Chapter 20
JAMAICA – RIVERMEAD – THE KILDARE PLANTATION
Lady Lochranza Kildare was not dead!
In a fit of rage, Peter Kildare flung the crystal glass in his hand out through the open window. The sound of it smashing to smithereens carried into the cool room, where overhead fans disturbed the air.
His brother, Arthur, looked totally astounded.
‘I cannot believe it.’
Unlike his brother he did not fling the glass out of the window but drained it and poured himself a refill.
The slave who had brought the message backed out of the room, his eyes nervously switching from one brother to the other.
‘I was looking forward to dividing my time between Cleveland Court and here,’ said Arthur, who was lounging in a chair, one leg flung nonchalantly over the chair arm. ‘But hey ho. Such is life.’ Another swig of claret followed.
There was contempt in the twisting of his brother’s mouth, the spitting of words that followed.
‘Do you think I’ve gone through all this trouble to give up now?
’ He shook his head, his eyes blazing with the zeal of a man determined to lay hands on whatever he wanted.
And he wanted Cleveland Court. He wanted the title.
‘It’s a shame.’
‘Shame!’ Peter screeched the word at his brother.
Arthur leaned as far away from Peter’s angry countenance as he could get.
It wasn’t far. His brother rested his hands on the arms of the chair.
Consequently, Arthur banged his head against the back of the chair.
Half the claret in his glass splattered his waistcoat. ‘What do you mean, shame?’
Arthur’s lower lip trembled as he sought something soothing to say, something his brother might countenance as an intelligent and legitimate remark.
‘What I mean to say is, I find it a bit off that he’s leaving everything to a woman.
Leaving it to one’s son – whether born one side of the blanket or the other – is one thing. But a girl?’
Peter shook his head. Sometimes his brother just didn’t get it.
‘You don’t see what he’s doing. He’s jumping over our claim and handing our inheritance and that girl to MacKinnon.
The Kildare family will no longer be the owners of Cleveland Court and everything that goes with it.
It’ll be MacKinnon. Do you get that, you dunderhead! You fool. You idiot.’
Each piece of name calling was accompanied with a slap of the younger brother’s right cheek.
Looking hurt and fingering his bright red cheek, Arthur quietly asked his brother what he intended doing.
Peter’s face stiffened into demonic angles, mirroring the equally devilish intentions in his heart. ‘I won’t allow it to happen. One way or another, I will have what belongs to me. If I have to kill her, then so be it. If I have to kill him, well I’ll do that too.’
Arthur fearfully eyed his older brother, thinking him mad, wanting to get out from beneath his shadow, but afraid that he never would.
* * *
Virginia
Ethan came riding home on a rangy chestnut named Pegasus.
The name was told to Lochranza by Helen before she’d gone downstairs.
‘It’s quite a stallion.’ She giggled. ‘The man and horse.’
Ignoring the lewd comment and determined to make an impression that he would remember for all time, she wore the same dress she’d worn that night when they’d first met at Cleveland Court.
She’d even found the same strip of sea-green silk to tangle in her hair.
Her shoulders were bare, and although she pulled at the bodice of her empire-line dress to more deftly cover her décolletage, it had to stay as it was.
Ethan’s eyes lit up for a moment when he saw her, before a closed, guarded look took over.
‘Lochranza! At last.’
He kissed her politely on each cheek, his hands resting on her shoulders.
‘I expected you sooner. There was nobody here when I arrived.’
‘I wasn’t sure when you were likely to arrive after you were so unavoidably detained.’
She felt her cheeks warming. ‘You know all about it.’
‘Yes,’ he said in a clipped manner. ‘I understand we have a certain Captain Crabbe to thank for your rescue.’
‘And Captain O’Neill. I believe he may be known to you?’
Ethan nodded. ‘Yes. We will talk later.’
She sensed from his manner that he was displeased by what had happened.
It was in her nature to tackle problems straight away, to apply a salve to bad feelings by talking things through.
On this occasion, she would forgo being her usual self.
There was so much to discuss and explain, besides which he had travelled far.
She agreed that they would talk later and smiled sweetly, as though every subject they touched on would be a joyful one.
* * *
At dinner in the presence of servants, they discussed their coming marriage, Moira also sitting at the table.
‘We must arrange the wedding, of course. I suppose you’ve brought a dress with you?’
‘I have, and those lovely daughters of Jove are going to help me with the arrangements, though I have told them sewing needle and thread are foreign implements to me. I’ve never sewn a stitch in my life. They’re lovely girls, aren’t they? Especially Venus. Such a very pretty girl, don’t you think?’
There it was. All she had to do now was await his reaction. She eyed him from beneath lowered lids.
‘Yes,’ he said, pausing just a heartbeat too long before responding. ‘She is.’
After dinner, in the privacy of his study, he asked her to tell him all that had happened.
‘It was quite an adventure and entirely unexpected. A ruse was concocted whereby I was conveyed on the wrong ship. Dutch, but not the one that should have carried me to Virginia.’
He nodded. ‘I have made enquiries. I think one of your brothers had something to do with it.’
‘My brother?’
‘Arthur. Or Peter. It matters little which one.’
The brothers she had never met.
‘Why would they do that?’
‘Your uncle is very wealthy.’
‘The captain said his name was Van der Pohl.’
‘His real name was DeVere.’
‘You knew that?’
‘I do now.’
She studied this man she was supposed to be marrying. He was so like her uncle, aware of everything that was going on even before it happened.
‘Go on,’ he said, somewhat morosely whilst rolling a cigar between his fingers.
She told him of the house they were taken to in New Orleans, of the man who called himself the Marquis.
‘I was drugged and paraded in front of a gathering of men of means. They bid for me.’
She saw his jaw tighten. So even Ethan MacKinnon could feel jealous!
‘And then what?’
His tone was cold, not so much because he was unfeeling, but because he had to keep his emotions under control until he knew the truth.
‘I was purchased – or at least I would have been purchased – by a French gentleman. He was not a roué. I’m sure he wasn’t. He looked like a bureaucrat, and Captain Crabbe says—’
‘Ah yes. Captain Crabbe.’
‘Yes. He said that the Frenchman was something to do with the French government. He spoke to him beforehand.’
Ethan remained silent as he sifted his thoughts.
‘Nobody molested you?’
She shook her head. ‘Nobody.’
She fancied both anger and envy flashed in his eyes.
‘I hear Captain Crabbe is something of a ladies’ man. Handsome. An American.’
‘Yes. An American. Just like you? Isn’t that what you want to be?’
He looked up when she said that and saw the mockery in her smile.
‘You are quite a woman, Lady Lochranza Kildare. Quite a woman!’
It was too soon to bring up the subject of Venus. They had reached a happy balance and for now Lochranza wished to keep things that way. A few days and she would mention the girl – and question his reluctance to let her go.
If it was merely a question of purchasing the girl’s freedom, then she would do that. What price freedom compared to the evil that was slavery? It was only a small effort, one slave compared to so many, but perhaps a start, like a small ripple on a pound.
* * *
Ethan was escorting her to dinner the following evening when Venus crossed their path. The girl curtsied.
‘Welcome home,’ she said to him, then scurried off. It was an odd meeting, the girl raising her dark eyes as though there was a secret that only she and Ethan knew.
Perhaps Lochranza would have mentioned buying the girl’s freedom if the sound of a galloping horse hadn’t disturbed the evening’s calm.
Letting go her arm, Ethan headed out of the dining room. Lochranza, determined to know what was going on, followed him.
Jove announced the man as Lieutenant Wellow.
‘I’ve provided him a drink of water, sir, and put him in the library.’
Ethan turned to Lochranza. ‘I won’t be long.’
She’d caught a glimpse of man and horse skidding to a dusty standstill outside the rank of windows that ran the length of the front of the house. Rider and horse had been covered in dust. He’d ridden hard. She knew that much, but from where and why she hadn’t a clue.
Jove answered her unspoken question. ‘The soldier boys from Fort Charlotte. There’s trouble there. Indian trouble, I shouldn’t wonder.’
Lochranza noticed the look of defiance, the proudly held head. Not like Helen who always hung her head when she spoke, as though she were speaking to the ground. Jove did not bend his head. Not for her. Not for anyone.
‘You know a lot, Jove. Have you ever been there? Fort Charlotte I mean?’
His eyes, glassy and heavily lidded like a snake that was about to strike, looked at her as though she’d just crawled out from under a stone.
‘I’m just a slave,’ he replied in a clipped, hard tone. ‘I ain’t allowed to go wandering around and I wouldn’t want to wander up there anyways. It’s full of redskins.’
‘You didn’t bother with permission in the days before they did that,’ she said pointedly whilst indicating his hamstrung leg.
His features stiffened. The light in his eyes dulled as though he were turning inwards to his thoughts. ‘I didn’t have no girls to look after in them days.’
He turned to go. Lochranza called him back.
‘What happened to your wife?’
‘Cholera.’
Ethan was pacing up and down in front of the window. Lieutenant Wellow was gulping down a second glass of water.