CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fort Royal, Martinique
“Elizabeth! Beth!”
Beth had just dismounted from the carriage that Pierre had kindly loaned to her so that she could travel to Fort Royal, with the dual purpose of shopping for her trip to France and visiting the Marquis de Caylus to say goodbye and thank him for all he had done for her.
She looked round to see Elizabeth Clavering waving frantically and hurrying up the street towards her. The two women embraced, then Beth held her friend at arm’s length and surveyed her. The last time they had met Elizabeth had been dressed in borrowed clothes which had been too big for her. Now she was wearing a beautiful emerald-green silk dress, heavily embroidered with gold thread, with matching shoes. Her hair was elaborately styled and powdered, and emeralds sparkled in her ears and at her throat. Beth, dressed in a pretty but serviceable pink cotton dress, her hair, now grown below her shoulders, tied back with a ribbon, felt positively dowdy by comparison.
“You’ve done very well for yourself,” she said. “You wouldn’t look out of place at Versailles!”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Aye, I suppose I am a wee bit overdressed for taking a stroll through town, but when I’m at sea I wear breeches and shirts like the men, so I make the most o’ things when I’m on land.”
“It’s good to see you,” Beth said, and meant it. “So how is life as a pirate suiting you?”
“Privateer,” a male voice said from behind her. She jumped, turning to look into the laughing brown eyes of Paul Marsal.
“I stand corrected, Captain Marsal,” she amended, curtseying deeply. He responded with an elaborate courtly bow, while Elizabeth looked on with amusement.
“My name is still Paul,” he said, smiling at her. “And it is delightful to see you, Beth. I thought you were living near Sainte Marie now.”
“I am, but I am about to leave, “Beth replied.
“To leave? Do you have another place to stay?” Paul asked.
“No. I am leaving Martinique,” she replied, causing matching expressions of surprise to appear on her friends’ faces. “It is a long story,” she added, “but I intend to sail for France as soon as I can. I came here to see the marquis, amongst other things.”
“I am sure the marquis will be as delighted to see you as we are,” Paul said.
“I’m not certain of that,” Beth replied, looking along the drive at the distant house. “I’m afraid I need to ask him for a favour.”
“Why are ye afeart o’ that?” Elizabeth asked. “Yon man was much taken wi’ ye, was he no’?”
“He said he was, but he has already done so much for me. I hate to ask him to loan me money, but I have no alternative.”
“Ye’re needing money to pay for your passage tae France?” Elizabeth asked.
“No. My employer has kindly offered to pay for that, and I have the allowance he gave me to live on when I first arrive in France. No. I wish to buy a slave.” She looked around at the busy thoroughfare. This was not the place to discuss such things. “It’s complicated,” she finished.
“Is the marquis expecting you to call on him now?” Paul enquired.
“No,” Beth said. “I was going to ask if I could make an appointment to see him, and then do a little shopping before going to my hotel. I have taken a room for a week.”
“Excellent!” Paul said, taking her arm and tucking it under his. “Then you have plenty of time to visit the marquis tomorrow. Tonight you are going to be our supper guest on L’Améthyste, which by happy chance is just over there.” He pointed to the forest of masts in the harbour, presumably some of which belonged to his ship. “You can tell us your complicated story and we can tell you ours, and give you a little advice too, perhaps. Are you agreeable?”
As he was already turning in the direction of the harbour and showed no sign of relinquishing Beth’s arm, it seemed he had already assumed her response would be in the affirmative.
Which assumption was indeed accurate.
They dined in the captain’s quarters, which were, as Beth remembered him describing to her in May, very tasteful. The mahogany panelling, bookshelves and burgundy silk upholstered chairs and curtains made her feel as though she was sitting in a library in an English country house. Only the temperature told her otherwise.
They sat at the dining table eating crayfish soup followed by oyster pie and orange pudding from silver plates, washing it down with fine wine poured into crystal glasses. While they were eating, Beth related to her interested audience the events of her life since she had last seen them.
“I don’t know your opinion of slavery,” she said after explaining why she was so desperate to buy Raymond, having already received the papers confirming her ownership of Rosalie.
“Well, it is a very profitable business,” Paul commented. Elizabeth leaned across the table and punched him in the arm. “My dear!” he exclaimed. “You see the maltreatment I have to endure from my darling wife. Whatever was that for?”
“Beth is serious, ye loon,” his darling wife said.
“And so am I. It is a very profitable business. Not one that I actively engage in, but I have captured ships with cargoes of slaves in the past, and have sold them on at a profit.” He glanced at his wife. “But no more. My wife holds the same view of slavery as it seems you do,” he continued.
“Aye, well, when ye’ve come as close as we did to being one, it gives ye a different view o’ the business,” Elizabeth said.
Beth nodded.
“It does,” she agreed. “So you see why I need to buy Raymond. I don’t want him to lose his daughter as well as his wife, but I haven’t got a hundred and fifty louis. I told Pierre that when I get to France I have connections and will be able to send the money to him, but he said he will look for someone else to come with me and Rosalie. So I want to ask the marquis if he will lend me the money. If he will, then I can hopefully persuade Pierre to let me buy Raymond. I think he will see it differently if I have the actual gold, rather than just the promise of it.”
Dinner over, they moved to the cushioned chairs in the corner of the room near the beautiful canopied bed, and Paul poured them glasses of cognac.
“But that’s enough of my problems,” Beth said. “I’ve talked all the way through dinner, and you’ve been very patient. Tell me what you have been doing for the last six months.”
Elizabeth and Paul exchanged glances, then Paul spoke.
“Well, first of all, Elizabeth and I married, because as you can see, I have a beautiful bed, and was anxious for her to become acquainted with it and indeed with me, in a way that would not have been proper without the requisite vows being exchanged.”
“Ye’re a damned liar, Paul Marsal!” Elizabeth cut in. “Ye tellt me that marrying ye was the only way to guarantee my safety on board!”
Paul cast her a look of exaggerated anguish that Sir Anthony would have been proud of, and which made Beth’s heart contract.
“Well, that was also a consideration,” he agreed. “’Love and war are the same thing, and stratagems and polity are as allowable in the one as in the other.’ Don Quixote,” he added, on seeing the ladies’ quizzical looks.
“Ye see, ye did well to reject him,” Elizabeth said. “Never trust a pirate.”
“Privateer,” Paul and Beth said together, then they all laughed. It was clear that Elizabeth had made the right choice, and was very happy with both the life and the man she had embraced. Beth relaxed. She had not felt this much at home since she had left Caroline and Edwin’s the previous April.
“After our marriage celebrations we set sail on a little voyage, to give my bride a taste of her new life,” Paul continued.
“Which is an awfu’ lot like being married to a Highlander, except at sea,” Elizabeth interrupted. “So after we married, he and his men spent three days lying on deck in a drunken stupor and then armed themselves to the teeth and ambushed a puir wee ship sailing frae Liverpool wi’ a cargo o’ fine furniture, clocks and jewellery for the rich planters of Antigua.”
“I failed to notice you objecting at the time to us attacking the ‘puir wee ship’, my dear,” Paul commented acerbically. “In fact the emeralds you are so attractively displaying came from that very ship, as I remember. She was most shockingly bloodthirsty,” he added in an aside to Beth, winking.
“Aye, well, I didna take kindly to being called a Scotch whore, no’ by a squint-eyed Sasannach bastard,” Elizabeth said.
“She ran him through with her sword,” Paul added happily. “A most excellent baptism into privateering. We shall not bore you with the details, but we profited well from the voyage, and Elizabeth has taken to the life like a fish to water. I am very proud of her.”
“We’ve made two more trips since then, and now we’re waiting for the end o’ the hurricane season, and enjoying our ill-gotten gains,” Elizabeth said.
“And with that in mind I have a proposition for you, my dear,” Paul said to Beth. “What do you say to us providing the funds for you to purchase this Raymond you are so keen to have?”
Beth’s eyes widened.
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” she said. “When I told you about my problem, I did not think for one minute that—”
Paul leaned forward and took her hand in his.
“I do not think that you were trying to inveigle the money from us,” he said. “It is not in your nature to be duplicitous, I think.”
No, it was not, although she had had to be, many times in her life, and would no doubt have to be again. But not with these people, who, although only briefly acquainted with them, she classed as friends.
“No,” she said, “I cannot accept such a gesture. You have already done far too much for me.”
Paul waved his free hand in a gesture of dismissal, while firmly retaining hers with his other.
“I insist. You say you have contacts in France who will provide for you once you reach there?” he asked.
Beth opened her mouth to say yes, then closed it again. She could not lie to this man who had saved her life. Well, she could, but she did not want to.
“I did say that, to Pierre,” she admitted, “but it isn’t true. I have no intention of staying in France, but no one must know that.”
“What do you intend to do then?” Paul asked, a concerned look on his face.
“I am going back to Britain, to look for my husband,” Beth said.
Paul let go of her hand and sat back in the chair.
“I see,” he said.
“But ye tellt me that ye thought Sir Anthony to be dead,” Elizabeth said.
“I thought he was,” Beth replied. “But I don’t know for certain. And then I had a dream that led me to believe he might be alive.”
She saw Paul and Elizabeth exchange a glance that told her they both thought she’d lost her mind.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she said, “but I can’t rest and carry on with my life until I know for certain whether he’s dead or alive.”
“Ye’ll no’ have a life to carry on wi’ if the British catch ye,” Elizabeth pointed out logically. “And they could, before ye even get to France, because they’re blockading the French ports at the minute, making it awfu’ difficult for merchant ships to get in or out.”
“I didn’t know about the blockade,” Beth said, “although I do know what will happen if the British catch me. But it’s something I need to do. And I really don’t like Martinique. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life sweating profusely and having to sit and listen to small talk while surrounded by miserable slaves. I’d rather go home and risk capture. But I will be very careful. And I have a deal of money hidden in England. When I said I had connections, I meant only that I have access to funds to repay the marquis, or you if you really do insist on helping me, and I will be sure to do that before anything else, so that if I am taken it will not disadvantage you.”
“What will you do if you find out for certain what has become of your husband?” Paul asked. His expression was serious now, all trace of joviality gone, and he was looking at her with a calculating eye.
“If he is alive, then I will stay with him. If he is dead…I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I have friends. If I can stay with them without endangering them, I will. If not, I will find a way to be useful to the cause.”
“And if he’s alive, but seriously wounded, maimed, no longer the man you married? Will you still stay with him?”
“Of course I will!” Beth retorted indignantly. “He is my husband! I love him, and will care for him no matter what, as he would care for me.”
Elizabeth looked at Paul, her eyes alight.
“Ye have to tell her that—”
He raised a hand imperiously, and she fell instantly silent. Never taking his eyes from Beth’s, he steepled his fingers under his chin and continued.
“And what of your slaves, Rosalie and Raymond? Will you also take them to England with you?”
“I will not take them anywhere,” Beth replied. “I mean to free both of them before I leave this island. That is my sole reason for buying them.”
He looked at her for a moment longer, and then he nodded, his expression changed, and he adopted his customary light-hearted jovial persona once more. He smiled. Beth realised that she had passed some sort of test.
He really is like Sir Anthony, she thought.
“Then, my dear Beth, I will be delighted to advance you the money to buy this man Raymond,” he told her, “and also the sixteen hundred livres you will need for their manumission. It’s a tax that has been imposed to discourage slaves from being freed.”
Elizabeth clapped her hands in joy.
“Thank you,” Beth replied. “I promise you, the moment I arrive home the first thing I will do is ensure the money is returned to you. But you must tell me how to do that.”
“Oh no, you mistake me!” Paul said. “I mean not to make you a loan, but to give the money to you. Call it a thank you gift for introducing me to my wife, with whom I am delighted.” He blew a kiss to Elizabeth, who blushed becomingly.
“But it’s an enormous amount!” Beth protested. “You can’t—”
“Indeed I can,” Paul interrupted. “I can do whatever I wish, and I wish to give you the means to purchase this fortunate man. This sum you consider enormous, I could lose, have in fact lost, in one night of cards. With this, I make four people very happy, no, five, for you say this Rosalie is his daughter, non?”
“She is,” Beth said. “But—”
“Then it is a bargain! Five people made happy, my debt to you repaid, and all for the price of a card game. We will speak no more of it. I will procure the money for you tomorrow and bring it to your hotel. Then you can say your farewells to the marquis with a happy heart.”
“Are ye going to tell her about—” Elizabeth began again.
“Indeed, now I am satisfied, I am,” Paul interrupted. “When do you wish to sail for France?”
“As soon as I can,” Beth said. “But I must get the transfer papers for Raymond, and then the manumission papers for them both. I don’t know how long that will take. And if as you say the British are blockading the ports, I suppose it might be more difficult than I expected to find a ship that is going there, and will take me.”
“I assure you, it will not be difficult at all for you to find a ship that will take you to France,” Paul said. Beth’s eyes lit up.
“Really? You know of a ship that’s going to France soon?”
“Indeed I do, as do you. You are sitting on it.”
Beth looked at the smiling couple blankly for a minute. I’ve had too much to drink, she thought.
“You are sailing to France?” she said finally. “But I thought you only did…er…business around the islands?”
“Not at all. We do business wherever it is profitable. At the moment the price of sugar is rising, because it is becoming increasingly difficult for merchant ships to successfully export it. The same rule applies to goods coming back. I plan to take advantage of that, and hope to sail in December. And I have a yearning to show Elizabeth a little of my home country, because it is very beautiful. I believe she will love Paris, and will look very much at home in her finery there.” He raised his glass to his wife in a toast.
“And you’re happy for me to come with you?”
“I am. We are,” he said. “But now for a moment, as tedious as it is, I must be serious. In the last months Elizabeth has learned how dangerous my profession is. The rewards can be great, but the dangers also. The life of a privateer is usually short but merry, and the ending can be brutal. I must advise you, for your own sake, that it would be safer for you to stay in Martinique until this war is over.”
“And when is that likely to be?” Beth asked.
“Who knows? The countries of Europe can always find a reason to make war on each other.”
Beth put her glass down and leaned forward.
“I too will be serious,” she said. “When Sir Anthony married me, I had no idea that he was anything other than he pretended to be. When I found out and told him that I wished to stay with him, and join him in his endeavours to restore the Stuarts to the throne, he refused. To illustrate what might happen if I persisted in staying with him, he took me to a hanging, which I had never seen before, and then told me how much worse it would be for me, were I ever caught. And still I insisted on staying with him, and he was right. When I was caught, it was so much worse, worse than I imagined it could ever be. But I have never regretted for one moment that I insisted on staying with him, and if I had to do it all again, I would, without hesitation. Does that reassure you?”
Paul laughed out loud.
“What a fortunate man I am, to find not one, but two women of such courage and daring! Yes, that reassures me.”
“Good. Then I would very much like to come with you, and I accept all the possible dangers, only asking that you do not take any unnecessary risks on my behalf.”
“Then we have a deal,” Paul said. “Let us refill our glasses and raise a toast to good friends. And then let us get very drunk together, as all true pirates are expected to do at every possible opportunity.”
“Privateers,” the two women said together.
“Indeed,” Paul replied.
They laughed, raised their glasses and proceeded to get very drunk indeed, with the result that later none of them were capable of even finding their way out of the cabin, let alone seeing Beth back to her hotel. So she and Elizabeth, on the insistence of the gallant captain, slept in the beautiful carved mahogany bed while he snored the night away on the floor.
It was a fitting way to celebrate a meeting six months previously which had transformed the lives of all three of them, and which would hopefully transform the lives of two more, when Beth returned to Soleil in a week’s time.
* * *
“I am sorry, Beth, but I really do not think I can part with Raymond,” Pierre Delisle said. “He is indispensable to me. But I can find you another suitable male slave, and will sell him to you for a much more reasonable price.”
Damn, damn, damn. Beth could hardly explain to Pierre the real reason why it had to be Raymond. She sat on the porch with her employer, sipped her lemon water and thought furiously. In the background the subject of their conversation, dressed in full livery, stood immobile, awaiting his master’s summons.
“But he will be more reasonable because he is not as well trained!” Beth cried, as inspiration struck. “It is crucial that I am accompanied by a very highly trained footman. It will reflect very well on you too.”
“How could it possibly reflect well on me for you to take Raymond to France?” Pierre asked, confused.
“I will tell you, Pierre,” Beth said. “But you must promise me that you will keep this between ourselves.”
“Of course!” he agreed, his eyes shining, eager to hear what he had no doubt, judging by the look on Beth’s face, was a juicy piece of gossip.
“You will know of course, that I do not speak about such things in general company, although I have been much pressed to,” Beth continued. “It is not advisable for one in my position to be indiscreet, you understand.”
She had him now. He was desperate to know what she was about to confide to him. And then he would assure her of his discretion and tell everyone the moment she was gone. She knew it, and it made the lie much easier to tell.
“You will, I am sure, have realised that I had a certain…understanding with His Majesty,” she said. “That was some time ago, of course, but I have reason to believe that when I arrive in Paris, His Majesty will be generous enough to look on me with favour once more.”
“I am sure he will. You are a most beautiful young lady,” Pierre replied.
“Thank you,” Beth said, blushing prettily. “You are very kind to say so, but there are many ladies of great beauty at the court, all of them seeking the king’s favour. I am sure he would look very favourably upon me if I could present him with a most unusual gift.”
Pierre looked at her, completely at a loss. She sighed inwardly.
“Black servants in France are very unusual,” she continued, “and a negro of Raymond’s carriage and training would be a rare gem indeed.”
“You mean to give Raymond to King Louis as a gift?” Pierre asked.
“I see we have an understanding,” Beth replied, smiling. “I will of course give all the credit for his upbringing and training to you, Pierre. It can bring nothing but profit to you, I am sure.”
“But…slavery is prohibited in France!” Pierre said.
Was it? Damn!
“I know, but we are speaking of the King of France, not of a commoner! The king is above the law, answerable only to God for his actions. He will be delighted to have such a present, and you and I both will be looked on most favourably as a result. What do you say, Pierre? I can give you the gold immediately.”
In fact, Paul had insisted on giving Beth three hundred louis in case Pierre drove a hard bargain, telling her to give any remaining cash to Rosalie and Raymond to help them make a new life. Beth had no intention of paying a penny more than the price Pierre had quoted to her, and from the gleam in his eyes as he took this information in, she was sure she had just succeeded.
“Ah!” he said. “Now I understand. I see now that Jacques, who I had intended to recommend to you, would not be satisfactory at all! But you really think Raymond is capable of performing his duties to such high standards? After all, life at court is very different to that of a plantation!”
“I will have six weeks, maybe more at sea to teach him,” Beth said.
“Hmm,” replied Pierre, thinking. “I have had an excellent idea, which I think you will approve of. Instead of selling Raymond to you, I could write a letter offering to transfer him straight to the king myself! You would only need to pay a small consideration for the time I must spend training another body servant. This would leave you with more money with which to attire yourself appropriately for court, and if Raymond was not pleasing to the king, he could be returned to me!”
And then you could be sure to take all the credit for Raymond, in case I fail to tell the king who trained him, Beth thought.
“Oh no, that would never do!” she said. “The training will be very hard; Raymond will have to spend long and tedious hours repeating the same gestures, learning the same lessons over and over, until he performs them perfectly! And I alone will be responsible for this. You know what negroes are like, how lazy and impertinent they can be. As obedient as Raymond is now, once he is free of your discipline there is no telling how he will behave when he has to obey a woman! I must have complete authority over him so that I can administer punishment as I see fit. If I do not have ownership of him, my position will be undermined.”
“I do take your point, of course,” Pierre said doubtfully. “But—”
“I am quite happy to sign anything you wish, assuring you that if he does not please the king he will be returned to you at no charge to yourself. Indeed, if I find that my husband is indeed dead, as I do believe him to be, I will accompany Raymond home myself, if you are still amenable to making a respectable woman of me,” she said, blushing furiously, clearly deeply embarrassed at her own audacity. “Indeed, Pierre, I wish to please the king only because he can find out whether or not my husband lives. Once I know the truth of that, I shall leave the court as soon as I can.” She cast her eyes to the ground to compound the impression of being a woman desperate to fly to his arms, even above those of the king, should her husband not be alive.
Pierre softened immediately.
“I understand completely. How could I refuse you anything, when you give me such hopes of making me the happiest of men?” he said, seizing her hand and kissing it fervently while she fluttered her fan in front of her face, a picture of feminine delicacy and confusion.
The delicacy and confusion lasted until she reached the privacy of her room, whereupon she threw both the fan and herself onto the bed, suddenly unutterably weary. She had forgotten how tiring it was to dissemble. How had she managed to do it almost continuously for over two years?
Because she had had Sir Anthony beside her, supporting her, covering her mistakes and treating it all as a game. And because once they were alone, as Alex he had reassured, protected and loved her.
She closed her eyes tightly in a vain attempt to stop the tears which threatened. God, she thought, I am so lonely. I cannot bear this for much longer. Please, please let him be alive. Let all this not be in vain. Tears trickled down the side of her face into her hair and she rolled onto her side, curling up in a foetus-like position, trying to comfort herself.
Which was how Rosalie found her, fast asleep, when she came into the room an hour later. Very quietly she tiptoed out again, closing the door silently behind her.
“Madame Beth is asleep,” she whispered to her father, who stood in the corridor. “We will have to thank her later.” Father and daughter looked around, ascertained that they were alone, then embraced, their eyes glowing with happiness.
Later, when Beth awoke, they would assure her that it was not all in vain and she would be comforted by that. But it would not abate the loneliness.
Once Beth had the papers confirming Raymond as her possession she relaxed a little, and spent the remaining two months at Soleil in preparing for her voyage. To that end she ordered two court dresses to be made that she had no intention of wearing, and some serviceable woollen clothes in dark materials that she did. She also exercised her arms, took long walks around the grounds, perfected her knife-throwing skills, and incorporated Raymond into the literacy lessons she was giving Rosalie. As she’d expected, Raymond was a very fast learner. The rest of his time was spent training the slave who would replace him when he was gone.
She didn’t tell either of her new purchases that she had no intention of taking them on a perilous trip across the ocean; that she intended to free them. She could not take the chance that they might not be able to resist confiding such momentous news to one of their friends. One of the many lessons she had learnt from Alex was that if you wanted to keep something secret, you must tell no one. She had told Paul and Elizabeth of course, but that had been necessary.
In her last week before sailing she would move to Fort Royal and stay in a hotel there, where she would also obtain the manumission papers setting them free. Then she would tell them both. She couldn’t wait.
* * *
As a result of her impatience, the first thing she did in December, after saying her tearful farewells to Pierre and obtaining a room at the hotel in Fort Royal, along with a pallet for Rosalie to sleep at the foot of her bed and a tiny closet for Raymond that wasn’t even large enough for him to lie down properly, was to head off into town to get the manumission papers drawn up.
She had spent twenty minutes at the hotel arguing that she wanted proper rooms for her slaves, not cupboards or pallets, until Raymond had gently interrupted and assured her that he was very happy to be in the hotel at all, as normally male slaves would sleep in the cellar or with the animals outside. Then she had reluctantly accepted the situation.
It took a whole day to get the papers drawn up, signed and witnessed, but finally she had them. When she got back to the hotel she ordered a large cold meal to be served in her room along with three bottles of expensive wine. As soon as it arrived she sent Rosalie to fetch Raymond.
While she was waiting for them to come back, she tried to calm herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so excited about anything. She cast her mind back to how she had felt when the marquis had told her she was free, how the prisoners had at first sobbed and then rejoiced when the good news had been given to them all. It would be wonderful for them.
Raymond and Rosalie sat silently on the edge of the bed for so long after she told them they were free that Beth thought they hadn’t understood what she was telling them.
“Those are the papers telling you and anyone who questions you that you no longer belong to anyone at all. You can make new lives for yourselves, do whatever you want to do.”
Rosalie looked at her father uncertainly, while he stared at Beth.
It is not that they don’t understand, she realised. They don’t believe me, because freedom is something they never even imagined they could have.
She stood up from the chair where she’d been sitting and went across to them, knelt down in front of them and took one of their hands in each of hers.
“Raymond, this is why I insisted on buying you rather than accepting a letter transferring you to King Louis. I had to have the ownership papers so that I could set you free in law. I am giving you your freedom, as the Marquis de Caylus gave me mine when we landed here.”
She smiled, and Rosalie smiled back at her uncertainly.
“Madame Beth,” Raymond said, his voice husky with the emotion he was not yet showing, “why have you done this for us?”
“Because I could,” she answered simply. “If I could buy every slave on the island and set them free, I would. No man should live in bondage to another. I have spent years of my life fighting for a cause that would have given me the right to worship openly in my country, to use my rightful name. That cause has failed. This is a little thing, but it makes me very happy to give you both the freedom to choose your own futures.”
“This is not a little thing, madame,” Raymond said. He stroked his finger lightly over the paper he was not yet able to read properly. “This, this is everything. I…I have no words…” His voice broke, and like a dam breaking the tears spilled over his lashes and ran down his cheeks. He brushed them away, embarrassed, and then took his daughter in a fierce embrace, and the two of them broke down completely.
Very quietly Beth got up and left the room, recognising their need to deal with this overwhelming news alone.
When she returned a short while later they had both succeeded in composing themselves a little, but their eyes were shining and brimming with happiness, and Beth’s heart soared.
“When the marquis told us all that we were free,” she said, “we were like you. But then once we accepted it, we celebrated together. I know that it would be frowned on if we were to all go out together tonight, and that you wouldn’t be allowed to go into the taverns with me. So I thought that we could celebrate here, together.” She pointed to the dishes of food and the wine. “We will have to share the glass,” she said, “unless you’re happy to drink from the bottle, of course! But if you want to just be together to celebrate, then I understand. I can go elsewhere for the evening.”
“Oh, madame!” Rosalie cried. “You are our angel! We can never thank you enough! Of course we wish to celebrate with you. I can’t…we can’t believe it’s true.”
They shared out the food, and in the absence of sufficient glasses clinked the bottles together and drank.
“It feels wrong to be eating food with you, at the same time, and the same table,” Raymond said after a few minutes.
“Well, you will have to become accustomed to it, so this is a good place to start,” Beth said. “Oh, I almost forgot! I have something else for you!” She went to the drawer and pulled out two leather bags, giving them one each. “It is a little money to allow you to make a start in life, and you must not thank me for this because it is from a friend of mine.”
Raymond opened the bag and gasped.
“Madame, this is not a little!” he cried. “This is a fortune! We cannot accept this. You will need money yourself, when you get to France.”
“I have money of my own,” Beth replied. “This is for you, and my friend would be very unhappy if you refused it. So would I.”
He sighed, and, never having experienced how to argue with a white person, gave in.
“How can we ever thank you for this?” he said. “There is nothing we can do for you to pay you back.”
“Yes, there is,” Beth replied. “You can call me Beth instead of madame. And you can go and live your lives and seek happiness, as I have…as I am doing. That will be thanks enough.”
“Then, Beth,” he said, “I promise you that we will do just that.”
“Good,” she said. “Now let’s eat and drink, as friends and equals.”
The next day they went for a walk together down to the harbour. Beth hadn’t seen Paul or Elizabeth yet, but had sent a message to tell them she was in Fort Royal and asking them to call on her whenever they wanted.
The three companions sat by the harbour looking at the multitude of ships, some of them swarming with figures, loading, unloading or performing various maintenance tasks.
“Do you know which is the ship you will be sailing on?” Raymond asked.
“I don’t, I’m afraid,” Beth replied. “I know it is a brig, so has two masts, and is called L’Améthyste, but I couldn’t identify it from here, no. But when I go I hope you will come and wave me goodbye, and meet Captain Marsal and his wife, who are my friends.”
Raymond and Rosalie exchanged a look, then Rosalie spoke.
“We would be very happy to meet your friends, ma…Beth,” Rosalie said. “But we cannot wave you goodbye.”
Beth was surprised by how disappointed she felt that there would be no one to say goodbye to her as she left this island forever. I’m being ridiculous, she told herself. They wanted to start their new lives straight away, maybe wanted to leave Fort Royal immediately.
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
“We cannot wave you goodbye, Beth, because we are coming to France with you,” Raymond added.
* * *
“So, Paul, you must refuse them permission to sail with you, because they just will not listen to me,” Beth said two evenings later, having argued with Raymond and Rosalie for much of the intervening time. It seemed that Raymond did know how to argue with a white person after all.
They were in a tavern in which Paul was known, and in which he’d asked for and got a private room. The three of them sat around a scrubbed wooden table, on which was a candle, a jug and three glasses.
“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Beth,” Paul said.
“Of course you can!” Beth replied. “I’ve told them that France is nothing like Martinique, that it’s cold, and that having never lived anywhere else, they will suffer terribly. I also told them that they don’t need to worry about me, because you are my friends so I won’t be alone. But they still insist that they wish to come with me. So you must tell them they can’t come. They’ll have to listen to you.”
“Why do you no’ want them to go to France with ye?” Elizabeth asked.
“They’re only coming because they feel an obligation to stay with me, and it’s dangerous, as you said, and because when I get there I can’t look after them, and they can’t come to England with me. Please, Paul, will you come with me now and tell them?”
“As I’ve said, Beth, I cannot do that,” Paul repeated.
“Why not?” Beth asked, puzzled.
“Because Raymond and Rosalie came to see me this morning, and I agreed to take them to France with us.”
“You did what?! How could you?” Beth cried.
“I could because I’m the captain of L’Améthyste and I make the decisions as to who goes on board and who doesn’t. And I also could because they gave me very good reasons for wanting to go, and they were not the reasons you have just given to me.”
“What reasons did they give?” Beth asked.
“They told me that Monsieur Pierre had mentioned that slavery is illegal in France. I confirmed that it is. They said that in Martinique, if they are arrested for any reason then they could be enslaved once more, and they would rather risk the dangers of the voyage and adapt to a new country than be slaves again.
“Raymond also said that if Monsieur Pierre finds out that rather than selling him to King Louis, you have actually freed both him and his daughter – which I might say is highly likely to happen, as gossip is the mainstay of the island – then he will be very angry, and will seek revenge. They will never be safe if they stay here. I agreed with them. So I told them they were welcome to come, and that they can have free passage if they are willing to work.”
These were very good reasons; Beth could not dispute that.
“They didn’t tell me that was why they wanted to go to France,” she said softly.
“No, they didn’t,” Paul said. “Raymond was very honest with me. He told me that you didn’t want them to go, that you assumed they felt an obligation to accompany you from gratitude, and that they didn’t know how to refute that without you thinking they were not grateful for what you’ve done for them.”
Beth fell silent, looking down at the table, and after a minute Paul reached out and took her hand, stroking it lightly. She looked across at him.
“Beth,” he said gently, “you are a very kind woman, and what you have done is wonderful and will change their lives forever. But Raymond is a grown man and has been through many hardships. He knows his own mind, and although Rosalie is only fourteen, she too is stronger than you think. They have been treated as ignorant children their whole lives by the planters, and in order to survive have had to pretend that’s what they were. I think you are confusing what they seem to be with what they are. You, who have had to wear many masks in your life, should understand that better than anyone.”
“I never thought about it in that way,” she said, reddening. “You are right.”
“Don’t be ashamed; you are not used to slaves. In your time here you’ve seen only a very little of their way of life. But you are willing to listen and to learn, and that’s a good quality. Of course, there is another reason why you should not try to stop them accompanying you.”
“What’s that?”
“You have no rights over them. You have set them free, but are trying to stop them exercising that freedom.”
To his surprise, she started laughing.
“Touché, Captain,” she said. “I used different words, but that’s what I said to my husband when he told me he’d married me to set me free. You are right. I concede defeat, and will tell Raymond and Rosalie that when I see them later.”
“Good,” said Paul. “Tell them also to have some warm clothes made – you can help them with that - and that we hope to sail in three days.”
Three days. Three days and she would be on her way home. To hell with the risks. Better die young whilst truly living, than grow old merely existing.
And now she had the freedom to do as she wished, thanks to this charismatic captain who reminded her so much of Sir Anthony. And thanks to her, Raymond and Rosalie also had that freedom.
It was fitting that they should embrace the start of that freedom together.
* * *
The cargo of sugar had been loaded, and the crew all dragged out of whatever drinking establishment they were frequenting. Two of them had then been thrown in the sea to sober up, after which another crewman had had to reluctantly jump in to stop the most inebriated of the two from drowning.
“Seth really is an exceptionally ferocious fighter, and worth saving,” Paul explained to his bemused companions as the unconscious man was dragged on board and then pummelled on his back. He brought up an impressive quantity of seawater, groaned, and then curled up on deck and went to sleep. Paul sighed.
“Take him below to let him sober up,” he said to two other crewmen. “He can take a double watch tonight as punishment. I really don’t want to have to flog men at this stage,” he explained to Beth and Rosalie. “In fact I avoid it altogether if I can, because they’re then out of action for a day or so, which means the other men have to do his duty as well as their own.”
The matter-of-fact way he said this made Rosalie wince. Paul eyed her curiously.
“Rosalie was flogged in October by the overseer. I had given her some hair ribbons, but he thought she had stolen them.”
“Mada…Beth rescued me,” Rosalie said. “But I will never forget the pain. It was terrible.”
“Well, mademoiselle, I assure you that I only flog my crewmen if they really deserve it,” Paul reassured her. “There are many other ways to punish a man that do not stop him working, but are very effective. I do not anticipate any problems with my men on this voyage though. We have all known each other for years, and it is in all our interests to reach France safely. I will endeavour not to flog anyone while you are on board.” He winked at Rosalie, who giggled.
It was lovely to see the two former slaves starting to come out of their shells as the realisation that they were truly free sank in. At the moment Raymond was on the quay helping to load provisions for the journey. He had been ecstatic to discover that there were two black crewmen on L’Améthyste¸ and that both of them had formerly been slaves. They had struck up a friendship, and the three of them were laughing and chatting as they picked up crates of chickens, preparing to carry them on board.
Accommodation for the passengers had been allocated; it had been agreed that Beth and Rosalie would sleep in Paul and Elizabeth’s cabin on mattresses on the floor. This was to ensure that neither of the two women would have to deal with any unwanted advances during the night.
“Because of course I cannot marry all three of you,” Paul had joked, “nor have I the space to allocate you a private cabin with a lock. And while I trust my crew, you are both very attractive ladies and they are men, not saints. I don’t think it fair to expose them to such temptation. You will be safe enough by day. I would ask you not to be too friendly with them, that is all, give them no encouragement. I do not wish to have to kill one of my crew for assaulting you. They all have unique talents and to lose one would cause all of us problems.” He had said it light-heartedly, but Beth had known that he was in earnest. She had resolved to have as little interaction with the crew as possible, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.
Chores had also been allocated; Beth and Elizabeth would do any sewing and darning that needed to be done, and would help the cook with preparing meals. Rosalie would ensure that the captain’s cabin was kept pristine, and would wash clothes for the crew. Raymond would help out wherever needed, with any chores that required muscle but no skill, as he knew nothing about ships.
While Paul looked out to sea assessing the weather, Beth watched Raymond and his companions on the quayside, realising that she had never heard him laugh once in the six months she had lived with the Delisles. It was good to hear his rich deep laughter now, and she smiled.
In the distance she could see two men in what appeared to be a military uniform of white breeches and frockcoats with blue facings, silver frogging and silver-laced tricorn hats. They were heading along the quay in the direction of L’Améthyste and she watched them idly, thinking how self-important they looked and how hot and uncomfortable they must feel.
When they reached the three black men they stopped and asked a question. Beth couldn’t hear what it was, but by the change in stance of the crewmen it was clear the soldiers were not passing the time of day. Rosalie came to stand next to her on deck. Raymond was saying something to them, but his head was lowered and he had adopted the submissive posture that Beth had been familiar with at Soleil. The two other men were clearly arguing, gesticulating towards the ship. One of the soldiers looked in her direction, then back at the men.
She was just pondering whether to stroll down onto the quay and eavesdrop, when suddenly the two soldiers moved to either side of Raymond, and taking an arm each, started to lead him away. One of the crewmen turned to the ship, put his fingers to his mouth and issued a piercing whistle. Paul turned, but by that time Beth was already halfway down the gangplank, her skirts hitched up around her knees and running at full speed.
She caught up with the three men halfway along the quay, running round to the front of them and stopping, so that they had to halt or push her out of the way. Seeing that she was dressed expensively and tastefully, the soldiers chose to stop.
“Where are you taking this man?” she demanded.
“What concern is that of yours, madame?” one of them asked in return.
“This man is my…” She hesitated, having been about to say ‘friend’, but on doing a lightning reassessment of the possible situation, changed her mind. “Slave,” she said. “I consider theft of my property to be very much my concern.”
The soldiers exchanged a look.
“Madame, this negro is called Raymond, is he not?”
“That is his name, yes,” she replied.
“Raymond, belonging to Monsieur Delisle?”
“There you are in error, sir,” Beth stated. “Monsieur Delisle sold him to me. He is my negro. Kindly release him at once.”
“You have the papers to prove that?” the second soldier asked.
Beth gave him a look of such contempt and disgust that he flushed and looked away.
“You are calling me a liar?” she said icily. “If you would care to accompany me to the ship I will show you the bill of sale. And then you will apologise for insulting me, sir.”
“Madame, we mean no offence,” the other, somewhat older soldier said. “But we have been ordered to arrest this man.”
“What on earth for?”
“Last night we discovered that a number of negroes have been organising a rebellion, and this man has been named as one of the ringleaders. We are taking him for questioning.”
“Raymond? Organising a rebellion?” she said with utter incredulity. She looked at Raymond, who was standing silently between the two men, gazing down at the ground. “And who has named him?”
“We are not at liberty to disclose that,” the older soldier said. So they knew who it was.
“Raymond, look at me,” Beth commanded crisply. Reluctantly he looked up from the ground and met her gaze. She saw his expression, the hopelessness in his eyes, and remembered what he had said the night he had given her the amulet.
“It will give you protection against disease, madame, and against…other things.”
Other things. Like a slave rebellion. She could not ask him if the accusation was correct as she had been about to do, in case he answered truthfully. Oh, Raymond, no, she thought. And then she flung the thought as far away as she could, and turned back to the soldiers. Over their shoulders she could see Paul approaching at a trot.
“Really, this is quite ridiculous,” she said, looking intently at the military men. “Was it the overseer, Armstrong, who made this accusation?” The blank look on their faces gave her her answer. “No. Then it was most certainly the negro Jacques.”
Aha.
“I see by your expression sir, that it is indeed Jacques who has given this false information against my slave. This is nothing more than petty spite. The fact is that initially Monsieur Delisle was reluctant to sell Raymond to me, as he is such a skilled and faithful servant. He proposed that I take Jacques instead. I told him that Jacques would never do. No doubt the man has a grievance because he is not skilled enough to go to France, and Raymond is. There,” she said firmly. “Now that is explained, you may release him. We sail with the tide.”
“I am sorry, madame, but we have strict orders to take the man into custody. He will not be sailing with the tide, or with any other tide until the accusations have been thoroughly investigated.”
“I see,” Beth replied. “Very well. You must do your duty, I understand that. Captain Marsal, you will have to arrange for my bags to be unloaded. I regret to say that I will not be able to sail with you tonight. Now sirs, I must have your names, rank and regiment to include in my letter.”
The two soldiers were taken aback.
“Letter?” the younger one said.
“Yes. If I cannot sail tonight, then I must write immediately so that Captain Marsal can take my letter to King Louis with him. Captain, can I trust you to personally deliver it to His Majesty? He will be most disappointed to find I am not coming to France, but hopefully he will understand that these men must do their duty.”
Paul Marsal’s eyes were sparkling, but his expression was serious as he replied.
“Of course, my lady. I would be honoured.”
“Excellent!” she said crisply. “So, sirs. You will give me your names, so that I can tell the king who has prevented me from sailing to France today.”
“I…we are not preventing you from sailing to France, er…”
“Lady Elizabeth Peters,” she supplied. “Indeed you are, sirs. Because this slave is my particular present to Louis…His Majesty, and I have no intention of going to him empty-handed. It is most unfortunate, but there it is. I will wait in Martinique until you have found out that I am not a liar, as you currently believe me to be. Now, shall we go?”
She set off in the direction they had been taking before she’d stopped them. After a few steps she turned back, to see the two soldiers still immobile, with their captive between them.
“Do you intend to interrogate your prisoner on the quayside?” she asked.
“Er, no, mada…my lady. I…perhaps there has been some mistake?”
“You are quite right. There has. But as you are so insistent on taking the word of a spiteful negro over mine, you must proceed as you think fit. Raymond, stand up straight, boy! I will explain the situation to Monsieur le Marquis myself. If you are not released immediately, you certainly will be when the king hears of how displeased I am to be called a liar to my face.”
“My lady!” the younger soldier protested. “We did not call you a liar!”
“I think that perhaps…in this case…if you would be so kind as to make a short deposition confirming the innocence of your negro, we might be able to make an exception?” the older soldier suggested, his tone pleading.
Lady Peters looked extremely annoyed at this imposition on her time.
“It is most inconvenient, but if it means that we can sail with the tide, I would consent to that to have this unfortunate business over and done with,” Beth replied with great condescension.
Within twenty minutes they were back on the ship, and a note had been written and signed with a flourish.
“Bravo, my lady,” Paul said admiringly as the two soldiers made their way down the gangplank. “You were magnificent. I have never seen the like.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Beth replied. “Sir Anthony taught me well. But now I need a very strong drink.”
However before any alcohol could be imbibed, there was a small matter to attend to.
Beth and Paul sat side by side on burgundy-upholstered chairs, while Raymond stood in front of them like a naughty child, his head bowed. Elizabeth was on deck supervising the loading of the remaining provisions.
“For God’s sake, Raymond, sit down,” Beth said, gesturing to the chair behind him. He did as he was told, still looking at the floor.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” she said. “Jacques did accuse you out of spite, but the accusation is true.”
Raymond sighed.
“Yes, madame, it is true,” he said.
“Is that what you meant when you said the amulet would protect me from other dangers?” she asked.
“Yes. Everyone involved knew that the lady with the amulet was not to be harmed. I am sorry, I am not the person you believed me to be. I have disappointed you.” He looked at her now for the first time, and his eyes were bright with tears. “I swear to you, Rosalie knew nothing of this, and I would have her remain ignorant of my part in it,” he said. “I will do anything you ask, but I beg you, please take her with you. Let her have a new life away from here!”
Beth looked at Paul, but he remained silent, his face inscrutable.
“You will do anything I ask?” she said. “Would you then tell me who is involved in this plot and when the rebellion was to take place?”
Raymond’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Madame Beth, I…I cannot do that. I cannot betray those who trust me. They would be tortured…you have no idea what would be done to them. Please, do not ask me to do that.”
“But Jacques betrayed you,” Paul spoke softly for the first time.
“Yes Captain, he did. He has lost his honour. But I will not lose mine. I put myself in your hands. You may sell me back into slavery if you wish, or kill me. I will kill myself if you ask it. But I cannot betray those who trust me. I am sorry.”
Beth smiled. He had just proved himself the man she believed him to be.
“Raymond, I would like to tell you something about myself,” she said. “Paul, you already know this. I was brought here as a prisoner, because I and my husband engaged in a rising against the man who calls himself King of Great Britain. My husband was one of the most wanted men in Britain, and I am here because I would not betray him under any circumstances. I know what it is to be oppressed. I am not disappointed in you. Quite the opposite, in fact. For my part I am proud of you for seeking to free yourself. I do not wish you to kill yourself, or to become a slave again. I wish you to come to France and start a new life with your daughter, and to never feel unable to meet my eyes, or anyone else’s again. I cannot speak for Captain Marsal though. Captain, are you happy to have this rebel on board your ship?”
Paul laughed.
“You are the most innocent of all my crew, Raymond. Really, you don’t want to know what they have done. I am delighted to have you on board, sir, not because you were attempting rebellion, but because you would not betray your fellows. Loyalty is a trait I value highly. May I suggest that we put both this unfortunate incident and Martinique behind us, just as soon as the tide allows?”
The captain’s suggestion met with the approval of all three occupants of the room.
Four hours later, L’Améthyste, with its full complement of crew and passengers, sailed out of Fort Royal. Beth, Raymond and Rosalie stayed on deck, watching the beautiful tropical island recede. None of them felt anything but joy when it disappeared from view completely.
Then as one, they turned from the rail, toward the distant horizon and a new life.