Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  “No problem, Doll. Enjoying the Old Market?”

  His smile managed to be both bright and lazy.

  “Yes. Most call me Dolly. Miss Dolly.”

  His tan coat looked twice his size, hard to do on a big man. The jacket was straight with no pleating or embroidery. “Hmm. Dolly is such a diminutive name, one fit for a child.”

  His gaze went up and down my dress. I had to check if my tunic strings had come undone.

  “I’m particular about what I’m called. Add Miss. We’re not that familiar.”

  “Pity about that, not being familiar.” He laughed. His cheeks held stains of red from the early hour or a night of drinking.

  “Nice bumping into you, sir.”

  Captain Thomas followed me. “Miss Doll, do you have your documents?”

  “Yes.” I pulled my copy of the signed agreement from my sack. “See.”

  “Is that all, lady?”

  I poked him in his solid chest. “What more do I need? These are all the documents Foden gave me.”

  Thomas put his palm on mine. “Now calm down. No one said that wasn’t enough. And no one is telling you that if a person wanted to invalidate this agreement, they might try to say it wasn’t your money that paid but Foden’s. That would mean no agreement at all.”

  It took all my strength to keep my breathing even.

  “Calm, Miss Doll.” His fingers tightened, steadying me. “You didn’t come with two long hands.”

  “What?”

  “A saying from home.” He waved empty palms. “I meant you earned your money. You need proof of earnings.”

  “Like a ledger, sir?”

  “Exactly like that, but nobody’s telling you this.”

  Sandy brown hair, sea-blue eyes, a little taller than I remembered from the docks—Captain Thomas seemed a good man, a nice-looking one. “Be careful, Miss Doll.”

  “It’s not fair. The monies paid are my own, by my sacrifice. My word should be enough.”

  “Not in a court of men who can twist legal precedents for their purposes. I should know, being a man and a scholar of the law.”

  If he meant his words as a joke or an omen, I wasn’t sure. “Why is nobody being helpful, especially since he’s a man?”

  “Foden was my friend, too. He told me about a hardworking, caring young woman who had big dreams. Seems a shame for fools to thwart her now.”

  “Thank you. I have to go home.”

  He tipped his hat, a slim cap of brown felt. “Good luck, Miss Doll. Don’t be late. Solicitor Bates likes to start on time.”

  After offering Thomas a parting smile, I scurried to the leased town house. My ledger was all the proof I had. It needed to be enough.

  Dominica 1784: Fear

  My family was still asleep in the town house when I returned to retrieve my ledger.

  Except Lizzy.

  She sat in the parlor with her feet curled on the sofa. “Is it done?”

  “Not yet.”

  She ducked her face onto her knees. She looked dainty in Charlotte’s lacy nightgown.

  I moved to the desk and grabbed my book, tucking it under my arm. I didn’t need to turn to know she stared at me. Didn’t need to search very far to know her questions. “It was a matter of life and death. That’s the only reason I didn’t take you with me or come back.”

  “You chose my aunt over me. And all these years, was it still life and death?”

  Her words were muffled in the lace, but I heard the ache in them.

  The years away.

  We’d never have them back. I had nothing to soothe her, nothing but the truth. “I had to earn the money to free us.”

  “My pa said you were wild. You didn’t like being told what to do.”

  “Why would my father say that? He knows I was a good daughter.”

  “I said my pa.”

  My gut clenched tight, twisting. She meant Nicholas. “Your pa’s the reason I left. Whatever he said is a lie. My brother is a liar.”

  Lizzy didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look at me either.

  “I have to go do what I set out to do, free us today. Then we’ll talk.”

  She didn’t respond, not till I was at the door.

  “If you come back, I’d love to hear.”

  Her voice had bitterness, but she had fifteen years of Nicholas’s poison to sour her.

  I didn’t slam the door but closed it with a soft click of the lock. I understood Lizzy’s feelings, even if they meant she hated me.

  More people were out in Roseau. My joy of seeing brown women in hats, freewomen, walking alongside the others, leaped in my heart. Lizzy would take her place with them. Then she’d forgive me. She’d have to.

  All my daughters would forgive me, one day.

  My steps picked up as I passed the government building. Soldiers were everywhere. These men ate and drank and danced through the night.

  Better that than starting up a war.

  The Holy Father needed to keep them calm and stir no rebellions. This place was special, more liberal than Demerara. Last week, I attended my first service in a church, Notre Dame du Bon Port.

  Indoor worship with a priest.

  I went at eleven for the enslaved, next week I’ll go at nine with the free people.

  God was closer to me here than anywhere. This had to be the place to start over, start over my business, start over my heart without Cells.

  Turning down one path then another, I stumbled near a well in the middle of the cobbled market. A stone wall supported a thatched roof and a bucket. The water looked cool, but on this hot day, no one drank.

  That had to be an omen, a bad one.

  I backed away, the heated air whipping my face. I made my boots follow the wind. It led me down an alley to a small building with blue shutters.

  The hand-painted sign looked like squiggles, but the number on the door was twenty-four. With a quick knock, I went inside. A young man at a close desk sprung up. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Bates. Mr. Charles Bates.”

  “You’re Dorothy Kirwan?”

  “Yes.”

  The man looked stunned.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Miss Kirwan is mulatto. You’re not—”

  “Tell that to my pa, Andrew Kirwan. I suspect he’ll be here to finish the paperwork for my ransom.”

  The man kept staring. I suppose I was used to it, how aware folks were of my skin, but my black was beautiful, supple with coconut oil, and now adorned in fine linen and silk. Respect. Today, going forward, I’d remember I’d earned it. “Go tell Mr.—”

  Pa came through the door. “Dolly, you’re on time. Of course you would be today.”

  The young clerk backed up; he may have even bowed. “Sorry, miss. I’ll go tell Mr. Bates.”

  The fellow ducked into a room and closed the door behind him.

  “Dolly, is there a problem?”

  “No, Pa. They just don’t know me here. I’ll have to fix that.”

  “You plan on staying in Roseau?”

  The wind, the church, Foden’s influence said this was for me. “Yes.”

  The clerk stepped out of the room and said to us, “They’ll see you now.”

  I started down the hall, but Pa stepped in front. “I want you to convince your mother and Lizzy to come back to Montserrat.”

  “Kitty and Charlotte and Edward haven’t had enough time with them. Me neither.”

  “Then all of you should come back.”

  Did I shrug, did my face fall off and shatter? Not sure. I’d watched Cells hold his tongue with his politicking, but I wasn’t him. “Can we talk of this later?”

  “Fine.” His heavier footfalls passed mine. We headed into the room.

  Then my world ended, shattering like it had years ago.

  Nicholas sat at the table, waiting for me, smiling like he’d won.

  Dominica 1784: Free

  Blinking, I held on to Mr. Bates’s long
pine table and dropped into a chair. The pea-green walls seemed to close as my gaze locked with Nicholas’s.

  The scar Kitty left on his cheek was jagged and long. Time had darkened it, marking him with ugly, more ugly. At least we left him something to memorialize his evil. I’d cut him again for the lies he told my daughter.

  “Let’s proceed.” Mr. Bates, a man with small eyes, no jacket, just a shirt, a gray waistcoat, and pantaloons, stacked papers with his fat fingers.

  Nicholas sneered and tugged his thick shirtsleeves. “This gambit is illegal. Pa should keep her money and the chattel.”

  Why was my rapist here, speaking?

  Before I could spit or curse or scream, the door behind me opened.

  In strolled Captain Thomas with another man. “Mr. Bates, I’m sorry to be late, but the second witness to these transactions, Mr. Frasier here, was a little lost.”

  Frasier was a round, older man. He sat beside me on the left, Thomas on my right.

  The captain looked different from this morning. With his hair parted in the middle, combed and tied back with an indigo ribbon, he looked like a gentleman. I approved of his matching waistcoat and shiny brass buttons.

  He scooped my ledger book from my sweaty fingers, then caught Pa’s gaze. “Good to see you, Mr. Kirwan. This must be your son Nicholas, the former owner of Miss Dorothy.”

  “Nicholas never owned me, but he tried.”

  My brother’s green eyes flashed, but the captain laughed.

  “Miss Kirwan, you’ve met Mr. Bates, the head of the practice.”

  I stuck my hand out to him, but he didn’t grasp it. “Mr. Foden spoke well of you. I hope his faith was not misplaced.”

  Burly Mr. Bates sat back, his gaze narrowing behind his brass spectacles. “He was an excellent man.”

  Nicholas pushed back in his chair. “Bates, your partner, Bradshaw, should be here. Let’s push this off until Bradshaw returns.”

  “No, Mr. Kirwan,” Mr. Bates said. “Frasier is capable of conducting this. He’s assisted on others.”

  “This is a farce.” Nicholas pounded the table. “There’s no way she paid with her own money. She has none. And she couldn’t make enough whoring.”

  “Stop, boy.” Pa caught the fool’s shoulder. “Let Dolly have her say.”

  “She’s a runaway. She should have no say. Any money she’s earned, even the fortune Foden left her, should be ours.”

  “I can’t be a runaway if Pa knew where I was. Right, Pa?” I stared and begged with my eyes. Show them all the father who loved me. Be a fair man today.

  In what felt like a year’s time, he slowly nodded. “I knew where she was. It was safer for her to be in Demerara, until everyone had cooler heads.”

  “Cooler heads? My brother had violent lust for me. He tried to sell off my sister. How could anything be calm?”

  Pa dropped his head. “Please say no more. It’s the past.”

  That’s how planters escaped consequences? Just put enough time between their crimes? “All is not forgiven. It never will be.”

  Nicholas gripped the table like he’d turn it over. “The whore didn’t pay us. That was Foden’s money. She’s using his death. She’ll say or do anything to cheat.”

  Thomas took papers from his jacket. “It states plainly that Foden was of sound mind when he wrote his will. He left her a third of his estate and worldly goods like his teapot.”

  “A lovely silver service.” My anger became awash in sorrows. The list in my head of the wrongs done, done to me, by my blood was so long. “That man was better to me than my own flesh.” Better than the man I loved.

  Mr. Bates rotated a piece of parchment and pointed to a clause, some squiggle of ink. “We don’t have proof that she paid the funds. It has to be separate from the monies of Foden’s estate.”

  They all looked at me with judgment in their faces. Nothing black like me could have power or earn money or deserve freedom.

  Thomas thumbed through my ledger. “The money was paid. The amount agreed to by all parties. There should be no question of the validity of Doll’s . . . of Dorothy Kirwan’s claim.”

  Mr. Frasier shook his head. “That’s a nice sentiment. Admirable that Andrew Kirwan the father agrees, but Nicholas Kirwan raises valid objections. If the money was not hers but actually Foden’s, then she is property of the late man’s estate.”

  “The estate in which she was left a third?” Captain Thomas laughed. “You’re suggesting she inherits a third of herself? Come now, gentlemen.”

  Men were talking, pointing to squiggles like I wasn’t in the room.

  But I was.

  I took my ledger back from Thomas and slammed it to the table. “I have proof of my wages earned as Foden’s housekeeper. Every bit and fourpence, for you British, guilders for those that know Dutch. You can see my entries of payments and even Mr. Foden’s initials, everything earned as his housekeeper plus the income from the housekeepers I hired out.”

  Nicholas drummed the table. “You illiterate whore. How could you ever have a ledger?”

  “Because of my pa. He taught me figures. Pa, tell him of your dreams for me.”

  “She’s right,” my pa said. “And now I want for you all to come to Montserrat.”

  “See, Nicholas, you adharcáilí fool. You couldn’t hold up your part of the bargain. You couldn’t do school right. You couldn’t do right on Pa’s plantation. Everything you try, may it always be a curse to you.”

  He sputtered and made a fist as he leapt up. Thomas bounced up, too, and shielded me. “Kirwan, get your boy under control. We’re conducting business.”

  Frasier pushed back in his chair. “Sounds like a lovers’ spat.”

  The ugly laugh falling from my lips made Frasier wince. “Is a man a lover if he beats you bloody, cursing at you to hold still? No wonder you men pray so much to soothe your little souls. Calling rape a coupling, a lovers’ spat? May God have pity on you and your households.”

  Frasier looked down; his fingers clenched the chair arm. “I . . . I heard you bore him a fine daughter, barely any color in her.”

  If I slapped him, I’d be imprisoned. Better to hurt him like the priests did. “Mr. Frasier, when your days are up, remember to tell God why you ignored the screams of women. See if He thinks the pretty children make it all right.”

  “Miss Doll,” Thomas said. “We need to proceed. How these gentlemen sleep is not your worry.”

  His eyes pleaded for calm, but this still needed to be said. “If my rights are to be denied by these men, I want them to burn for their sins.” My gaze locked on Pa. He wasn’t to be spared. Never would I set foot on his plantation again, unless it was to set it aflame like I’d wanted all those years ago.

  As if he’d heard nothing, Bates lifted his head from my ledger. “This is a tally of wages, but the numbers are wrong.”

  My heart stopped.

  Nicholas’s laugh punch into my chest. “That chin will lower yet, Dolly.”

  Bates passed my book to the captain. “Seems as there’s an underpayment. She’s owed an additional fourpence by the Foden estate. You didn’t receive your payment for the week the good man died.”

  Breathe, I could do it again. The past, the nightmares of my suffering unwrapped from my lungs. I sounded like Edward’s whistle snores. “A lot happened that week.”

  I shoved the ledger to Mr. Bates. “But my numbers are right. You need to count again.”

  The captain tugged my hand. “Dolly, he just said—”

  “Count again.” I didn’t lower my voice, didn’t defer to the captain. No more to any man, I pressed forward.

  Bates did. I heard him counting. “She’s right. Though she’s due an additional fourpence, the amount Miss Kirwan tabulated is right. Foden’s mark is noted where she loaned him two hundred pounds.”

  I smiled and showed off my teeth. “That’s 441 guilders.”

  Pa slapped the table. “Of course she’d have those numbers right. My daughter would.�
��

  A glance at his smile made me clutch the chair arm. All I knew was Pa left me, left me when I needed him, left me like Cells.

  Nicholas groaned, his red face burning. “This is illegal. Father, stop her. Rescind—”

  “Hush, fool.” I turned to Bates. “Now that the challenges are done, I need deeds for Edward Cells, Charlotte Kirwan, Elizabeth Kirwan, Betty, and me, Dorothy Kirwan. And I paid the fees to manumit Kitty Kirwan. I had an agent buy her at auction for me. The receipt is in the front of the ledger.”

  Mr. Bates shuffled his paper again. “What’s Betty’s surname?”

  “My ma was never given one.”

  “Kirwan,” Pa said slow, as if he’d thought long and hard. “Kirwan should be the name.”

  Pa’s dimples had sunken, wrinkled with years of regret. If he’d loved Mamaí more than himself, he would’ve given her that name proper.

  Thomas inspected Mr. Bates’s documents. He signed and had Frasier do the same. Then passed them to Pa.

  When he was done, the pages slid to me.

  It had many squiggles, but I saw a word, not freedom but manumit. It was good enough. I took the quill, dipped it freshly in the well of ink, and put my mark to the paper.

  The captain took the documents and gave them to Mr. Bates. “The deeds are done, Dorothy Kirwan. You are a freewoman.”

  Mr. Bates arose. “The witnesses have now formally attested. Congratulations.”

  Part of me was afraid to touch the parchment he extended. “These deeds will be recorded, Mr. Bates? The British government will know this has happened?”

  “Yes, ma’am. This is proof for all the king’s colonies.”

  “That means Montserrat, too, Dolly.” Pa’s voice sounded sad, but I had no care of it. He should’ve done this years ago. He should’ve been the one to make things right.

  Nicholas tore away from the table. If he thought about hitting me, the way Thomas leapt up made the fool back up.

  A curse was on Nicholas’s lips, but he kept it to himself. He pounded through the door and never looked back.

  I wouldn’t fret about him anymore. I was free. Mamaí too. All my children, except Catharina, were legally free, but Cells’s deception took care of that.