, but it ain’t me he should be scared of.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “I’s born here on the islands. Not this one, but they’re all close enough. My parents were brought from across the sea. They was captured by a rival tribe and sol’ to the slavers.”

  “How horrible.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. They lived longer here than they prob’ly would’ve there.”

  “How long ago did they pass away?” Circe asked curiously.

  “Papa’s been dead near forty years. Mama’ been gone almost twenty years.”

  “Hmm.” Circe seemed to be working that out in her mind. She was used to both men and women dying relatively young. In England, if you were a woman and could survive childbearing, you might have an opportunity to reach at least your fifties. Men varied on their lifespan. You had the common men that worked hard and lived relatively shorter lives than others, but then the wealthy did not always live as long as they should because of their over indulgences. This was just one of the many things that her mother was interested in. It was also why she, or rather Papa, limited the number of children she had to one. Circe had often been lonely for brothers and sisters and would ask her parents about it, but they would merely say, “When we had you, we were given absolute perfection. Now, why bother having anymore and risk getting anything less?”

  However, one night, when she was much younger, she had gotten up late into the night and snuck down to the kitchens for a snack. On her return trip to her bedroom, she had heard her parent’s muffled voices and had pressed her ear to the door. She remembered the conversation, even now, as if she had heard it yesterday.

  “Philip, I think we should discuss the issue of us having another child. Circe wants a sibling and I want another child, as well.”

  “Absolutely not. My mind is set on this matter, Elizabeth.”

  “But, Philip—”

  “No! God knows that I love our daughter more than any father should. Circe is everything to me, but you are, too.”

  “Philip, the midwife believes all will be well this time.”

  “Can she guarantee that? Can she say with one hundred percent confidence that you and the babe would both survive? Does she have some damn crystal ball that I don’t?”

  “Philip, no one can guarantee—”

  “And that is why Circe is the only child we will ever have.”

  “Philip—”

  “Elizabeth, I watched you have convulsions. Your body was so swollen, you looked as if someone could take a needle to your skin and you would explode. You were unconscious for two bloody days after you delivered Circe. I thought I was going to be forced to raise our daughter alone. I thought I had lost you. It was then and there that I decided I would rather live with you in sin for the rest of our lives than live without you. I can’t lose you. You are the air I breathe. You bring me joy and frustration. You are my heart and my soul and I cannot live without you. So, please, no more talk regarding more children.”

  “But don’t you want an heir?”

  “We would have to be married for my heir to be legitimate, so that settles it.”

  “But—”

  “I have one, my love,” he said more softly this time. “My brother Robert is perfectly capable of inheriting the title when the time comes. Then he can worry about heirs and spares and all that, but until then, I just want to enjoy my daughter and, most of all, you.”

  After that, things had gotten very quiet and Circe had tiptoed back to her room. She was too young to understand everything, but she did understand that she had almost caused her mother’s death and that was unacceptable. She made a promise to herself that no matter how much she might want a brother or sister, she would no longer ask her parents for a sibling. She would find a way to be content with only herself as a playmate. She did not want to cause them anymore pain, and she did not want to give them cause to no longer love her.

  Circe had pushed that overheard conversation so far back in her mind that she had quite forgotten about it. Suddenly, she wondered what exactly her mother had suffered during childbirth and if she could expect the same. Would she die and not even be able to enjoy being a wife and mother? If that happened, her husband would be left to care for said child. She would have to make certain she chose the perfect husband. Suddenly she felt panicked and her breathing began to race as if she had just finished running a great length.

  “Chil’ what’s put that look on that pretty face o’ yer’s?”

  “Nothing,” she gasped.

  “I think it’s a lot more than that,” Granny Mabel said. “Now, ye jus’ take deep breaths. There ye go,” the old woman soothed as Circe’s breathing became normal once more.

  “I am all right.” Circe gave her a lopsided smile, feeling embarrassed.

  “Ye wanna tell Granny Mabel what has ye so worried?”

  Circe sat there quietly, her hands still submerged in the soothing water. She wondered if she should tell her the truth or not. She opted for a half-truth instead. “I came here from England in the hopes of finding a husband who does not know my family history.”

  “Are ye ashamed of yer family, chil’?”

  “I do not want to be.”

  “But…”

  “My parents are not married.”

  “Many here on the islands have children but aren’t married. It isn’t because they don’t wanna be, but circumstances keep them apart.”

  “My parents are not married intentionally. Granny Mabel, my mother is a very independent woman. She does not see the need to marry a man just because the world says she should. She loves my father very much and he loves her, but she refuses to marry him because she wants to show the world that you can be just as happy, perhaps happier, without the ties of marriage.”

  “I’d say yer mama’s both odd and wise.”

  “I c
ame here in hopes of finding a man to marry who does not know my family background. You see all the men in England know my parents, and they either stay far away from me or want to make me their mistress. No one wishes to marry a bastard daughter, no matter that my father is a duke.”

  “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “Attend parties, flirt with the single men, and hope that one fancies me and I fancy him. Then I am going to pray very hard that he remains naïve as to who I am and who my parents are until the vows are exchanged and the marriage is consummated. Then I will begin having the children I so desperately want, unless I am like Mama in that regard.”

  “A relationship built on lies is a haunted one.”

  “It would not be lies.”

  “Withholdin’ the truth can be just as devastatin’,” the old woman said. “And what is that ‘bout children?”

  Circe quickly relayed the conversation she had overheard years ago.

  “An’ that’s what had ye in such a panic?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding her head and feeling foolish.

  “Give me yer hands, chil’.”

  Circe placed the bowl beside the chair and held out her dripping hands to Granny Mabel. The old woman patted them dry with a soft cloth and then gently traced over different lines in her palms. She made several different sounds which made Circe nervous. Then she held both of Circe’s hands in one of hers and cupped one of her cheeks with the other. She tilted her head just right so that she could look into Circe’s sapphire blue eyes. She wondered what Reese would make of this odd, but kind, old woman.

  “I think ye already be in love, but for some reason ye be fightin’ it.”

  “With who?” Circe practically snorted the question.

  “I don’t rightly know, chil’. I just see eyes the color of a stormy sea.”

  “No.” Circe stood shaking her head and breaking contact with Granny Mabel. An image of Reese looking at her with those very eyes popped into her mind. Just as quickly she tried to push it away. She tried to remember the color of Lord Erickson’s eyes, but failed at recalling the information. I am not in love with Wild Lord Taggart, the man who wants nothing more from a woman than for her to give his penis a temporary residence. Very temporary, she seconded silently.

  “And as for havin’ babies, yer not goin’ t’ have any trouble wi’ that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Yer palms speak t’ me. Come here and let me wrap yer hands,” Granny Mabel ordered gently. Circe walked to her very slowly and sat down on the overturned bucket once more. “Ye know, they don’t know what t’think ‘bout ye,” Granny Mabel said, changing the subject as she rubbed something into the palms of Circe’s hands and then wrapped them with strips of cotton material.

  “Who?”

  “Who? Who’d ye spend half t’day with, chil’?”

  “The workers?”

  “Yes.” Finished with Circe’s hands, the woman wiped her own on a piece of cloth and returned to snapping peas.

  “I was just curious.”

  “Curious ‘nuff t’ get yer hands int’ that shape?”

  “Yes, well—”

  “Ye think Lady Dorothea’d dirty her hands like ye did?”

  Circe could not stop the giggle that burst forth.

  “Ye know’s what I’m sayin’ then. Good. Then also know this, don’t trust her.”

  “But—”

  “I already know’s ye don’t trust her. Remember, servants talk no matter where ye live. Some are worried ‘bout ye. No one has called out the mistress before, but yer lifeline is stronger than hers. She’s scared.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Something she saw a long time ago. Something my sister showed her. Her destiny. Be ready. She’ll try t’ change it, but there’s somethings ye can’t change,” Granny Mabel said.

  “Is she having an affair?”

  “None o’my bus’ness, miss, but she doesn’t like t’be accused of things. Someone’ll pay.”

  “She hasn’t done anything yet.”

  “Be careful. She won’t like ye gettin’ friendly with the servants, and she’ll get Lord Robert on her side, too. He’s fair, but blind when it comes t’ his wife.”

  “You are people, too.”

  “No, Miss Circe, we be property and it best ye remember that.”

  “But she said you could be free if you work long enough.”

  “Freedom’s only a dream for most of us, chil’. Only with our death will we finally be free.”

  Circe could not help the shiver that passed through her at the prophetic words.

  * * *

  A short time later, Circe entered the house and staggered up the stairs, only to be halted halfway up by the sound of Dorothea calling to her. She was somewhere below, which meant she would have to turn around and walk back down the stairs. She was so tired and her body ached all over that all she wanted was to take a nice, long hot bath and then a nap in that order. Maybe she would nap while she bathed. That sounded even more heavenly.

  “Circe!”

  She sighed, gave a forlorn look towards her bedroom door that she could just barely see, then turned around and walked back down the stairs, clinging to the handrail. Her legs felt as if they would go out from under her at any time. On the way to the parlor, she passed a maid in the hallway. The young woman gasped when she saw the state of Circe’s clothing and the parts of her skin she could see.

  “I must look quite awful.”

  “Oh, no, miss—”

  “Please, you do not have to pretend with me. Would you see that Molly knows I would like a bath to be prepared in my room?”

  “Circe, where are you?”

  “Right away, miss,” the maid curtsied quickly, shot a worried glance at the room where Dorothea was, then scurried away.

  Circe took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, then turned and walked into the parlor with a straight back. “Were you looking for me, Dorothea?”

  “Yes. I…” Dorothea’s eyes widened as she took in the state of Circe’s appearance. “Exactly what have you been doing today?”

  “Do you really want to know, Dorothea?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

  “I was working in the sugarcane fields.”

  “You were doing what?!” Dorothea asked incredulously, nearly shouting the words.

  “What’s going on in here?” Robert asked as he entered the room. “Circe, what happened to you? Are you all right?” He crossed to her and took her hands in his, gently turning them over.

  “I am perfectly all right, Uncle Robert. As I was just explaining to Dorothea, I have been working in the sugarcane fields this morning.”

  Robert threw back his head and laughed. He pulled her into a tight hug. “You are just like your mother. The only difference is she would still be out there.”

  “Robert, this behavior is unacceptable,” Dorothea said, irritated.

  “Dot, it’s in her nature and there’s nothing we can do to change that,” he said in a conciliatory manner. “Are you certain you’re all right, Circe?”

  “Positive.”

  “Your hands?”

  “Granny Mabel took care of them.”

  “Not only were you working, but you were also consorting with the slaves?” Dorothea asked, looking shocked to her very core.

  “If you call allowing her to take care of my torn and bleeding hands and having a nice conversation consorting, then yes, that is exactly what I was doing.”

  “You cannot do that!”

  “And why not, Dorothea, they are also people.”

  “Ladies, calm down, both of you,” Robert said, his arm still around Circe’s shoulder.

  “Robert, do you know what would happen if our peers discovered your niece was working like a common slave and talking to them?”

  “Who’s going to tell them, Dot?”

  “Servants talk,” she hissed.

  Robert looked warily at his wife then tur
ned towards his niece.

  “Uncle Robert, please do not ask me to make promises I cannot keep,” Circe said.

  “Why don’t you go and get cleaned up? You might take a nap as well, you look exhausted.”

  “She wouldn’t be exhausted if she hadn’t behaved the way she did this morning. Are you just going to let her get away with that type of behavior?”

  “She’s been raised this way, Dot. I can’t undo over twenty years of learning. Besides that she’s too old to be spanked and sent to her room without any food. Circe, I will ask that you try to be more mindful of our customs here on Barbados, especially when it comes to running the plantation.”

  “I will do my best, Uncle Robert, but that is all I can do.” She turned to leave the room when Dorothea’s voice halted her progress.

  “Tonight we have a party to attend. It will be in Bridgetown at the home of one of our government officials. He and his wife are very good friends of ours. We will, of course, expect you to attend.”

  “I will be ready.”

  “Be certain you wear gloves. I will also send some cream to help with the damage your skin sustained today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll have a tray sent up to you as well. You look as if you could use some nourishment.”

  “I appreciate it, Dorothea. Will that be all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will be in my room should anyone need me.” Circe had almost left the parlor when Dorothea’s words drifted to her. She paused at the door, her back to the couple.

  “Circe, I only want you to fit in and reach your goal. Barbados is such a tight-knit little country that one misstep can cause you more difficulty than you ever thought you would have in London. You must always keep in mind that you came here to seek out a husband. You will not get one if they find out you work in the fields and cavort with the slaves. Men have certain expectations for their wives, isn’t that correct, Robert?”

  “I’m afraid Dot’s right, Circe.”

  Circe blinked furiously as she felt angry tears burn the backs of her eyes and a sob tried to work its way up her throat. She felt the walls of this huge mansion closing in on her. They were right, though. She knew they were. It was a moment of madness that had her going out into the fields. Perhaps she was more like her mother than she ever believed herself to be. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but was it so good?