Royall stood to Mrs. Quince’s right on the receiving line, patiently allowing herself to be formally introduced to people she had met a hundred times over during the past ten days since the opening of the opera. The party itself was an informal buffet. Long tables, covered with snowy white cloths, were tended by servants and laden with foods of every description. The hour was late by most standards, nearly eleven o’clock, near the witching hour, because everyone had attended the performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto before coming to the Quince residence.
Royall shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Damn if her feet didn’t hurt. She wanted nothing more than to just creep up to her room and pull off her clothes and sleep. But Rosalie had gone to considerable trouble to make things as nice as possible for her young guest.
In spite of herself, Royall found she continually watched the entrance to the lantern-lit garden, watching for Sebastian. She had seen him earlier from the Quince box at the opera. He had brought Alicia with him, and the girl had looked lovely in a pink gown striped with silver. Royall had once or twice glanced their way. Alicia had caught her eye and waved a greeting. Sebastian had not turned his head, not even to offer a smile to Rosalie.
Royall hadn’t seen him since the day he’d practically kidnapped her to bring her to Alicia, and she admitted to herself that her eyes were hungry for the sight of him.
“Royall, darling, how nice to see you again,” a masculine voice greeted her. Turning, she saw the Baron standing there, his gray eyes smiling into hers, something behind the smile making her blood run cold.
“Baron,” she murmured, feeling very ill at ease with him since he had danced with her at the masquerade ball. The man had become too familiar and that, combined with what Mr. Morrison had told her, was enough to make her flesh crawl.
“The festivities are almost over,” he told her, smoothing his iron gray hair over his temples. “It will be nice to have your company again at Reino Brazilia. It’s very lonely at my townhouse,” he went on. “Carl is in Belém, and Jamie has insisted on staying in the apartment behind my offices near the wharf. I’m quite alone,” he told her meaningfully. “Why don’t you come and stay with me for the remainder of our time here in Manaus?”
A shudder captured Royall. He had mentioned the very thing she’d been dreading. Somehow she managed a smile, adroitly swinging her eyes to the woman behind the Baron, offering a greeting, dismissing him completely. But the man stood his ground and refused to move on to Alonzo Quince, who stood beside her in the receiving line.
“Aquamarine does wonderful things for your hair, Royall,” he told her, his eyes moving over her familiarly. “You’re more stunning than ever this evening.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” Her voice was flat; she felt herself shrinking inside. She didn’t want his attentions or his flattery, she just wanted him to move on, to go away. Lord in heaven, how was she going to tolerate this man once they were all together again on the Reino?
She heard him laugh, a wide grin splitting his face, showing his dazzling teeth. “Kind, Royall? No, I don’t think so. At least I’ve never considered myself as such.”
He’d been drinking, and he frightened her. Some chord was struck, something was off center—in addition to being inebriated, he seemed half mad!
Alonzo Quince came to the rescue. “How do you do, Baron Newsome. It’s been so long since I’ve actually had a moment with you,” Alonzo grasped the Baron by the arm and led him away. “Have you managed to ready the rubber shipment to the East? We’ve had some diff ...” As their voices faded, Royall felt herself relax. Was this how Alicia had felt when that nameless man had exercised his control over her? Suddenly, the night was too warm and she needed something to blot the sudden perspiration of her upper lip. She admitted that it wasn’t the heat or the party; the Baron was the reason she had broken out into a cold sweat
Shortly afterwards, Sebastian arrived with Alicia. They spoke for a moment with Rosalie before moving on to Royall. Alicia’s eyes were alive and dancing. For an instant she slid her tiny gloved hand into Royall’s, and then, dropping all pretense, wrapped her arms around Royall’s shoulders and hugged her. Sebastian watched the display of feminine affection and found himself smiling. He took the opportunity to look at Royall, finding her lovely in her watered silk aquamarine that heightened the gold of her hair and the honey amber of her skin. His hand itched to reach out and touch her, to hold her in his arms . . .
“Sebastian has been wonderful,” Alicia was telling Royall. “I’m going to stay in his townhouse even after he leaves for Regalo Verdad in a few days. He’s so generous! When Carl comes back from Belém, Sebastian will tell him where to find me.”
“That’s wonderful,” Royall murmured, truly happy for Alicia. She felt Sebastian standing there looking down at her, but she refused to lift her eyes to him. Their last meeting, which had ended in a hair-pulling match with his paramour, had been a final humiliation.
Rosalie Quince broke in. “Royall, most everyone is here now. Why don’t you go and mingle with the guests? You must be as hungry as I am by this time. I’ve got my mouth watering for a thick slice of that lamb.”
“Then I’ll come with you, Mrs. Quince,” Royall said hurriedly, hoping her relief wasn’t too obvious to Alicia. She really liked the girl and didn’t want to offend her, but Sebastian’s nearness was making her claustrophobic.
Sometime later, Royall was sitting on one of the iron benches resting her feet and watching the party from a distance, when she caught sight of the Baron. He held a drink in his hand and was staring across the crowd, his stance one of frozen motion, his silver gray eyes spewing menace. Royall followed his gaze, stretching her neck to see the recipient of his stare, expecting it to be Sebastian. When the dancers changed positions, she had a better view and was shocked to see a slim, dark-haired girl in a pink-silver-striped gown locked in the terror of his gaze. Alicia!
Thought rioted and rambled through Royall’s brain. Before she could formulate an opinion of what she’d witnessed, a cry went up among the crowd. Shrieks were coming from an open doorway leading to the garden. Royall looked to the source of the commotion and heard the words: “Yellow jack!” Instantly, a man she did not recognize was surrounded by every man at the party.
“It started on the Reino and is spreading to every other plantation! I saw it with my own eyes! They’re falling down dead!”
“When did you see this?” The harsh cold demand was from Sebastian Rivera.
“Yesterday. You can be sure the situation has worsened by now.”
Royall suddenly found herself standing beside Rosalie Quince. “We’d best start at once for the plantation,” Rosalie called to her husband, Alonzo. The portly gentleman needed no prodding as he strode from the room. The other men followed suit. Not so Sebastian Rivera and the Baron.
“It’s ridiculous!” the Baron shouted, his face mixed shades of crimson. “Who is this ridiculous person who dares to come here uninvited and start such a malicious rumor? I demand an explanation!” he said, grasping the man by the open collar of his shirt.
“This is my foreman, Jesus Alvarada,” Sebastian said coldly. “If he says there’s yellow jack on the Reino, then it’s true. He knows what the fever is. He lost a mother, father, and two children, not to mention a wife,” Sebastian said, his face a mask of fury. He looked to the foreman. “And ours? What of ours?”
“One child is poorly. I don’t know at this time if it’s the fever or not.”
“Has the child been isolated from the others?”
“I saw to it, sir. It was the first thing I did,” the foreman replied.
“Good. Come, Jesus, we have a long ride ahead of us. I remember only too well the last time the fever struck.”
Sebastian’s tone was contemptuous when he turned and spoke to the Baron. “Is it your intention to stay in town while your plantation is wiped out? If so, be prepared for the other owners to take matters into their own hands. I warned you time
and again. You ignored me as well as the others. Now you see the results of your ignorance,” he said ominously as he strode from the room.
“Sebastian, wait,” Royall implored.
“For what? For more people to die needlessly? Use your wiles and charms on the Baron; it will do you more good. You’re just as responsible as he is. Everyone has a day of reckoning, and this is yours, Senora Banner.”
Tears stung the amber eyes. Would he never believe her, trust her? Whatever the Baron did or didn’t do, she knew her duty! Her gaze left Sebastian’s retreating back to settle on the mask of rage the Baron was presenting to the room at large.
“How dare that bastard speak to me as if I were one of his common workers!”
Shock coursed through Royall. What had she expected? Everyone had tried to warn her, and while she had listened, she had done nothing. Sebastian was right; this was her day of reckoning. The Baron had no intention of returning to the plantation. From the expressions on the women’s faces, they weren’t surprised. After all, how many times must they have heard their husbands and sons talk about Reino Brazilia and the Baron?
“Do what you want, Carlyle, but I’m leaving for the Reino.” Her voice was cold and bitter. “Sebastian said I’m just as responsible as you, and while you don’t take your responsibility seriously, I do. Now get out of my way, and don’t try to stop me.”
“Bravo, child!” Mrs. Quince chortled. “If you need me, call upon me at any hour. You promise, Royall.”
Royall embraced the older woman before she fled the room in search of a carriage or buggy to take her back to the plantation.
Spying Jamie on the now deserted veranda, she grasped his arm. “Come with me, Jamie, we’re going back to the plantation. You’re big and strong, you can handle the carriage, can’t you?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, she babbled on. “Your father is bent on stopping me, but I don’t have the time now to play games with him. Jamie, I promise, if you go with me, I will play the spinet for you till you fall asleep. Every day,” she added at the young man’s frightened look. “Every day, Jamie, I’ll play whatever you want. Right now your father is angry but he’ll get over it. See, all the others are going and he just wants to be stubborn. Every day, Jamie. You know how you love music.”
“Jamie, stop!” the Baron shouted.
“Damn you, Jamie, get in that carriage and whip those horses. Now!” Royall ordered.
Jamie grinned suddenly. Sebastian could whip the horses and make them gallop down the drive and everyone would cheer and clap. Now he could do the same. He laughed when he saw Royall push his father away, shouting angrily at him to leave her alone. She was right, father always got angry and then he would smile and pat him on the head and forgive him for his little defiances.
As the carriage sped along, Royall slid from one side of the leather seat to the other as she listened to Jamie laugh with glee. If she arrived at the Reino in one piece, she would be lucky. The only thing that saved her sanity was the fact that she knew Jamie would tire soon and start to whine and whimper at his disobedience to his father.
She was proved right a short while later. The carriage slowed and almost came to a halt, with Jamie wiping at his brow. “Tell me what you’re going to play for me on the spinet, Royall.”
“Whatever you want, Jamie. You just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll play it.”
“For as long as I want. That’s what you said. You promised.”
“Yes, I did, and I’ll keep my promise,” Royall replied wearily.
“Why are we going back to the plantation? Why didn’t you want father to come in the carriage with us? He’s very angry with both of us, I could tell.”
“It might interest you to know, Jamie, that I, too, am angry, and I’m angry with your father. Didn’t you hear what went on back at the house? How can you just sit there and worry about your father’s anger when people will die. Have died,” she corrected herself.
“Who dies, who is going to die?” Jamie asked petulantly.
“The people at the Reino. The Indians and the blacks. Don’t you care? Aren’t you the least bit concerned? Oh, Jamie, I didn’t realize you were so much like your father. Good God, they’re human beings! An epidemic could wipe out the plantation and spread to others.”
“Who cares?” He didn’t like this conversation. Royall seemed to be angry with him. If she was angry she might act like his father—make promises and then break them. “We’ll get more if they die.”
“Damn you, Jamie, stop talking like an idiot.” What was the use? He didn’t or couldn’t comprehend what she was telling him.
“Did I tell you that Father ordered two new soldiers for me? I can’t wait for them to arrive. Everyone said how handsome I looked at the masquerade ball in my uniform. Father said I outshone Sebastian Rivera, and he was quite the most handsome man at the gathering this evening. What do you think, Royall?”
“Yes, you did look handsome. Jamie, do you like Sebastian?”
“Yes. He’s not mean. He’s ...” He sought for the proper word. “He’s fair. Elena said he was fair.”
“Elena said that?” Royall questioned in surprise.
“Elena likes Sebastian. Everyone likes Sebastian but my father. Elena says he’s jealous.”
Eventually the trip ended. Royall climbed from the carriage with stiff muscles crying out in pain. She had to find Elena and find out what was going on. She was nowhere to be found. The beautiful Casa looked as though no one lived in it. Everywhere she looked, mildew and dust were growing rampant. The large kitchen that was Elena’s domain revealed no sign of life. A bowl of rotting fruit covered with flies rested on a stout wooden table. Royall suppressed a shudder. How ominous everything appeared. A loaf of bread with a huge knife buried in the middle lay next to the decayed fruit. It, too, was covered with the blue yellow mold.
It was serious. Until now she only imagined what it was like. Royall knew in her gut that never in all of the years that Elena was housekeeper in this house would she ever permit fruit to rot.
Royall called the housekeeper, her voice rising to a shrill crescendo. When there was no answer, fear rushed through her, making her weak in the knees. “Rosy, Bridget, Moriah,” she continued to shrill. Again, there was no response.
Taking a deep breath, Royall turned to stare at Jamie. He would be of no help at all. Quickly, she gathered her skirts in her hands and raced for the stables. She didn’t even bother to saddle the gray horse.
Riding the large gray, Royall began to feel the strain as the heat beat down on her. Perspiration ran down her body, and exertion caused her to gasp for breath. It was difficult to remain seated on the gray’s slippery back. She held onto his mane for dear life. Royall looked around as the gray stopped. How uncanny that he knew just where to bring her. Worms of fear crawled around her stomach and up her back.
Her worst fears were realized when she looked around the clearing that housed the blacks and Indians. Everywhere she looked there were pallets on the ground. Men and women and children moaned in agony. To her left, her eyes fought for and found the small burial ground she had noticed from her last visit. The mounds had multiplied alarmingly.
She shaded her eyes from the hot sun and tried to count. There appeared to be twenty-seven. She blinked in disbelief. To the right of the burial grounds was a mound of something with a piece of canvas over it. Royall looked at Elena, who was bent over a pallet, a cloth in her hand. Seeing the look on Royall’s face, Elena nodded. “There’s no one to bury them. There’s no one to dig the graves. I can’t do it,” she said wearily. “I tried.”
“How many of them are left?” Royall demanded.
Elena shrugged. “We lost as many as fifty, and those,” she said, pointing a finger to the far corner of the clearing, “can never make it. They’re in the last stages. There’s nothing to be done for them except to give them a little water from time to time, and keep a cool cloth on their heads. These,” she said pointing to several huts behind her
, “are the ones who just came down with the fever a few days ago. I’m doing the best I can, Senora, but I must have some help or all of them will die.”
Royall shook her head. “There’s just myself and Jamie, Elena.”
Elena merely nodded wearily.
“I’ll help you, Elena,” Royall said quietly. “If you tell me what to do, I’ll be glad to do my share.”
Elena looked at the American girl with the quiet golden eyes, saw the elaborately coiled blond hair, the gleaming aquamarine gown, the long slender hands with the tapered fingers and the unblemished skin. Again, she nodded wearily as she let her eyes fall to her own dirty, tattered clothing and the red, dry, cracked skin of her own hands. “Come,” she said to Royall, “you can help with the children. I think there’s hope for some of them.”
“Is it Bridget and Rosy?” Royall asked fearfully.
Elena nodded. “Rosy I’m sure will get well. Bridget is holding her own at the moment.” She led Royall into the stifling hut. Looking down into the dimness, she saw the two small figures on the straw pallets. Their eyes were bright with fever and their cheeks flushed, their lips red and cracked. Royall gathered up the train of her gown and tucked it under the gold girdle and knelt beside the two little girls. Gently, she touched their cheeks. Neither child responded.
“It’s time to give them a little water, and they should be wiped down. Can you do it?”
Royall agreed and bent to the task. Elena herself rose from her knees and looked with unseeing eyes, hoping that Senora Banner was wrong and the Baron would materialize. Somehow she had thought he would return to help. Her shoulders slumped, and Royall, looking up from the children, spoke.
“Even if he was here, he would be useless. He wouldn’t know the first thing to do for these people. And he’d only be in the way. I’ll help you, and I feel sure that Mrs. Quince will arrive here in a few days to help us. That is, providing that there’s no fever on her own plantation. I’ll do all I can, Elena.”
Captive Innocence Page 24
