Midnight Rose (39 page)

She rushed to her bedroom to shake her awake. “She’s on her way. She just went down the steps. And she’s moving fast. You might not be able to catch her.”

Victoria was up in a flash and running out on the veranda. At the corner, she strained to see in the moonlight and whispered, “She’s probably headed for the labyrinth. I memorized the map, and I’ll go in and try to catch her with him, and—oh, no!” She gasped.

Eliza saw them, too, and her heart sank to her toes.

In the scant light of the moon-tinged clouds, they could make out two figures emerging from the maze. A man and a woman. The man embraced the woman briefly, then broke into a run along the front line of foliage and disappeared around the corner. The woman lifted her hem to hurry across the lawn, coming toward the house.

Victoria’s sharp nails dug into Eliza’s flesh as she grabbed her arm and pulled her along quickly, quietly, in the shadows of the veranda toward her room. Once inside, with doors closed, she slapped Eliza hard. “You lied. She left long ago. You fell asleep, didn’t you? Damn your worthless hide, I ought to have you whipped.”

Eliza had begun to cry, backing away as she begged forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to. I was just so tired, and I’d been standing there all day and half the night, and—”

“Shut up! I’ve no time for your sniveling. Now you get back out there and keep watch, and don’t you dare fall asleep again, you stupid cow. I want to know at once if she starts out of this house again tonight. If she doesn’t, wake me at first light, so I can follow her when she does go. She didn’t have Annie pack those bags without reason. She’s planning something for sure.

“And another thing,” she commanded. “You tell Annie in the morning she is not to serve Erin again. None of the slaves are to serve her. Do you understand?”

With bowed head, Eliza murmured, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now get out of here. I may have you whipped yet.”

Anxious to escape her wrath, Eliza ran out.

When she was in her position in the alcove, she was far too angry even to think about being tired. It was the first time Miss Victoria had ever struck her. The first time she’d ever cursed her, called her names. Eliza thought she deserved better, even if she was a slave, after so many years of dogged loyalty.

Bitter, hurt, filled with resentment, Eliza resolved never to forget this night.

Ryan stood at the ship’s railing and stared down into the rolling sea. His horse was stabled in the hold, along with those of other owners who wanted their own horses when they reached their destination. In a few days he would arrive in New Orleans. He planned to stay for two weeks, maybe longer; He’d buy the stock he wanted—two mares and a stallion—then bring them back with him. He figured he could manage pulling the trio from Norfolk to Richmond.

Once he’d taken care of business in New Orleans, there would be a few days for pleasure. He liked the food and drink, the gambling, the women…

He laughed ruefully, there in the darkness. The women, indeed. He had left behind the only woman he would ever want, could ever love.

It was a few moments later when the fragrance of perfume came to him just before he saw the girl step out of the shadows and into the scant light. He knew right away what she was—a fancy girl, her kind were called. Slave girls. Mulattoes, most of them. Owned by the shipping lines. They were painted up, dressed in revealing gowns, and placed discreetly on board for the pleasure of male passengers—for a price. Ryan had indulged in the pleasant diversion many times. A warm body to share the narrow bed in his tiny cabin, to please him in any way he demanded, at his beck and call. When she wasn’t servicing him or other men, she would stay out of sight. It angered the ladies to know prostitutes were on the ship.

“It’s so sad to be alone on such a lovely night,” she cooed, boldly twining her arm about his, brushing her breast against him. “Have you need of a woman to keep you company?”

Ryan felt a stirring in his loins. Hell, he made no apology for being a man. Yet he knew that just as it was Erin’s face he saw dancing there in the silver-splashed waters, he would search for her too in the arms of another woman. There could be no real pleasure in pretense. Maybe, in time, his hunger would get the best of him, and he’d yield to temptation. For the time being, he wanted no substitute. It was like craving champagne, only to be served cheap wine. Gently he dismissed her. “No thanks. I’d rather be alone.”

When rejected, her orders were to melt away into the night, silently, quietly. She did so.

And he was left alone with his memories of passion unequaled.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Erin approached the main gate of
Zachary’s
plantation; there was no guard in sight. It was just as well. She was in no mood for a confrontation. Learning that Victoria had forbidden Annie, as well as any other slave at Jasmine Hill, to do her bidding was frustrating enough without being denied the use of a carriage. It was only because the stable hands had not dared stop her that she’d even been able to take a horse. Leaving her bags behind, she’d mounted bareback for the ride, silently vowing to borrow one of Zachary’s wagons later and come back for them.

All seemed quiet and strange, as though an invisible pall had descended. She could feel the tension in the air, could see it in the way the few workers in the fields refused to look at her as she passed. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She quickened her pace.

She rode all the way to the front steps and had just dismounted when an overseer hurried up from the field closest to the house. He was carrying a whip, and she noticed he was wearing double-holstered guns. He was not familiar to her, but then the only one of Zachary’s overseers she knew was Frank, and he was nowhere about.

“Hey, who are you?” he yelled curtly. “What do you want? Tremayne don’t want no strangers here.”

Instinctively she didn’t like him, felt her ire rising over how his ferret-like eyes lingered on her bosom. “I’m hardly a stranger. Unfortunately, he’s my stepfather.”

“Oh, so you must be—” he paused, gave a nasty-sounding laugh, “yeah, I know who you are, all right.”

She started up the stairs. He wasn’t worth the effort it would take to rebuke him.

“Ain’t nobody in there.”

She spun around, felt a sudden chill of foreboding. “Where is everyone?”

“Zach run everybody out and says he ain’t goin’ back in there himself till we beat all that voodoo-
obeah
shit outta the slaves. He’s sick of blood and feathers and dog’s teeth and all that stuff they use to try to scare him to death. Me, I don’t believe in it. But like last night, when they get to beatin’ them goddamn drums all over, it’s enough to scare even a nonbeliever.”

Erin blinked at him, bemused. “What are you talking about?”

“The slaves decided to try a little voodoo on him. Led by your mother, he believes, and—”

“Where is she?”

“Hell, I don’t know. Ask Zach. He’s over at the stable gettin’ ready to go after another runaway. Says this time he’s gonna chop a foot off to set an example to the others, and…” He fell silent, stared after her as she took off running. Well, he didn’t have time to mess with her anyway, even if it was a real pleasure just to look at her. He’d heard she was a beauty, and now he knew it was so.

He turned back to the field.

Victoria watched from the grove of trees just across the road from the gate. She had carefully stayed far enough behind Erin so she wouldn’t know she was being followed. Now, however, it seemed the moment of reckoning was at hand, when she could let her know she was aware of her infidelity to her son. She had seen her talking to the white man with the whip. Was that Zachary Tremayne? Heavens, she didn’t know, wouldn’t recognize the dreadful man anyway, for she knew him only by his infamous reputation.

She waited until Erin disappeared inside the stable, then kicked her horse into a slow canter. Erin’s lover was probably waiting inside, she figured, and maybe she could catch them in the throes of a torrid embrace. Erin could never lie her way out of that. She felt a shiver of anticipation. Ermine had confided she would be willing to give Ryan a chance to come to his senses but would not wait for long. Ansel Bancroft had proposed, and she could not postpone giving him an answer. Well, she wouldn’t have to. After this day, Victoria was confident Erin Sterling would be out of Ryan’s life forever and always.

In the field, hoe in hand, Rosa dared steal a glance at Erin as she headed for the stable. Her eyes stung with tears of sympathy and sadness. It was going to just about kill her when she heard what had happened to her momma—if Master Zachary told her the truth. There was no telling what an evil man like that might do. She wouldn’t put it past him to be planning to say Miz Arlene had died, and maybe he even had an empty grave made up to show her as the resting place. Oh, Lordy, how she wished she could have done something that night to save her, but by the time she’d crept out of her hiding place in that pantry and up the back stairs to find out what that strange noise was, it was just too late.

There were two men, one of them carrying a lantern. By its glow, she’d seen that they’d put a bag over Miz Arlene’s head and were carrying her off. She recognized one of them—Nate Donovan, his name was. She knew because he sometimes came to see Mastah Zachary, and one of the other kitchen workers had told her he was a terrible man. It was said he bought slaves smuggled in from Africa, which was supposed to be against the law.

But she could only watch in stricken horror, helpless. There was no need to go screaming for Mastah Zachary. He was in his study, and she’d seen him talking to that Donovan man earlier, when she went to ask if there was anything else he needed before she left for the night. He couldn’t help hearing Miz Arlene trying to cry out through that bag. He knew what was going on all right. He’d been acting stranger and stranger anyway, since Tulwah had started using his
wanga
to cast a spell on him, and she’d worried it would all go too far. As she watched in terror as Miz Arlene was taken away, she knew her worst fears had come true.

She had then left the house and run down the path to the compound as fast as she could to spread the word. The drums had started, calling Tulwah out of the swamp. When she told him what had happened, his eyes had begun to glow like angry coals. A growling sound came from deep down in his throat, and when it finally exploded from his lips, it had chilled her to the bone. He had started swaying to and fro as if he were in a trance.

Then they had heard Master Zachary yelling all the way from the great house. From fear, he’d shifted to anger, and he’d gathered his men to charge down to the compound to stop the drums. They began to whip and beat every slave in sight, and, seeing Tulwah as he melted into the swamp, Zachary screamed to kill him. His men had started to go after him, but drew back as the rhythm of the drums ignited the world around them, like wildfire leaping from treetop to treetop.

At dawn, Master Zachary had ordered all the slaves to the fields, to work till dark or feel the lash. He was going to find Ben, and Rosa prayed with every beat of her heart that Tulwah would somehow work his magic and cause him to drop dead before he and his slave-hunting posse could do so.

Her attention turned once more to Miss Erin, as she disappeared from sight. If only she could, speak to her, tell her what she’d seen—

“You!
Lazy wench!”

Rosa screamed as the lash popped only inches from her face.

“Stop your eyeballin’ and get to work or you’ll feel it on your back next time.”

Rosa started digging with the hoe and ducked her head just as she caught a glimpse of the white woman slowly coming up the main road. She wondered who the woman was but dared not look that way any longer.

Zachary was in the tack room, which he sometimes used as a meeting place for his men. They were gathered about him. He was showing them the coastal area on the map where they were heading, the spot where it was rumored fugitive slaves were smuggled on board boats heading north. Glancing up when Erin stormed in, his men instinctively backed away from him.

“Well, well,” Zachary greeted her with a sneer. “Have you finally come home to let your daddy kiss the bride?”

A ripple of laughter went through the others. Erin silenced them with a sweeping glare, then turned her full wrath on Zachary. “You aren’t my father. I’m ashamed you’re even my stepfather. Now where’s my mother?”

A few of the men cautiously began to move by her, heading out, not wanting to be around for the explosion sure to come.

Zachary motioned to the rest to go. He didn’t want them hearing Erin’s insolence. He called to Frank, “Lead ’em on out of here. You know where to head. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I take care of this.”

Erin waited till they were alone before repeating her question more forcefully, “I asked you where my mother is, and I want to know. Now!”

Zachary flashed an evil grin as he tapped a finger to his forehead and pretended to ponder, “Well, let’s see. They left just before midnight last night. I’d say they’re a pretty far piece down the road by now, but I’m not going to tell you which direction. Not that you could catch up with them anyway.”