“What sort of man, in possession of the gift I have given you, can have her to himself, unobstructed and not - have her?”
Quinton could not but help turning red at the accusation.
“How dare you, come into my home, as I am a man of God, and accuse me of anything indecent? Which is what I believe you are inferring. .”
“Even a man of God, will find himself tempted with such a gift! And certainly beyond endurance in the length of time she has been in your possession – you tell me, how else can this be?” Quinton hated what he must say, especially with the knowledge that Suga, stood by, listening.
“While I find slavery an injustice to fellow man; that does not mean that I am open to their women; we each have been given our own. My preference, is for – my own. When my need arises, I seek out that which offers me the greater thrill; alabaster skin, hair of silk, eyes of blue.” Quinton followed his preference with a look that clearly expressed lust. “Suga, is my servant, cook, maid – nurse. In exchange for a job well done, she receives clothing, food, shelter and my protection.”
Bancmen sat back sighing, Quinton’s explanation satisfied him, his claim was not unheard of, he knew of such men – and he also knew of the others.
“My God, she is wasted with you – return her that I might put her to better use. If she is intact as you claim, I will pay for her once more, I will offer you a price. You can hire yourself a male servant, one to do all that you’ve started with her. Thus, your troubles will be over.”
“To start anew? I haven’t the time, or the will. My time is precious; she is more valuable now, for what she knows, than what you can offer me in exchange. I assure you, I am not in need of coin.”
“As talk is certainly brewing, you will lose her one way, or another and must start anew, sell her back to me-…”
“So you can auction her to the greater bidder?”
“It is what I do.” Bancmen blatantly acknowledged.
“Is this not a free state?”
“Tis only a formality – there are – private auctions – even here, in this – free state.”
Quinton came to his feet.
“Report what I’ve given you. She is a servant; untouched. This can be proven. I will not start anew; I will remain in possession as her employer. Go, tell them.”
Henry stood, in clear disbelief once more.
“Save yourself the trouble – give her up.”
“I have said all there is – if there is anything more to be discussed, you know where to find me.”
“All this, over a slave?” Bancmen pressed.
“I believe I’ve covered her increased value enough.” Quinton left it at that.
“Very well – I tried.”
“So you have.” Quinton started directing him towards the door; he knew that Suga had gone, aware they’d concluded their discussion.
With their guest departed, the door bolted behind him, Quinton wondered what now? What next? What might he need to disclose in order to win the battle in keeping Suga? Turning, he made his way toward the kitchen – hoping for some miracle or fix.
He stood across the room from her, in her calm way of dealing with matters, she started first, “We bes’ hurry wit’ what we was doin’-…”
“We should continue where we left off…” Quinton stopped her immediately to correct her.
“I ain’t got no need for such-…”
“We should continue – where we – left off…” Quinton pressed, “Repeat it.”
Suga’s gaze was gentle, resigned.
“You will repeat it as I’ve instructed, now, speak as I’ve corrected.” He ordered.
Suga, paused, looked down, swallowed and then up at him, and spoke as he would have her, slowly, carefully, with her thoughts on the matter, “I understand, we should continue where we left off, I would have – things – as you will – need them – when I - am gone.”
Heat stole over Quinton, it lit within his entire body hearing her properly spoken words, especially those, when I am gone. One moment the table stood between them and the next, he was there, his arms tight around her, crushing her against his body. It took all of his will not kiss her, devour her mouth as he longed to; he was too weak, once he started, he knew it would be hell to stop; so he held on to her, vowing passionately,
“I beg you, believe me – I will do all in my power to hold you with me always; I gave you my word and I-…”
Suga tried to push away to tell him how things would now go, but he wouldn’t turn her loose, having little choice, she relaxed against him, her head pressed against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart, “I know you wanna keep yo’word, but they ain’t gone let you – won’t be long now. I guess I – shud’ah let you have me-…”
“Suga…” Quinton trailed off, wishing to promise her so much more, but how could he be certain that he would deliver? What if she was right, what if he lost this battle and lost her? He knew what he had to do, it would be a gamble, but it was one he was ready to take – because the reward at the end, was what he wanted most – he knew that now; and because she was preparing herself for the chance, he may not win – he would keep the promise to himself until he could be sure of delivering, for now anyway. He repeated her name once more, “Suga… you have to trust me – say that you trust me?”
Her arms rose to wrap around him, wanting to hug him back; standing so close, told her a lot about what she felt for him; she’d broken her mother’s first rule, never have feelings in your heart for your white owner; certainly not the feelings she had, her mother said, it would seal the promise of a broken heart, to be broken, over and over again. She brought them back, trying to break away from him as well.
Quinton felt his innards squeeze to discomfort, “Suga – I’ll do my utmost, I will…”
“We got – things t’do – no time fo’foolishness, c’mo.”
She pushed back until he had no choice but to release her. Quinton swallowed the lump in his throat, following her out the door, his arms feeling heavy, yet empty. He’d never in his life had met a woman like Suga – everything in him – wanted her. No matter how risky the deed, he would disclose his identity – once they knew, the gamble would be made, they would mock him, humiliate him or punish him for what he was.
It was not overly stated that those of the new colonies hated the nobility. Peasants and commoners were more than welcome to join them in the new land to escape the very poverty they accused the gentry of subjecting them to by charging high taxes, by claiming ownership of the Lion’s share of the land and then, charging them high rent to dwell there. Talk from some that he’d stood in the midst of listening in on, gave him ample warning that the last thing he should ever do, was state that he was in possession of thousands of acres of land, with 13 estate managers, hundreds of market booths and thousands of tenant farmers – some – paying rent and tax to him.
If that were not enough, his deceased father had also left him in possession of a thriving ironworks and coalmines in England and in Scotland; where anyone could find back in his history Irish and Scottish slaves who worked those mines.
He’d kept so much from the people he’d settled in with, but he would take a chance and risk it all if it meant him being able to hold on to Suga.
It was time they knew the truth, that back in England, he was addressed as, Earl of WhistHirst, no longer Viscount of WhistHirst, now that his father, the Marquis of WhistHirst, had passed – thus all that he had, went to his first born son.
WhistHirst’s Earl - Quinton Thaddeus Caine
Chapter VII
The deed of disclosure was easy enough to manifest, it only required him sending an official missive to his estates back in England, which would bear his name, his title, and his seal.
Within, a request that he be attended to by the list of servants named, along with a list of things they were to bring and do, and lastly, they were to depart post haste. Of course he knew that it would not be received on the
other side any sooner than a month, no later than three – but it was sent. He would have to hold his own until their arrival.
Word got around, as he knew it would.
To quell his anxiety, while waiting for them to make their move, he stepped up Suga’s lessons, intensifying them. Teaching her the very common everyday words that she often used or heard; making her write them and then every time the word was said or the item used, such as wood for their fire, the kettle, spoon, tea, coffee, cup, plate, door, floor, stairs, bed - he would ask, “What letters come to picture in your mind? What word, do you see, when you see Moose? Write it – write as close as you can to what you see.” He had her carry a book around and every time she saw a word in the book that also existed around them, she was to point it out. It became a game that brought laughter to him, to watch her, racing about the house, touching things she saw as a word in the book.
Often they dressed warm and walked the woods, doing the same; Moose romping around them; Quinton listening, Suga reading. Another game they played while out had her finding anything she wanted, laying her hand on it for him to spell it out for her and in turn, requiring her to repeat the spelling back to him.
If she had a book in hand, he treasured the moments she came to him, pointing to a word she could not figure, for him to help her sound it out, then tell her it’s meaning followed by insisting she use the word every chance she had.
Quinton could not believe her progress; her mind was like a sponge; her eagerness, her aptitude only confirmed what he already knew about her, about the people she'd come from; intelligence – speed – adaption was the very core of their makeup – Suga confirmed this and more.
She was enjoying the slow opening of new doors, through clear and clean windows, to seeing a whole new world just from learning to read words that other people had put together to tell a story, or record events. It was like traveling on adventures, making great discoveries without ever leaving their home. Untold delight was hers to know, that she too could write words, sentences, and start to slowly chronicle – she never imagined there was such an exquisite diversion. The more words she learned, the more she wanted to learn. She wanted to read a book, an entire book.
Now, at the break of dawn, she was up and eager from the bed that Quinton had made for her; built by Erwin in the room downstairs, off the hall from the kitchen. Because of what he knew, surrounding their living arrangements, he did all he could not to touch her in an inappropriate manner, which meant, giving her a room of her own. It secretly saddened him that she was so happy in her new room at the same time, it gave him joy; she caused many complex feelings within him.
Out of bed, Suga rushed about doing chores, chores surrounding taking care of Quinton; taking care of Moose; taking care of their home.
As soon as all was done, she wanted to read, she wanted to write – she thirsted for it as if addicted to learning.
Quinton had never known he could feel such pride.
And so, their evenings were spent with her, on a stool positioned before the fire, with him sitting in his favorite chair, smoking a pipe and Moose at her feet. There she would read to him. Her excitement was a vision he longed to see growing with each day that passed. He found himself always holding back from embracing her, touching her, he longed for it more and more but could not risk all for one moment that would lose him everything, her.
Consequently, he noticed, as she did, like an unspoken awareness between them, fewer knocks were happening at the door for urgent matters; Quinton figured it could be due to the fact that there simply hadn’t been anything happening they’d been needed for, but still – it seemed to be right after he’d sent his missive. He knew that it was not because of Suga going along, all those who had been treated, benefited from her input; no, it was due to his gamble; and also due to the fact that, Suga – was living with him – a bachelor.
It was 18 days before they finally received a knock at the door; a cool early morning; Quinton answered it to find a young man waiting for him, “Sir – this is for you.” He handed him a ‘writ of Summons’ a piece of folded paper; Quinton unfolded it within it simply stated.
-You have been summoned to appear before a panel of your peers by request of the court – due to a complaint of blatant fornication. You are summoned to appear this day, at the hour of noon at the town hall. This summons includes your servant girl, Suga – who must also appear.-
After reading it, he nodded to the young man, backed into his home and closed the door, turning to see Suga, staring wide eyed at him.
Her heart was beating so violently she felt light headed from the fright of it. "I's time – they gone take me t'day." She stated as a matter of fact.
He almost corrected her speech, but couldn't bring himself to do it; there was no guarantee because he too was unsure of the outcome. He knew what he would need to do, but he needed to tread carefully or lose all. He hadn't shared his plan for that reason, his gamble made him guilty of playing with their lives. He based it on his knowledge of people, their thinking – he also knew their disdain of what he represented, now that they knew his true identity. What he hoped most of all, was that things did not get carried away.
"Suga, today you are to dress – in a proper gown – and I want you to come with me; I want you to trust me, will you?"
Rooted to the spot as if frozen by her fear, she searched his eyes, wondering where would she wake and find herself tomorrow. With little choice in the matter, she turned and made her way to the room he’d helped set up for her; her bedroom, where she combed her hair, washed herself and dressed. In addition to the built in bed, it was also furnished with a bench against the wall, a mirror; a wash basin stand, with a pitcher, a shelf where she kept her comb, head scarves and wash cloths; also on one wall were pegs for her bonnet, cape and scarf. Her accumulating clothing and stockings - were folded and stacked neatly in the chest he'd given her; lastly, on the floor were three pairs of shoes and her moccasins.
Standing in the middle of the floor, she wondered if it was time to pack.
Unwilling to carry on thinking that way, she followed his direction and dressed in the best that she had. Not wishing to keep him waiting, she hurried out, meeting him before the barn and climbed into the carriage.
Neither of them spoke as he drove down the center of the village towards the town hall, various ones along the way, stopped to look at them. A lone male stood leering and yelled out, “Ge’aw back t’England ya’bloody cur!” He spat on the ground, “An take that wit’ya’ to the king, ya' bleeder!” obviously the man couldn't resist damning him, the monarchy and anyone he thought from the elite class, that he felt bled them until they were dry.
Suga dare not look his way, but to say that she was being eaten alive by terror was putting it lightly.
Accepting what they may have to face, Quinton armed himself with two pistols, a dagger and a rapier beneath the seat. Keeping his eyes forward and ignoring the man, he quietly attempted to soothe Suga, “Know this – I am prepared to harm any who might be so bold as to try me.”
“You jus' one man, please, jus’ give me up.” She murmured with her heart beating heavily.
“Not – without a fight. Remember, you made me give my word, I vowed, until the day, that I die.” He returned passionately.
"Look like gone be today." She mumbled low.
Quinton could not help the nervous chuckle at her words, "Hmmm, could be – it is certain that their hatred is directed at me - not you."
“Why?” She asked in her soft spoken manner.
“I have much to tell you, but I cannot do so now – now, we must carry on. If you should have a mind towards an aid for us, I bid you pray, for right now, it is certainly needed.”
Pulling her cape in close around her, Suga bowed her bonneted head and began doing just that as they rolled on.
To their benefit, that one man’s anger was the only outburst they were subjected to; others within the town were torn, confused, trying to understan
d what a blue-blood was doing among them, administering to them as a doctor.
When they pulled in front of the town hall, situated across from the church, Suga looked up to see her first real patient leaving the hall. Ellen Murray, her husband and their infant; the one she’d helped deliver. They made eye contact with one another; Ellen nodded her head and smiled as if giving her some hope.
She needed that hope.
Erwin and Quinton had certainly grown closer since her visit with him there; it would appear, they might be the only ones in the small village that didn't resent him. Quinton came around and handed her down, as more of those they'd treated came out of the hall; some looking away from them, others remorseful. It was obvious; they'd been called in to speak about what they knew of them. He could only wonder at what had been stated. Taking several deep breaths, they made their way into the square, stone built, colonial style building. With hesitation Suga fell behind Quinton, her head down.
He took several calming breaths to get his mind, thoughts and act in order – he could not fail in this, he simply mustn’t – they entered, and made their way to the front of the hall. Sitting at the front before them, were five of the leading men of their community; of all men to be sitting in judgment of him, there he was, Henry J. Bancmen. Quinton would have liked to say he was surprised, but he was not, of course he would be sitting in a judgment seat, this man who still bartered and traded slaves in the South. He sat at the left end from where he faced them, next to him was Lawrence Carter, in the middle, their clergy, Father Walter Hannah, next Richard McKinney and at the end, James Armfield.
The Fancy Page 8
