Kindred (12 page)

“Watch out for the veal though,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s a mite spicy.” He touched the index finger of his free hand to her chin. With a slight upward motion, he shut her mouth. “Oh, good luck with getting someone to bolt with you to somewhere.”

He stepped back and winked at her. Hearing the strains of a violin
from the other side of the room, he concluded, “Good evening,” and glided away.

Guests parted like the proverbial Red Sea Cassian had read about in the Bible as he passed. The music drew him through the crowd until he located the source. A tall, black man, impeccably attired in full French Court dress, conducted a string quartet. He

was the Taylors’ Christmas ball surprise. They had secured the services of Joseph Boulogne, le chevalier de Saint-Georges. He was a composer, performer and conductor who was the current favorite amongst the well-heeled across Europe. Raised and schooled

in France, he was the son of the personal attendant to King Louis XV and a Senegalese slave girl. Even though reared as an aristocrat, Boulogne would not be able to inherit his father’s titles or status. Instead of relying on peerage to open doors for him, he made

music his
entrée.

Cassian perused the audience. Like him, they were enthralled, carried away by the music. But something was amiss. They were of one mind, one kind. United by lineage, custom. It finally hit Cassian. They were
home.
he was not and needed to be.

He refocused on the poised musician. When the concerto ended, le Chevalier scanned the room while bowing graciously to the applause. He froze when he spied Cassian. After a few seconds, the tiniest of smiles played across Boulogne’s features. He nodded in acknowledgement. Cassian smiled in return and clapped boisterously.

****

“Malcolm, no! You’ll tear it. Gently please,” Adeline instructed. She and Malcolm Taylor were standing, face to face, in one of the copious alcoves off one of the many spoke-like hallways surrounding the Rotunda. He had pulled her dress off her shoulders and was massaging her breasts roughly.

“Sorry. Just keep doing what you are doing and we both will be happy.” Malcolm was referring to the fact that Adeline had one of her hands in the opening of his breeches.

“Oh my girl , yes!”

“You like this?”

“Of course, silly. Like that. Don’t stop.”

“We could do this more often.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his panting mouth. “Would you like that? Perhaps, other things.” She leaned back and gazed at him as she outlined her lips with her tongue. Goodness, he was slow to climax, she thought. She had

been rubbing him for what seemed like forever. Her hand was tired. And the way he pulled at her was akin to milking a cow. She’d have to teach him a thing or two before they wed.

“Malcolm, you do like me, do you not?” she whispered as breathily as she could manage.

“Yes, I like it very much.”

“
Me,
. I said
me
.” She manipulated him in earnest.

“Oh, you too.” His wig had slid down to ride his eyebrows.

“Good, good. I thought you did. Even when I was with Daniel, you were always watching me.”

“Watching you,” he grunted, pounding her hand. He bent his head to her breasts and worried the nipples with his teeth.

Adeline winced. “Easy,” she said, pushing him away, but not missing a stroke. “No visible marks, Malcolm.” She saw his face contort and swiftly grabbed the handkerchief protruding from his sleeve.

“Addy, oh Addy! Oh, oh, oh!” Malcolm hissed as he spent into the frilly piece of cloth she held around him. Adeline tugged on him one last time, Malcolm groaned and slumped against her.

“When can we meet again, Addy? I must see you again,” he murmured as he scattered sloppy kisses over her neck. Adeline smiled in the dimness. Malcolm regained his composure and stood back staring at her.

“Elizabeth Danning has recovered from her illness and is giving a dinner Thursday. Have you received an invitation? We could meet there.” She watched him blink as his brain reconnected with reality.

“Invitation? Yes, we did.” He did up his breeches and adjusted his wig.

“Well, do reply in the affirmative. One must seize opportunity when it presents itself.” Adeline pulled her sleeves back up and settled her bosom just so. She kissed him again and took his hand. Placing his handkerchief in it, she uttered, “Until Thursday,” and slipped back into the corridor.

Chapter Seventeen

Dr. Twain was not an ostentatious man by any means. He lived comfortably, not simply. His only outward sign of excess, surfaced at year’s end with Christmas, carrying over into New Year’s. He derived pleasure from making others happy and these occasions gave him an excuse to mask his unusual overindulgence behind tradition. Twain’s colonial celebrations copied his former homeland’s customs. Ever since Rozina had come to Twainhaven, she had been in charge of planning and preparing the sumptuous holiday spread.

The sea of neighbors who passed through Twainhaven’s doors were greeted by a mammoth wreath fashioned from greens, glazed fruits in season, and playing cards. Evergreen garlands, hung by Joshua and a group of workers, cascaded over every interior inch of the house, especially the staircase in the entry way. Single, white tapers flickered in the windows, adding warmth to the stone edifice. For nearly two weeks, a food-burdened table received callers in the dining room. Not as overblown as its English counterpart, the colonial table fed and impressed just as well, those who partook. The same types of meats, fishes and fowl were placed in the center and side dishes radiated out from them, like wheel spokes. An accompanying sideboard covered with sweets, was close by, brimming with cakes and pies. This year’s centerpiece was an edible marzipan garden, populated with flowers, little animals and replicas of the herbs found in the hall’s real garden.

Dr. Twain grabbed a marzipan goose from the display and devoured it.

“Twain, stop dat!” yelled Rozina. “Weh yo’ mannus?”

“Oh, ’Zina,” he managed around a mouthful of almond paste. “Any guests yet?”

Rozina rolled her eyes at him. “Dey bettuh git yuh.” She rearranged serving spoons and ladles. “Wunt be no fud lef’.” At her words, callers began to stream in.

Several hours later, after the guests had departed, Douglas, Rozina, Joshua and Kindred gathered in the parlor.

“I think the evening went well. Gird yourself, ’Zina. We repeat this feast in four days.” He eyed Kindred. “Girl, you not feeling well? You hardly ate a thing. Barely spoke.”

“I am a little tired. And just off my feed like the animals are sometimes.”

“Well, I have an announcement to make,” said Douglas.

“Should uh seddown, Doctah Twain?” Rozina asked, bracing for bad news. Joshua pivoted to fetch a chair.

“Only if you want to. First, let everyone have some port. Joshua?” The young man did the honors, decanting and distributing the drinks.

“Thank you, Joshua.” Douglas cleared his throat. “The papers I had Joshua take to Mister Cairn months ago. They were a revision of my will.”

“Oh, Lawd,” sighed Rozina.

“’Zina, remember when you came to me years ago fretting about the children’s futures?”

“Yaas.”

“Worry no more. I have secured their futures. In the event of my death, Twainhaven and all my holdings, go to you, Joshua, Kindred and Lelaheo. And to any of your legal heirs in perpetuity.”

“Wut?” Rozina buckled and Joshua slid the chair under her as her legs gave way.

“Oh my goodness!” Kindred and Joshua stared at each other, incredulous.

“I have been sitting on this for years. This is my Christmas gift to you all.”

“Father, does Lelaheo know?” asked Kindred.

“I told him before he went away and I asked him to keep it a secret. None of my remaining family will be able to take Twainhaven from you. Rozina, is your mind at ease finally?”

“Uh kint talk’um.” She just hugged herself and smiled. Her grands would be secure. “Dem papers. Uh gots ta see. Lemme see.”

“Anytime, Rozina,” Douglas reassured.

“Joshua?” Kindred grabbed her brother and twirled around the room. “Did you ever imagine? Did you ever think?”

“No one can take it from us, Kinny. Me, mine, you, yours. Here always.”

“A toast! A toast!” cried Douglas. “Let us raise a glass to the future.” They clinked glasses and drained them.

Kindred’s stomach rebelled. “Oh no!’ She propelled herself across the room, threw open the window, chucked out the candle and promptly vomited into the dormant rosebush below.

****

“How long did you think you could keep this a secret? From me yet? Your father and a doctor!” Douglas’ tone was rough edged with concern. He, Joshua and Rozina all sat on one side of the table facing Kindred.

“For as long as possible,” she replied. “The only reason you know is because of this mishap.” Kindred sipped her tea. “Sorry about fertilizing the rosebush.”

“Uh know’um sump’n be wrong. You drinkin’ all dat chamomil’ tea fo’ yo’ ‘belly aches. Wuffuh you hide it?” Rozina asked.

“I did not expect a joyous response.” Just smelling all the food around her made her stomach lurch again. “I love Lelaheo so much. This is part of my dream for us.” She patted her rounding and smiled.

“Did not expect a joyous response? Kindred, we are elated! A baby born to you and Lelaheo? How could that not be joyous?” Douglas cleared his throat, lowered his voice and tried to act parental. “We would have preferred a marriage first. But that will happen when he returns.”

“An uncle. I am going to be an uncle,” Joshua said out loud.

“A great gran’ baby,” sighed Rozina.

“And me a grandfather.” Douglas scribbled on a sheet of paper. “Now, your relating of possible conception dates ....”

“Father!” Kindred felt blood and heat rush to her face.

“Puts the birth around mid to late spring.“ He patted Kindred’s hand. “Do not be ashamed. I am a man of medicine. I will do a more definitive examination.” He made more notations on the paper. “Anymore secrets?”

“Not a secret. A request. Do not tell Lelaheo yet. Mention nothing in your letters. Let me write him. Please?”

“And what of Aliquipiso? She is the grandmother.”

“I will tell her. And ask the same I have asked of you. Agreed?

Twain, Rozina and Joshua exchanged puzzled looks and relented. Pregnant women did demand strange things.

“Agreed,” they said in unison.

****

“Come,” Cassian replied to the knock at the door to his bedroom at Penvenen Manor. He had been packing, he and Paul were returning to Köln to finish the term.

Adeline glided in. She was dressed to go out and was holding her gloves in her hand. “I need to speak with you. Privately and at length.”

Cassian resumed packing. “You should not be alone with a man in his bedroom. The servants will talk. Besides, we have nothing to say. You said it all at the Taylors’ weeks ago. It no longer matters.”

She reached out and stopped him from folding garments. Adeline looked him squarely in the face.

“I am talked about already. Cassian, have you never wanted something so badly that you would do anything to achieve it?”

He sat down on the bed’s edge, stroked his chin.

“Yes, but I would not use deceit to attain it.”

“Then it must not have been worth pursuing,” she flared.

“No.” He stood. “We think differently, Adeline. That is all.”

“You have never been tested. You have not desired something desperately enough. It will happen one day. Mark my words. Cassian, good has come from my ‘deceitful’ actions. Malcolm Taylor and I have been keeping company.”

“So I have heard.” Cassian chuckled. “What does his mother have to say?”

“Surprisingly little. I think she has resigned herself to the fact that we have a future together.”

“I would never have thought that she would capitulate.”

“Even sinners prayers get answered, Cassian.”

“Do you love Malcolm?”

She frowned. “Love is not everything.” Adeline looked down at one of his textbooks, thumbed through it. “I just wanted to apologize.” She sighed and tossed the book aside. “I never meant you harm.” She checked her image in his mirror though she looked perfect. “As you can see I am dressed for visiting. I cannot see you and Paul off.

Malcolm and I are having tea at Lady Millard’s. I’ll visit you two in Köln soon.” She took his hand and shook it. “Thank you, Cassian."

Chapter Eighteen

“
Miskeit!
Oh my, that Adeline is a force,” Nachman remarked. She should join the British Army, they’d make good use of her cunning in the colonies.” Nachman snapped his gazette open and creased a page precisely.

“Nachman, any letters from home? I am worried about everyone.”

The doctor tossed a packet at Cassian. “These came while you were away.”

“Thank you.” He could smell Kindred’s lavender.

“You are not too wounded by Adeline I hope?”

“No. I do not envy her. She is in a predicament. But she seems shrewd enough to steer things her way.”

“She will visit her brother soon?”

“No, she cannot. First, her aunt is ill. Second, her social schedule is very full. This

tea. That dinner. Paul wants to visit after we are awarded our degrees.”

****

Cassian threw himself into his studies and gained exemplary grades in all his courses. He no longer indulged in excessive drinking or late nights to Paul’s consternation. Kindred had been right. He liked some things he’d discovered in Europe, but he loved his land and his ways more.

“Köln’s beer
become less lively since your reformation, Cassian.”

Paul was prone on the Oriental carpet before the fireplace in Cassian‘s room. “Come out tonight. I know of monks who are living less austerely than you. You cannot get any better marks in your classes. Hell, you could conduct the blasted classes!”

Cassian labored at his desk, towers of books almost obscuring him.

“I guess I could spare one night out.” He leafed through pages and jotted down notes in the margins. “Just let me finish this chapter. With the term ending in a few weeks, I could go with you to London.”