We didn’t have to wait long to return to Wappoo from Charles Town. Upon waking the next morning, Mama believed she was feeling one of her episodes coming on. The sky looked ominous too, so we decided to get ahead of the weather and take the boat home.
The talk on the docks was of a wild storm out at sea that could be heading this way. The water was choppy and gray to match the slate sky. We were bundled tightly in wool and fur against the wind.
Mama gripped my hand the six miles by boat, and I fought to keep the contents of my stomach settled by staring out as far as my eyes could see. But nothing could dim my excitement. I’d even worn a small piece of yellow ribbon Father had sent me in my hair as an outward expression of my joy. It was incongruous against the wild gray day, I was sure.
This morning I had awoken with a sense of purpose unlike anything I’d ever experienced. My success would be for far more than just the Lucas family.
What had Plutarch said? Empire may be gained by gold, not gold by empire.
Indigo was my gold and my silver. The empire was more than the Lucas family. It could be South Carolina.
If Cromwell was correct in his estimation, I could have indigo dye cakes awaiting me upon my return. Though we were coming home earlier than expected, I still hoped that was the case. Although if the sun didn’t shine for many days, I supposed the dye cakes wouldn’t fully dry for a while.
As soon as they were ready, and as soon as the storm had passed through, I would immediately send Togo with some of them back to Charles Town. I’d also send some to Father! The excitement brewed to a bubbling mess in my belly.
I had managed it in the nick of time too. The heavens must have been smiling upon me to bring me Ben and this harvest at a time when things had gotten so precarious in the economy around us. I sent a grateful prayer up while I thought of it.
“What has gotten into you?” Mama snapped, and I realized I was smiling into the wind. Thoughts of family fortunes restored and my father’s proud approval couldn’t be contained, they had manifested into a physical giddiness. Not to mention how my success would help the colony. And Mr. Pinckney would be so impressed when he saw I had succeeded.
“Well?” Mama continued. “I’d think after your utter lack of effort in attracting a suitor last night, you’d be a little more shamefaced today.”
“No one is interested in me, Mama,” I offered, exhausted by this recurring topic.
“If that insipid Mary Chardon could find herself a husband, even if he did up and die, surely you could have at least tried.”
“Mama,” I exclaimed, shocked. “How can you visit with her and her mama every Tuesday, taking of their hospitality, and speak of her so poorly? And she’s my friend!”
“I’m not saying anything untrue. And to look at her or converse … well, she’s as dull as dishwater. Honestly, Eliza. It’s like a slap in the face to me and your father for you to behave thus.”
“Behave like what?”
“The way you carry on consorting with the slaves. Treating them as equals. There are rumors, you know. I heard them more than once last night. People whispering and whatnot. What should have been a glorious affair was utterly ruined by your past conduct.”
My eyes and nose burned in muted frustration.
“Why can’t you be proud of me and what I am trying to accomplish? I don’t know how to be any other way. I wouldn’t be doing a true service to myself to pretend to be some stultified society miss. I’d never pull it off, anyway.” My voice wobbled. “Can’t you just love me for the girl I am, Mother?”
No matter how much I disagreed with what she thought best for me, I couldn’t help but feel the rejection of a child by her own mother. “Father manages just fine,” I added.
Mama sighed heavily. “It’s got nothing to do with love, Eliza.”
“I’m sorry you feel that my gift for botany and my determination to help this family succeed is a curse. Or that being a decent human being is bad conduct. I’ll not change for you or anyone. Besides, once we get home and see the first indigo crop, you’ll understand. Papa will be so proud of me. I’ll have no immediate need of a husband.”
“Eliza, darling. You are a smart girl. Too intelligent for your own good, I’d say. You are living in a dream world. Do your best for your father, of course. Do your best for our family. But if you do not have a husband”—she paused and leveled me with her gaze—“you will have nothing.”
“That’s not true, I—”
“It is true. What did you honestly think? That you would run your father’s holdings so well that he would simply turn them over to you?” She barked out a shrill laugh. “Besides, they are mortgaged to the hilt.”
My head felt light. I hated quarreling with Mother. And the longer it went on the smaller and more insignificant I felt. “It won’t matter,” I got out breathily. “Next year, with the indigo we’ll be able to unencumber the properties—”
“That damned indigo will not save us!” Mama shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth.
I started, my heart lurching.
“And you are not allowed to own land, Eliza. You are a woman.”
Overcome by her outburst, I couldn’t respond.
She fixed her eyes upon me. The color so like my own, the whites, though, slightly yellowing. “You will never be allowed to own land. Ever.”
I swallowed. “I know, Mama. But I—”
“Do you? Do you really know, Eliza? If you want land you will need to marry someone who has some. This ridiculousness will stop. Immediately.”
Why was she being so obtuse? “Papa believes in me, he even sent a consultant! Why would he do that if he didn’t believe in what we are doing?”
“He’s humoring you. And he feels guilty for leading you to believe you can be more than you are.”
I shook my head. There was no way Papa would do something so underhanded. He was honest to a fault. He would tell me if he wanted me to stop.
She smiled sadly. “It’s true, I’m afraid.”
“You are lying. Father will always let me work upon his land. He needs me. George will need my expertise. Especially after this crop. And if I am successful perhaps I will be able to choose my own husband,” I added to appease her tired quest to marry me off.
Mama cackled and shook her head. “There will be no land for you to work upon long before you finally realize you need a husband. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. We’re heading back to the islands.”
“We’re not. Where did you get such a notion? Besides, it’s dangerous to return there now with the Spanish aggression.”
“More dangerous than here with the threat of slave uprisings hanging over us? And the Spanish are just as much of a threat here as they are there. At least in Antigua we’ll be with your father.”
“He’ll never agree.” I swallowed heavily and took a fortifying breath of cold, wet wind.
“He will when you don’t succeed and the property at Garden Hill has to be mortgaged too. Then what?” She smiled in satisfaction as if she had won the argument.
I said nothing. I would succeed. Had already succeeded. And Garden Hill wasn’t in danger yet. The last rice export was still expected and that would see the plantation through until next year.
When we approached the landing at Wappoo, however, I saw Quash waiting and Togo pacing agitatedly back and forth. Lil’ Gulla must have been posted as sentry to look out for us. My bilious stomach fraught with seasickness, emotional upset, and nerves seemed to crunch in upon itself like a tight ball of twine at seeing the men agitated and not joyful.
The boat bumped our small plantation dock and dark hands deftly moved to moor it. The wind had strengthened, and the normally calm creek was whipped into a frothy soup. If we’d waited even mere moments longer to leave Charles Town after the ball, we never would have made it.
I took Quash’s outstretched hand, bracing against the deck from the lurching craft, and then turned to help Mama. We were damp and bedraggled from the mist-soaked wind, our cheeks ruddy with cold. My ears stung.
“Essie, please go on with Mama,” I said hurriedly before turning to the grim-faced men who’d been awaiting my return. “Well, what is it?” I gritted my teeth. “The indigo? Quick, let’s go up to the warmth of the house,” I added before I could read confirmation on Quash’s face.
Our world got darker as the storm rolled closer.
Quash’s brow was furrowed then he shook his head against going up to the house. “Go on, Togo. You tell the mistress.”
Togo looked to me and then at Mama.
Mama, after a brief hesitation and a nervous glance at the weather, turned and hurried away, dragging her soaked voluminous skirts through the wet grass.
“Cromwell and Ben, they was fighting,” Togo said, raising his voice, clutching the “nail bone” he wore from the leather at his neck he used to weave tight threads of sweetgrass.
Quash nodded. “He think it be about the indigo.”
“Where’s Cromwell?” I frowned.
“In da house.” Quash pointed.
I nodded at both Togo and Quash, thanking them for letting me know. “Now go on and get warm and dry. Take shelter. I don’t want anyone outside working in this weather, you hear.”
“Yes’m.”
I pulled my shawl tighter around me, squinting as the first thick drops of rain began to fall and then ran up to the house to avoid getting soaked. Essie clucked at me as I came inside, the door banging shut behind me.
Voices came from my right. A fire roared in the study grate. Mama was already standing at the hearth warming her hands. Cromwell sat in a wing chair. They fell silent as I entered.
Cromwell didn’t meet my eye nor greet me, and my stomach tumbled with dread.
“We have to get out of these damp dresses,” Mama said, grabbing my attention. “Mary Ann is laying things out for us upstairs. Though I believe I’ll repair to bed. My head is entirely too troublesome. Will you send up a plate for supper, dear?”
“Of course,” I responded. The air was oppressive, and it wasn’t from my heavy, damp, wool traveling dress. It was from words unsaid. I’d interrupted their exchange.
She turned and nodded at Cromwell who returned the gesture.
I took her place at the fire. “Well?” I said impatiently. “What happened?”
“Everything went according to plan.”
“What did you do?” I turned and faced him. My body shuddered with a chill, and I told myself it was my iced skin raising gooseflesh as it met the heat from the fireplace. I fixed my gaze upon him.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I waited.
His face betrayed nothing, but he laid his hand on the chair arm and took a step toward me.
I moved away as he approached.
He smirked. “How did you know?”
The confirmation that something was amiss was a blow to my stomach.
“Sweet, little Eliza.” He reached out and took a strand of hair that had been plastered to my cheek. His forwardness was so unexpected I was unable to react, frozen with disbelief. “So trusting. So … naïve. So innocent.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, and his fingers drew around my jaw.
The shock of his touch finally registered and broke through my haze. I swung my hand up, smacking his away from my face. “What is the meaning of this?”
I swiveled my head to the door. It was closed. Mama had closed it behind her. My mouth dropped open in surprise. It occurred to me it was her second attempt to leave me alone with Cromwell. As horrible a thought as that was, the most pressing one was the state of the indigo.
“What did you do to the indigo?” Whatever it was he would tell me, and we would fix it. If he’d taken it or sold it, I’d make him get it back. I set my jaw. “Tell me. This instant. Where is it?”