I couldn’t face Cromwell when I went back inside. I called for Mary Ann to place warming bricks in my bed and sent Essie to change into dry clothes. I changed out of my heavy soaked dress myself, and when Essie returned I had her help me dry my hair. It took hours for the shaking in my body to subside, and I didn’t know whether it was from cold or emotional shock. Essie gave me a draught of herbs to ward off the chill she expected me to catch and brought me a small sprinkling of sugar and told me to let it melt on my tongue.
I wrote in my copy book as soon as my hands were steady and composed a letter to Father to update him. I spoke of the magnificent ball, and I decided at the last minute not to let him know about the indigo. I would, in time, but for now, until I was sure he wouldn’t reflexively mortgage Garden Hill, I told him the indigo wasn’t quite dry. A half truth at least.
My sleep was dead and dark. There were no dreams to lose myself in. And when I awoke to the bleak landscape, the failed indigo endeavor was a weight upon my chest.
“Miss ’Liza?” Essie’s soft voice came from the door.
I turned my head in the bed.
“Come, chil’. Essie hep you rise.”
“Thank you, Essie.” My heart squeezed. I wanted to ask her to hug me. I wanted to crawl onto her lap, like I had when I was a child.
“That storm be ragin’. An’ there be more comin’.”
She shook her head and clucked, breath huffing in and out. “You got challenges comin’. It’s gone take a fireball from the sky afore things to be gettin’ better.”
“That’s ominous, Essie.” I scowled. “I feel hopeless enough without relying on heavenly portents.” Hopeless was an understatement. I was devastated by the loss of the indigo. It was almost too big a loss with so many repercussions that I thought I might prefer to stay in bed than have to face a day where my dream was over. An urge that was entirely unfamiliar to me and so frightening that I made myself get up immediately.
I dressed, still feeling the chill in my bones. “Let’s get all the fires going today. This house is freezing.” A thought occurred to me. “How are the dwellings? Are they holding up in this weather?”
“Yes’m. Quash done make good fixin’ ’em up when you tol’ him. They’s be warm and dry.”
“Oh, good.”
Something about Cromwell’s wording the day before was bothering me too. I’d have to speak to him again today and get to the bottom of his motive. There was no doubt in my mind that he’d been the instigator behind the sabotage. And that I’d been unfair to Ben expecting him to choose my indigo over his freedom. But I’d been right in pointing out to Ben that his freedom from Cromwell was a mirage. My heart ached when I thought about how my harsh truth must have cut him.
I found Cromwell in the breakfast room. His pompous air made me want to hurl the silver candlestick at his forehead.
He stood as I entered. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” I asked.
“Perhaps it will be better after we talk. We never did get to discuss my proposition.”
I selected some warm chamomile tea and honey and a piece of corn bread. “Why would I entertain any ideas you had? I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”
He sat as I did. “Well, yes, I can see how you’d think that. Perhaps I should first apologize for the manner in which I went about it. It’s only … I thought that if you had no success here you’d be more amenable to my suit.”
I gaped at him, my breakfast forgotten. Then I laughed. Because, what else was I to do? Here a man sat before me, telling me he’d deliberately ruined my dream in order to sway me for my hand. It was nonsensical! What was it with men and their ridiculous notions that I would be only too ecstatic to have someone relieve me of the burden of being alone? Besides, he couldn’t be serious. He didn’t even like me. Wasn’t I too ambitious for starters?
Cromwell appeared nonplussed at my amused outburst, his face flushing.
“Oh,” I sobered. Then my hysterical panic at the reality of what he’d admitted became too much, and I laughed again, but with tears in my eyes. I was mad with it. I laughed until the tears came hot and fast down my face. “You thought—” I choked. “You thought if I didn’t succeed I would marry you?”
Cromwell’s face was enraged. I’d seen a humiliated man’s face before.
“Why, for God’s sake?” Why would that make me marry him? What on earth did he have that I would want? What did I have that he would want? How could he ever think I’d marry a man who’d forced my best friend to drown the one thing most important to me? I swallowed, my laughter dying on a hiccup as I remembered my mother’s comment about going back to the islands.
My conversation with her on the way back from the ball suddenly took on a new and hideous gravity. I grew light-headed and held the table for support. “Did my mother promise you a wife in exchange for a failure so we could return to the islands?”
“You were just a bonus,” Cromwell said.
So it was true? My mother had sold us out for the chance to wed me to this … this …
Iciness swept across my neck as I prickled with sweat. I added my mother’s betrayal to the bag of stones that was tied around my neck and pulling me under.
I struggled to breathe in and out.
He shrugged. “Something to show for my time here. The daughter of the soon-to-be governor of Antigua. A bonus that, on second thought, seeing your disdain for me, I’d rather not have to endure.”
A relief for both of us.
The thought of this supercilious and cruel man sharing the rest of my life, touching my person and forcing me to bear his progeny and bend to his will, made the one bite of corn bread I’d eaten feel like a handful of crushed oyster shells. “So if I was the bonus, what was the real prize?”
“For a girl doing her best to play the part of a plantation owner, you are rather naïve, aren’t you? I’d thought you smarter.” His insult and condescending manner, which I was so used to, rolled right off me. He was attempting to recover his pride. As men often did.
“Where am I from?” he asked patiently, and I wanted to smack the smug smile from his face.
“Montserrat,” I answered woodenly, though I knew of course what he was about to say.
“Which, as you know, is a French colony. Why on earth would you think I’d deliberately set you up as competition against French indigo? Do you know how much my brother is paid for our indigo? Of course you do, that’s why I’m here.”
“You are right.” I made a show of resuming my breakfast, spreading a dollop of honey on my bread, though I had no stomach for it. “I was naïve. But only because I’d considered you more mercenary than patriotic. Of course I knew you and your brother sold to the French. You are naïve if you thought otherwise. It’s a shame though. Now you have ruined relationships with the governor of Antigua and your indigo-making reputation. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Who would take the word of a petulant little girl playing above her station over the brother of one of the most preeminent indigo makers in Montserrat? There are plenty of men in town I’ve sat across from in cards who would gladly take me and my expertise in indigo rather than listen to a girl who has already made herself unwelcome. I may have a damaged reputation from gambling, but so do you. And your misdemeanors are far more egregious. I’m still a gentleman who’ll be given an ear. You will be nothing but a footnote.”
My ears and cheeks burned. “Well, I’m glad we cleared up the fact you were mistaken in wanting to marry me.”
I realized the other reason I hadn’t told Papa of the indigo affair was that I was sure he would demand we send Cromwell back. By sending Cromwell back, his reputation in tatters, I was sentencing Ben as well. And sending Ben away. Away from me. If only I could afford to buy him out of bondage. But we had nothing until we sold the last rice from Garden Hill. And truly what price would a man with Ben’s knowledge fetch? He was priceless. And sending him away now, when I’d never see him again, would hurt worse than the knowledge he’d been an accomplice in ruining my indigo.
My threats to Cromwell were empty.
Ben was Cromwell’s only asset. Even if I wanted to, I doubted I would be able to persuade Cromwell to let Ben go. So Cromwell would have to stay here. I wished I could have him take over Waccamaw from Starrat. But what would replacing one devil with another accomplish?
Cromwell laid down his fork and narrowed his eyes. “Are you … in a relationship with Ben? My Negro?”
I stood abruptly. “Don’t you dare—”
“Or Quash, perhaps? After all, you have had several opportunities … alone with them.” He tutted, shaking his head side to side. “Oh, you think I don’t notice? It’s been quite fascinating to hear about your reputation in town, and then be able to see it for myself. What is it you discuss with Quash in the study every other morning?”
I laid down my napkin. “You have been paid for your expertise and been a guest in our home, and you have just outstayed your welcome.”
Essie came back into the dining room, Togo trailing behind her. “Miz Lucas. Togo say he need to speak wit ya.”
Togo’s face was grave. “Ben. He done gone.”