The Tobacco Lords Trilogy

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  Harding pushed towards his wife and said,

  ‘You hold your tongue, woman. Don’t you put words into my mouth.’

  ‘But, Robert, Robert. Poor Master Reggie has always been so civil to me, so civil to me, sir.’

  ‘He has committed a crime and deserves to be punished.’

  Gav squeezed between them.

  ‘Let me pass. I’ve got to stop them.’

  Harding grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

  ‘No, you have not.’

  As he struggled to free himself, Gav could see rope being twisted round Regina’s waist as she was fastened to the whipping post. A man wielding a long handled whip suddenly tore her shirt down to her waist. There was a gasp from the crowd and the man with the whip shouted:

  ‘Dammit, sir! It’s a female!’

  Harding loosened his grip in surprise and Gav struggled forward and clambered up the steps until he reached Regina. Clumsily he tried to cover up her nakedness until George Clow’s father dragged him off and flung him aside.

  ‘It makes no bloody difference,’ he roared. ‘This no-good slave tried to kill my son.’

  ‘She isn’t a slave.’ Gav sobbed. ‘She’s my sister, Regina.’

  Kitty Harding swayed around clutching a lacy handkerchief to her brow.

  ‘I do declare, I do declare, I feel quite faint and breathless, quite faint and breathless.’

  The first lash of the whip sent a red thread snaking rapidly across Regina’s back. Kicked every time he tried to get up or move towards Regina, Gav sat on the ground moaning and moving his head from side to side, trying to shut out the awful picture of his sister becoming covered with blood, and what was even more shocking, the silence of her. Not once did she scream. In Glasgow many men and women had been whipped and their screams had racketed round the town. Regina’s silence was truly terrible and when they eventually cut her down, she slithered to the ground like a rag doll, without even a moan. The crowd dispersed to enjoy a chat about what had happened or to forget about it and go about their normal daily business. Gav scrambled forward.

  ‘Regina, oh, Regina.’

  Her eyes were closed and she was hardly breathing. He struggled to put his arms around her and raise her up but she proved heavier than he expected. Then suddenly Mr Speckles was towering over them like a giant skeleton with skeleton fingers and dusty clothes hanging loosely on him and two bright blotches burning high on his cheekbones.

  ‘I’ll help you, Gav. We’ll get her back to the store between us.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Gav renewed his attempts to raise Regina but Mr Speckles said,

  ‘You take her feet, Gav. I’ll lift her there.’ Crouching down he slid his hands under Regina’s armpits and round until his fingers pressed into the sides of her breasts. ‘Lift, Gav, lift.’

  They shuffled their way down the stairs and then walked jerkily, trying to avoid bumping or being bumped by groups of people standing gossiping or strolling about. A drunken backwoodsman in dyed buckskin with yellow fringes swayed forward, peering close at Regina.

  ‘Good-lookin’ little varmint, ain’t she, eh?’

  Ignoring him they hurried past, Mr Speckles edging sometimes backwards, sometimes sideways. Awkwardly they climbed the stairs at the side of the store and manoeuvred Regina into the room that she and Gav shared.

  It was cool and brown with only a narrow slice of sunlight warming the air and floor and changing them to gold dust.

  ‘Don’t lie her on her back,’ Gav warned as they made to put her on one of the bunks. ‘I’ll have to try and bathe it.’

  ‘That’s right. You go and fetch water, Gav.’

  Something about the man’s voice and the way he was staring at Regina made Gav feel reluctant to leave.

  ‘There’s water here in this bowl. It’s all right, Mr Speckles, I’ll attend to Regina.’

  ‘I’ve ointment downstairs in the store.’

  ‘She’s beginning to come round.’

  Regina’s mouth was twisting and her fingers were clutching at the patchwork quilt. Mr Speckles moved back a pace or two muttering.

  ‘I’ll go and fetch it.’

  Then with his rapid jerky walk he left the room.

  ‘Regina, you’re all right now. You’re in your own bed and I’m going to bathe your back and put healing ointment on.’

  Her eyes opened wide.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he repeated. ‘There’s no need to be frightened. I’ll look after you.’

  ‘Don’t let anyone near me,’ she said.

  ‘I won’t, Regina.’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Not even Mr Speckles, I promise. He’ll probably have started serving in the shop and be too busy to come back up anyway. I’ll run down and get the ointment. I won’t be a minute.’

  It was as he suspected. The shop was busy. A planter’s wife was strolling around, her skirts swishing against a pile of dead turkeys, feathers gleaming like fish scales in the gloom. A serving-maid was examining the brooms propped upside down in an old whisky barrel. A man in a sky-blue coat and a lace cravat was critically examining his bill by the light of the doorway. Gav wriggled past him and ran over to Mr Speckles who was standing behind the counter hugging his skinny body as if he was cold.

  ‘The ointment’s over by the basket of vegetables,’ he said without looking at Gav and the boy wasted no time in scrambling across to grab it.

  Before he could get out the door again, however, Mistress Harding in her wide tulle skirts had frothed in front of him, her face too small under her curled wig.

  ‘How is your poor sister, your poor sister, Master Chisholm?’

  ‘She’s very upset and her back’s in a terrible state. I’m going to bathe it and dab on this ointment. I hope that’ll help her.’

  ‘Poor little thing. Poor little thing.’ Mistress Harding held out a miniature brandy flask. ‘Give her this also. It will strengthen her. It will strengthen her, Master Chisholm.’

  ‘You’re very kind, Mistress Harding.’

  Mistress Harding seemed short of breath and to be having difficulty in moving her chest when she spoke.

  ‘Your sister has often done little kindnesses to me, young sir. I do not forget such things. I do not forget.’

  Just then Harding came striding up to them. He was wearing a white nankeen coat that accentuated the width of his shoulders and deepened the colour of his skin and hair.

  ‘What are you chattering on about now, mistress? I have finished my business here.’

  She managed a light tinkling laugh.

  ‘You’re such a tease, Robert dear. Such a tease.’

  Gav slipped away and in a few minutes he was up the stairs and beside Regina again. Then came the ordeal of trying to bathe the blood from her back and put on the ointment. He got the job done and secured a bandage of sorts with a towel around her. Then he helped her into a fresh shirt and gave her some more of the brandy. She managed to thank him and tell him she felt easier.

  She lay on her stomach with her tear-stained cheek twisted against the pillow and when he took her hand and held it she tried to smile.

  After a time her eyes closed and he sat listening to the sounds echoing in the heat haze outside the room. Men and women talking and laughing, horses whinnying and clip-clopping, carpenters sawing, sailors singing. It seemed as if nothing had happened, nothing had gone wrong. Yet he was harrowed beyond words and a strange apprehension had begun to creep over him. Unconsciously he tightened his grip on Regina’s hand.

  18

  MR SPECKLES did not dare keep the news from Ramsay and so he sent a letter back with the Mary Heron telling of how it had been discovered that the boy ‘Reggie Chisholm’ was really a girl called Regina.

  ‘… I am dogged by bad luck, sir. I have lost assistants before. But it is not my humble self I am thinking of when I crave your kind permission to keep this girl at work in the store. Your business is my prime concern, sir, and she is of valuable
help to it. I do earnestly assure you of this. She applies herself diligently to all tasks and is quiet and modest in her manner. Indeed, sir, she rarely speaks at all, unless to be polite and helpful to your customers. …’

  When the ship sailed Gav reminded Regina that it would take many weeks, if not months, to reach Glasgow and a similar time would pass before one or other of Ramsay’s ships managed to return to the settlement and bring a reply. So she had plenty of time before needing to worry about other employment.

  ‘Maister Ramsay might decide to keep you on, Regina. I don’t see why not. And it won’t be so very long now until my indenture’s finished and I get my own land. Think of that, Regina. We’ll build our own house and live in it and grow our own food and tobacco.’

  ‘You’ve still about three years to go.’

  ‘It’ll soon pass, you’ll see. And I told you, we’ll not even need to worry about Maister Ramsay until next year.’

  Regina wasn’t so sure. All sorts of vague and shadowy spectres haunted her. Would Ramsay tell his daughter about her? She didn’t think he was the type of man who would discuss business matters with the female members of his family. But what if, on this occasion, he did?

  Gav said:

  ‘He wouldn’t tell her, Regina. I know he wouldn’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’ she scoffed.

  ‘Because of how she ran away to the Highlands after the Frenchman. Maister Ramsay was so cast down with worry about her, he wouldn’t want to risk unsettling her again.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll want revenge on me because of the Frenchman.’

  ‘Of course he won’t, Regina. Why should he? He hated the man. And if it wasn’t for you causing the Frenchman to be killed, Maister Ramsay would never have got Mistress Annabella back. I’m sure Maister Ramsay won’t cause any harm to you, Regina. He’s really a kind man.’

  Regina’s mouth twisted in derision but at the same time she had to admit to herself that what Gav said made sense. No one knew better than Ramsay what a reckless person his daughter was. Surely he would guard his tongue very carefully when Mistress Annabella was around. Yet with men she could be sure of nothing except harm and so apprehension continued to claw at the edges of her existence.

  The only happiness she could draw from her daily routine was when she was alone in her bedroom. There she unlocked her sea-chest and gazed upon and touched her golden coins and dreamed dreams of the security and the help they would one day give to both Gav and herself. She didn’t know exactly how much land would cost but she had heard it was cheap, and of course in this vast country it was certainly plentiful. When it came nearer the time for Gav to get his, she would find out about prices and buy some acres next to Gav’s, so that they would have a decent sized plantation between them. Maybe she could manage to get some land fronting the river like most of the wealthy planters. And she would employ carpenters to build a decent house, not just a tiny windowless cabin like those of most of the indentured servants who had become free men. Perhaps she would have enough to send to Scotland for elegant furniture and china dishes and chandeliers as well.

  And Gav and she would live in comfort and safety. No one would dare threaten them then or misuse them or put a foot near them. They would be safe.

  She couldn’t feel safe here in the settlement. Not any more. Men stared at her since she had begun dressing in girls’ clothes. She had bought material from the store, and with the help of a paper pattern and much good advice from Mistress Harding, she had managed to make herself an overgown of green cotton with yellow petticoats and a yellow frill at her elbows. She grew her hair long and pinned it back from her head but left one long curled lock to dangle over the front of her shoulder.

  Mistress Harding said:

  ‘I do declare, I do declare, Regina, you’re quite the most beautiful, the most beautiful little thing I ever did see. But there’s suffering on your face, child, suffering on your face. That’s what’s wrong with your poor little mouth.’

  Harding had been there at the time and he had said impatiently:

  ‘I don’t see anything the matter with her.’

  ‘Just a little hardness, Robert dear. Sometimes there’s a hard little twist. But it’s not poor little Regina’s fault. Any more than it’s your poor little Kitty’s fault for always being ill.’

  Regina felt some sort of bond grow between herself and Mistress Harding but she viewed the relationship with caution amounting to suspicion. Why should such a woman be so interested in her? Surely they had nothing in common. Mistress Harding was foolishly affected in speech and a restless butterfly in manner. In contrast, Regina seldom spoke unless she had to, and she had no use for conventional niceties of manner like curtsying or fluttering eyelashes or using a fan. But Mistress Harding was very keen that she should learn. Mistress Harding, it seemed, had come to look forward to her visits to the store for this very reason. She had acquired not only a liking for Regina but a passionate interest in making something of her.

  Once, in her husband’s presence, Mistress Harding had sighed and said:

  ‘You are a strange and mysterious creature, Regina. Strange and mysterious and that is how a woman should be. I do declare, you are no ordinary little servant miss. You have means, have you not? And you have an education, an education.’

  ‘I have a little money of my own,’ Regina admitted cautiously. ‘And I can read and write and count. I know some Latin too, but not as much as my brother.’

  ‘Your talents are wasted here, Regina. Wasted here, my dear. You should be in a household of quality, a household of quality. Living with a fashionable family, Regina. As a tutor or the like.’

  ‘If you’re hinting that the girl comes and works at Forest Hall, mistress,’ Harding sneered, ‘she’ll have a long wait before you produce a family to tutor.’

  Kitty Harding flushed and flickered her fan and fluttered her eyelids and cried out:

  ‘Oh, oh, I do declare, what a clever idea! What a clever idea. Regina, you must come and live with us at Forest Hall. You can be my maid-companion. My maid-companion.’

  As politely as possible, Regina refused. To be a maid, or even a maid-companion, was not one of her ambitions.

  She had other offers too, mostly from men. These also she refused. She didn’t like the way the men looked at her or spoke to her, especially those who paid her compliments. Sometimes they addressed Mr Speckles.

  ‘A fine-looking young filly you’ve got there, sir. Too damn good for this place. A ripe cherry like that should be picked and enjoyed, sir. Time she was married. With whom do I make the arrangements?’

  Mr Speckles had muttered that he would make inquiries in his next letter to Glasgow, while his eyes darted across to steal furtive looks at her.

  When they spoke of marriage direct to her, she answered them in a voice that was like a tight cold fist. Talk of marriage added to her uneasiness and the attention she received hedged her about like a restricting fence. She was particularly unnerved by Mr Speckles’ hungry glances and a couple of times she had been startled on opening the bedroom door to find him standing outside. Once she had wakened during the night with a terrifying feeling that he was in the room. In panic, she had called on Gav and with difficulty he had groped for the tinder-box and lit a lantern. The smoky yellow light revealed no one. But she remained convinced that only a few minutes previously someone had been hovering near her.

  She thought she would never survive the long winter nights. It was terrible to feel unsafe while she slept. As a result, before spring came again, she had decided to accept Mistress Harding’s invitation.

  ‘We’ve got to separate now,’ she told her little brother. ‘But you’ve only two years to go and I’ll come and visit you at the store as often as I can. Just keep thinking of the time when you’ll be free and we’ll have our own house and our own plantation.’

  Gav tried to look brave but his voice trembled.

  ‘But, Regina, why do you need to go? You’re all right here with Mr
Speckles and me until we get our own place. I don’t want you to leave me.’

  ‘I’m not all right. You don’t understand.’ She turned abruptly away from him. ‘I’m going and that’s all there is to it. And don’t dare start blubbering. You’re not a child any more.’

  She waited for the Hardings’ next visit to the store with mixed feelings. In all her sixteen years of life she had only been separated from Gav once before and that was when Mistress Annabella had taken her as her maid to the Highlands. That had been a dreadful experience. She remembered the loneliness as well as all the other terrors. She had missed Gav all the time, although she had never admitted it. She could not be honest and open with her feelings like him. To be like that was to her a crumbling of defences, a leaving open for unexpected attack, a vulnerability that could lead to the destruction of the soul. She guarded her feelings with great care.

  Mrs Harding could not contain her delight when she learned of Regina’s decision. Her mittened arms and gauzy dress fluttered and flapped and made her look like a grotesque yet delicate winged butterfly about to blow away.

  ‘I do declare! I do declare!’ she carolled to everyone in the store. ‘I am the happiest and luckiest of human beings.’ And tears shimmered in her eyes as she alighted on Regina and kissed her.

  Regina was embarrassed and looked away. The woman was only hiring a maid after all. Even a maid who was to act as a companion surely didn’t warrant such a fuss and commotion.

  Harding’s face was a cold mask. Eventually he said:

  ‘If you’re coming, you might as well come now. I’ll get one of the slaves to collect your belongings.’

  He was a strange man. When he had thought she was a boy he had shown every interest in her. Indeed, remembering the sumptuous meal and hospitality she had received from him, it occurred to her that he had been very civil. Now, as a girl, she seemed no longer to exist as far as he was concerned.

  After seeing to her luggage and collecting her cape, she said an abrupt goodbye to Gav. But he ran after her as she walked away to join Mistress Harding in the carriage.