Master of Paradise (34 page)

“I have a mission for you,” she whispered.
“We’re going on a journey.”

“Will you be going as a man or woman,
ma’am?”

“You’re taking me to Mahé. And I’ll be going
as myself.”

Gabrielle stood with Jonah Fitch behind the
frangipani trees of State House, awash in their perfume, watching
the shadows flit by the lighted windows of the residence. It was
night, and a party was in full swing. The music drifted out from an
open veranda. They could hear the chatter and laughter of the
guests.

One of those guests was Admiral Terence S.
Fulton, the Earl of Coventry. He’d sailed into Mahé a week before
with the seven Royal Navy men-of-war he’d taken to Zanzibar, which
now lay anchored in the Mahé harbor. More ships were due to arrive
from India any day.

Gabrielle spared a final moment before
walking boldly inside.

“I can’t say I’m amenable to the prospect of
ye walkin’ into the viper’s pit,” her companion grumbled in low
tones.

“I’m banking that the circumstances will
serve to defang the viper. Admiral Fulton is my security. He’s not
affiliated with Hastings in any way. He’s known to deplore slavery
of any sort. He can have no wish for a war of this size. If I can
get to him, tell him what Hastings has been doing, convince him of
Rodrigo’s honor, then I’m sure he’ll become our savior.”

“That might take a powerful performance,
ma’am.”

She straightened her shoulders. “That’s what
I do best, Mr. Fitch.”

“Indeed you do, ma’am,” he agreed.

“Now listen. If something happens, if
Hastings somehow prevents me from getting to the admiral, I’m
counting on you to go to him, tell him I’m here, and that Hastings
has me prisoner.”

“That I will, ma’am. You can count on
me.”

The door was opened by Robert, the tall,
white-gloved African who saw to the running of the house. He bowed
to her, then, when he recognized her, appeared startled. He cast a
quick glance back over his shoulder, as if warning her away. She
sensed his sympathy. Word traveled fast on these islands. It was
said the Africans always knew things without being told.

As if reading her thoughts, the butler asked
softly, “
Mkombozi?
”

“He’s safe. But he won’t be for long. Not if
I can’t speak to Admiral Fulton.”

“Take care,
Umbu
. The governor is
here.”

“What was that you called me?
Umbu?
”

“It means ‘sister,’
Umbu.
”

She was so touched, she reached for his hand
and gave it a squeeze. But he drew away at once, casting another
worried glance over his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“I’m called Robert.”

“No, I mean what’s your real name?”

He squirmed. It was forbidden in Hastings’s
house for a slave to speak his or her real name. “Kaninu,
Umbu,
” he whispered.

“Kaninu, is my room still in readiness?”

“It is,
Umbu
. Your belongings have
been left as they were when you departed.”

“Can you sneak me up there without anyone
knowing?”

“I believe so,
Umbu.
”

“Then do so. I have to face the admiral
tonight, and I want to be dressed for the part. I return to this
house not as a beggar, but as the daughter of a duke.”

Quickly he led her to her room and had a tub
of warm water delivered. She soaked in the tub, washing the salt
and sand from her skin and hair. As her hair dried, she perused her
closet and chose her outfit with care. The frocks looked like the
wardrobe of another woman—so stiff, so formal, so binding. The
clothes women wore when they were slaves to fashion, and other
peoples’ ideals.

Her former maid, Maya, was sent to her to
help her dress. Maya chatted away as she fitted her with layer
after layer of confining material. A corset. A chemise. Yards of
petticoats. Then embroidered silver satin with a full skirt and
train that weighed twenty pounds. By the time Gabrielle was
dressed, she felt trussed up like a Christmas goose, stuffing and
all.

But Maya’s words distracted her from her
discomfort. She told of how all the slaves knew of
Mkombozi’s
efforts on their behalf. How they knew the white
rebel girl had run away to fight by his side. She knew Gabrielle
had been to Africa. She knew everything, it seemed. She even
fingered the mark of the frigate bird in flight on the back of
Gabrielle’s right shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but Gabrielle
understood she knew the significance of that as well.

“All will aid
Mkombozi,
” she told
her.

As she was finally ready, her hair piled atop
her head in sensual curls, the jewels gleaming at her throat and
wrists, Kaninu reentered the room. Excitedly he said, “Now is your
chance,
Umbu
. The governor is in his den. The admiral is in
the drawing room. If you go to him quickly...”

But as she looked at herself in the mirror
one last time, she was overcome with a sudden strange pity for her
half brother. She thought of Rodrigo’s words:
He must love you
very much indeed.
Could there be something in his seemingly
worthless soul worth salvaging? Didn’t he deserve one last chance
to evade the noose that was at the end of her plan? In spite of
Rodrigo’s warning, she felt she must try to reach the one last
vestige of goodness that he might have left. Probably it would be
useless, but it would not be a huge risk. If he grew violent, all
she had to do was call out for the admiral. Even if that failed,
Jonah Fitch would go to the admiral for her. So why not at least
give Hastings his last chance?

She found him in the den. He stood there with
two of his henchmen. He looked severe in black evening clothes, his
black hair slicked back, his tailoring as impeccable as if he’d
just returned from Bond Street. Only the jittery fluttering of his
eyes hinted at his sinister character. There was a bit of the actor
in him as well. He could convince anyone he was the perfect English
gentleman, biding his time in the tropics while waiting to take his
rightful place as the Duke of Westbury.

His eyes flicked over her, taking in her
appearance. “I must say, dear Gabby, you seem to have an infinite
capacity to surprise me. Has our old friend Roderick sent you
packing?”

“I shan’t keep you long, Hastings. I’ll make
my business brief.”

“We have business?”

“I’ve come with dove in hand.”

“It’s an improvement, I must say, on wielding
a saber beneath my nose. But tell me, what prompts this sudden
charitable gesture?”

“Because underneath all this, we’re family. I
thought perhaps we could make a peace.”

“You know perfectly well I don’t accept you
as family. God only knows how many men your mother took to her
bed.”

With great effort, she suppressed her wrath,
assuming a calm and rational tone. “I’ve been doing a great deal of
thinking since we last met. I’ve realized that I’ve been wrong
about many things in my life. I was wrong about Rodrigo. I was
wrong about Beau Vallon. And I was probably wrong to raise poor,
dear Cullen the way I did...”

“Is there a point to this maudlin story?”

“So, I thought there might be some off chance
that I was wrong about you as well. That you might have a streak of
decency in you somewhere.”

Hastings perched his hip on the windowsill
and crossed an ankle over the other knee. “What are you saying,
Gabby? Haven’t you learned yet to come to the point?”

“The point is, I’ve come here to offer you a
way out of a desperate situation.”

Hastings looked at his henchmen and chuckled.
“Do I look like I’m in a desperate situation, gentlemen?”

“You will be when I get to Admiral Fulton and
tell him what I know about you,” Gabrielle stated.

Hastings grew quiet a moment, then whispered
a few private orders to his henchmen. As they left the den, he
turned back to her and said, in a serious tone, “What is your
offer?”

“Stop all your slaving activities. Give a
pardon to Rodrigo. Give him back his home on Fregate.”

“And what do I get in return for all this
charity?”

“The knowledge that you’ve prevented a war.
And our vow of silence regarding your nefarious activities.”

He considered her for some time. There was a
different look on his face than she’d ever seen before. A softer,
more open expression. “You’ve touched me tonight, Gabby. I’m taken
off guard.”

She felt a fluttering of hope. “Oh, Hastings,
if only you’d listen to reason about this. If only for once in your
life you could make a grand, magnanimous gesture.”

He seemed to be struggling with his decision.
She moved closer, took his hand in hers.

“And what if I were to say to you, my dear
Gabby, that I would do all this, but I ask one thing in return? Do
you love him enough to make the ultimate sacrifice?”

She snatched her hand away. “Don’t be
disgusting.”

“What if that’s the only way you could save
his life? By giving yourself to me?”

“And if I said yes, what would you do?”

“We’ll never know until you give me your
answer. I may take you up on it and let your lover go. And then
again...”

When he didn’t finish, she prompted
irritably, “Then again—?”

“Then again, I may just pity you for your
vanity and laugh in your face.”

“You despicable cad! I was right about you
all along. You
are
diseased.”

His face darkened. “That’s enough!”

“Oh, far from it! You’re a monster. You never
cared about anyone.”

“I cared about you,” he shrieked. “I came to
you and gave you my love and you spat in my face!”

She’d never seen him lose his composure so
completely. It took her a moment to formulate her next words.
“Well, dear brother, now’s your chance to prove it. If you really
love me, Hastings, if you care for me as deeply as you’ve professed
over the years, do as I ask. Not for your own personal gain. Not
because it will benefit you in any way. But because you love me.
And because, underneath it all, you really do have a human
heart.”

She could see the emotions battling across
his face. Slowly, he went to the door and opened it, gesturing his
henchmen in. He looked back at her thoughtfully, regarding her with
watery eyes, as if moved by her words. Then, smiling suddenly,
showing pointed teeth, he turned to his men. “Lock the bitch
up.”

Realizing what was happening, she quickly
began to call out for Admiral Fulton. But, unperturbed, Hastings
merely said, “Sorry to disappoint you, Gabby, but I’m afraid our
friend the admiral is enjoying, at my impromptu invitation, a tour
of the rear gardens in the moonlight.”

As the henchmen took her, he added to them,
“While you’re at it, lock up that scum that was seen lurking
outside. That Jonah Fitch.”

Hastings’s men took her under cover of
darkness up the hill from State House to Grand Trianon, an old
French plantation house overlooking L’Establishment—and the home of
one of Hastings’s French benefactors.

She was placed in a top corner bedroom with
the door locked behind her. Guards were posted outside and more
below her window, in case she attempted to climb out. She spent a
sleepless night cursing her foolish naiveté and trying to formulate
a plan.

The next morning, she was up before dawn to
get her first clear look out the window. The view from the chateau
was spectacular. She could look down the hill and see State House
surrounded by its flowering frangipani and bougainvillea. Further
on down the hill was the harbor, with its bounty of frigates riding
the tide. Across the harbor a cluster of small islands glistened
like jewels in the soft early morn.

Clouds had gathered on the mountaintops and
it began to rain. Undaunted, the contingent of guards stationed out
front kept their vigil. She could hear the sounds of the household
downstairs—maids cleaning, voices calling to one another as if they
didn’t have a prisoner cloistered above.

She settled in to wait. Hastings would have
to make the first move, and like any good actress, she’d take her
cue from him. She spent her time asking the same questions over
again. Why was he keeping her locked away on this hill? To keep her
from Admiral Fulton, no doubt. But why such a collection of guards?
Even if there was anyone to report to Rodrigo, it would take three
days for word to reach him, and for him to arrive at Mahé. He would
know Hastings was setting a trap, and wasn’t likely to obligingly
walk into it. What, then, could Hastings possibly have in mind?

She courted patience by watching the activity
of the harbor from her window. On the second day, three more naval
ships sailed into port. On the third, another two joined them. That
made twelve frigates lining up to go roust Rodrigo out of his den.
But still, Hastings kept her waiting. He didn’t even send word.
When she asked the guards, they said their orders were to keep her
here, nothing more.

But on the fourth day, something happened
that she’d never expected. A lone ship sailed into the harbor. This
time she rose from her chair and clutched the sill of her window.
For the new vessel was Arabic in design, sleek and beautifully
arrayed. On its bow were painted the words
El Paraiso
Segundo
. Rodrigo’s ship.

But what was it doing sailing boldly into
Mahé harbor in defiance of twelve naval vessels?

The sight of the ship stunned her. She’d
never expected rescue, yet it appeared Rodrigo was taking action
after all. Perhaps it was a ruse. To throw them off guard while he
slipped in and carted her off. It was clever, she’d grant him that.
Hastings would rush to the harbor, thinking he had his old enemy at
last, and meanwhile Rodrigo would be snatching Gabrielle behind the
governor’s back.