Master Of Paradise

by Virginia Henley

  Amanda was now fourteen, long-legged as a colt. "Let's go out to the porch where it's cool."

  Mammy stood, hands on hips, dumfounded that Mandy had argued for an hour about going out to the porch and now, in a flash, she changed her mind completely. "Dat chile one big mystery to me," she complained loudly.

  Nick's eyes traveled from one sister to the other. Jennifer Joy had posed herself as if sitting for her portrait. She had carefully selected the right background, the most flattering dress color for her golden hair, and was at work saying just the right things. She looks like a china doll.

  Mandy perched on the porch rail, the edges of her pantaloons showing, her hair a mass of tangles and kiss curls. Her dark mysterious eyes with their golden lights fastened upon her sister, gave away none of her thoughts, until Jenny gushed, "Oh Beau, you say the cleverest things!" Then Jennifer gave Nicholas a sidelong glance to see if the attention she gave Beau angered him, as she hoped it would. Then Mandy's eyes rolled heavenward, and Nicholas could read the thoughts so plainly written there.

  Their eyes met in amusement, and suddenly the others present were aware that Nicholas and Mandy were sharing secrets.

  To Nicholas, Mandy so unselfconscious, was utterly lovely, utterly captivating, and utterly desirable. He stood up abruptly as Cleo appeared with a tray of cool drinks. "I came early, hoping to speak with Mr. Jackson."

  "They started picking today. Daddy hasn't come in from the fields yet," Mandy said.

  Jennifer made a little moue of distaste. "I'm sure I don't know why he has to go to the fields when he pays others to do it for him."

  "He always goes the first day," Amanda pointed out.

  Nicholas grinned tauntingly. "I won't just be there; I'm picking tomorrow."

  Everyone save Amanda looked deeply shocked.

  Nick continued wickedly, "Does that mean you won't receive me anymore, Miss Jennifer?"

  "Why, Mr. Peacock... Nicholas, I hope I have prettier manners than that," she said, angling for a compliment.

  "Prettiest manners in the whole of Carolina. Purely and absolutely," he replied solemnly.

  Mandy whooped and threw her legs up, almost going backwards over the rail.

  Nicholas bowed. "I'll go and give my compliments to your mother."

  When he departed, Jennifer looked daggers at Amanda, but she still kept up the façade in front of Stuart and Beau. "Mandy, honey, don't you think you should tidy up before supper, seeing we have such handsome guests tonight? I declare your hair makes you look like you were brought up by wolves."

  Amanda looked intently at Jennifer's hair for a full minute, and her sister thought she was about to blurt out that she had used something to lighten the color. If she opens her mouth I'll die, thought Jenny, I'll simply die.

  Mandy left without a word.

  When Bernard arrived home he saw Nick and invited him into his office. Jackson's face was burnt red from being in the sun all day. "When do you start?"

  "Tomorrow," Nick answered with a grin.

  Bernard nodded. "Looks mighty good."

  "I find that nothing on Earth compares to riding my own acres."

  "Well, I used to feel that way, but now that's exactly how I feel about Congress. Frankly, I miss Richmond. I'm thinking of returning for a short spell this winter."

  "When your crops in, will you take it to Charleston or will your overseer do all that?"

  "Hell, no need to go to that trouble. Before it's picked this place and yours will have attracted more than one agent-broker."

  "You mean sell the crop to an agent for a commission?" Nick asked.

  "You can be sure they earn it. They have to freight it, store it, and sell it. Saves a lot of work."

  "I don't mind the work. I'm taking my own in to sell. Tell you what, Bernard, I'll act as your agent. I'll match any price offered by the brokers, but I'll keep any profits," he warned.

  Bernard looked at him and grinned. He admired Nick tremendously. Admired his ruthless singleness of purpose. "I know you intend to plow your profits into more land, and that's good, but don't spend any capital on buying more slaves, Nick. They're pricey right now, and I have hands who'll sit idle all winter. I'll lend you men for land clearing and draining."

  "I'll pay you wages for them, Bernard. You are too generous."

  "I won't hear of it. You'll repay me in ways aplenty. When I go up to Richmond you can stay here and watch over the ladies for me. You know I have my eye on you as a prospective son-in-law." He chuckled. "When you're rich of course."

  Nicholas actually enjoyed picking his cotton and he could see his men also took pride in gathering the fruits of their labor. It seemed impossible that those tiny green shoots they had nursed along in the spring had developed such large strong bols that had swelled and suddenly burst open into acres and acres of dazzling whiteness. They stayed at it from dawn until the last light faded from the skies.

  As Nicholas began to see how much cotton they had produced, and added what he realized the Jackson Plantation would produce, he began to think about transporting it to Charleston. Such a bulky crop would entail endless wagon trips, so he decided to float it up to town. He had endless stacks of logs from land clearing, and all they needed was lashing together to make rafts or flat barges. Vulcan and Lance were already in a contest to see who could pick more cotton in a day, so he left them at it and chose Jason and Luke to fashion the rafts.

  When the two crops were finally baled and loaded they filled an incredible thirty barges. Nick made two flotillas, of fifteen rafts each.

  Bernard and all his people came out to view such a unique sight, and Amanda rode with them five miles down the riverbank on her newly acquired filly, Miss Louise.

  Bernard Jackson shook his head. In Nick's case, ignorance had been an ally. If he had known the hazards of cotton-- the weevils and the bol worms, and the damp from too much rain that rotted the bols from the inside, it could have been a deterrent to his success. Bernard decided not to mention the tobacco with the blue mold that crept over its leaves, rendering it useless.

  From his long hours of labor beneath the burning sun, Nicholas was bronzed and hardened. His muscles were taut, his belly flat. He carried not one ounce of superfluous flesh, yet you could not describe him as lean. His body was more powerful that that of any prime field hand and he felt that there was nothing on Earth that he could not accomplish. His black hair, so crisp and curly, had gown long on his neck, curling over his shirt collar in the fashion of Southern men, but he was still clean shaven. He had not yet effected the long mustaches of his peer group. His blue-green eyes were startling in the dark face, and when he laughed the whiteness of his teeth contrasted sharply with his bronzed skin.

  In Charleston he captured every eye and turned a few heads as well. Since Brute had been the natural leader of his men, he had appointed him foreman long ago. He bade his men to rest and eat the provisions they had brought, but above all guard the cargo while he departed the docks for the Cotton Exchange to find out about prices. He hope to avoid the expense of warehousing; he also intended to cut out as many middlemen as possible.

  Charleston that late afternoon reached a temperature of 105 degrees. It was the hottest Nicholas had ever been in his life. The air was humid and hung still, with no hint of a breeze anywhere. His back, under his shirt ran wetly and made him think of a bath in the little house on Tradd Street.

  When he entered the Exchange, cotton was going for thirty-nine dollars a bale. He couldn't believe it. Bernard had been happy to sell at twenty-five. Before Nick turned to leave, the price had risen to forty dollars. When he arrived back at the docks, he saw that runners who went from ships to the Cotton Exchange all day long, had carried the news ahead of him. Forty dollars and rising!

  Nicholas boarded a clipper from Liverpool and made the captain and cargo officer a deal. He offered them his cotton at forty dollars, but he'd also load it aboard for them this evening. "If you come out on deck, you can see it waiting at dockside." />
  "What's the catch?" asked his fellow Englishman.

  "The draft you pay me with will have to stipulate gold. I don't deal in paper money."

  "How about Sterling, British?"

  "Good enough. Gold, silver, all the same to me."

  "Tell you what, if you can get us a custom's clearance so we can sail by midnight, it's a deal."

  Nicholas strode up to the customs shed at the end of the wharf and singled out a harassed-looking custom's officer. He put ten silver dollars into the man's hand and pointed him in the direction of the Lady Mersey.

  Each bale was labeled Paradise Plantation.

  "Paradise, eh?" commented the custom's officer as he verified the bill of lading.

  "Closest to it I've ever found," Nicholas said with a grin. He gave his men the signal to start bringing the bales on board, then after the custom's officer departed, he pitched in himself, toting the bales up the gangplank.

  When they were finished he would have preferred to send them straight back upriver to Paradise, but he knew they deserved rest and recreation. Since he was about to indulge himself for a couple of days, he could not deny them. He took them into a waterfront tavern and paid for two days food and board. Then he gave them each the price of a woman. "Brute, I'm counting on you to keep these boys in line. Try and keep fighting to a minimum. Stay close so you don't get picked up by the patrol," he warned.

  "I'll stop 'em runnin' Mast' Nick, but who stop me?". He winked.

  Nicholas showed his trust in them by shrugging. "You can go back to Paradise, or you can go to Hell!" He heard their laughter as his steps led him away in the direction of Tradd Street. He took Jason with him. He could act as body servant in Samuel's absence, but Nicholas took him for another reason. Solange had taken a fancy to the mulatto the first time she had seen him, and on subsequent visits a relationship had developed between the pair that Nicholas encouraged.

  Nick hummed a tune as he ran up the brick steps to his house. It was the last day of September and he marveled at the intense heat. It would be a cool autumn day in England. He hadn't had time to visit Charleston in almost three months, and he blinked uncertainly as his eyes took in Solange's rounded belly.

  She was happy to see Nicholas, but all her smiles were reserved for Jason, so Nick took himself upstairs for a cooling bath and a change of clothes. By the look of things, the two downstairs had some talking to do.

  When he came downstairs the young couple were waiting to speak to him. Solange spoke first. "Ah would like your permission to marry."

  Nicholas, trying for a light tone said, "You're free Solange, you don't need my permission. It's Jason here who needs my permission, and by the looks of things I have no choice."

  They did not respond with laughter.

  Solange said quietly, "Jason ain't the father o' ma chile."

  Nick's mouth went dry. It couldn't be. They'd only been together that one time-- the night he'd bought her. Nothing had come out of that night, no desire for a liaison, not even a lingering romantic feeling. It had just happened. A single isolated incident. Just sequence and consequence.

  Jason spoke up quickly, "Ah be a good father to the chile."

  Nicholas looked at him bleakly. "Don't you mind?" he asked hoarsely.

  Jason shook his head. "If she carryin' another black man's chile, ah kill her. Yore chile is different, Mast' Nick."

  "Good God in Heaven, tell me how," Nick said, feeling the crushing weight of responsibility.

  Jason explained. "When a black woman has a white man's chile, it sets her above the rest. She gets respect. It sets her apart-- marks her as special."

  Nicholas shook his head. "Forgive me, Solange. I never meant for this to happen, believe me."

  Solange said simply, "Ah prayed ah would have yore chile. It a great honor. But ah don't love you, ah loves Jason and we wants to be married."

  "If you wish to marry, you have my blessing. I will always provide well for my child. I think you are better off here Solange, for the time being. This winter we'll have time to start building Jason a large cabin at the plantation, so that you can be together."

  Nicholas didn't go to the Planters Inn at Church and Queen Street. Instead he found himself knocking imploringly on Lady Margot's front door.

  Her smile was eager and welcoming when she saw the magnificent figure of Nicholas on her doorstep.

  He hesitated, which was most unlike him. "Maggie, I'm sorry to barge in unannounced, but I need someone to talk to."

  "Darling Nick, it's my pleasure. Do come in and tell me whatever is wrong." She took his hand and led him into the drawing room. She poured him bourbon and branchwater and joined him on the love seat.

  "I've done something shocking," he said.

  She put her fingers to his lips, "Ssh, the drink first," she soothed.

  He drained the glass and set it aside. The silence stretched out and the room was filled with the heavy, slow ticking of a grandfather clock. Finally she said, "Did something go wrong with the crop? Did you lose money at the Cotton Exchange?"

  He laughed shortly. "No, no. This has nothing to do with business. Everything has gone extremely well in that direction."

  "Start at the beginning," she prompted.

  "Yes. Well. There's not that much to tell really. The day I bought my slaves, I purchased a black girl."

  Her eyebrows went up.

  "No, no, I didn't buy her for that; at least I don't believe so. She wasn't even particularly beautiful, but she held herself so proudly, I couldn't bear to leave her there for men to examine and degrade. I wasn't being particularly noble either, Maggie. I felt stained, damned, if you will, buying human flesh, so to absolve myself in a token fashion, I bought her to free her."

  He ran his fingers through his hair. "That proved more difficult than I thought, as is often the case in this world of ours. Freedom frightened her more than slavery did, so I took her on as my housekeeper. That night she came to me, and I selfishly indulged myself. It only happened once." His eyes showed their misery. "She's carrying my child."

  Maggie was relieved. She thought he'd committed murder at the very least. "Nick, most men wouldn't acknowledge such a thing after only one time."

  "Maggie, I'm not most men," he said quietly.

  "I know that, Nick. In the South the majority of white men father children with wenches. It's simply accepted as a way of life."

  "I have no qualms about acknowledging the child, and it surely goes without saying that I shall give full financial support. The thing I have difficulty with is knowing I'm responsible for bringing a half-caste child into a world where it's certain to meet pain and suffering," he said softly.

  "Nick, we are all certain to meet that, sooner or later."

  He smiled slightly. "You're right of course. Thank you for listening to me moan. I don't usually."

  She moved closer and bent her lips to his ear. "Come to bed. Everything will seem brighter in the morning." What woman could sleep under the same roof and not long to share your bed?

  "You go ahead up, Maggie. I'll just have a smoke in the quiet and join you shortly." He turned out the lamps and sat in the dark. The tip of his cheroot glowed in the darkness as silence filled the house.

  Solange wanted a white man's child and deliberately went about it the only way she knew how. But the fact remains that I am deeply ashamed of myself.

  He was ashamed of his ignorance in sexual matters. Until this moment he'd always considered himself a good lover, but now it came to him with a jolt that he was selfish, inconsiderate, and woefully ignorant. A real man would take total responsibility when he made love to a woman. Any male who cannot prevent an unwanted pregnancy is not a man, but a boy.

  He remembered, on his travels through Italy, hearing of young men who had mastered the art of prolonged intercourse by practicing partial release or postponement of release altogether. Young men in Europe who got girls pregnant were mocked and scorned for their ignorance and lack of technique. Their concep
t of maleness required sophistication is sexual matters.

  Nicholas decided to study the sexual moors of other cultures. From now on when I make love to a woman, I swear I will take care of her. He vowed to learn to be a skilled and attentive lover, enjoying the intense excitement of a female's response rather than concentrating on his own orgasm. It's rumored that postponement of release leads to increased potency. He would discover the truth of that for himself.

  Maggie slipped out of her gown and sat at her dressing table in her revealing shift. She brushed her red hair until it crackled. When he came into the bedroom, she watched him with hungry eyes, and hoped that she excited him half as much as he excited her. By the time he removed his shirt and her eyes slowly took in the full splendor of him, she was slick with anticipation.

  Three days later, as the empty log barges were hauled slowly back upriver by the mules Nicholas had purchased, he talked with his men about his future plans for himself and for them. "The extra mules will enable us to get all the land at Paradise cleared. I want each of you to have your own cabin, your own plot of land to grow food, and space enough for chickens and hogs and other livestock." Nicholas and Samuel presently resided in the stables. The building was so large, airy, and clean, it was a source of pride to all of them.

  "I don't intend to grow as much rice next planting season. I'd like to drain all the land that's marshy into a man-made lake that will be ornamental and part of the formal garden that will surround the house on Paradise Hill."