Little Black Girl Lost 4 (14 page)

Chapter 40

T
he grounds of Bouvier Hill seemed to go on forever. Aubrey thought it best to start at the sugarcane fields and then work their way back to the big house. They had been walking the grounds for hours, it seemed. Lauren Renee had been to the edge of the property and had seen the mighty Mississippi River in all of its glory. She had seen the field slaves working feverishly as the blazing evening sun beat down upon them.

The men, women, and children were drenched in sweat; nevertheless, they sang Negro spirituals, which gave them a rhythm. When the field slaves saw Aubrey and Renee, they stopped working momentarily and looked upon them with disdain. Having expressed their displeasure with seeing Aubrey and the new girl, they went back to work.

They spent a significant portion of their time at the sugar house, where the slaves processed the sugar. Aubrey explained that the average sugar plantation was worth about two hundred thousand dollars. He went on to tell her that a cotton plantation of equal size and personnel was only worth half that. Bouvier Hill pulled in more than eight hundred thousand dollars a year. Only the Tresvant plantation rivaled it, bringing in six hundred thousand yearly.

She had seen the dilapidated slave quarters, seen its dirt floors, its inadequate doors and windows, and the poorly designed furniture some of them had. It became clear to her that the slaves were highly undervalued; that the big house, the sugar house, and the stables were the prizes of Bouvier Hill. The product and the animals were treated significantly better than those who made it possible for the other.

When she looked back on it all, she remembered the one night she and Captain Rutgers spent on the Isle of Santo Domingo. She remembered how angry the black men were who attacked the Torvells and how eager they were to destroy everything, how they set the isle ablaze in their indignation. She realized that the right spark at the right time on Bouvier Hill might result in the same revolution; only this time, the field slaves would have an advocate in the big house.

She knew she had to find someone she could trust from among those who did not live in the big house. She knew she had to be extremely careful whom she picked, because it could mean her life if she chose unwisely. The man she chose would have to be intelligent and fearless if they were to mount an organized takeover.

On the trail back to the big house, Aubrey said, “Are you tired, Lauren?”

“A little,” she said. “Do we have much more to see?”

“We've got one last stop,” he said like he would rather avoid it. “One last
man
to see.”

“What's the matter, Aubrey? You look like you don't want to go where we're going,” she said, secretly hoping the man they were about to meet would fill the requirements she sought.

Aubrey thought about Joshua, the man to whom he was about to introduce Lauren. His body stiffened, preparing for whatever rude remarks would be hurled their way.

“Do I strike you as a rude man, Lauren?”

She noticed how different he looked, solemn, frowning, taut. “No, but you seem so uneasy right now.”

“That's because we're going to see Joshua.”

“And . . . I take it you don't like Joshua?”

“It's the other way around. I don't dislike anyone, Lauren. He doesn't like
us
. Any of
us
.”

She thought she understood perfectly. She thought it was the same problem that Herman Torvell had explained to her about field slaves and house servants.

She said, “You mean the men in the big house?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?” she asked with genuine curiosity. “What's the problem?”

Aubrey sighed. He was so sick of having to hide who he was or to justify being a lover of men. If Monsieur Bouvier weren't wealthy and didn't have the power to destroy lives, the authorities could have come on Bouvier Hill and taken them all to prison and then hanged them. Sodomy was against the law.

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Joshua doesn't like our manner of speech, and he doesn't like our tastes, which conflict with his.”

“Oh, you mean he doesn't like the idea of the men in the big house choosing other men and not women? Is that what you mean, Aubrey?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I mean. And Louis' constant advances don't make it any easier on any of us. I am who I am, Lauren, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Men like me on nearly any other plantation would be killed for our tastes. Here, I'm safe, free to be who I want to be; free to enjoy those things that both please and satisfy my need to be with those who share my tastes. Much like you, I suppose, preferring men rather than women, right?”

“Just one man, Aubrey,” she said sweetly. ”Only one man has my heart.”

“That would be Amir, I trust.”

“Yes. Amir.”

“I very much would one day like to meet this Amir. He sounds like a wonderful fellow to be sure. Are you sure of his tastes?”

She glared at him. “I am.”

“One never knows. You should keep an open mind about these things, dear girl. The pleasures of the flesh are truly unsearchable. There is no limit to the heights one's imagination can soar to. But I speak of things that are beyond your comprehension. You are but a child in a woman's body. You cannot know such things, because you are a virgin and have known neither man nor woman.”

“There is but one man I want to know, and his name is—”

“Amir. I got it,” he said with a short laugh. “Well, we're here.”

She looked to the left and saw a rather robust black man striking iron with a steel mallet. The sound pinged over and over. His arms were a thick mass of rippling muscle, expanding and contracting each time he raised the hammer and lowered it forcefully against the iron shoe he was shaping.

Keeping a comfortable distance between them, Aubrey called out when the hammer was being raised, “Joshua!”

Joshua didn't bother turning around. He had heard that Aubrey and the latest addition to their little family were walking the grounds.

“What, nigga!”

Aubrey looked at Lauren and breathed exasperatedly. Then he whispered, “You see why I avoid this place?”

Lauren remained quiet and listened to the exchange between the men, paying strict attention to their every movement, so she could gauge who Joshua was.

“Joshua,” Aubrey began again, his tone sophisticated and erudite. “Dear sir, I would very much like you to meet Lauren Renee. She arrived a few hours ago. Could you please stop what you're doing and turn around and make her acquaintance?”

“I'm busy, nigga! I don't have no time to meet some new house nigga wench!”

Chapter 41

L
auren Renee Bouvier started to walk over to Joshua, but Aubrey put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. He shook his head. She ignored Aubrey and went over to where Joshua was working, wondering with every step if he could be the one ally she would need when the time came for the uprising.

He was certainly big and strong enough, she thought. He was certainly defiant enough; but did he have the intelligence and wisdom and patience necessary to mount an insurrection that could grow and turn New Orleans into a conflagration of inexorable heat and smoke? That was the question.

She stood in front of him and hypnotized him with her eyes. For what seemed like five minutes, there was no sound, only quiet and breathing remained. Now, this was a man, she could tell. Only a man would look at her like she was a goddess, like she was the goddess of goddesses. Only a man would lose his mind and eventually his heart by simply looking at her. Only a man would be weakened by such a gorgeous sight of exquisite beauty.

She thought Aubrey, being a different kind of male, knew nothing of what was passing between them without words, yet he did know, for he had experienced it with the men in the big house of Bouvier Hill.

“Hello. I'm Lauren Renee,” she said and offered him her hand. “Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Joshua's throat went dry in an instant. He was so lost in her eyes that he couldn't speak. He swallowed hard in an attempt to take command of his larynx. When he finally regained control of his gaping mouth, he could only manage one word miserly word. Unable to keep himself from smiling, he offered a low, breathy “Hi.”

He put down the mallet, pulled off the glove from his right hand, wiped it on his pants leg, and took her hand. His hand was incredibly large and swallowed hers whole. He kept holding it, kept shaking it, beaming all the while.

Lauren searched his eyes, looking for his heart. In them, she hoped to find what truth lay behind them. She was looking for a warrior's spirit; a spirit that was strong, precise, and valiant. She was looking for a warrior's heart of conviction and commitment; one that would not only dare to make a plan of revolution, but one that would actually implement that which was diagramed. She was looking for a warrior's heart of wisdom; someone who not only knew how to keep his mouth shut about surreptitious schemes, but who could discern hearts and find others like himself. She didn't know if she had found it in Joshua, but in due time, she would know his heart, as she could see that through one simple introduction, he was hers to do with as she willed. How far he would be willing to go would take time to know.

Aubrey watched them closely, trying to discern if the newest Bouvier was dangerous; if she was friend or foe. He didn't know for sure at that point, but judging by the way her beauty enraptured his enemy, she could, if not deterred, become a problem for Bouvier Hill, and consequently, himself. He watched them communicate without words for a few more moments, studying them reflectively, trying to sense any hint of danger in the form of rebellion. He detected none and assumed that it was a primitive case of reciprocated attraction, nothing more.

Aubrey cleared his throat. “Uh, Lauren . . . we really ought to be getting back to Bouvier Manor, dear. ”

In a microsecond, Joshua's face became a maze of contortions. He shot a hot glare at Aubrey and said, “Hold your horses, nigga! What be the rush? The woman just got here.”

In a demure tone, Aubrey offered a fake laugh and said, “Uh, well . . . she still has to settle in. I have much to show her still. You understand, don't you?”

Joshua picked up the mallet, walked up to Aubrey, and pointed it in his face. “No, I don't understand, fancy pants, and neither do you.” He put the mallet on Aubrey's chest and shoved him with it. “What be the rush? She ain't goin' nowhere. She gon' be here from now on . . . and you rushin' around like she got a ship waitin' for her in the harbor or somethin'. She gon' be here fo' the duration, up yonder in the big house with the rest of you fancy-talkin' niggas, ain't she?”

Aubrey took a step backward each time Joshua pushed the heavy mallet into his chest.

“Oh, Joshua, honestly. Do you
really
have to be so obnoxious all the time? That's why I didn't want to come down here. I just knew you'd find a way to start something.”

Joshua shoved hard with the mallet and backed him up farther. “Well, if you knew I was gon' start somethin', whatcha come down here fo'?”

“I didn't want to come down here. It was on the way to the big house, and Lauren wanted to meet you. Believe me, if it were up to me, we would have avoided this wretched place like the bubonic plague.”

“Like the
what?”

Aubrey rolled his eyes. “The bubonic plague. The Black Death. Are you so ignorant that you've never heard of it?”

“Ignorant?”
Joshua took a couple of threatening steps toward Aubrey. “Don't make me bus' yo' head wide open with this here mallet, hear?”

“Uh, Joshua,” Lauren interrupted.

She had seen what she came to see. Joshua was indeed her man. He lacked wisdom and temperament, but he had a warrior's heart. His fury would have to be curtailed until such time that it could be unleashed. He either didn't know or didn't care that Aubrey had the ear of Monsieur Bouvier. At Bouvier's command, he could be beaten to death, or within an inch of his life, and then where would she be? She had to bring the rift between the men to a peaceful end and build trust with Joshua in the immediate future.

“I did want to meet you and the rest of our people. Now that I have, I better go. We'll talk again, I'm sure. Like you said, there's no ship waiting for me in the harbor. I'm not going anywhere for a very long time.”

Joshua turned around and faced Lauren. Smiling, he said, “I look forward to seeing you again, pretty lady. You stop on by any time you like.” Then he looked at Aubrey. “But leave fancy pants at the big house next time, ya hear?”

Lauren smiled.

They started toward the big house.

“Oh, and
fancy,”
Joshua began, “I got somethin' tuh say to Louis. Tell ‘im I know he be watchin' me when he think I don't see ‘im. But I sees him, sittin' up there on that there terrace, naked as a jaybird, touchin' his self. You tell ‘im if he come near again, I'ma take this here mallet o' mine and bus' his head wide open, ya hear? That goes for the rest of them Romans in the big house too. All of ya pre-verted.

“And pretty lady, whateva you do, don't you trust them fancy-talkin' niggas up there on the hill.”

Chapter 42

“C
an I ask you a question, Aubrey?” Lauren said as they neared the big house. “Anything, dear girl.”

“What's the bubonic plague?”

Somberly, Aubrey said, “Oh, that bit of information that eluded our good friend and resident blacksmith was a disease that killed lots of people about four hundred years ago in Europe.”

“Europe, hmm,” Lauren repeated, remembering that Rutgers had told her he was from Belgium.

Sensing she had more questions, he said, “Don't hold back, Lauren. Please, continue. Let me hear your thoughts. I very much want us to be friends. We will be in the big house together, you know? So please, don't hold back now. What do you want to know?”

“Well, I'm wondering how you know such things,” she began. “If the bubonic plague happened four hundred years ago in Europe, a three-month journey from this place, how would you know about it?”

“Lauren Renee Bouvier,”—Aubrey smiled broadly—” I perceive that somewhere inside you lies a perceptive intellect. Tell me, dear girl, what makes you ask? Curiosity? Or do you have a burning desire for knowledge?”

“Oh, Aubrey, don't make such a big deal of it,” she said, knowing in her heart that Aubrey could be counted on to conspire against the best interests of his own people, much like Herman Torvell. She wrapped her arm around his as before and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked along the path to the big house. “It's just a simple question.”

Aubrey stopped their casual stroll and looked deep into her eyes. Then he reached out his hand, lifted her chin, and said, “Can I trust you, Lauren Renee Bouvier?”

“We're friends, aren't we?” she said as sincerely as she could, knowing she could never be friends with a man like him; a man she considered a traitor.

“Okay, I'll trust you then,” he began. “Remember when we were in the library?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Remember all those books lining the shelves on the walls?”

“Yes.”

“Monsieur Bouvier taught me how to read, and he lets me read them.”

“Really?”

“But no one outside the big house can ever know this. Why . . . if it ever got out that we can read, they would kill us.”

“Why? And who is we?”

“The men in the big house. We can all read.”

“Oh, okay. But why would they kill you?”

“Because they might get it in their heads that we would turn against them and side with the field slaves. When one learns to read, writing is within one's grasp. We could write passes for slaves to help them escape plantation life to the North. Some slaves have done this and have paid with their very lives for doing so.”

Lauren pretended to be astounded by the secret revelations. She had already considered much of what he was saying when she was aboard the
Windward.
She had learned from Captain Rutgers that older men relished the idea of teaching young girls things that men think are important. So she let him run his mouth, listening closely, hanging on to every word, like he was teaching her the world was not square, but round.

She said, “Can you teach me to read, Aubrey?”

“I can and I will, but you must never let Cadence and Tristan know of it. And if you are ever caught reading, you must not tell them I taught you. You must take it to your grave, or we will all pay the grim reaper's toll.”

“Why can't either of them know?”

“Because neither of them can be trusted; especially Cadence. If they thought they could get away with it, they'd kill Monsieur Bouvier and take over the plantation. That's what I think anyway. He doesn't need either of them.”

“He doesn't?”

“No, he doesn't. They need him because he has all the money. Unfortunately, we, the men of the house, need him too, but for different reasons. We need Monsieur Bouvier because he makes it possible for men of our tastes to exist.”

“So Cadence doesn't know you can read.”

“That's Mrs. Bouvier to you. Never ever call her Cadence,” he said sternly. After scolding her, he continued, “She knows I can read. She also knows I run the plantation and I do the books. I know everything.

“Monsieur Bouvier trusts me with everything, and I dare not take that trust lightly. Why do you think a man of my superior intellect chooses to live in this manner when I could run my own plantation like Monsieur Tresvant and the other free people of color in New Orleans?”

He didn't wait for an answer.

“Know this, child: Monsieur Bouvier is my security. Without him, Cadence would take over in a heartbeat, and her first order of business would be to rid herself of the homosexual infestation within the walls of Bouvier Manor. We would not survive among the field workers. They hate us.

“And so she will try to align herself with you because you are female first and black second, not the other way around. I suppose if the men of Bouvier Hill were more to her liking, men who would ravage her sweetly, you would then be black first and female second in her eyes. Now, she probably sees you as a potential ally.”

“Okay, Aubrey. What do you need me to do?”

“Tell me everything she tells you.”

Confused, she asked, “Why would she tell me anything important?”

“She won't at first. But after a while, when she trusts you, she'll confide in you. All you have to do is listen and report everything back to me, okay? Can you do that?”

She hugged him and then looked into his eyes. “Yes, Aubrey, I sure can. You can trust me.”