“Mama, don’t cry.” She wiped my face. “You need to dance.”
Charlotte’s laugh drew me. She conversed with Lizzy. Charlotte’s hand shifted from her flat belly to her hip.
“Eliza, you let your sister be a special aunt to your children.”
“Mama, I might not have them right away.”
“Oh, you will, child. Put those birthing hips to good use.” The way Gilbert Robertson looked at my girl, I knew he’d prove me right. With Eliza’s vigor for life and her seventeen years, she had time, a lot of it.
Robertson, the sandy-blond man, put a finger to her chin. “I told you, Eliza. I’d find a way to get you hired out to me. I’m glad it’s for the rest of my life.”
She gave him a small smile while her cheeks turned cherry red.
The fellow was besotted. I did my best to keep ’em apart until he begged to commit.
There were too many men like Cells coming to Demerara who had families across the seas. They wanted a housekeeper to clean and a harlot for their beds. Nothing wrong with the former or the latter if the woman chose and was protected when the fellow sailed back home.
My girls were special.
They were free. They wouldn’t settle for anything less than a fully committed partner. We called it husband, official with papers. The men in charge only called our contracts common-law marriages when they wanted our assets.
Crissy and Lizzy’s Dorothea talked in whispers. They weren’t outside with the others. They were growing up fast, with shapes that said easy loving. Girls needed schooling before thinking of men.
My good friend Rebecca arrived carrying a bundle.
I kissed her cheek. “Glad you could come.”
“Wanted to help you celebrate and to tell you my bricklayer would be available next week.”
Hiring out laborers from other merchants and friends was costly and slow. It was all I could do. I handed Rebecca a proper glass of Rosé de Saignée. “It’s not my favorite but look at the bubbles.”
Rebecca took a sip, then another. “You shall now be in charge of any beverage service for the Entertainment Society.”
I picked up a goblet and clinked my drink to hers, but my mouth became dry. Catharina and Cells stood at my door.
Demerara 1805: The Respect
Charlotte, my peacemaker, went to Cells and her sister and drew them into my rooms.
“Dolly,” he said. More gray in his salt-and-peppered hair, but his hazel eyes seemed lively, vibrant.
“Hello, Cells.”
His mouth twitched. His gaze met mine, but Charlotte had his arm and led him to Eliza.
I watched him hug the bride, another common-law, Catholic-Anglican coupling.
Josephy pounded his chest. “To my sister, Eliza. We wish her great joy.”
In the next song, I heard Thomas’s words trying to tell me not to be alone, but I wasn’t. He was in my head and in the joy and character of the children we raised.
After two glasses of champagne and well-wishers coming and going, Cells parked beside me, touching my arm beneath the cuff of my short sleeve. He looked good in his onyx tailcoat.
“You’ve done well, Dorothy. Another fine girl.”
His part was a little deeper, but he still had thick hair, nothing receding. He’d gained a little weight in his face, making him look strong.
I was no spring chicken. I wasn’t thin, not that I ever was after Catharina. Blessed with curves and pluck, I’d developed into a grown woman who needed no compliments on what was my duty. “Excuse me. Have to say good-bye.”
“Of course. That’s our pattern. Unless we are finally in the same place.”
My mouth opened, but I quickly sidestepped him and went to Eliza and Robertson. I walked them down the stairs and stayed until they left in his carriage.
Eliza waved. She looked happy. My heart was full.
Wiping my eyes, I lingered watching them head down America Street.
“Mama.”
Catharina’s voice.
I turned. She stood on the bottom step. “Eliza looks very happy. And Mr. Robertson, too.”
“Yes. I’m glad you came to see your sister.”
“You offered Eliza a dowry? A thousand or two thousand pounds?”
“That’s your sister’s business, Catharina.”
“You didn’t offer something like that for me.”
“I wasn’t informed of you marrying until I came to Demerara, five years too late. You’re going on ten years of wedded bliss, far too late for a contract. With Simon’s finances you could be attacked to his debts.”
She smirked for a moment. “The word is attached. But I see your point.”
“Do you, Catharina?”
She took my goblet from my fingers and sipped. “This is good and expensive. I think I deserve more consideration since you left me to pursue your dreams. Dreams that allowed you to afford such fancy champagne.”
“Did Cells tell you that was my reason?”
“No, but look at you and how well the children you raised are doing. I’ve missed everything. Can’t you see how I’m suffering?”
“Catharina, it’s been five years of you using my guilt to get your way. No more. I even bought you a pew in a church in a faith I don’t share.” I kissed her brow. “Go on back upstairs and enjoy your brothers and sisters. Forget that you again tried to ask for money.”
“Don’t you care how I cried? How I always felt different? How when my baby sister was born and I was forgotten.”
“Catharina.”
“Don’t you know how I wanted a large family to love me? Papa was always away and sulking when he was there. He missed Mama treating me different than her own flesh. Did you fight for me at all?”
It became hard to swallow again. I took my glass back. I wanted to shatter it, for my heart broke hearing her pain. “I wanted you with me, but your pa wouldn’t allow it. He had a better life planned for you. I begged him to let you stay, but a woman has no rights when going against a man over property or children. Cells claimed you. He had power over me. There wasn’t a tarn thing I could do to stop him taking you from my cradle.”
“You’re smart and wily, Mama Kirwan. You could’ve done something. You could’ve convinced him.”
My child’s use of Kirwan was as good as a slur from her pert lips implying my union was nothing. Had to remind myself that this was her pain talking, mouthing off to me.
“Catharina, you’re smart. You have to take some responsibility for how your life has turned out.”
“Things would’ve been much better if I knew you, but you didn’t want me because my father didn’t want you.”
Maybe I could’ve fought harder. I relived those days so many times, but it was done. Nothing could change the past and this young woman standing in front of me didn’t know her worth.
I reached for her hand. “Catharina, I named you after my dearest friend Foden’s estate. I heard the name Catharina and it sounded so grand. I wanted you to be everything, to be grand. That’s in your power now.”
“How, when you won’t help me? How, Mama?”
I regretted that I had had no power to keep her and hated that she didn’t know how I fretted and cried for her and thought of her in my prayers at mass. Still did. I rubbed at my brow, wishing I had drunk more to numb the guilt that would always bubble inside over losing her. “Nothing can change the fact that I gave you up.”
“Then help me now. Two thousand pounds could help us now.”
“On top of the thousands I’ve already given you? No. Catharina, it’s not enough to pay all your debts. You and Simon should sell Chance Hall and start over. I’ll help you begin again. I’ve done it several times.”
“No, Mama. We deserve a grand house. That’s owed to us. We’ve suffered too much.”
“The world doesn’t give you what you deserve.”
Her tears stopped and she shook with such violence. “It should. I’ve been cheated.”
“You have.�
�� I reached for and held her to get her to settle, to let her feel the love in my soul, but she needed to listen. “You’ve lived with privileges none of my children have. No one knew you were my daughter. You never lived with people hating you for being born of a Black mother. In Demerara, Cells is well regarded. You chose to leave your father’s protection and marry young. When are you going to take responsibility, even a spoonful?”
She broke from my arms, head wobbling. “No. We can’t sell Chance Hall.”
“Catharina, you have a daughter. You can’t raise her to be strong without taking charge of your life.”
She wiped at her eyes like she’d clawed them free. “It’s your fault. It’s your blood. You.”
“My fault that you married at twelve? That your husband overspent? That he’s bankrupt? That he didn’t figure out how many people were against him and his faith before it was too late? I bear mistakes, but none of those are mine. They aren’t your pa’s, either.”
Her face sharpened as her brow arched up. “You still want him?”
“What?”
“I can get him back for you. Papa said you loved him.”
“I did when I was young and dumb.”
Head thrown back, she crossed her arms. “It’s never dumb to be lost in love.”
“Yes, it is. You have to love yourself more than a moment, ’cause moments pass.”
Catharina balled her fists at me. “That’s not what my father said. I trust him.”
“I’ve lived some things and thought I was ready to make every decision, but I was stupid just like you.”
“I’m not stupid. D.P. loves me. He’s dedicated to me.”
“Then honor him. Don’t come here playing little-girl games. Catharina, you’re a woman, a married woman. Act like it. Henny’s watching. Your daughter will pick up everything bad.”
“No, she won’t, ’cause I’ll keep her from you. You have to be the cause of my failing.”
I clutched my goblet tight about the stem. I thought it would break. “You need to go.”
“You don’t like the truth, Mama?”
“If you owned the part of me that’s in you, you’d be with your husband and you’d figure out how to cut expenses, and not pressure him for trinkets to show off to people that hate him.”
“That’s not true. I’m good to him.”
“Go home, little girl. Come back when you have your house in order. The next time, you bring Henny and any other children you may have. They need to know a woman who builds, not one who tears things down.”
Catharina’s face burned fiery red. “You know nothing.” She pushed past me out the door and jumped into a carriage. She grabbed the reins and started it moving.
I let her go because I did know her. I was her. I prayed she’d come to herself, to grow and be what Henny and D.P. needed.
Of course with their carriage gone, I’d have to get Cells out of my house.
Demerara 1806: The Roadblock
Wednesday meant a trip to Kensington Plantation to check on Josephy. I leaned on the fence watching my hardworking young man. I needed a distraction. Crissy and I had just left Eliza. She lost her baby girl three weeks ago. The child had been doing well, then she wouldn’t wake up. My Eliza was broken, and I had nothing to say to make it better.
Nothing.
It was hard seeing my bubbly child filled with sorrow, but I’d keep coming even if it was to sit beside her. She needed to know that the sun would rise, stars would shine, and her mother was there for her in the midst of the birthing sadness.
Josephy waved. “Mama, come look at this.”
Walking through the plantings, I pulled at the leaves sheathing the stalks. The musty fragrance, the scent of virgin cane wafted. Green and healthy, with no white grubs or brown furry borers. This was good. “Josephy, you’ve succeeded.”
“It’s the rich ground, Mama. I wish I had more fields turned.”
Wiping dirt from my palms, I went to the dray and climbed up next to Crissy. “This is something to be proud of. Maybe I should start calling you Thomas Jr.”
He leaned on the fence. “Josephy is fine. Papa called me that.” He put a long blade of grass in his teeth. His curly, curly hair had matted. The boy wasn’t fussy like Harry, who hated to be untidy.
“Mama, next year I’m starting on the house out here.”
“Dreams,” Crissy said. “That’s his.”
My son laughed. “Tell Charlotte she was right. The irrigation for this section ran easier just like she said.”
It was good to hear that from my boy, that he valued his sister. That’s what siblings should do. “You’re lucky Charlotte has time now that she’s running my store.”
In addition to helping with my other businesses, Charlotte split her time helping Catharina with her new baby and the Kensington. My children supporting each other warmed my insides.
“Tell my sister I need her advice planning the next field. This one will be coffee as soon as we hire more workers.” His face fell, joy flowing out of his frown. “Mama, I’m not asking you for more. You’ve done enough, but I wish we had more to hire out. Have you thought of buying—”
No slaves. “No, Josephy, I hadn’t.”
“The planters are withholding laborers on purpose. I heard that if they think we accepted their ways, things would be easier. That’s what Mr. Cells said. I don’t think he’s wrong.”
That tarn man had started warming up to Josephy and Harry. Now my eldest boy was preaching Cells’s ways. Cells, the Hermitage’s owner, a Demerara slave owner, a busybody who always tried to curry favor with men in power. “I know of coloreds who did the same and the white planter still made their way hard. In Grenada, that led to rebellion.”
Josephy looked down. I shouldn’t have scolded him for Cells’s meddling. “Son, I’m sorry. I’m proud of all you’ve done.”
He lifted his chin. A small smirk shone beneath his flat nose. “I guess I’m just going to marry and start having children or wait for all my nephews and nieces to come help.”
Head shaking, I laughed. “No, you take your time and choose a wife wisely. I’ll get us more workers, Josephy. You’ll see.”
“Thank you, Mama.” He picked up his scythe and started cutting the brush.
I blew him a kiss and started the dray moving.
“Looks like bamboo in that field,” Crissy said.
“It’s filled with gold, my dear. Better than anything.”
Her young face wrinkled with serious lines forming on her brow. “Better than gold? Then maybe you need to do something to get Josephy help.”
Her brown, almost black eyes were wide, innocent.
But mine weren’t.
I knew the evil answer. I didn’t tell my children about much of my life in Montserrat when I was part of the evil. Maybe I needed a reminder.
“Let’s head back.” I whipped the reins and started to town.
Crissy slipped her arm about mine, snuggling closer on the seat. “Mama, you hire out people to huckster for the store and for housekeeping. Can’t you get some workers in exchange? Someone good on a plow? A bricklayer? A mason?”
I hired out women to be top-notch housekeepers, but I knew many were paid for sexual favors. I ignored the wrong. My distinction of respectability seemed hollow, hollow like bamboo.
“There’s lots to consider, Crissy.”
She shrugged and drifted back into her safe ten-year-old world.
“Mama, what about Mr. Cells? He comes to the house a lot. Charlotte says he has a big plantation, lots of workers.”
No. No. No. He came around only to convince me I needed him. He made it seem as if he only visited to offer his opinion on Catharina and Simon. The man refused to do more for our daughter and wanted me to abide by the same. He hated that I’d paid to enroll Henny at Kensington School in London without consulting him.
Thomas King found a perfect place that would take free colored girls. The tuition and passage were costly, but Henny had t
o be better than me, better than Catharina. I was glad that my daughter didn’t stop me from knowing that sweet girl.
“You’re not going away again? You were gone almost three months.”
“Harry started at Inverness Royal Academy. He’ll do fine just like Josephy. And I had to check on Kensington House, to make sure it remains a good place. You’ll be going to school there, too, when you are older.”
Crissy’s eyes grew big and sparkled like stars. “I get to be on a boat again! Wait till I tell Dorothea.” Crissy was close to Lizzy’s girls like my Ann and Frances in Grenada.
Frances’s latest note told us that Sally had passed and that my darling Ann was expecting. Those dang Garraways were itching for a connection to my family, especially with Thomas gone. Her courtship was fast and unexpected. At least John Gloster Garraway was the best of the lot.
Ann was happy. I sent her the shiniest silver tea service I owned, Mr. Foden’s set. It always meant so much to me.
“Mamaí, your grama, may come to visit next year. May even bring Aunt Ella and little Elizabeth.”
“They all could come sooner if you weren’t distracted by figuring out where to get workers.”
This was true. I oversaw every step of my hotel’s construction. With building stretching on for years not weeks, all my time was consumed. Whipping the leather strap against my palm, I made up my mind to reach for a solution. Cells. “Maybe I should talk to the owner of the Hermitage about hiring out his workers.”
“It shouldn’t be hard, Mama. He likes you.”
“What are you talking about, child?”
“He stares too much, like you’re a roasted goose. I don’t like it. Doesn’t he know you’re with my pa forever?”
Her tone was bold like an overseer’s.
“Crissy, you want me to grow old alone?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You will for school.”
“I won’t leave you here with a hungry man. Not for my mama.”
Cells? He wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t good, either.
“Mama, you’re thinking about him? What about my papa? Don’t you still love him?”
My baby was just three when Thomas died. He was the best pa.
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