Virginia Henley (33 page)

“That’s a lie!” the woman snarled, but quickly retreated as Colossus took a step toward her.

“How’re you gonna sell this fancy wench if she’s half dead?”

Logan bethought himself of the demand for fancies lately, and if he livened her up a bit, he would be able to get a better price.

“Calm down, boy, we’ll look after the wench. Woman, you get this boy a good breakfast—double portions of everything, mind you. I’m taking him up to Chalmers Street for the auctions today. This gal now is another thing altogether. Her stomach is delicate-like. Bring her some juice and some fresh fruit. Then I want you to fill a tub for her to bathe in and wash her hair. You cheat me again, woman, it be the last time you ever cheat anybody.”

It was late afternoon when Logan took Kitty down Chalmers Street to the slave auction. She entered the compound with the other black women who were to be sold. A young girl was up on the auction block and Kitty watched with fascinated horror as the girl was stripped and handled by prospective buyers. She could never go through such degradation;
she felt sure she would die first. Shortly, Logan returned with a man who took a critical interest in her. She heard him say, “You sure she’s black?”

“Got her papers here to prove it,” Logan assured him, but they winked at each other.

“I’m always on the lookout for girls for Molly Maguire. Don’t find many, her being so particular, but this one is exquisite. Let’s talk price.”

When the other man led Kitty away, all she felt was a vast relief that she hadn’t been made to mount the auction block. They walked over to Market Street, then down to the foot of Water Street Pier. Kitty looked in vain for Big Jim Harding. She was led onto a ship called
Island Queen.
He put her in a tiny cabin with one other girl who was very slim and tall with jet-black skin. When Kitty spoke to her, she answered in a foreign tongue, so Kitty gave it up.

It became warmer each day, but the sea was never rough enough to make Kitty sick again, and with regular meals and plenty of sleep, she was beginning to feel quite recovered. The other girl did not speak to her, but held herself aloof from any contact with her fellow passenger. Kitty was quietly gathering strength for the ordeal ahead. By now she suspected she was being shipped to a brothel, and she would need her strength and agility to make a break for it. She filled her mind with happy musings about the child she was carrying to block out thoughts of her future.

But when land was sighted, she knew her time was running out. In a desperate move, she cried out to the ship’s captain one day when she passed him on deck. “Please, sir, please, you must believe me. I’m white, I shouldn’t be here. Help me, please help me!” she begged.

“Do you take me for a fool, woman? You’ve been sold to Molly McGuire’s whorehouse. The fanciest knocking shops
in the islands are here on St. Kitts. Now, out of my way; we’re about to come into harbor.”

“St. Kitts,” said Kitty wonderingly, and her eyes lifted across the ship’s rail to where tiny boats dotted the harbor. Great rollers were breaking on the beach between long jetties where porters and ship’s clerks milled about, waiting to meet the ships. Her eyes swept the town of Basseterre and beyond to the north, where Mount Misery reached into the clouds. Hope budded and blossomed inside her chest. Surely St. Kitts meant Charles Drago!

Kitty and her companion were taken into a small warehouse office and locked in a cell with bars. After about an hour, Kitty felt the heaviness of her pregnancy and clutched the bars to keep herself upright. The sound of a woman’s laughter reached her ears, and a small party came into the office.

“I’ll take their papers from you, boyo, when I’ve had a look at the bloody merchandise! God almighty, don’t tell me they’re both flaming well colored,” she said with a tinge of disgust.

“Now, Molly, I didn’t know you had anything against colored gals,” the captain said with disbelief.

“Oh, flaming hell, of course not, it’s just that men always have contempt for what there’s too many of, and on St. Kitts there’s just a shade too many colored gals.” At the sound of the Irish brogue, Kitty broke down in tears.

“Don’t cry,
acushla.
Welcome to the Paris of the West Indies.”

“Mavourneen”
was all Kitty could whisper.

“That’s Gaelic! You’re Irish! What the flaming hell are you doing here?”

Kitty’s Gypsy blood pounded in her veins as she lied, “Charles Drago, the governor of this island, is my fiance. I
sailed from England to join him and I was kidnaped. Please, if you will get word to Charles that I am here, he will reward you generously, I’m certain.”

Molly knew Charles Drago from the years when he was first sent out as governor. He’d been a frequent visitor at her establishment, but she hadn’t seen him in well over a year, she was sure. Molly made a quick decision. If Charles Drago acknowledged this young woman in the orange cotton shift, who was literally barefoot and pregnant, she must indeed mean a great deal to him. It would pay her to be as discreet as possible. She couldn’t embarrass the governor by visiting him openly, so she decided to stay with the girl and send a note to the back door of Government House with her man, Jean-Paul.

It amused Molly to think an Irish waif could capture the heart of the governor and perhaps become a duchess. As they waited, Molly wondered how they would discreetly convey Kitty to the governor’s mansion without so much as a cloak to cover a multitude of sins.

Charles Drago swiftly made his way from his carriage into the warehouse office. “Kathleen! This fellow was telling me the truth after all. I can’t believe it!”

“Oh, Charles, thank God you came so quickly. Oh, my God, I can’t believe it’s over,” she cried.

He put a protective arm about her and spoke to Molly in a warm, natural manner. “I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Maguire. I’ll send my man of business around tomorrow. You’ll never regret this kindness. My word on it.”

Without a thought for embarrassment, Charles picked up Kitty and strode outside. He helped her into the carriage and jumped in beside her.

“Charles, let me explain how I come to be in such a predicament.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, and we’re
certainly not going to have explanations until you are completely recovered.” He smiled happily. “My governorship lasts another six months, so you’re going to be stuck with me that long anyway.”

“Oh, Charles, words fail me. I just don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Enjoy the beautiful view. See, there’s the cathedral. It’s the building with two turrets. The houses here are called chateaux; notice they all have red tiled roofs and no glass in the windows. That’s to catch the cool breezes off the sea. Why am I running on like this when I can see all you need is a bed? You’re close to exhaustion.”

“When I’m stronger, you can show me everything. I know I’ll love it here.”

The governor’s residence was a startling white with a terra-cotta-tiled roof. At the front, royal palms waved in the cool breeze from the sea. There was no glass in the windows; instead, jalousies were used as shutters if the evening became too cool. In the center of the house was a tiled courtyard with a splashing fountain. Brilliant flowers banked the courtyard; tubs overflowed orange lily, and hanging baskets trailed purple and pink bougainvillea everywhere. Her steps were reluctant as she hesitated to meet the staff unkempt as she was, but Charles took her hand and propelled her through to a delightfully cool sitting room.

The servants were friendly and showed a desire to please, which put Kitty at ease immediately. They spoke some English and Kitty decided she would try to learn some French. The bathroom had a square sunken bath with beautifully ornate faucets. The warm, perfumed water filled the room with an exotic, heady fragrance and they left her to relax and went in search of a garment in which she could sleep. As her tensions melted, the tears slipped down her cheeks and she became engulfed with great shuddering sobs. Charles heard
and stayed the servants from going to her assistance. He realized that all the pent-up fears connected with her ordeal would be better out than in. Eventually she became still. The girls helped her into a white silk shift and led her to a bedchamber.

“Please don’t burn my orange smock. I want to keep it lest I forget one moment of my slavery.”

“I wash and iron and wrap up in parcel,” the girl called Mimi said.

“No!” said Kitty. “I want it just the way it is, stained and filthy!”

She sank against the pillows and looked about her at the light furniture. The bedroom suite was made from bamboo. Kitty could sense the exquisite taste of these furnishings when she compared them to the heavy, dark pieces of Victorian furniture she had always seen in England.

Charles came through the doorway with a tray in his hands. Before she could protest he appealed to her generosity.

“Please don’t banish me to dine alone another evening; I swear I’ll run mad if you do. I promise not to force any food upon you. However, if there’s anything on the tray you fancy, I’ll look the other way while you help yourself.” Without any embarrassment, he perched on the side of her bed as if they had lived together for years. He got her to try the matoutou of crab, the chicken with coconut, and mangoes simmered in wine and cinnamon. “Well, what do you think?” he prompted.

She laughed and said, “It’s all far too rich, you know.”

“Kathleen, you are so refreshing. My guests fill my ears with flattering compliments for my cuisine here at Government House, but now that you’ve brought it to my attention, they are rather indigestible messes!”

Kitty laughed, then covered a yawn daintily.

“You’re tired; I’ll leave you now. Good night, my dear. I am so delighted to have you here.”

When she was alone, she couldn’t dispel thoughts of Patrick. Since the first moment she had seen him, she had been determined to marry him, and because of that she had made a mess of her life. First, her disastrous marriage, then her flight across the ocean when she learned she was carrying his child. He hadn’t wanted her on her terms, but she had to admit he’d been honest and warned her that he would marry someone who would at least bring him a bleachworks. Well, he’d be getting a plantation now, but at the thought of the woman who went with it, her blood ran cold. God help him! Well, she gambled and she had lost, but at least she had the best part of him. Her hand slid over the mound the child inside her made. Her love for this baby was fierce and protective. She was bitter against Patrick and she hated the Frenchwoman, but she had to be honest with herself. She could not hate Patrick, because she loved him.

The next few days blurred together for Kitty, with lots of bed rest and exotic food. Charles had found a new purpose in life. The months that were left of his governorship had stretched endlessly before him, but now he couldn’t leave his office fast enough each day. As soon as he got rid of each visitor, his thoughts returned to Kitty. He imagined he knew the panic she must have felt when she discovered she was with child by a husband who was in his grave. A hypocritical society would point a shameful finger at a young widow growing large with child, and she had fled rather than face the gossip. He had a hammock slung between two shade trees in the garden and often watched her swing lazily with a deep contentment.

His footsteps quickened as he left his office and hurried down the corridor toward the sitting room. He discerned tears in her eyes. “My dear, please don’t cry.” He took her
hand and gently led her to a settee. “I know you must grieve unbearably for your young husband, especially when you think about his child, whom he never will be able to see, but it does no good to dwell on these things.”

Kitty was speechless for a moment. Then she realized Charles thought her child was a result of her marriage. It was a perfectly natural assumption.

How shocked he would be if he knew the truth, she thought. “I didn’t mean to greet you with tears, Charles.” She arose but kept hold of his hand. “Come and see what’s for dinner. I’ve been giving instructions all the afternoon.”

They were served roast fowl. “You’ve no idea how strangely they looked at me in the kitchen when I insisted it should be cooked without all that oil and garlic.”

“I know exactly what you mean. We have such beautiful fresh fish available, but instead of poaching it or broiling it, they disguise it with such rich sauces, my palate was ruined in no time.”

“We are going to have fruit salad made with bananas and what’s that other fruit called that’s yellow and tangy?” “Pineapple, I think you mean.”

“Yes, pineapple! Isn’t that a delightful name?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long moment. “Kathleen, you are beautiful. I’d quite begun to hate this place, but it seems to suit you very well; you’re positively blooming. What do you like about St. Kitts?”

“Oh, it’s so different, Charles. For instance, look at this beautiful white batiste dress. The material is so delicate. I adore wearing white; it’s such a contrast from the dark clothes we wear at home. The colors here are so brilliant. I remember when I saw Lancashire for the first time, everything was black.” She laughed as she went on. “The food is unusual, the native people are delightful and I’ve been trying to learn French.” He poured her some rum and she held up
her hand and said, “Just a
soupçon,”
and they both laughed. “I’m looking forward to exploring the island and seeing the volcano”—she lowered her eyes—“of course, I mean after the baby is born.”

“I want to talk to you about that, Kathleen. Come into the garden with me.” He placed a shawl about her and led her into the fragrant evening. “I think we’d better let my doctor have a look at you. I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think the time is drawing near.”

“I’m not alarmed, Charles. I’m frightened of the pain, of course, but I want this baby so much, I can hardly bear to wait.”

“Kathleen, I want to give this child my name.”

“Oh, Charles, I realize how difficult it must be for you. Everyone you know must be whispering about me being here, but it’s too big a sacrifice just for propriety’s sake.”