Island Queen

by Vanessa Riley

  “No, Dolly. You have to dance. Someone will stop the drunks.”

  Mr. Lionel, Mr. Bates’s clerk, came to us. “Miss Kirwan, I thought that was you.”

  “Are you having fun?”

  My yell seemed to reach his ear, for his smiled broadened. “Yesss. Much better than going to the brothels. I hear it’s s-s-safer for s-s-sausages and such.”

  His slurring words. The man must’ve drunk several barrels’ worth of wine. He yanked on my sleeve. “Oh. Oh. Miss Kirwan, I hear Mr. Thomas will be back at the end of the week.”

  He covered his lips. “Oops, I’m not supposed to say. Thomas wants to come back and sweep you into his sloop. Working on a contract to marry you.”

  Kitty and I guided Mr. Lionel to a chair, for he was very wobbly. Men who counted my money shouldn’t be wobbly.

  Thomas was returning and wanted to take me away on the Mary. Did he think paper would make up for leaving?

  Another fight broke out.

  The fiddler stopped.

  The drummer did too.

  A command was yelled.

  The crowd of men parted, and in the dust a fellow fell forward. Then he lunged and dropped at my feet. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Two men in uniform came and hoisted him upright. He looked at me and pushed free.

  “Fellows, this is my doll. This is the woman I told you about, the woman in the sketch. The black beauty, the dame de couleur with my nose and Joan of Arc’s hair.”

  Prince William’s flopping arm swatted the air like he’d thought about grabbing me, but was too drunk to do it.

  “Stop. You’ve seen me. Now go with your soldiers but pay for the damages.”

  “Miss Dorothy, don’t go away.”

  I turned, grabbed Kitty, and started to the door.

  “Dorothy, wait. Please. I came to your house but no one lived there.”

  A hundred eyes were on me. I could feel their whispers. Miss Kirwan and the prince.

  One person called me Dolly, the doxy for His Royal Highness.

  I spun to the miserable man still calling after me. “What do you want, Prince?”

  “I came back for you. I want to show you my new boat, the Andromeda. I can show you across the sea. Come away with me.”

  No. No. No. “I have to leave.”

  I took Kitty’s arm, and we ran.

  We were halfway home when I stopped midstep. “We left our hats.”

  “Dolly.” Kitty gripped my hand and kept me from turning back. “They’ll think you’ve come back to tease the prince. Remember how everyone mocked your name with his? The Old Market people called you Mrs. Prince for months.”

  “I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault that the drunk man knew my name.”

  “It will be tomorrow. I took you to have fun and brought us trouble. Maybe you should go with Mr. Cells. Be away from the gossip. Let it die down. You’re starting to feel better.”

  My head spun, then settled. In that moment, finally, I could see clearly.

  “I do need to leave, Kitty. Will you help Mamaí take care of my children? Will you make sure our mother doesn’t work too hard, but keep our housekeepers working?”

  “Of course, Dolly.”

  “Yes. I need to go and sort things out and come back strong.”

  I looped my arm with hers, and we ran home. Leaving was the only way to find my way. For the first time in a long time, I knew exactly what to do.

  Part Five

  My Choice

  I left myself behind—the pain, the pursuits, even the victories.

  The Boat 1789: Coast of Dominica

  From the quarterdeck of the huge ship, the Andromeda, I leaned over the rail, my fingers holding tight to the rough rolled-up weather cloth.

  Funny how this felt like osnaburg.

  Funny how the past was always a touch away.

  William was surprised that I took up his offer. He was curious about me, but this notion was more akin to a lad with a new toy trying to figure out its workings. The prince was in dire need of distraction, and I was desperate to go away.

  A perfect arrangement for us.

  I’d rather be a mystery than the version of me Cells required. The story of his Dolly, weak, enslaved, terrorized, in need of a hero—only he knew the whole of it. In Demerara, he’d used my past to disqualify me from a future with him and Catharina. Now he’d use Thomas’s leaving and my birthing sadness to make old me return to him, again spinning himself into a hero.

  Never could this happen, not again.

  Staying on the Andromeda and being a mystery, a toy, even claiming a prince as a plaything was preferred.

  “Dorothy.”

  William stood behind me, warmed by the bright sun, dripping in medals and braiding. “For a woman who loves rhythm, you seem rudderless, even piqued. Is it the choppy waves or has my poor behavior caused your ire?”

  The timbre of his voice sent heat to my cheeks. I thought of that awkward dance in his cabin. In front of his wall of windows, he kissed me soundly and hoped his fast and hurried seduction would lead to his bed.

  Fast and hurried was never as great as it sounded, thus my retreat to the quarterdeck.

  “Ready to go ashore? I can have a boat lowered.”

  I caught his bloodshot gaze, his red eyes floating in the sea of rum he’d drunk.

  “You sure you’re well, Prince?”

  “I am, and you remain good at avoiding questions. I ask again, do I lower a boat and send you ashore?”

  His face was kind, his lips parted, not tight like the sound of his words. Then I realized his voice was trained to offer orders.

  “Unless you no longer want to show me the world, I’d like to stay. But you were quite drunk when you asked.”

  “I made a poor show last night. I apologize. At least I didn’t break things like at Miss Polgreen’s. My men and I were reckless at her Royal Naval Hotel.”

  “You got in another fight?”

  “Yes, Miss Dorothy, Bridgetown, Barbados, may never be the same.”

  The setting sun slid closer to the sea, glowing on his brooding form. “Not my finest hour.”

  He stepped closer, leaving the shroud of dusky light. Looking up into his dark blue-black eyes, I saw questions—about us, about me, about life.

  “If I was a painter . . .” His sea-salt-smelling fingers rubbed my cheek. His skin was rough, his touch gentle. “And if my hand was steadier, I’d paint you here. You’re lovely.”

  His gaze drifted to my waist, the lacings of my indigo gown. My ankles showed in my short boots. Indecent, but what decent woman would be here? Whores came for an hour. Courtesans stayed a little longer. What did they call the ones who remained to go across the sea?

  Fools?

  Brave?

  Prince William’s steady smile said he approved of my dress, but my stomach tightened. I needed to focus on something other than the obvious—him and me and running away.

  “Is your arm still bothering you, sir? Perhaps you should spend less time with drunken men.”

  “I intend to with proper distractions.” He chuckled. “If I entice you to stay, I won’t be destroying anything, anytime soon.”

  He towed me by my laces, pulling me into his strong arms, out in the open, where anyone could see.

  Not right.

  Not safe for him.

  Definitely not for me, on a boat full of British soldiers. They glared at me as if I’d stolen something. Their sneers said I didn’t belong.

  I patted the prince’s chest, my fingers jangling the big brass buttons of his waistcoat. “You said last night you’d show me the world. Not show me to the world.”

  “It’s all the same when you’re with me. The voyage to England is a long one. There’s only so far to sail before there’s a point of no return.”

  “You’re testing me?”

  “It’s only fair, Dorothy. You’re testing me, accepting my offer to come aboard then keeping me at a distance. Let me help you decide. I�
�m intrigued by you. No need to go to any special lengths to build up the anticipation of my wanting you.”

  His flirty words made it seem as if it were a small thing to be here, away from my family, all my connections, my power.

  Perhaps it was a small sacrifice in his eyes.

  “Aren’t I here to help you pass the time as you wait for your message, Prince? Then shouldn’t I make this moment as interesting as possible? Island girls, sailors think, are mostly for a white man’s amusements. I think you’re accustomed to being amused.”

  The rippling of his lips with a hearty laugh made him look so young. “Fishing for compliments of how you’re different or how you’ve captivated my mind?”

  My glare should’ve voiced what I didn’t say, that most men didn’t care for anything but what they wanted. And that they’ll say pretty lies to get it.

  It was up to me to believe falsehoods or not.

  It didn’t matter.

  I came for adventure and escaped with the man who returned for me, the white prince who was captivated by black me. William saw me as strong, a challenge. I liked that. “Sir,” I said in my sweetest voice, sugary like cane slurry, “I hear a well-placed compliment can clear up confusion and can convince me that you understand that I’m more than different.”

  He took my palm in his and kissed it. His lips were warm. I’d been his dance partner. I knew that if the rhythm between us became right, it could consume us. “You are more, much more. I must admit I’ve admired many girls from many colonies. You’re the only one I wish to take across the sea. If I have to be patient to figure out your thoughts, I will. It’s the key to unlocking all your pleasures. I’m greedy. I want all.”

  “Being here is my choice. I like that you are gentle and respect me.”

  His eyes held a shine like his silver buttons. He could be the stars I loved, the ones I always sought from my window.

  My fantasy of what this was tangled and knotted with my truth. My frets about my daughters, my mother, my son slipped in and warred with my heart. I’d left them all to be here.

  Yet, in William’s sidelong look, I remember the dangers of a man wanting me and the joy of wanting them, too. “I’m escaping my life. Heading to England is the way.”

  “You have means. You could hire passage. You don’t have to come away with me.”

  This was true.

  Leaving could be done in many ways. Every man in my life had taught me how. I put my palm flat against the prince’s waistcoat. The top button, I coveted. “But still, I’m here.”

  His hands cradled my face. He tilted my chin. I peered at tall him, at the mischief filling his jet eyes. “Dorothy, you’re brave, and I’m lucky.”

  His laugh sounded lush. I focused on his mouth. Maybe we should kiss again and get it right. The one in his cabin when I first came aboard his Pegasus years ago was better.

  In all that time, he never forgot me. He’d searched for me by showing a poorly done sketch of him and me and that tarn hammock. “Watch the sunset with me, William.”

  “As you wish.” He put his arms about me, again. His embrace was strong, murmuring of his power. Power that I was never supposed to have or even be near, not in my skin.

  This escape was right.

  This journey across the sea with a prince seemed right.

  I trusted like the fool I was, that if this was a mistake, I’d survive it, like all my others.

  The Boat 1789: Coast of Trinidad

  In the captain’s cabin, sunlight, sneaky and bright, showered the room. Squinting, I saw red birds and blue flutter across the wall of windows, seven sets of panes trimmed in fine polished wood.

  “The birds, William. They won’t break the glass?”

  He sat at his desk stretching his hurt arm. Sleeping on the sofa on the opposite wall probably didn’t help.

  “Don’t let the ibis and herons frighten you. They’re looking for land to roost. Trinidad’s cottonwood trees will give them homes, not the Andromeda.”

  Trinidad? The big boat moved fast. We were far from Dominica but sailing the wrong direction for London.

  He wrote something then closed up the book. “Still afraid? You mumbled something like that in your sleep.”

  I ignored his question, for I didn’t remember which nightmare I’d had. There were too many jumbies in my past. I tucked the sheet close to my neck. “Up early? Don’t you have leisure time?”

  “Leisure time? No. Duty always calls. This morning, it’s my letters. Always do them early.”

  With my hair in curl papers and bundled in a scarf, I didn’t feel like stirring. The rocking of the waves might’ve made for the best sleep I’d had in months.

  “Dorothy, we’ll be returning to port in Roseau in two days. You could go ashore then.”

  “But I came to see the other side of the sea.”

  Pulling on his white stockings, he turned and stared. “Exactly, you have left for a few days and kept me company. That has the makings of an excellent visit.”

  His voice was calm, pleasant sounding, but my being skittish isn’t what he’d planned.

  “Perhaps we’re only good in short increments.” He shoved on his sleek black-heeled shoes. “You can’t feign being happy, and I can’t take the risk of having a woman here who’s not sure she wants to go.” He picked up his indigo-blue jacket with flutters of gold on the sleeves, the lapels, and laid it on his lap. “I’ve told you about me, my duties to the Royal Navy and to my king.”

  “Your father, that king?”

  “Yes.” His head dipped, his voice hardened. “Other than your dancing, I know little about you.”

  “I’m a businesswoman with a large family. Now, I’m on an adventure with a prince.”

  “You are that, Dorothy, but is this everything? It’s a great risk to have you as a guest.”

  Should I risk letting the son of a king know he kept company with a formerly enslaved woman, a victim of her massa’s cruelty? I tugged my blanket closer and focused on the weave, the rich red color like the fruit of the cashew cherry. “Who would bring you trouble?”

  His sigh sounded hard. “Everyone has someone to report to.”

  “Overseers? Let me speak to them and set them straight.”

  The prince chuckled. “No speaking to my superiors. I’ve upset a few who objected to my disciplining of officers.”

  Something in his eyes, a flicker in his gaze, said there was more at stake.

  Putting his jacket to the side, he lifted from his chair and slid it with a screech under his rolltop desk. “Dorothy, I’ve never taken this many risks for anyone. I want you to stay, but you can’t be here and be frightened. You’re fretting something or someone who isn’t here.”

  His words ripped through me. I was battling the old fears and my doubts about me and worries for my children and my business.

  “You’re a vibrant lass, just out of place. Maybe born in the wrong place, sort of like me.”

  “William”—I called his name aloud like a friend, like an equal—“You can’t be serious. You have power. Of course you want to be a prince. A prince can do whatever he wants.”

  “I cannot.” Folding his arms, he sat on the edge of his desk. “I have a birthright that makes others do for me, but I have to await my superiors’ permission to go home. Is it power if you have to ask?”

  “You’re saying things to make me not feel so strange. Going away with a prince is not normal.”

  “Otherworldly, you’re not, my dear. The Andromeda is not a place for unease unless we’re down to one bottle of champagne.”

  “Champagne?”

  His smile reappeared. “Ahh, I do have something with which to tempt you.” He leaned over and puts his thumb to my nose. “I want you here, Dorothy, but you need to want it too. I’m not the second prize or third place.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He offered a light touch to my lips. “Roseau, Dominica, is the next port of call. Think of returning to your life
.”

  “You think I won’t choose you?”

  “My dear, you’ve admitted there are other choices. The possibility exists that you’ll pick wrongly.”

  “You’re too clever for your own good, William.”

  “And you’re too sweet, too beautiful to be a mere cabinmate. Prove me wrong. Be brave. Stay for the journey and my champagne. Or leave and take my adoration with you.”

  Big words that surely meant I was a fool. “You’re patient. And I feel strange. Do you ever feel crazed?”

  His face blanked. He tugged on his jacket like he’d picked a fight with a drunken sailor, then he trudged to the door. “Dominica is the next port. I’ll miss you if you leave.”

  It shut shy of a slam.

  Mumbles sounded outside the cabin. Someone watched us. My being here caused William trouble. Why else would those overseers keep him from returning home? Returning to my life might be best for all.

  The Boat 1789: Coast of Dominica

  With my sack in my hand, I stood on deck waiting for William to lower a boat to take me ashore. The buildings of Roseau looked peaceful. The slate-colored thatch roofs of the city were like beads, winding a necklace unto the hills. Clouds moved about the highest peak. Steam rose from Morne Macaque tonight. It might rain.

  I should be home rocking baby Eliza, preparing to train new housekeepers. My cooks started their days hours ago, along with my washerwomen. If more British ships came, it would drive demand. I’d be richer.

  The chatter of men made me turn.

  The prince was at the mizzenmast, the middle post holding the largest white sail. His shoulders slumped, then he snapped to attention. The letter from his overseers hadn’t come.

  I felt his desperation.

  Head lifted, he strolled to me. The veins on his neck bulged within his collar.

  I couldn’t run from him. I knew why we were drawn together, each of us out of place, maybe a little broken inside. Together we might heal.

  He locked his arms to his side. “You’ve chosen to leave? I thought you would.”