The Wild Belle (St. John Series)

by Lora Thomas

  “Now, Miss Andi—”

  “Don’t ‘Miss Andi’ me. I hate those things. I can’t breathe wearing that horrid contraption. If you like it, you wear it.”

  Sally gave Andrea an exasperated look and tossed the whalebone stays onto the bed. She helped Andrea dress in her gown and tied Andrea’s long wavy blond hair back into a loose braid. Andrea stood up and turned towards her maid.

  “What’s wrong, Sally?”

  Sally looked at Andrea. She knew what Andrea’s parents had planned, but she couldn’t say a word. It wasn’t her place. But she wanted to warn this young lady in front of her, whom she loved like her own child.

  “Nothing, Andi, child. Just be warned that your parents want to speak with ya.”

  Andrea rolled her eyes and groaned. “I hope they aren’t going to speak of marriage again.”

  “Go on now, child. Don’t keep ‘em waitin’.”

  Andrea proceeded out the door with a knot in her stomach. She was so exhausted with the weekly lecture she received from her parents about acting like “a proper young lady” and her need to “find a suitable husband.” Andrea believed she would die if marriage were mentioned again. She made her way down the long staircase used by the slaves and located in the back of the house. She was hoping to avoid her weekly lecture. As she stepped around the corner her arm was grabbed causing her to give a soft scream as she jumped with fright.

  “Come now, Andrea. Your father and I want to have a word with you.”

  “Oh, Mammy. Not again. How many times must we have this same discussion?”

  “Oh, this is a totally different discussion.”

  Amanda locked arms with her daughter and walked into the small sitting room off the main dining room. She escorted Andrea over to the couch and sat down, pulling her daughter down with her. Andrea eyed her mother suspiciously. Amanda was acting strange, even for her. Before Andrea could open her mouth to ask what was going on, her father entered the room with a somber expression on his face.

  Andrea looked at her father, then back to her mother, then back to her father again. She could sense something was amiss. “What’s wrong?” Andrea asked nervously.

  “Nothing is wrong, daughter,” Ott replied.

  “Well, something is obviously amiss,” Andrea replied suspiciously. “Why else would you both be up this early. Is someone sick? Has someone died?”

  “Tell her, Ott,” Amanda bluntly told her husband. “There is no point beating around the bush or sugarcoating what you have done.”

  “What I have done? May I remind you, Mandy, that you had just as large of a part as I, my dear?”

  “What is going on?!” Andrea yelled in frustration.

  Amanda looked at her daughter. “You know our neighbors, the Petersons.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember Mr. Peterson’s nephew, Egbert?”

  “No,” Andi replied with some stiffness, not liking where this conversation was going.

  “Well, he is the Earl of . . . of . . . something-or-other. Anyway, he is looking for a bride, and your father and I have decided that you would fit his needs.”

  “No. Next issue,” Andi snapped.

  “Daughter, this is not up for discussion. I have already made arrangements with Mr. Peterson. A contract has been signed. You are to wed his nephew,” Ott informed her looking nervously around the room.

  Andrea shot to her feet. “How could you?! Do I not have a say in my own life?!”

  “Sit down, Andrea,” Amanda sternly commanded, her green eyes darkening with anger.

  “No, I will not! I will not have my life dictated for me. I will not marry a complete stranger!”

  “Good morning!”

  Andrea turned, glaring heatedly at her sister’s happy greeting. “What do you want, Ashton?”

  “Why, Andrea, is that a proper greeting for your family?” Ashton cooed, walking over to the seat Andrea had just vacated.

  “Good morning, Ashton,” Amanda said as she looked suspiciously at her next-to-youngest daughter. “You are up awfully early this morning.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Ashton began attempting to sound concerned. “I just couldn’t sleep. I had a bad dream that something terrible had happened to Andrea.”

  Andrea made a very unladylike snort. “Like that would matter to you.” Andrea looked her sister up and down. “Now what is your real reason for being down here?”

  “Andrea Lynn, watch your tone,” Amanda scolded.

  “What? Ashton and I can’t stand each other. There the big secret is out.”

  “Andrea!” her father joined in.

  “I am not stating something that isn’t known throughout Beaufort County or in all of the low country for that matter.”

  Amanda gritted her teeth. She closed her eyes and took several deep, controlling breaths. Her fingers flared outward in frustration. “Fine. Ashton, do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

  “No.” Ashton stood up and walked over to the small table by the window, picked up a large strawberry, took a bite and turned towards the group.

  “She’s not leaving, Mother. And even if she does, she’ll just press her overly large ears to the door,” Andrea sneered through gritted teeth.

  Ashton gasped sharply. “Take that back!”

  “What? The truth?”

  “Now!” Ashton shouted.

  “Girls!” Amanda yelled standing up. She pointed her finger at Ashton. “You stay right there and keep your mouth shut.” She then turned to Andrea. “And as for you, you had better get the concept of marriage to the Earl of Something-or-other into that blond head of yours. Your father has worked for over a year corresponding with Lord Rydover, arranging this contract, and like it or not, you will marry him.”

  “What?!” Ashton squawked in disbelief. Her green eyes were wide as she whined, “Why does Andrea get to marry an Earl? She doesn’t even want to get married.”

  Amanda turned to Ashton and pointed towards the door. “Out!”

  Andrea looked at Ashton, then her mother. “Let Ashton marry him. She’s tried out every man here. Let her try a sample from across the ocean.”

  “Andrea!” her mother scolded.

  “What?” Andrea repeated again with disdain, “She has ‘courted’ almost every man from here to halfway to Savannah and still hasn’t found a suitable match. Maybe Lord Something-or-other would be a perfect match for her.”

  “No,” Amanda stated coldly. She turned her gaze to Ashton. “Out, Ashton.”

  Ashton opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when she noticed her mother’s expression. She lowered her gaze towards the floor and proceeded to the door. Walking past Andrea, she mumbled, “I hope he beats you.”

  Andrea’s eyes grew large. Her parents watched in horror as she grabbed Ashton by her hair and jerked her backwards to her. Ashton whipped around to face her sister and was taken off guard as Andrea proceeded to slap her cheek.

  Ashton’s look of shock was satisfying to Andrea. “Why, you ungrateful witch!” Ashton hissed raising her hand to return her sister’s slap. Her hand was caught by Ott.

  “Enough! Both of you! Andrea, you are going to marry the Earl and, Ashton, you will accept this offer. And both of you had better learn to get along—if not for each other, then for Alyssa’s sake. Her coming out is next week, and if you two get into so much as one argument before then, I will refuse to let either of you attend.” Ott then added, “And neither will she,” knowing that if he didn’t, Andrea would not do as ordered. Andrea detested formal balls, but one thing that she would not do is prevent her sister from attending her debutante ball.

  Ashton bustled up like a wet hen and stormed out. Andrea inwardly groaned. Why did they have to bring her baby sister into this? Alyssa was so looking forward to her debutante ball. She had turned eighteen two months ago. There was ten months difference between Ashton and Alyssa. Their parents wanted to have their coming outs together, but both girls refused. So Ashton had hers the week after sh
e turned eighteen. But Alyssa wanted to wait. She wanted her ball to be in May, after the planting season, so all the eligible bachelors would be able to attend. The temperatures during May were not overly hot either, allowing the festivities to begin earlier in the day with a pig roast and ending with the ball that would last well into the night.

  Andrea looked at her parents and nodded her head.

  “Oh, Andrea, a few more things,” her mother said.

  “Yes,” Andrea replied with dread.

  “Number one, the Peterson’s nephew is arriving at their home today. I do not want you sneaking out in that sinful attire you insist on wearing. Number two, when Mr. St. John arrives tomorrow, I don’t want you to be gallivanting around in that same attire. This is a very important business arrangement he is bringing to your father. If all goes well, everyone’s dowry increases, not just yours but all of your sisters’. We need you to make a good impression. And number three—I don’t want you out of your room the rest of the day.”

  “Mammy!” Andrea protested. This was her last day of freedom and now they were taking that from her, too?

  “Don’t complain. You are to stay there for your actions towards Ashton.”

  “All day? But it’s so hot today.”

  Amanda looked into her daughter’s eyes and saw such sadness in them. Andrea was so much like her. She loved the outdoors and hated confinement. It was breaking her heart to force marriage on her unmarriageable daughter and now to force her to stay in her room. But if she gave in, it would show weakness and give Andi hope that they would not force her to marry either.

  “All day,” Amanda ordered.

  Andrea nodded her head and climbed the stairs. She didn’t go straight to her room. She stopped by Alyssa’s room first. Cracking open the door, she peeped in on her sleeping youngest sister, the one who looked most like her. She would behave for Alyssa’s sake. Just because she didn’t want to marry didn’t mean that her other sisters didn’t. Her oldest sister, Annabel, had married her childhood sweetheart five years ago and was now a mother of three feisty boys. Her three other sisters were still on the marriage market.

  Abigail was twenty-one, which made her a year-and-a-half older than Andrea. She had a healthy line of suitors almost every day after her debutante ball. It took her two years to find someone suitable, because she had certain criteria she wanted in a husband. They had to be tall and muscular, but not overly so, with dark hair and brown eyes. She finally found a match in one of their neighbors, Stephen Calhoun.

  Ashton was eighteen. She was constantly on the lookout for beaus. At her debut, the men were lined up out the door to meet her. She had the refined elegant look all wanted with a porcelain complexion and perfect poise. However, she was cynical, coldhearted and calculating. Even after they got to know her, they all still found an excuse to call on her . . . especially at night. Her hateful nature did not dissuade her suitors. They all would return because of her promiscuous nature. Andi lost count of the number of times she had caught Ashton sneaking back into her room, wearing only her shift with her hair covered in grass and damp from dew.

  Then there was Alyssa. Alyssa and Andrea were equal in height and build. They had similar facial features. However, where Andi’s hair was the color of honey, Alyssa’s had a red cast, a true strawberry-blonde, many called it. Andi had her mother’s feisty dark green eyes and Alyssa had their father’s kind gray eyes. Unlike Andi, Alyssa was immediately trusting of others. She wanted only to find happiness like in fairy tales. Alyssa was their father’s daughter. She wanted to help anyone and everyone she met. She only saw the good in people. Andi had tried to tell her many times that people are not always as they seem. Alyssa would always smile and tell her that everyone has good inside them, even Ashton.

  Andi quietly closed the door and walked to her room. She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A mischievous smile crossed her face. Did her mother actually expect her to stay in her room all day? Well, for Alyssa she would . . . only for a little while. Andi decided to wait until after lunch to sneak out. By that time, her mother and sisters would take their customary afternoon nap. Andi closed her eyes and smiled. A nap would be nice. After all she had such a busy day planned.

  Chapter Three

  Michael watched his sea chest being loaded into the small boat and wondered how such a small vessel was going to hold his belongings and the guide, along with him. It looked like it could barely float as it was. The top of the vessel was sitting just at water level, and Michael was afraid that the extra weight would sink the small wooden craft.

  He could hear the man he hired to bring him to the landing clear his throat. Michael looked in his direction. The man looked nervously around and began transferring his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Is something amiss, Mr. Johnson?” Michael asked.

  The elderly man shook his head. “Naw, everything’s fine, I jest need to be gettin’ back ‘fore I’m a needed elsewhere.”

  Michael nodded his head in acknowledgement and walked over to the man. He pulled out several coins and handed them to the man. “Thank you for bringing me here on such short notice.”

  Mr. Johnson nodded his head. “Yer welcome.” He turned and climbed back up on the buggy. “Young Amos should be here any minute now. It’s not like him to stray too far from his boat. You jest tell him Mr. Ott sent fer ya, and he’ll take ya where ya need to go.”

  Michael nodded his head in understanding and watched the old man leave. He turned his eyes back to the boat, still wondering how this vessel would manage to get him where he needed to go without sinking. His thoughts were disrupted a few minutes later by rustling in the overgrown bushes surrounding the landing. A moment later a short, stocky black man appeared. He was carrying a rope with two slain rabbits handing upside down. The man looked at Michael with surprise in his eyes and then quickly turned his gaze to the ground.

  Michael watched as the man walked over to him, all the while with his gaze on the ground. The man went to toss his prey into the boat but stopped when he saw the trunk. Michael could sense the man’s confusion.

  Michael was not unfamiliar with the customs of slavery. Several land owners in the Caribbean owned them, even his own family owned several. Most of the slaves had come from the towns along the coast of South Carolina during the Revolutionary War. The British would raid the towns, steal the slaves along with anything else of value, and take them to the West Indies to sell. This practice made bitter enemies—still to this day.

  Michael broke the uncomfortable silence. He understood the rule that slaves did not speak first, nor did they look any white man in the eye. He found it ridiculous—men were men, all created by God, none above the other.

  “Are you Young Amos?”

  “Yes, sir,” Young Amos applied, all the while keeping his gaze on the ground.

  “I am Michael St. John. I was told you could assist me in locating Ott Craycraft. Is this correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I can take ya right to him. That’s where I’s a headin’ now.”

  “Good. Mr. Johnson has taken the liberty of loading your vessel with my belongings. How long will it take to navigate the river to get to our destination?”

  “Not long,” Young Amos said as he scratched his graying hair. “About twenty minutes, give er take.”

  “Splendid,” Michael replied. “Then let us be on our way.”

  Young Amos nodded his head and followed Michael into the boat.

  Michael was amazed that the boat held them. He turned and watched as Amos untied the boat from the landing. The black man reached down and picked up a long, thick pole and pushed the boat forward using the pole. His wrinkled dark hands worked the pole back and forth from one side of the vessel to the other. The pole was pushed and it would go deeper and deeper into the water, until only the very top was visible.

  Michael’s eyes turned to the landscape around him. The low country was very different from what he was expecting. He had heard of the thick b
rush and tall weeping live oak trees, but he never dreamed of the exceptional beauty and tranquility of the land. The Spanish moss laced across the old live oak trees and then dipped into the water, giving it a mystical feel. The palmetto trees swayed gently in the cooling breeze giving relief to the sweltering heat and humidity that was dramatically different than what Michael was accustomed to. He spotted a snake slithering quickly across the slow moving river. As the serpent made its way to the bank, an osprey dove down and snatched the slithering serpent up in its razor-like talons. The bird flew off with its prey. Michael’s eyes turned back towards the bank of the river and he noticed a dark object slide quietly into the water.

  “What was that?” Michael asked pointing towards the shore.

  Amos didn’t even look in the direction Michael had pointed. “A gator.”

  “Gator?”

  “Yeah. Ain’t ya ever seen a gator before?”

  “Yes, I have, but they are such elusive creatures. To catch a glimpse of one so close is unusual. Do they reside in the waters around our location?”

  “Yes, sir. A boy was attacked ‘n killed by one a few days ago.”

  “Was it here in the river and someone you know?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t know him, but I knew his mother. She was downright inconsolable. It wasn’t in the river though. He was swimmin’ in a pond. Wasn’t supposed to be, though. He knew Big Gus was living there.”

  “Big Gus?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what we named the gator. He was nearly twelve-foot long. Took about seven of us to pull Big Gus out of that pond once we killed him.”

  “I’m saddened to hear of the loss of the child, but at least no one else will have to worry about the gator.”

  “Naw, now we just have to worry about the sharks.”

  “This is fresh water,” Michael said, turning to face Young Amos. “Sharks stay mainly in salt water.”

  “Not the bulls. I heard that some have been spotted as far inland as five hundred miles.”

  “Really?” Michael questioned with skepticism in his voice.

  “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t lie to ya, especially ‘bout them bulls. Them are mean critters.”