by Every, Donna
"Deborah seems to have caught the eye of every male here," Richard observed. Mine included he thought silently.
"Yes. She certainly looks beautiful tonight," Thomas agreed nodding.
"You may have some offers for her after this," Richard said, feeling him out.
"It's well known that she's not for sale."
"At any price?"
"I'm in no desperate need of money. Why the interest?"
Richard sighed deeply, his eyes seeking out Deborah across the room. "She stirs me like no other," he confessed quietly.
Thomas eyed him thoughtfully and clapped him on the shoulder. "I understand completely. If you can convince her to come to your bed, I'll not intervene."
"You said that I only have to tell them to come," Richard reminded him.
"Not Deborah. She has been through enough. I'll not have her subjected to more. Come, let us talk with our guests," his uncle said, gesturing him towards a group of planters.
Richard would have liked to ask more, but had to be contented with the fact that his uncle had at least given him permission to pursue Deborah. He smiled even as his body tingled with anticipation.
Richard and his uncle joined a group of planters who were drinking glasses of Thomas's fine French brandy and discussing the challenges that Antigua was facing with getting their sugar to England.
"I've heard that late last year they could not get their sugar shipped to England because of the war and they had to wait months before England was able to send any help."
“Yes. That was good news for us since we were able to get our sugar to market first," another planter added.
"Now I see why you invested in a ship, Thomas," praised a man whose flushed face suggested that he had already had a lot to drink. "No one will be able to stop you from getting your sugar to the motherland."
"I don't intend to be held to ransom by anyone," Thomas agreed.
"So what brings you to Barbados?" One of the planters asked Richard, changing the topic.
"I'm here to observe how you manage your African slaves as I plan to buy some when I go back and use them to cultivate rice."
"Barbados wouldn't be so successful without their labor. However they now outnumber us badly. We had a close call in '92 when they planned a rebellion."
"So I heard," Richard said.
"We've had to curtail a lot of their movement and we don’t allow them to meet together anymore. Because of their numbers, we have to keep them in line through fear and punishment. Thankfully our slave code gives us legal right to do so without reprisal."
"The slave code has made us like gods; we have the power of life and death in our hands.” Another planter declared.
"They’ve just adopted a new one in Carolina based on yours."
"Good move that. Helps to keep them under control."
"Speaking of under control, when is William coming back?" This was from John Bowyer, the father of William’s friend Henry. "Henry's been like a fish out of water without him here. Not that it's been a bad thing because I've actually been able to get some work out of him." Thomas laughed.
"That's what I'm hoping for when William gets back. It probably won't be before late in the year or next year though. I trust that England will make him into a better man."
"I spent two years there myself and I think it made a better man out of me. And if not better then certainly stronger. When you’re born in the colonies, you’re often looked down upon so you have to be strong enough to overcome that and get on with whatever you’re there for,” Richard told them.
"You certainly turned out well, my boy," Thomas praised him. If William turned out half as well, he would be happy.
"Thank you uncle."
"Speaking of turning out well, Thomas, that girl of yours has turned out very well. I have not seen her since William left," John remarked, his eyes boldly roving over Deborah as she made her way towards them with a tray.
"Pickled oysters." She announced, proffering the tray.
"I may need them, especially if you're offering yourself to go with them," John joked. Deborah was revolted and would have liked nothing more than to throw the oysters in his sun-wrinkled face. The man was as old as Master Thomas and just as disgusting as his son.
"You randy old goat," another planter said. "Don't you have enough girls to keep you busy on your own plantation?" He helped himself to an oyster.
“None as lovely as this one," he replied taking one himself with his eyes still on Deborah. "Have you changed your mind about selling yet, Thomas?"
Richard was silently disgusted with the old lecher but he could fully understand his interest in the ravishing slave girl. He looked at Deborah who wore a blank expression on her face as the men talked about her as if she was not there, but the now-familiar flaring of her nostrils and the color on her cheeks betrayed her anger.
“I've already expressed my interest," Richard interjected, watching her closely, "but my uncle couldn't be persuaded." The men laughed in sympathy.
Deborah's eyes flew up and collided with his and he was pleased to see hers widen in shock at his bold confession. The look was quickly replaced by one of intense dislike. Rather than put him off though, it served to challenge him. He allowed his gaze to roam the length of her and his eyes became more intense. She gave him a cold glare before she lowered her eyes.
“OK, Deborah," said Thomas indicating that she could leave.
Deborah was relieved to move away from the group of lecherous men. What did the nephew mean by that? Had he really offered to buy her from the master? He was just as bad as the rest of them. After discussing Shakespeare with her and asking her to read to him, he still thought her nothing more than a chattel that he could buy for his use? Why had she believed he was any different?
She had not thought he was like William, but she now couldn't be certain. One thing she was certain about was that she didn't like what she had seen in his eyes when he had looked at her. It had been unconcealed desire.
"Elizabeth, what a lovely party. And how handsome your nephew is!" exclaimed her friend Dora Pierce. "It must be nice having him here now that William is away," she added.
“Yes indeed."
"You should really find him a nice girl to marry and keep him in Barbados. I wouldn't mind him for my own Mary-Ann," admitted her friend, Hazel Newton.
“I know what you mean. We really need more of our kind on the island especially since hardly any indentured servants are coming here now," agreed Dora.
"That thought did cross my mind, but unfortunately he's already betrothed to a girl in Carolina." They all sighed with disappointment and then laughed at themselves.
"He's been such a help to Thomas and he says he's looking forward to helping out during the harvest."
"There speaks someone who knows nothing of the horrors of harvesting cane. I practically lose all my house girls to the work," complained Hazel.
"Speaking of house girls, I must say that you dress yours very well Elizabeth. The one in the green, in particular, looks as well turned out as many of the ladies here tonight."
"Thank you Dora." Elizabeth pasted a polite smile on her face which ably covered up the anger seething inside her as she looked at Deborah again.
Not only had Deborah deliberately disobeyed her by wearing something of her own choosing, but she drew the eyes of every man in the room, Richard's included! She wondered where she had got the dress from. No doubt Thomas! It wasn't surprising that she thought herself above the others. Well it was high time she reminded the girl that she was nothing more than a slave in her house and under her control. She now had a good reason and she would do it at the earliest opportunity!
Chapter 12
The Barbadian planters, Richard noticed, indulged in drink like no other people he had encountered and each group he joined insisted that he have a drink with them. He didn’t resist, hoping that the alcohol would dull the desire that rose in him each time his eyes fell on Deborah as she served. The fac
t that she appeared oblivious to his presence, while he could not keep his eyes off her, was a blow to his pride and he was determined to get a response from her one way or the other.
The opportunity arose when he saw her crossing the room with an empty tray to go to the kitchen. Quickly begging the excuse of a group of young ladies that his cousins had insisted he meet, he exited through the nearest doorway and reached the hallway ahead of her and was able to block her path.
She came to an abrupt halt when she saw him, her startled eyes meeting his. She made to move around him and he moved as well, cutting off her exit.
“You look beautiful tonight, Deborah,” he praised quietly.
“Thank you,” she murmured lowering her gaze, even while she kept the tray between them.
He leaned closer and said, “Come to my room after the party.” The smell of brandy was strong on his breath. Before she could move back he bent his head and branded her with a kiss on the side of her neck.
A shiver tickled her back and she pulled away shocked; not sure if it was because of his bold action or her response to it. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Her voice was unsteady.
“What do you mean, that’s not possible? You will do as I say.” His pride was stung and he forgot what his uncle had warned him only hours before.
In a panic Deborah scrambled for a response and finally said, “I am indisposed, Master Richard.”
The alcohol he had drunk made him slow to process the information and it seemed to take an age before he understood her meaning. His mouth twisted in displeasure at the news and he uttered a curse before turning away to stride down the hall.
Deborah resumed her way to the kitchen, with a slight smile of victory on her face. She couldn’t use that excuse forever so she would have to get her mother to speak to the master soon. He obviously had not told the nephew that she was not for bedding.
Dawn was painting the sky in pale pinks when the last carriage departed from The Acreage. While the family wearily climbed the stairs to their rooms, the slaves were faced with the task of restoring the house to order before the family woke up later in the day. Thankfully it was Sunday so after they had cleaned up they could take their own rest.
If the success of the party was to be judged by the amount of alcohol consumed, then the slaves who worked serving the drinks could attest that it was a very successful party. They packed about a hundred empty wine and brandy bottles into crates before helping Jethro to put the furniture back in place in the sitting room. Deborah and the other women walked about picking up glasses and plates to take into the yard just outside the kitchen, where several tubs had been set up to wash and rinse them.
The sun was half way up the sky when they finally headed to their huts for much coveted sleep. Deborah was so exhausted that she barely managed to take off her dress before falling onto her pallet to sleep.
She awoke several hours later, disoriented to find herself in bed in broad daylight. Wincing as she sat up, she heard her mother bustling about in the front room.
“Ma, what time is it?”she called to Sarah.
“It looks to be around four or so,” Sarah replied poking her head through the door. “You hungry? I made some pone.”
“Yes, but I want to wash my hair before it gets any later. I’ll eat something when I come back.”
Deborah washed inside the hut then carried a bucket outside and filled it with water so that she could wash her long hair. The soap that she had made, scented with lemon balm, gave her hair a fresh lemony scent. Drying it as much as she could with a small towel she headed out to her favorite spot leaving it loose for the wind to finish the job.
She had not had the opportunity to get a new book from the master’s office as they had been busy preparing for the party so she had nothing to read but she would just enjoy the view and relax for a few minutes. As she made her way around the back of the house towards her oasis, an unaccustomed feeling of well being came over her.
Richard saw Deborah heading for her favorite spot from his bedroom window. He had woken up an hour or so earlier with a headache induced by the vast quantities of brandy he had consumed the night before; another reason why he avoided drinking too much spirits.
He recalled his encounter with Deborah in the hallway and now cringed at his crassness. He couldn’t believe he had ordered her to come to his room. It was just as well that she had been indisposed, or so she claimed. He wouldn’t put it past her to lie about that. He had never needed to force a woman into his bed and he was not about to start now. She might be a slave, but he had enough pride to want her to be willing to come to him and he vowed that when she came to him, she would indeed be willing.
The desire to follow her was strong and he battled with himself for a few minutes before he gave up the fight and slipped out of his room, hoping that he would meet none of the family. From the amount of spirits his uncle had consumed, he was sure that he would be asleep until nightfall and he hoped that the ladies were still spent. Luck was with him and he made his way out of the house unseen and down to the grove of trees where he knew he would find Deborah.
Deborah saw him coming from the distance and her heart gave a little lurch. She preferred to call it fear but if she was truly honest with herself, she knew it was really anticipation. She was assured that her lie at the party would give her safety from any inappropriate advances, at least for now, so she wasn’t really afraid of him in that way.
This time she stood up as he came closer so that he would not tower over her as he did before, although she still had to look a way up to see his face. He stopped fairly close to her and as her eyes stared at the top button of his shirt, she couldn’t help but notice the breadth of his shoulders under the shirt he wore this evening.
“You needn’t have stood.”
“I’m supposed to,” she replied.
“Do you always do what you’re supposed to?” She kept quiet knowing that wearing the dress to the party provided her answer to the question.
“I came to apologize for my behavior last night which I attribute to the vast quantities of alcohol I consumed,” he offered rather than pursuing the answer to his question.
“Since when does a master apologize to a slave?” asked Deborah rhetorically.
“I am not your master,” he replied quietly, “but I would like to be,” he added in a husky voice.
“I am not for sale!” she declared.
“Don’t be too sure about that,” he retorted confidently. Deborah hesitated, now unsure of her bold statement. Would the master really sell her to the nephew? Had they come to some sort of agreement that she had not been told about yet? How she hated the fact that she could be bought and sold.
“Would it be so bad to be owned by me, Deborah? I would be good to you,” he promised in a low voice, closing the distance between them to run the back of his fingers down her neck. Her skin felt like silk to his touch and an image of him kissing her neck came back to him. Had he done that last night or had he imagined it? He slid his fingers into her hair to see if it felt as silky and pulled her gently towards him.
Deborah jerked her head back as his fingers on her neck and in her hair stirred unfamiliar feelings in her body.
“You don’t want to be owned by me, but I think you already own me,” he continued musingly as she said nothing. Her eyes met his questioningly. “I saw you pass my window and said that I would not follow you, yet here I am. Do you not own me?”
Deborah dismissed his confession. “That is hardly the same thing. Anyway, it is not me that owns you. It is your lust. But I’m sure that Hattie will be only too willing to take care of that.”
“And you’re not.” It was a statement.
“No. I am not.”
“One day you will change your mind.”
“Never!” Deborah assured him.
“Never say never,” he said arrogantly, walking away. He would remind her about those words when she came to his bed.
Deborah
seethed at his retreating back. She would never desire the infuriating, arrogant nephew and she couldn’t wait until he left Barbados.
Monday morning dawned clear and bright. It was a beautiful day in the island. The kitchen was abuzz with talk about the party and how much food and drink had been consumed. Cassie had served breakfast to the men and reported that the master was going to Jamestown later in the morning to do some business but had asked Master Richard to check on the slaves working near the house since the overseers would be involved with harvesting the first set of canes.
“He does more than Master William ever did ‘bout here. The master goin’ be sorry when he gone back to Carolina,” Sarah said.
I will not, thought Deborah, remembering his boast to her as he walked away from her the day before.
“Me too,” piped up Hattie. “He is a real good man. I never had any like him before,” she confessed with a satisfied smile.
Deborah remembered the tingle that ran through her body when he sank his fingers in her hair and for a brief moment wondered what it would be like to find out what Hattie was talking about. Her face burned as she caught her wayward thoughts and told herself that Hattie was welcome to him because she certainly wasn’t interested and she didn’t care how good he was.
“I’m going to pick some herbs from the back garden. I haven’t picked any for a long time and most of the bags are almost empty,” Deborah announced, hurriedly picking up a basket. She really didn’t want to hear any more of Hattie’s stories at the moment. The girl had no shame and was willing to share all sorts of intimacies that Deborah could do without hearing about.
As she went out the back door she heard Cassie saying, “Sarah, the mistress ain’ ask you nothing about why Deborah didn’t wear the same dress as us?”
“To tell the truth, I ain’ see the mistress since the party and I hoping that she forget.”
“I don’t know ‘bout that. You shoulda see her face when Deborah come in wearing that dress. In fact you shoulda see the nephew face too. I peep at him and I nearly burst out laughing to see how he was looking at your girl child. Hattie you better enjoy it while it last because he soon goin’ to be calling for Deborah instead of you.”
