Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  He’d stopped coughing. Mamaí had made him something from the garden she’d started out back.

  Wrapping my blanket about me, I went down the stairs. The town house had a rare chill.

  Something was off in me.

  I felt buffeted about like a boat in the sea looking for land in a storm. Lizzy and I weren’t any better unless we talked Coxall. She didn’t want a mother, or me as a friend either.

  Through the parlor window I saw Mamaí on the porch. She burned a candle, and the flame cast her shadow on the rail.

  I went out and sat in the empty chair, the one Pa used to court her. “You couldn’t sleep either, Mamaí?”

  She nodded. “I missed you calling me that.”

  She sipped a mug of tea and stared straight ahead.

  From our position on Hancock there wasn’t much to see, just more walls of town houses.

  “A soldier marched past again.” She tapped her fingers. “That makes four tonight. That war in the seas has put everything in British control. I like the French better.”

  How would Mamaí have a side in war not fought in Montserrat? Cells always sought to be on the British side. Maybe they’d prove him right in Demerara in time. “More soldiers could be a good thing. They need goods. Remember when you made blankets for me to sell?”

  “You’re free, Dolly. You can’t be huckstering.”

  “Mercantilism. I made a lot of money hiring out housekeepers.”

  Mamaí stared forward as the redcoats passed.

  “I’m not going to fret about them. I have our papers. We are free.”

  “Dolly, you think men with guns will take the time to read?”

  “Then I’ll have to become important, powerful enough they’ll know me.”

  “If anyone could do it, you will.” Mamaí sipped on her tea. “They don’t put their estate houses on much land.”

  “Farther into the hills are the plantations. We’re too close to shore. I don’t want an estate until I can rival the Hermitage.”

  “That would be John Coseveldt Cells’s Hermitage?” Her voice was low, but I didn’t miss any of the sharpness in saying that man’s name.

  “Demerara, Mamaí. Cells took Kitty and me to his plantation.”

  A long silence enveloped us, before she grasped my hand. “Charlotte and Edward are lovely.”

  “I’ve chosen to give myself to men, but nothing was taken. Edward is Cells’s. Charlotte’s not. She’s a Kirwan.”

  “Tarn bastard makes pretty children. The fool should rot in hell. When he discovered that you’d gone and that Cells bought Kitty . . .” She folded her arms about her. “He’d have killed you if he caught you.”

  I’d never heard her say harsh words. I sort of liked it. “Did Nicholas hurt you? Did he touch Lizzy?”

  “No. Your pa came back and moved us into the big house. Massa Kirwan was good to us when famine hit Montserrat.”

  Famine? Thinking of Cells’s decadent parties, even the wastefulness made me nauseous. I held my stomach. “Mamaí, how do I make it up to her?”

  “Don’t try. She’s unharmed. She’s had tutors and can read and write. When she caught the eye of Coxall’s son, your pa made them understand she wasn’t for sale, made sure she knew British etiquette. She’ll make a good wife. The boy loves her so.”

  There wouldn’t be a marriage. Thomas had explained what I knew, that the Catholic Church, our church, hadn’t legally sanctioned marriage between races. If Coxall had a little Black blood . . . “A contract will keep her protected.”

  “You could’ve freed yourself a long time ago, Dolly. Your dreaming made Lizzy’s world better.”

  The press of her lips trembled. A lone tear trailed her cheek. “Kitty. My youngest. She—”

  “She’s happy, Mamaí. She’s safe in the world she built.”

  Mamaí drew me to her, kept me from falling down that hole of guilt. It was bottomless in my chest. “She doesn’t have nightmares anymore, none like mine.”

  She kissed my crown where my braids had fallen. “You going to see Cells again? You have a child by him. At least he let you grow up before he started in on you?”

  “He never forced me. I loved him, but he has a life in London he had to return to.” I wanted to tell her of Catharina, but shame kept that secret buried on my tongue.

  “Cells couldn’t have you in his world and keep his.”

  Mamaí knew? Of course she would, being friends with Mrs. Ben. “Who birthed him?”

  “Mrs. Ben’s daughter. She died in childbirth. Mrs. Cells mourned her own stillborn and forgave her lousy husband with that white-as-a-ghost babe.”

  “He was taught to lie. And that pale skin matters more.”

  “It’s how it is. It’s survival.”

  I raise my head. “Then I need to prove skin don’t matter at all.”

  “That sounds like my Dolly.”

  I closed my eyes, savoring the comfort of her warm weathered hand on my brow. I could win, win bigger with Mamaí here supporting me.

  “You’re the leader of our family, Dolly. I’ll help you all I can with the children and this next babe.”

  “Next?”

  She slid the union of our fingers to my stomach. That heaviness I’d been feeling for weeks, a parting gift from Demerara, but from whom—Cells or Owen?

  It didn’t matter. No man would take from me again.

  Dominica 1785: A Ceremony

  In my bedchamber, I pinned up my hair, leaving a few curls to frame my face. The Coxalls would gather soon. This was Lizzy’s special day.

  Like I’d done for Cells’s parties, I rolled big sections of my hair around plantain-shaped cushions to achieve height and jabbed them in place with the buckle pins. I used to think my hair was too thin, but the way my new solicitor, Mr. Thomas, seemed to notice, it was perfect. He visited often. Didn’t mind that.

  About my neck, I put on Kitty’s colorful beads and picked up my hat, the perfect one for Lizzy, a pouf of creamy white satin surrounded by tiny pink and red Bwa Kwaib flowers.

  I went inside the bedroom the sisters shared and stared at my daughters; they looked like twins except Charlotte had Mamaí’s coloring and Lizzy’s hair was thicker. Her lovely braids were magnificent pinned in circles and stacked like a crown.

  “This is for you, Lizzy. When you walk out with Coxall and he takes you to his family, wear this and be proud.”

  Lizzy bounced up from the bed. The hem of her yellow gown with silver threads swirled about her. She reached for the hat but stopped and ducked her face into her small hands. “I don’t deserve this. I’ve been unkind and you have given me the world.”

  I kissed her cheek, and we hummed our hymn.

  Charlotte joined us. In the circle of our arms, we’d found each other as sisters, as blood.

  When the tears cleared my eyes and I could distinguish the fine embroidery of shells on Charlotte’s gray bodice, I let them go. “You two are my vision. You both are hope and peace. I want that for you.”

  With the hat pinned to Lizzy’s locks, we went down the stairs.

  In my parlor, Thomas hovered about the table, pointing to sections in his drafted contract for the senior Mr. Coxall. The man, with the pinched nose and balding head, had his face close to the pages.

  When Thomas visited, he spent time with Edward, claiming the boy was outnumbered in a house of women. I think the man liked me, the look of me with dark cheeks beginning to puff, my figure getting thicker.

  But I needed a friend, nothing more, especially with another man’s babe in my gut.

  The younger Mr. Coxall claimed Lizzy’s hand. His gaze never left her.

  “Done.” His father put down his quill and turned to the lovely couple. “Congrats, my boy.”

  They did look fine together. Coxall was of good height and enough muscles to protect Lizzy. ’Course his father’s money would do that, too.

  “This is done, Miss Kirwan. You’ve handled things well.” The father’s face had that look
of tolerance, like he’d given his boy the birthday gift he’d hoped for the whole year.

  Lizzy was a gift, despite how she came to be. I knew the younger Coxall saw it. That was all that mattered.

  Thomas caught my arm. “You need to make your mark.”

  “Show me where to put my signature.” I’d practiced for the manumit documents. I was ready.

  I sat down and inked every spot that read Dorothy Kirwan.

  Thomas took the quill. “Now we’re done.”

  The way he said it, sharp and final, stabbed at my chest. I realized I didn’t want to be done with him.

  Mamaí served sorrel punch. Kitty dished black cake onto plates. My little Edward had a small bouquet he’d made from my mother’s garden. More red Bwa Kwaib, pink hibiscus, and orange peacock flowers.

  My mind was a little taken aback by the addition of the menses flowers. That was the flower of hate.

  A knock upon my door set my heart beating fast. Everyone who was supposed to be here had arrived.

  Thomas sprinted to the door. “I’ll answer for you, Miss Kirwan.”

  I braced, holding my wobbly insides, hoping that Pa or Nicholas hadn’t come to cause upsets.

  The door opened. A man I’d never seen—brown hair, young face; he was wearing priestly robes—stood.

  “Come in,” Thomas said, grinning like he’d won a prize. “It’s my minister, Mr. Johnson. I thought he’d offer the couple a blessing.”

  My eyes felt a little weak and wet. My friend had found a way to bring God to this union. “Thank you, Thomas.” I said in a whisper and stood at his side. “It’s Miss Doll to you.”

  The minister leafed through his book. “Join hands, Coxall and Miss Kirwan.”

  His voice was clear, and the couple obeyed, smiling so hard I thought their teeth might fall out.

  The shared vows were crisp, saintly. The minister wrapped his stole about their linked hands. “You will forsake all others and be only to one another.”

  “I do.” Coxall’s and Lizzy’s voices blended.

  Then Johnson prayed for the couple’s fidelity, their love and joy.

  Thomas clapped. “That will do, Johnson. Congratulations, Mr. Coxall, Mrs. Lizzy.”

  I kissed my daughter’s cheek.

  “Mother, don’t cry. You’ve given me what I wanted. My freedom and my love. We won’t lose touch again.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  I did what was needed. Now I waved good-bye. Lizzy belonged to Coxall, not as property but as a free person.

  The door ripped open and the devil himself stood there.

  Nicholas had found me.

  If he’d come to steal Lizzy’s joy, I’d kill him for sure.

  Dominica 1785: A Cancer

  Nicholas—the man who haunted my dreams and tried to block my grasp at freedom—charged into my house.

  “Father,” Lizzy said. She went to him and he embraced her. “I thought you went to London?”

  “Not yet. When your grandfather told me of your union, I had to come and offer my congratulations. Didn’t Dolly tell you I was here on the day you were manumitted? No. Well, she never wanted me to wish you well, Lizzy.”

  I held off my strangling rage and stepped out of Thomas’s shadow. “Lizzy, you and Coxall go on. This is your day.”

  Coxall’s father looked at me and then Nicholas and must have decided it was better to leave and did so.

  “Pa, have some cake. Greet my husband again. Ma—”

  I glared at Lizzy. “I love you, but this fool isn’t welcome in my house. He’ll have no part of this celebration.”

  “But Mother—”

  Mamaí’s eyes widened but then she gave me a nod. The truth would out.

  “The liar’s paid nothin’ and even tried to block me from freeing you.”

  Fire hit her cheeks. “Pa, that’s not true. Tell everyone the truth.”

  I took Lizzy by the shoulders. “Long ago, he didn’t want to put his name on your birth records unless I allowed him to force himself on me. . . . Say nothing of the rapist and his truth in my house.”

  Lizzy’s mouth dropped open.

  I held her for a second then shoved her to Coxall. “Take my daughter. Go be happy. Comfort her because she is a jewel no matter her beginnings.”

  Coxall sheltered Lizzy with one arm but stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am, unless you need me here.”

  Thomas stepped between me and Nicholas. “No, Coxall. Take your wife.”

  My son-in-law escorted my crying Lizzy out of the door.

  Nicholas laughed. “She’ll always love me. I’m the one who stayed.”

  “Mamaí and Kitty, take Charlotte and Edward upstairs.”

  My mother grabbed my youngest and took him to the second level. But Charlotte stood still, staring with the tray of cakes in her hand.

  Did she see the likeness and know that this horrible man was her pa, too?

  Kitty took up a knife from the table. “Go away. Don’t hurt no one.”

  “Ahhh, sister,” Nicholas said, “that’s not nice.”

  I took the sharp thing from Kitty and waved it toward my brother. “You want another scar for your right cheek? I strike harder than Kitty.”

  The minister waved his Bible. “Everyone needs to calm down.”

  “Kitty, take Charlotte upstairs.”

  Kitty clasped the tray and dropped it on the table. Then she towed my stunned girl up the steps.

  Nicholas plodded past Thomas and plopped onto my sofa and fingered a piece of cake in his mouth. “Nice place you have here. How much whoring does it take to maintain a place like this?”

  I laughed. “That’s your best, you little worm?”

  “Miss Doll, let me just get him out of here.” Thomas stepped again between me and Nicholas.

  The minister tried to reason with words of calm.

  But I was done. I went to Nicholas and put the knife to his neck. “Thomas, you want me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll let you have me, if you kill him and make sure no one finds the body.”

  Nicholas tried to grab the knife, but I’d cut into his flesh. He stilled. “Are we agreed? Since this fool thinks I’m a harlot, I might as well use my body to get rid of his.”

  The minister looked faint, all red and pink in his cheeks. “This isn’t right. I can’t. Thomas, I didn’t—”

  “Sit down, Johnson,” Thomas said. “She’s not serious, ’cause Miss Doll knows I’d kill for her without a second thought.”

  Nicholas’s eyes became wide like plates. My brother didn’t think I had a friend to defend me.

  The fool was sweating. He knew I’d kill him, that he deserved it.

  His throat vibrated as a lump went down. “I had to see our little girl. Then I had to see you. I’ve actually missed you. Have you thought of me?”

  “Only in nightmares.” I gave Thomas the knife before I did stab the fool. I might be free, but killing a white man had consequences. “Make him go away, Thomas.”

  Nicholas slipped to the right, and the fool minister blocked Thomas from putting his hands on my brother.

  He was at the door. “You think you’ve won, Dolly? You haven’t.”

  My laughter fell heavy. “I’m in your head, Nicholas, controlling you, your thoughts. You’ll not be free. You’ll always know you tried your best but couldn’t defeat me.”

  “Shut up, Dolly. You whore. You N’girl.” He ran at me, but Thomas punched the fool in the face. The big man dumped my brother to the ground and put a knee in his chest. “You’re here to start a fight. That’s incredibly stupid. To hurt a woman. That’s evil.”

  “Oh, your new lover? You’re stupid if you think she’s worth the time.”

  Thomas hit him again, bloodying Nicholas’s mouth. “I’ve heard Kirwan’s son was a belligerent drunk. Should’ve known all that meant was stupid.”

  “She’s evil. Dolly is evil.”

  “I can’t help that everything you’ve done has faile
d. That Pa knows I am the more successful of his children. Get out of my house. If you come back, I’ll have you killed on sight.”

  “You wouldn’t dare touch a white man. That’s illegal.”

  “Then I’ll have Thomas kill you. He’s already agreed.”

  Thomas grumbled, sputtered a curse then a sigh. “And the terms are to my liking.”

  The minister was at the door. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is more than the favor, Thomas.”

  My hero punched Nicholas hard. Blood splattered on the floorboards.

  The evil man’s head fell back.

  “He’s out cold. A new version of helpin han. A firm punch.” Thomas shook his fist, then signaled to the minister. “Johnson, you’re not done here. I need help getting him out of here. The streets are full of soldiers. They’ll ask questions.”

  Johnson mouthed a prayer, but he came back into my parlor.

  Looking at Nicholas still breathing, I pulled my arms about me. “Get rid of him.”

  Thomas jerked off his coat. “I’m not killing him, if that is what you want.”

  “Take him from my life.”

  “I can do that for you. Get me something, a sheet. Need to tie him down.”

  I ran up and grabbed bedclothes, rushed back downstairs, and tossed them to the minister.

  He ripped one in shreds, then he and Thomas tied Nicholas’s hands and feet.

  Thomas went to the door and peeked out. “We didn’t bring a carriage. We’ll take him out back, then to the docks, to the Mary.”

  He and Johnson took the second sheet and wrapped Nicholas like he was a bundle. Then Thomas threw him over his shoulder.

  I grabbed Thomas before he made it out my back door. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to dump him back in Montserrat, back with his father. I’ll make sure he ships him off to London where he can do no more harm.”

  “Thank you.” I kissed Thomas’s cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Remember what you promised. I should collect something for wanting him dead for hurting you.”

  I put a quick peck to Thomas’s mouth. “We’ll see how long you stay in Dominica. That boat and those investors might have other plans.”